Latent Hazard rkadika-1

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Rafi looked in surprise at the name: Major Charlie Staveley. Then he smiled. ‘Yes, I remember him well. He was my maths teacher at Haileybury.’

  ‘Andy interviewed him about the money he paid first to your grandfather and then to your father. All he would say was, “It was a long time ago… Haileybury had strong connections with the Stepney Boys Club which assisted families in the East End of London – this was my way of helping.” Andy reckons that the major was hiding something. You might like to drop by and have a chat with him one of these days.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Rafi, still completely puzzled, ‘I’ll do that.’

  Their conversation returned to Stratford and the terrorists.

  Out of the corner of his eye Rafi saw SJ enter the room and realised that his time with Jeremy was up.

  Rafi felt a delicate tap on his shoulder, turned and saw her smiling face just behind him.

  ‘Time to come with me.’

  Rafi nodded, said his goodbyes to Jeremy and followed her up to the ground floor of Number 10 and the PM’s anteroom.

  ‘You must be beginning to get to know this room rather well,’ SJ commented.

  ‘Yes, I can recommend the service – it’s excellent,’ Rafi grinned. He seemed to have said the right thing. SJ nonchalantly preened her hair, turned with a little wiggle of her hips and left the room. A few minutes later she was back holding a tray with a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits.

  ‘Thank you.’

  She smiled. ‘I only try to please. The PM will be ready to see you soon.’

  After only a few moments Rafi was shown by SJ into the adjoining room.

  The PM got straight to the point. ‘Rafi, the head of the Civil Service has listened to your tape,’ he began and then paused. ‘He says that if I heard its contents I could not, with a clear conscience, deny knowledge of what went on, should it ever get out into the public domain. He confirms that it is political dynamite. It is clear that the Home Office and a number of its ministers took spin to an unprecedented level. Thank you for bringing this matter to our attention.’

  Rafi nodded.

  ‘I have commissioned a report on “Media briefings and dissemination of information and data by ministers and public servants”. I have asked for proposals from the head of the Civil Service for a select committee to monitor this area. Henceforth, we have to make those who use lies, half-truths and false statistics as tools of their trade openly accountable,’ said the PM.

  ‘Thank you,’ replied Rafi.

  ‘I was saddened to learn we came within a whisker of averting the Stratford disaster, only to have people, who should have known better, get in the way. By the way, the junior minister in question has resigned his seat. I understand he’s going to try his hand at something well away from the public gaze.’

  With that the meeting was over and Rafi was ushered into the entrance hall of Number 10 where he found Kate waiting for him.

  ‘Have you had a useful morning? I missed you. Your friend SJ,’ she said with a wink, ‘phoned. She asked if I could come and collect you. So here I am. There’s a car outside and if it’s OK with you, our next port of call is Wood Street.’

  Rafi nodded; he was becoming accustomed to being at people’s beck and call.

  ‘We’re going to give John, Jeremy and the team a hand with the logistics for rounding up all those suspected of being on the terrorists’ payroll. Actually, that’s a bit of a white lie; they want me – and I rather like your company – hence the we!’ she said with a big grin. ‘I reckon I’ll get withdrawal symptoms when this is all over,’ she paused. ‘Will you come with me?’ asked Kate, slightly flummoxed by Rafi’s deadpan expression, and then added quickly, ‘don’t worry; if you don’t want to tag along I can easily drop you off at the hotel on the way.’

  ‘I’ll come… I’d love to. Sorry for being slow, it’s just that my thoughts were on what the PM has just told me.’

  Rafi leant forward and gave Kate a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come on, we can’t keep the car waiting. Remember you promised me some TLC and I’m going to enjoy cashing it in… With interest!’

  They had been in the Ops Room at Wood Street for less than five minutes when Jeremy appeared. ‘I thought I might update you. The list of highly paid non-executives on the terrorists’ payroll is quite something. Several of the names are dynamite. For example, we have identified six Members of Parliament who are implicated.’

  Jeremy yawned. ‘Sorry… where was I? Yep, we’ve checked through the bank accounts of the two COBRA members caught with their snouts in the terrorists’ trough. It seems that they received their money from our old friend the Gulf Trade Bank. They’ve been very naive and stupid. Thankfully, they weren’t sophisticated enough to use an offshore account. The bribes went straight into Building Society accounts. Those who have been using offshore accounts will be harder to pin down and no doubt they will be the ones really worth catching – c’est la guerre! ’ He smiled and added, ‘John and his team have done great work; the fun bit is going to be hauling the culprits in.’

  Jeremy paused. ‘The bosses at MI5 are gobsmacked by how much John and his team have turned up in such a short time. They have people working around the clock going through bank statements and corroborating the evidence. There’s a real buzz down there. One of these days I must show you around!’

  ‘Who do you think ran the UK end of the slush fund?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Maryam, we reckon, looked after the money side of things via bank accounts funded by the sheikh,’ answered Jeremy. ‘At the moment we aren’t sure who did the recruiting or the management of those on their payroll.’

  ‘When will the arrests take place?’ asked Rafi.

  ‘As soon as the terrorist leaders are in our custody,’ replied Jeremy. ‘Oh – by the way – you remember that a BlueKnite employee turned a blind eye and let the bomber in at Bishopsgate? Well, it also seems that the controller looking after the nuclear trains only joined a year ago and was also on their payroll. Last week he received ?15,000 from the Gulf Trade Bank; big coincidence or what? No wonder he took so long to get back to the control room and employed such a half-wit to work with him.’

  ‘Thanks for the update; now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a few loose ends to tidy up.’ Kate smiled at Rafi and added, ‘Do make yourself at home!’

  Rafi’s attention turned to the large screens on the walls. One showed a press conference, describing the full impact of the nuclear sabotage. It included a report on what had happened in the previous twenty-four hours and on the progress being made. All roads into the exclusion zone were now dead ends. The one-way – out only – system was being enforced rigidly at the army-controlled checkpoints.

  Rafi felt a shiver go down his spine as he saw pictures, from the previous day, of masses of people corralled in one of the open air holding areas. The footage followed the process of decontamination; people being stripped of all their belongings and clothes, and taken to a purpose-built shower marquee, next to a prefabricated building. Large signs in many languages had on them: Radiation risk – NOTHING to be taken beyond here.

  The TV cameras showed heart-rending footage of people arriving at the checkpoint and being forced to give up all their possessions. The pictures included those of a confused little girl being made to give up her favourite teddy – she was crying and couldn’t comprehend what was going on. The scene brought a tear to Rafi’s eye.

  The report contained footage of mobile phones being handed out to each individual or family. The mobile phone companies had literally cleared their warehouses and the stocks in their shops. Free pay-as-you-go phones with credit vouchers for calls were issued to those coming out of the decontamination centres. Those with missing family members were given a phone number they could call to give information about the people they had lost. A number of local sports halls became rendezvous points for the missing people.

  The TV commentator commended the Dunkirk spirit. The attitude wasn’t, ‘How much is th
is going to cost?’, but rather, ‘What can we do to help those who have lost everything?’ The newscaster then announced that there would be a public holiday on the Monday, as a mark of respect for the loss of life and the suffering.

  Rafi watched a piece on how the National Health Service was holding up. All the hospitals within 200 miles of the disaster area were flooded with people. A number of five star hotels had been requisitioned and turned into specialist radiation treatment units. Those with radiation poisoning were being sent on to one of these new specialist hospitals, with instructions from on high that everything should be done to make them feel comfortable. Elsewhere patients were seen on trolleys and makeshift beds. Against the odds, the system was holding up.

  The armed forces were stretched beyond anything anyone could ever have envisaged. By late Friday afternoon, 10,300 troops and specialist professionals had arrived to enforce the perimeter of the exclusion zone, to run the decontamination centres and to clear the exclusion zone of people. All military bases remained on full alert.

  The RSPCA worked with the armed forces and Territorial Army’s veterinary teams to deal humanely with those animals found in the exclusion zone. It was a gruesome and demanding task. The RSPCA gained permission to run their own decontamination units for mildly contaminated pets, where the owners could be identified.

  Rafi was enthralled when the bulletin turned to the problems associated with the leaching of the radioactive materials into the water table. In particular, the River Lea and its canal were near to the wrecked train. An ingenious solution had come from a company based just south of Newcastle, which made a polymer for – amongst other things – nappies. It rapidly turned liquids into jelly like substance which would remain stable for over a month. They had dispatched eight lorry loads with a police escort and arrived in London late on Friday afternoon. Their cargo was applied to the water flowing in and around the exclusion zone. The main problem related to the River Lea. A decision had been taken to divert the Lea into the King George reservoir just to the north of the exclusion zone and from there the water was being pumped straight into the mains as, unfortunately, the large Coppermills water treatment plant, a mile to the south, through which the water normally passed, was now out of action.

  According to the reporter, decisions were being taken on how the River Lea could be redirected on a permanent basis. He listed the few solutions which were being considered – including diverting it into the River Roding – and concluded that drinking water shortages would be a feature for months to come. However, the good news was that the critical problems were being resolved and there were high hopes that radioactive materials would not leach out of the exclusion zone.

  Rafi spotted Colonel Turner and his team looking at a screen showing a large chart. Curious, he went over to investigate. The screen showed the precise location of Golden Sundancer. She was still heading south.

  It was late evening. Tiredness was rapidly overcoming Rafi -he felt ready to drop. The pressures and excesses of the last week had caught up with him again. He’d lost track of where Kate was, so he left a message for her and cadged a lift back to the hotel. Once there he grabbed a cold drink, had a quick shower and climbed into bed. Sleep came quickly.

  Rafi awoke on Sunday morning to find it was almost 9.30 a.m. Kate was already up and dressed.

  ‘Hi there, sleepyhead; your timing is perfect. I’ve ordered breakfast and the hire car is waiting for us downstairs.’

  They enjoyed their breakfast, and by 10.15 a.m. were on their way.

  Rafi took his trilby and cashmere scarf and a couple of the Sunday newspapers with him.

  The Home Counties curfew that had been imposed on Friday morning had been lifted at midnight on Saturday. The roads were unduly busy as the exclusion zone had severed the roads towards East Anglia.

  Their destination was the Suffolk/Essex border, where Kate’s family lived. They talked about her family and about her early years. It became obvious that she’d had a very happy childhood living in Kenya, where her parents had been farmers.

  ‘Then the carefree days ended,’ Kate recalled with sadness in her voice. ‘When I was twelve my grandfather died. We returned to England so that my father could sort out his affairs. The death duties were far larger than my father had expected and a decision had to be taken… Sell up in England to meet the huge tax bill and return to Kenya, or sell up in Kenya and live in the family home in Suffolk. My father chose the latter and following that decision everything changed. My schooling went from a relaxed private school to a large state school. My friends in Kenya loved outdoor activities: riding and hunting for creepy crawlies. Everything was tame in England. The weather was awful for five months of the year and people spent so much time indoors.’

  ‘Was it that bad?’

  ‘I had nothing in common with my new peer group at school,’ she said. ‘I was teased for my strange accent. My parents had promised that I would go to a good private school but it was not to be. My brother, Marcus, and I were sent to the local comprehensive school. It was only meant to be for the first year while my father sorted out the family’s finances. However, it soon became apparent that money was very tight due to the size of the Estate Duty tax bill and the large running costs of the house.’

  Kate paused. ‘Marcus is fifteen months younger than me. He contracted diphtheria as a child and was on death’s door for over a week. He pulled through, but the illness had made him partially deaf. In Kenya he grew up as if poor hearing was a minor hindrance. He was well catered for at his school and had the full attention of his own nanny to work with him at home. Sadly, in England things were totally different. Marcus didn’t fit into the education system, which lacked the flexibility to cater for his special needs.’

  ‘I remember,’ continued Kate, ‘my parents discussing our education. Basically, they felt that I needed to stay at the same school as Marcus, as he relied on me to protect him from bullies. So I stayed there for my A levels,’ she sighed. ‘I spent my gap year helping my father, working for the family business. It was then that my relationship with my parents crumbled. They had expected me to go off to university to read business studies or agricultural economics and to then return to the family business. I didn’t do that do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I had other ideas. I wanted to go into the police. I had a massive row with my parents, left home and enrolled at a police training college. At last, I had found something I really enjoyed doing. I shouldn’t brag, but I sailed through with flying colours. Whilst I was a young constable I studied part-time at the Open University Business School and five years later graduated with a BSc in Business Studies and Accounting. It was hard work, but in my heart I guessed that one day I’d want to go back to Suffolk and work alongside my brother, helping the family business, so I chose a degree I could use when I returned home.’

  Kate paused. ‘Sadly, things went from bad to worse with my parents. While I was at the police college I became friendly with Maurice. My parents did not approve of him as my boyfriend. I refused to back down and after a stormy weekend at home they disowned me.

  ‘That must have been hard.’

  ‘It was, and then my love life went to pieces. I was working long hours. Maurice wanted us to socialise and party more and in the end we went our separate ways. Kate smiled. ‘I focused on my work and studies and moved from the Met to the City of London police force.’

  ‘My relationship with my parents by that stage was nothing more than an exchange of Christmas and birthday cards.’

  They had reached the Suffolk border. ‘Are we getting close?’Rafi asked.

  ‘Yes, not long now,’ replied Kate, who noticed that Rafi was deep in thought. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine thanks, I was just thinking about family and friends. I was wondering if on our way back into London we could drop in and see an old teacher friend of mine, Major Charlie Staveley. Would you mind doing that? He lives just outside Hertford, in Great Amwell.’r />
  ‘Good plan – why don’t you give him a ring now?’ suggested Kate.

  His phone call successfully completed, Rafi saw National Trust signs to Leverthorne Hall and Leverthorne Vineyard, which they seemed to be following. Alongside the roadside was a tall brick wall. A large splayed back entrance, with impressive black wrought iron gates came into view. To Rafi’s surprise they drove through the gates up a tree-lined driveway. Leverthorne Hall was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Would you like to see where I grew up?’ enquired Kate with an impish grin, as they turned a corner. In the distance was a large Georgian mansion which could be described as impressive by anyone’s standards.

  ‘Not bad eh?’ said Kate. ‘Marcus and his family live in the west wing. My parents have the coach house and stable block. My brother has let most of the main house to the National Trust on a peppercorn rent. Says it makes life much simpler and lets him get on with the running of the estate and its businesses as a proper commercial venture.’

  Rafi looked at Kate. ‘So, all along, things like the suite at the Savoy were second nature to you!’

  ‘If only! As far back as I can remember, living here was a continuous round of penny-pinching. Just try to imagine: two acres of roof, rising damp, old wiring and cranky central heating… To name but a few of the house’s redeeming features – they all cost a fortune.’

  Kate glanced at Rafi; there was sadness in her eyes. ‘This is going to be difficult. I have not seen, let alone spoken, to my parents for many years. In the beginning I tried, but they would not answer my calls. I have kept in touch with Marcus. It was especially difficult when he found a girlfriend and wanted to get married, but my parents refused to let him have the reception here if I attended. In the end, he and Susannah decided not to get married. That, as far as my parents were concerned, was the final straw. The last time I went home was with Maurice. This time it’s with you in tow. Please don’t be surprised if this is a very short and fiery family reunion.’