LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  ‘When do you want to see me?’ came the businesslike reply.

  ‘Eight o’clock this evening at Wood Street, please.’

  ‘I will have to put you on hold - bear with me; I need to speak to my secretary.’

  Giles waited, fingers crossed. The recent General Election meant that the Prime Minister was working with a wafer-thin majority and had a lot to contend with.

  The PM’s voice came back on the line. ‘My secretary has rescheduled my diary. Traffic permitting, I shouldn’t be more than five minutes late.’

  Giles was grinning when he put the phone down. ‘There are times when a politician can restore one’s faith in the system.’

  ‘You couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to pitch our problems to,’ said David, who was also smiling.

  A couple of minutes later the phone rang: it was a very disgruntled Home Office minister. ‘Regarding your recent phone call… For the record, I wish to repeat that I am unwilling to drop this press briefing, unless you explain to me in detail why it is so important I attend.’

  David sensed that Giles wanted to get him off the line as quickly as possible, in case the topic of the PM was brought up.

  Giles said very politely, ‘I’ve been considering your offer of a meeting tomorrow morning; perhaps I could come over and brief you. Would 11 o’clock at your office be acceptable?’

  ‘Er… yes, that should be fine. Do phone my personal assistant first thing to check the time and venue and that my diary is still free, though,’ came the reply.

  ‘Thank you, minister.’

  Giles couldn’t put the phone down quickly enough. ‘Don’t repeat me, but that man is a self-obsessed idiot of the first order. Heaven help the country if he ever gets a department to run. Can you see if Kate has made any progress with the missing information? Thanks. I’m going to pay Greg a visit to tell him to implement our emergency plans and get a command centre set up.’

  Kate and Rafi were collating their supporting information for the 8 o’clock meeting.

  Down the corridor Aidan and the economics team had transformed the interview room into their base. Beyond them, the rooms that had been the offices of Chief Superintendent David Pryke and his team had been cleared. Greg and his team were working on turning them into an operations room. A group of desks had been put back-to-back in the centre of the room, with a row of phones and networked PCs with flat screens down the middle. Video-conferencing and LCD screens were being mounted on the walls and secure phone and video links to the SAS command centre, the HQ of the paratroopers and the army’s command centre in Wiltshire were being set up. The PM’s hotlines were being installed in an adjoining office.

  Greg was looking concerned - his assistant was having problems getting two video links working properly. And it seemed that one of the big screens had developed an electrical gremlin, another simply didn’t want to work and in addition a touch screen was playing up intermittently.

  Aidan and Emma came down the corridor to chat to Greg about their PC and printer needs. As they walked through the door, they saw that it was a bad moment.

  Greg saw Aidan looking at him. ‘It’s the damn wiring…’

  ‘Can I have a look?’ asked Aidan.

  Greg waved him across and asked Emma quietly, ‘Don’t tell me he has a degree in electrical engineering as well?’ which Aidan overheard.

  ‘No, I’m afraid not -just as I thought: the same leads in and out. What you have here is an older version of what we have in the office. Emma, see if you can find Rafi; he’ll know.’

  Moments later Emma reappeared with Rafi in tow.

  ‘Rafi, what do you think? It’s similar to the kit we’ve got in our conference rooms and use to link into our laptops, isn’t it? The leads look the same; it’s just the screen and the electronics that are older.’

  Rafi looked at the leads. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Thanks, mate,’ said Aidan. He turned and spoke to Greg. ‘I just need to make a quick call.’

  Aidan spoke to his boss, a main board director of Maine Leadbetter. ‘Hi, Russell, it’s your erstwhile colleague Aidan here… Yes, I’ve been working hard… No, I’m not off somewhere with a bit of fluff… Yes, I aim to be back in the office

  tomorrow… Probably by 10.30 a.m…. Sorry, yes, I’ll miss the

  morning meeting and the early trading… Don’t worry, if I get what I’m doing right, it’ll be excellent news for the firm.’ Aidan paused. ‘This brings me to the reason for my call: I’ve a pitch to some wealthy players first thing tomorrow and I need to knock the socks off them. I’ve got a favour to ask. Would you ring the security guards on reception and authorise my borrowing the screen from the small conference room and a little bit of associated kit?’

  The request was met with silence. Greg and Rafi could tell from Aidan’s face that his boss wasn’t keen.

  ‘OK, let’s say that if it’s not back in time, I’ll buy a new one. You do trust me, don’t you? Oh, good. Thanks. Yes, I know I take liberties! See you tomorrow.’ Aidan put down the phone. ‘I hope he won’t mind the small white lie. There’s no way what I’m planning to borrow will be back in time. But since the markets will be closed, they won’t be much good to him anyway!

  Greg, if you could find a van, would you and one of your assistants like to pay my office a visit?’

  Greg’s expression changed from a scowl to a beaming smile. ‘Give me a couple of minutes to draw up a list of what I need and I’ll meet you by the back door.’

  Rafi looked at Aidan, ‘Good move! I hope you’ve got what he needs.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that there should be too much of a problem. We have a basement storeroom full of last year’s kit which makes this lot look steam age in comparison. This should be fun. I’m willing to bet Greg will think he’s visiting Santa’s Grotto!’

  Kate put her head around the corner of the door.

  ‘So this is where you are! Rafi, I thought you might like to listen in; we have the captain of the Nimrod, tracking Golden Sundancer, on the phone.’

  As they scurried back to the office, Kate brought Rafi up to speed. ‘Twenty minutes ago he radioed in and spoke to John to report that Golden Sundancer was on a converging course with a trawler around 250 miles from Iceland, north-west of the Faeroes, in the middle of nowhere.’

  Back in the office, the voice of the Nimrod captain could be heard clearly over the speaker phone. ‘Your vessel has hove to in close proximity to a fishing vessel, which we’ve identified as an Estonian trawler, named Anu Riina. The captain of the trawler is transferring an inflatable dinghy over to Golden Sundancer as we speak. There’s a big swell down there and the temperatures are sub-zero… A line has been secured aboard Golden Sundancer and her captain is manoeuvring to get the dinghy into the lee of the wind to make it easier to get it on board.

  ‘Can you see what’s in the dinghy?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Hold on a moment… We’ve started to get enhanced images from our high magnification camera… Would you believe it! Looks like two wooden coffins… The dinghy and the two boxes are now being pulled on board Golden Sundancer… Give me a moment and I’ll send through the pictures.’

  ‘While you’re at it, could you include any markings on the wooden boxes?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘What speed has Golden Sundancer been cruising at?’

  ‘Between thirty-seven and forty-one knots - very respectable given the conditions down there. Their de-icing system seems to be working well; unusual, though, for this type of boat.’

  ‘How many do you reckon are on board?’

  ‘Two men; the captain and a crew member are all we’ve seen… The trawler has disengaged. She is turning south-east and heading for home.’

  ‘Is there any chance of them picking you up on their radar? Seeing or hearing you?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’re as good as invisible; we’ve got our radarcloaking device on.’ The Nimrod captain paused. �
��They have completed the unloading of the dinghy and the two boxes have been safely stowed on board.’ After a moment’s silence he continued, ‘Golden Sundancer is returning to her bearing of 152° and is getting back up to her previous speed. I’ll keep you posted if she alters speed or course, or has another rendezvous. Out.’

  Kate looked up. ‘Emma have you got the pictures?’

  ‘Yep,’ came the reply. ‘The boxes and their markings are just what we wanted. They confirm the whereabouts of our missing Kornet missile launcher!’

  ‘Excellent, now we’ve only got one missile target to find, not three!’ Kate picked up the phone and relayed the good news to the commissioner’s assistant, Beverley.

  John, who was now back in the room, raised his coffee cup towards Kate, toasting her.

  ‘Here’s to your eclectic team. Twenty-four hours ago I wouldn’t have given you any odds. Now – who knows? – we might beat the buggers, yet.’

  Alex entered the room. ‘I thought I’d see how the other half lives. My goodness, it’s cosy in here!’

  ‘You should have seen it thirty-six hours ago – none of this mess was here,’ replied Rafi.

  ‘No,’ said Emma, ‘it was all tidied away into the filing cabinets!’

  Alex walked across to Rafi’s desk and pulled up a chair. ‘I am so pleased that you are OK. Might I ask why you chose me, when you could have picked one of the high-profile City economists?’

  Rafi looked at Alex. ‘It was a no-brainer. How are you getting on with your colleagues?’

  ‘Really well.’

  ‘There’s your answer,’ he said with a broad smile.

  ‘Thank you and thanks for choosing me. Oh, by the way, your little sister is proving an inspired choice; she’s a bright cookie and has us all organised. Chat to you later,’ with that Alex turned and left.

  Kate looked across at Rafi. ‘You don’t by any chance have a brother? If so, I’d like to meet him, please!’

  ‘Afraid not.’

  She looked at Rafi, her head slightly to one side. ‘You are proving to be a most resourceful guy, with some great friends. I’m pleased that I let David bully me into getting you out of Paddington Green!’

  Kate and Rafi were finalising the background materials for the presentation to the Chiefs upstairs, when Jeremy bounced into the room.

  ‘Well done tracking down the fifth missile launcher; at last we’ve something to celebrate.’

  How he managed to keep up to date amazed Rafi.

  ‘Talking of having fun, we’ve been over to Aidan’s office,’ said Jeremy. Greg has had a field day. He’s borrowed three large state-of-the-art video-conferencing screens, a large plasma screen and a selection of other useful gismos. The basement store proved to be a real Aladdin’s cave. Aidan did a brilliant job of distracting his two security guards and he even got them to lock up the conference rooms before he left, saying that they were to remain locked until 8 a.m. tomorrow. Greg is down the corridor setting up his new toys. How long has the meeting been going on upstairs?’

  ‘Almost an hour,’ replied Emma. ‘The PM arrived a bit late.’

  Kate had finished her collating and walked over to Rafi’s desk. ‘Well, I seem to be ready. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Given the circumstances, not that bad, thanks. At least my brain is still working; the rest of me feels due for a refit and needs a bit of TLC.’

  Kate smiled and whispered, ‘When all this is over, I’ll see what I can do - as a small thank you.’

  ‘A thank you for what?’ Rafi replied.

  ‘You’re simply impossible! What planet are you on? If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be having a normal night, oblivious to the fact that tomorrow we could be facing Armageddon.’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Rafi, still deep in thought, walked off down the corridor to see how the economics team was getting on. He put his head around the door. The six occupants had reorganised the room, with a group of desks in the middle. Alex and Donald were sitting next to each other, opposite Matthew and Bob. Saara was at one end and Aidan at the other. On one side of the room were a couple of PCs and a printer photocopier. A whiteboard, now covered with writing, had been hung on the opposite wall. Plates littered the table. The room definitely had a work-in-progress air to it.

  ‘Just thought I’d drop by to see how you were getting on and to let you know that we currently have a good idea where seven of the eight terrorist targets are.’

  ‘And they’ve traced the two suicide bombers with the journalist Kaleem Shah to the outskirts of Aldermaston, not far from the Nuclear Weapons Research Establishment, as Emma predicted,’ added Kate who had arrived just behind Rafi.

  Matthew spoke up. ‘Emma and Aidan have explained what the terrorists are planning. My view is that you are underestimating the financial downside.’

  ‘But at least we have advance warning,’ said Aidan.

  Rafi smiled at his sister.

  ‘They’re being very tolerant of my lack of finance skills,’ she said.

  ‘Have none of it Rafi; this young lady could join my team any day!’ said Donald, Rafi’s former boss, with a smile.

  Rafi turned to leave. The soft voice of Saara follow him down the corridor. ‘Rafi, look after yourself.’

  Back at his desk, Rafi called across to Kate. ‘For the life of me, I can’t come up with any more ideas where the missing target might be. I’m beginning to feel rather useless…’

  Kate looked up. ‘Why don’t you put your feet up for a few minutes and have a bite to eat. How you manage to still think straight, amazes me.’ she added in a caring tone.

  Rafi was halfway through a sandwich when Kate’s phone rang. ‘We’re on. Time to face the music!’

  As they went down the corridor, Kate put her head around the door of the interview room and asked Aidan to join them.

  They walked past a positively beaming Greg, who by the looks of things had the Ops Room fully up and running. He gave a thumbs up sign to Aidan, who acknowledged it with a wave and a grin.

  The walk up the back stairs took Rafi back to his school days; it conjured up memories of visiting his house master - the gloomy lighting and the greying wall paint added to his apprehension. The question he was thinking, was ‘what would the PM do?’

  Chapter 5

  The team walked into the commissioner’s anteroom, where Beverley was at her desk. ‘Giles is ready for you. Do go straight in.’ The commissioner’s conference room had a very businesslike air to it.

  ‘Good evening,’ said Giles Meynell, standing up as Kate entered the room. ‘Please be seated. John and Jeremy, would you let Rafi, Kate and Aidan sit at the table and pull up two chairs behind them? Thank you. It’s a bit of a squeeze, but I reckon we can manage. Time for some introductions: Prime Minister, Secretary of State for Defence, Air Chief Marshal Sir Nigel Hawser, head of our armed services, and Ewan Thorn, head of MI5 - it is my pleasure to introduce: Detective Chief Inspector John Dowsing of Special Branch, Detective Inspector Kate Adams of our Economic Crime Unit, Jeremy Welby of MI5, Aidan Gilchrist of Maine Leadbetter – a derivatives expert – and Rafi Khan.

  After a short pause, Giles continued. This time his gaze was fixed on Kate. ‘We have had a fruitful discussion, but before we go any further the Prime Minister and his Defence Secretary would like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘Thank you, Commissioner,’ said the PM in a measured voice. ‘Three hours ago I had envisaged spending the evening dealing with mundane matters. Suffice it to say, Giles’s revelations have come as a serious shock - the intricacy and scope of the terrorists’ threat to our energy supplies, our financial system and our country’s economic welfare is every bit as grave as anything we have faced since the Second World War,’ he looked at Giles reassuringly. ‘I’m not going to shoot the messenger. Indeed, I understand that you’ve been working day and night since Monday. To have come this far with your investigations in such a short time deserves my considerable gratitude.’

  The PM paus
ed and looked around the room. ‘Unfortunately, all you have accomplished will come to nothing unless our next steps are the right ones. As has most eloquently been pointed out to me, we have to be proactive – not reactive – in the face of these heinous threats.’ He looked at his Defence Secretary, then continued. ‘There are a number of questions to which we would appreciate candid answers. First of all, why do you believe that COBRA is not the right way forward at this point in time?’

  Kate looked across at the PM. ‘I wish it were, sir,’ she said slightly shakily. She paused and regained her composure. ‘MI5’s and our worry is that the terrorists have sleepers in place who could tip them off, and prompt them to switch to a contingency plan. At this point in time we’ve a lead on all except one of the expected terrorist targets. We know that we’re up against well-trained and battle-hardened mercenaries. If they were to be tipped off, such is the transportability of their missile launchers that they might simply switch to a plan “B”. To answer your question, whilst the chances are small, the downside hazard is too large.’

  ‘Where precisely is the threat of an internal tip-off?’ asked the PM.

  Kate pulled out some stapled sheets of paper from the small bundle in front of her and passed one to each of the individuals around the table.

  ‘In front of you are the names of individuals we and MI5 can place within the terrorists’ web of companies. To put it bluntly, all these individuals are on the terrorists’ payroll - whether they know it or not. You will note that there is an executive officer of a metropolitan authority on that list, which falls within the London disaster planning area. On page four is a list of the organisations which the terrorists have infiltrated through their huge outsourcing business and the limited liability partnerships they run. The list includes: the Ministry of Defence, GCHQ, Paddington Green police station, the Home Office…’

  ‘Thank you,’ cut in the PM.

  ‘Your list is very impressive, but can it be verified?’ asked the Defence Secretary.