‘I had hoped to get here sooner,’Jeremy hesitated as he decided on how much to tell his new colleagues. ‘I’d a couple of matters to deal with after this morning’s Joint Counter-Terrorism meeting. They think that you are part of an ITS, and are at Paddington Green.’
‘What do you mean by ITS?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Islamic Terrorist Syndicate – it’s our catch-all phrase for Islamic groups hell-bent on terrorist activities in the pursuance of their fundamentalist ideals.’
Rafi nodded, ‘Thank you.’
‘As I was saying,’ continued Jeremy, ‘My boss Neil and I have been told by the head of MI5 to run with Mr Khan’s line of thinking. The head of Five reckons there are inconsistencies which need investigating – quietly – off other people’s radar screens. Neil’s section and I have stuck our necks out on this one, so Mr Khan I look forward to you proving your doubters wrong!’
Jeremy stopped talking and looked around the room. ‘How many people know that Mr Khan is here?’
‘The three of us plus David, our boss, and Commissioner Giles Meynell,’ replied Kate.
‘Good. Let’s keep it that way. My section is briefed and will be able to provide you with back-up.’Jeremy turned to Rafi. ‘I look forward to hearing what you suspect is going on. By the way, you really pissed off my colleagues who interviewed you. It seems that you managed to evade their questioning for over sixty hours without any sleep and practically no food or water. I dropped by to see them before I got here. They looked absolutely knackered! They thought that they’d got you hook, line and sinker, and are now – how can I put it? – in the doghouse! They’d never seen so much evidence stacked against a terrorist suspect and have the bugger slip through their fingers. I’m sorry for the harsh treatment the guards gave you.’ Jeremy paused. ‘It seems that you were set up good and proper.’Jeremy looked at Rafi. ‘Mr Khan I hope we can forget Paddington Green and focus on unravelling what the hell is going on.
‘Fine by me, but do call me Rafi – please.’
‘Good; thank you,’ said Jeremy. ‘And by the way we have arranged for Jameel Furud to be put under surveillance in Morocco…
Rafi suddenly remembered Mike and Andy’s comments about his sister, and looked across at Jeremy ‘On the basis of me being innocent, could you check that MI5 haven’t arrested my sister, and if they have, arrange for her release, please?’
‘A reasonable request… Leave it with me,’ replied Jeremy.
Rafi smiled - a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
‘Kate what have you got planned for us?’ enquired Jeremy.
‘David should be back shortly. I suggest we then have a council of war to sort out our strategy. In the meantime I’ve asked Greg Thompson, our IT specialist, to pay us a visit to set up some more computers. He should be with us any time now.’
As if on cue, Greg, a thin, bespectacled man of indeterminate age, walked into the room. ‘How can I help? I have arranged for two more networked desktops to be set up. Do you need anything else?’
‘When you have a spare minute could you ring Ray Isles, our IT gatekeeper?’ said Jeremy. ‘And Kate, who would you like to have in the loop with my section at MI5?’
‘Emma and me, please.’
‘Greg, please ask Ray to sort out the necessary encryption software so that MI5 emails and texts can be read. Also, please give him Kate’s and Emma’s mobile numbers.’Jeremy turned to Kate. ‘I’ll run you through the text message codes which will alert you when an important email has been sent.’ He turned to Greg. ‘Ray is a bit sensitive when it comes to his security software. If he stalls you, tell him you have clearance from the top,’Jeremy smiled. ‘You know how it is?’
Greg nodded. ‘If that’s all, I’ll be off.’
As he was leaving the room, Kate turned to her team. ‘Let’s get started. First how about we get Rafi to tell us what he really believes is going on. How long will you need to pull your thoughts together?’
‘A few minutes should do,’ came Rafi’s hesitant reply.
‘Excellent,’ said Jeremy. ‘That will give me time to visit Luigi’s, a small restaurant round the corner. Is it any good?’
‘Yes, but we tend to use the canteen downstairs,’ replied Kate.
‘I’ve been living off cruddy food for the past eight weeks,’ explained Jeremy, ‘I could do with something to perk me up; if it’s alright with you lot I’ll nip out to see what they do. How about I put the first lot on my card and after that someone else can have a go?’
Everyone looked sheepish.
Rafi guessed that expenses for food weren’t reclaimable. ‘Does anyone know where my personal effects and wallet ended up?’ he asked.
Kate looked at Rafi. ‘We got you out of Paddington Green in a bit of a hurry. Sorry, I’ve no idea.’
‘I’ve a suggestion,’ Rafi continued. ‘Could you get Luigi’s to run a tab, and as soon as I’ve got my wallet back, I’ll pay the bill?’
‘Great plan Rafi. I’m going to enjoy working here.’Jeremy looked delighted and was off out the door.
Kate and Emma looked a little surprised and uncomfortable.
‘I’m uncertain how to say this Rafi, but that doesn’t seem fair,’ said Kate.
‘I could do with some good quality food, and I owe you for getting me out of that hellhole. Don’t worry; I’m good for the money regardless. We’re in the City, remember? My word is my bond, and all that.’
Emma smiled. ‘Most unusual, but thank you.’
The door swung open and Jeremy entered, acting like a conjuror who was about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. He was clutching three bags with Luigi’s restaurant logos.
‘Here we are! Sorry for the delay. Luigi is a great chap. I’ve lined up a tab and have put it in your name, Kate. I hope that’s in order. Seems the guys downstairs were helpful when someone tried to break into his restaurant several months back. He’s very pleased to help in any way, any time of day. Who’s for coffee? And I’ve got orange juice, cappuccinos and some pizza… Help yourselves!’
The two women looked at the pizza and hesitated, thinking of the calories, then grinned at each other.
‘I should tuck in, you don’t know when we’ll next have time for a break,’ said Jeremy. He looked at his watch with a smile, ‘Or even time for a meal!’
Rafi sat savouring the food and drink.
‘Now that Jeremy’s back and Rafi has done his thinking, let’s get started,’ said Kate. ‘First question: how does the Bishopsgate bombing fit in with your theory of what is going on?’
‘I’m not entirely certain,’ replied Rafi, ‘but my gut feeling is that Callum Burns was on to something in Luxembourg and his crash was no accident. It also suggests that Prima Terra and others were up to no good.’
He paused. ‘Do we know what Jameel Furud is doing in Morocco?’ asked Rafi. ‘I thought he had work to do in Paris.’
Jeremy flipped open his mobile and spoke to a colleague. He listened intently and hung up. ‘My colleagues tell me that Jameel’s on his way to Marrakech. If I wanted to go somewhere safe as a Muslim, Morocco would be an excellent choice. He has booked a two week stay at a luxury five-star golf hotel on the edge of the city where he is scheduled to arrive later this morning. We’ve a colleague keeping an eye on him.’
‘I thought he’d do a runner,’ said Rafi smiling.
‘Can we please move on to the spreadsheets,’ asked Emma. ‘I see that Callum identified two public quoted companies with dubious shareholders: Dewoodson plc, a property services business and Renshaw Smithers plc, a small finance house focusing on public sector projects and outsourcing companies.’
‘Yes that’s correct,’ replied Rafi.
‘Let’s start at the beginning - exactly when did Prima Terra buy into these two companies?’ enquired Kate.
Rafi thought for a moment. ‘About two years ago. We took a large stake in Dewoodson plc when it came to the market.’
Jeremy grimaced.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Kate.
‘That’s bad news. If you plan something for a couple of years you are definitely up to no good! We’re likely to be up against a very well-planned plot, whatever it might be.’
Rafi sat there, thinking about what Jeremy had just said. Then, as if from nowhere, an associated thought flashed through his mind. He was wasn’t sure, but what if…
‘Are you feeling ill?’ asked Emma.
‘Er… No, I just remembered a company presentation I attended a few weeks ago and an incident that completely slipped my mind. Please bear with me for a moment,’ Rafi began hesitantly. ‘Let me try and recall it. It may seem like a shaggydog story, but it’s relevant, I’m sure.’
Rafi closed his bloodshot eyes and took his mind back to a bright January morning a few weeks earlier… ‘Yes, I recall it was a Wednesday, three weeks ago. I’d had a hectic morning. The market was buoyant. I had lunch scheduled with a bank and some brokers who were launching an IPO. It was a normal sell-side promote. I was running late and took a taxi. It dropped me a couple of minutes’ walk away from their smart new office building on the South Bank; a stunning development scheme. Great attention to detail: black granite walkways, fountains for children to play in and even a small Pooh sticks stream which flows down the middle of the walkway to Tooley Street, almost 400 yards away… Sorry; I digress.’
Rafi paused to collect his thoughts… ‘After the short presentations, the cheeky buggers pushed through lunch at a cracking pace - they were running two sittings. At 1.15 p.m. I was politely offered my coat and a couple of minutes later I was standing in front of the building feeling rather pissed off. My nice lunch had turned into a fast food experience. I stood there, taking in the view across the Thames. It was a lovely afternoon; the winter sun was out and London looked great, so as I wasn’t expected back in the office before 2.30, I decided to stretch my legs and walk back to the office rather than take a taxi.’
Rafi smiled. ‘I set off towards Tower Bridge, along the river walkway past the London Assembly Building.’
‘Is that the one with the unfortunate nickname relating to a part of the male anatomy?’ enquired Jeremy.
‘Yes,’ Rafi smiled, ‘a singularly imposing building,’ he paused. ‘I then made my way up the steps of Tower Bridge. By the time I reached the far side, the cold wind had got to me. I considered being a wimp and taking a taxi back to the office, but opted for the exercise and turned down the steps that cut under the bridge, went past Dead Man’s Gate and headed out into the sunshine past the Tower of London. Whoops, sorry I’m rambling again.’
‘Don’t worry. As long as you remember something useful we don’t mind if you ramble on a bit,’ said Kate reassuringly.
‘I continued my stroll and headed along Lower Thames Street. I crossed the road and walked up St Mary at Hill, then turned into a narrow cobbled street - St Dunstan’s Lane. What prompted me to go that way, I don’t know. Perhaps it was because I was enjoying my amble and the lane, with its cobbled surface, looked quaint. It was an impulse. On the corner where St Dunstan’s Lane turns into Idol Lane there was a delivery van blocking the single carriageway.’ Rafi paused again. ‘And fifty metres up Idol Lane, was a chauffeur-driven Mercedes, with its door open waiting for someone to come out of a building.’
Rafi stopped; time seemed to stand still. He stared towards the printer to the right of Emma’s desk. It all came flooding back as if it were an action replay. He continued with his story. ‘I walked around the corner behind the parked lorry and reappeared just in time to see someone getting into the car. At that precise moment the lorry driver leant out of his window and called to me. I turned and walked back towards him. He wanted to know where the nearest McDonald’s was. I apologised, saying that I didn’t know, but thought that there was one in Cannon Street and pointed to the end of the road. He thanked me and drove off.’
Rafi’s eyes widened. ‘As the lorry left, it was followed by the Mercedes; no wonder the person in the car had looked familiar: it was Jameel! I looked at him and, fleetingly, our eyes met – but he didn’t acknowledge me. At the time I assumed that he was engrossed in his work. Thinking about it though, what must it have looked like to my boss? One moment I was there, the next I was hiding behind a lorry. He couldn’t have known I was speaking to the driver.’
‘It would have looked suspicious,’ said Emma, ‘Like you didn’t want to be seen.’
‘So what did you do next?’ asked Kate.
‘I walked to the top of the lane and passed by the building Jameel had come out of. It was nondescript, with the numbers 2 - 4 on a plain dark blue front door. There was nothing to give away who or what was based there. At the time I wondered who Jameel had been seeing but, as I didn’t think it was important, I dismissed the thought and carried on back to the office,’ said Rafi.
‘Anything else?’ asked Kate.
‘That’s it!’ Rafi, looked at his audience. ‘Sorry it took a while to get to the punchline. Could I have spotted Jameel doing something he wanted to keep secret… And that is what triggered his interest in me, particularly if he thought I was spying on him? What do you think?’
Emma looked up. ‘Rafi, did he look sheepish when he left the building in Idol Lane?’
‘No - just businesslike.’
‘I think I should get a list of all the occupiers,’ said Emma. ‘You can then see if any ring a bell. I’ll nip downstairs and raid our database.’
‘Good idea,’ said Kate.
A short while later Emma returned looking rather pleased with herself; she walked confidently up to Rafi’s desk and handed him three sheets of paper.
‘Here is the list of occupiers for Idol Lane. Bit of a rabbit warren down there. In case your boss was visiting someone nearby, I took the liberty of checking the adjoining streets as well,’ said Emma.
Rafi ran his eyes down the list.
‘Emma, could you find out what AGVC does, please? And could you get me a large-scale map which shows exactly where their offices are?’ asked Rafi.
Only a few minutes later she had the requested information up on her screen. ‘Right, here goes. AGVC – business type: venture capital company and financiers. Any good?’
‘Yes!’ said Rafi. ‘That is what I was hoping for.’
‘They are located halfway down on the left-hand side of St Mary at Hill.’
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Kate, ‘I thought you said you saw Jameel in Idol Lane?’
Rafi looked at her slightly crestfallen. ‘Good memory,’ he said looking at Kate approvingly. ‘Yes, you’re right.’
Emma smiled. ‘No problem, the two properties back on to each other.’
‘That’s interesting. Who are the occupiers of 2–4 Idol Lane?’
‘Rainer Spencer and Mitchell,’ answered Emma. ‘Says here that they’re chartered accountants and company registrars.’
‘What’s the link?’ asked Kate.
‘Link?’ said Emma. ‘What if the buildings were physically linked or interconnected, this would allow Jameel to keep his visits to AGVC’s offices secret. Shall we see if the two buildings are in the same ownership?’ Emma’s fingers worked quickly over her keyboard. ‘Right, I’m into the Land Registry website; let’s take a look at AGVC’s offices first. The address and postcode?’ Before anyone could answer, Emma had cut and pasted the information into the Land Registry boxes. ‘Oh dear, not much help: the freehold is owned by British & Scottish Property Company.’
‘A major London listed property company,’ Rafi chipped in.
‘Hold on a minute,’ said Emma. ‘I shouldn’t have been too hasty. There seems to be a long leasehold interest in the property owned by a company called PREH.’
‘OK, what about the building next to it in Idol Lane?’ said Kate.
‘Would you believe it; it’s owned by PREH as well.’
‘That’s fantastic, so they are connected.’ Kate was standing behind Emma, and gave her a friendly pat on the back and then did the sa
me to Rafi.
He almost jumped out of his skin. ‘Ooouch!’ he exclaimed.
‘Whoops, sorry, I’ve done it again!,’ said Kate. ‘I forgot about your bumps and bruises.’ Her look turned pensive. ‘So what have we got? A venture capital business, a property company, plus a firm of chartered accountants and company secretaries. Jeremy could you ask your teams to get chapter and verse on these three businesses, and see if there are any links to Jameel Furud or Prima Terra.’
‘Will do… By the way, Rafi what precisely does Prima Terra do?’ asked Jeremy.
‘They’re fund managers, with about £30 billion of funds under management,’ replied Rafi.
‘It’s not your money, is it?’ added Jeremy.
Rafi looked at him. ‘No.’
‘So what’s to stop you flushing it down the pan?’ continued Jeremy.
‘Our reputations. Plus we do get bonuses if we outperform,’ replied Rafi.
Jeremy smiled. ‘Just a thought - but in my book, bad guys don’t go around improving things, they trash them…’ He was stopped mid-sentence by his phone. He glanced at its small screen. ‘Sorry, I need to take this…’
Several hours later, Commissioner Giles Meynell and Chief Superintendent David Pryke walked into Kate’s office, which had paper everywhere.
Giles looked around the room. ‘Hell’s bells. Last time I came in here it looked sort of tidy!’
‘Sorry, sir… Things have sort of mushroomed. We found a link between Jameel and a venture capital business,’ replied Kate. ‘The link has taken us all over the place. They have a wide range of business interests. They’re into security, fish processing, have a large property investment company… And one of their businesses runs various public sector services - hospitals, prisons, schools, government buildings…’
LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge Page 7
