There were sighs of relief when he was seen turning off the M 11 on to the A 11. Dakka motored up the A140 to Aylsham and on to North Walsham.
When Dakka entered the industrial estate he saw smoke and flames coming from the industrial unit, two down from where he’d stored his Vektor mortar and the twenty high-explosive shells. Parked right in front of his factory were a fire engine and a police car. The whole area had been cordoned off. He did not hesitate. He casually turned his car around and headed for Great Yarmouth.
Those watching him were pleased to see him leave.
On the outskirts of the town, he slipped off the main road into a housing estate and headed for a lock-up garage. After swapping his casual attire for nondescript fisherman’s clothing, consisting of a duffle coat and patched trousers, and his sports car for a moped, he slowly made his way to the ship repair yard.
At the docks, Dakka Dudayev left his moped a couple of hundred metres away from where Rosemarie was berthed. He walked calmly down the road, through the ship repair yard, past the dry dock, on to the dock side and stepped aboard Rosemarie as her mooring lines were being cast off.
At just after 4 p.m. Rosemarie motored out to sea, turned south on to a bearing of 179° and ratcheted her speed up to an impressive fourteen knots. She, it was thought, was heading for the Straights of Dover, with a likely rendezvous point with Golden Sundancer somewhere beyond the Isles of Scilly.
A second Nimrod was on station to monitor Rosemarie’s progress in case she put into port to offload her human cargo.
In Scotland, the industrial property at Prestwick had been under surveillance by a special forces and MI5 unit since the early hours of the morning. Alistair Hartnell, Basel Talal’s number two, had been identified as a passenger on an internal flight from London Stansted to Prestwick the night before. Hartnell was lying low in the industrial property. He had been joined by an unidentified man late in the evening. His colleague, it transpired, was Kim Chindriani, the man responsible for recruiting potential suicide bombers.
Neither was viewed as being particularly dangerous, but rather were seen as two rats abandoning the sinking ship. Just before midday they were observed leaving the property in a small car and were followed to the dry dock and ship repair facility just up the coast at Troon harbour. They left their car in the ferry car park and casually sauntered across to the ship repairer’s quay where they boarded Highland Belle a whisker after 1 o’clock. A few minutes later, the trawler set sail and settled on to a course of 233° at a speed of thirteen knots. She was heading for the North Channel. No doubt she would leave the Mull of Kintyre to starboard and head north-west out into the Atlantic to her rendezvous with Golden Sundancer in the early hours of the following morning.
On board the trawlers there was sadness that some of their colleagues had not made it. The terrorists had been operating independently and had only been briefed on their targets, but had found out from the news channels that two of their colleagues had been killed at the scene of the attacks. However, the coverage was music to their ears. The combined effect of their attacks sounded devastating. The fires were still burning at Cruden Bay; dark plumes of smoke were coming from Aldermaston, Hartlepool and Heysham, and at Stratford they’d hit the jackpot.
The sheikh and Maryam were also being closely watched. MI6 had sent a team to find Miti Lakhani, but had no news of his whereabouts.
In Luxembourg, Maryam was acting as if it was a normal working day. She was due to remain there until Tuesday, when she was booked to fly back to the Gulf. The reports were that she was looking very pleased with herself.
The sheikh, likewise, was doing nothing out of the ordinary and had spent much of the day at his palatial home, sunning himself by the pool.
In silence, Kate and Rafi had left the Ops Room to get a coffee. After a short break they ventured back.
The commissioner saw them enter and walked over to speak to them. He looked at Rafi with tired and slightly bloodshot eyes. ‘I see that the weight of the world is on your shoulders. You should be congratulated and should not feel guilty! Only two out of nine attacks were carried out. Cruden Bay pumping station will be repaired and will be out of action for a matter of months not years…’
‘But we let Stratford slip though the net,’ said Kate.
‘It was not your fault – understand that! The information came in in sufficient time. It was the system that screwed up and not you – please remember that.’
He looked carefully at Kate. ‘Time you both got some well-earned rest. Rafi, your flat in its present state wouldn’t be very welcoming. My sincere apologies for turning your life upside down. We totally misjudged you. Perhaps we could put you up at a hotel?’
‘Thank you,’ Rafi replied gratefully.
‘Have a rest. But then, I’d appreciate it if you could come back and listen to what your economics team has to say. They have a meeting scheduled with the PM and the Chancellor of the Exchequer this evening, followed by the Bank of England early tomorrow afternoon. If you could be back in action by, say, 6.30p.m. it would be appreciated.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Giles turned to go back to his allotted space on the central desk, when he caught sight of Saara, who was in deep conversation with the brigadier. ‘Your little sister is quite remarkable! For an unassuming person she packs one hell of a punch. Her understanding of things nuclear and her ability to decipher the experts’ suggestions is impressive. If your parents were around they would be very proud of you both… Kate, please look after Rafi. The outside world still views him as public enemy number one. He deserves some proper TLC. Remember, we need him fighting in our corner until all the terrorists have been rounded up and the financial gremlins have been slain.’
Rafi was ready to drop. His head ached, his eyes hurt and was finding it increasingly difficult to take in what was going on around him.
Kate gently tugged at his sleeve. ‘You have been working non-stop for nearly four days. Time to get some shut-eye. First, though, we need to visit accounts to sort out some accommodation for you.’
As they walked down the back stairs towards the accounts office, the prospect of staying in a budget hotel filled Rafi with horror.
‘Are my credit cards working?’ he inquired.
‘Should be by tomorrow,’ Kate replied. ‘I’ll ask Jeremy to arrange for them to be returned to you as soon as is practical.’
They arrived at the accounts department. ‘Hi,’ said Kate. ‘Let me introduce you to Rafi Khan.’ Kate explained their requirements and the importance of confidentiality.
Rafi interrupted her. ‘What I need, please, is a comfortable hotel where I can pay the bill in a couple of days’ time. Unfortunately, my credit cards are still with MI5.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Could you please book me into a suite at the Savoy?’
‘That’ll cost a flaming fortune,’ commented Kate.
He looked at her. ‘I’m exhausted. I could do with a hotel where I know it’ll be really comfortable and quiet, and where the service will be first class. The prospect of a soft, comfy bed and a luxurious duvet at the moment is worth its weight in gold. Don’t worry, as soon as you’ve got my credit card working again, I’ll pay for it.’
‘The Savoy shouldn’t be a problem,’ said the accounts woman. ‘Although I can’t say that we’ve ever used them before. Let me give them a ring.’ She found the number, dialled and began talking to their corporate reservations department. In a matter of minutes she had everything lined up.
To Rafi’s surprise she booked a two-room suite in Kate’s name.
‘It’s the commissioner’s suggestion,’ said the accounts woman. ‘He said that Rafi needed someone to vouch for him as, in the eyes of the public, he is still a terrorist.’
It slowly dawned on Rafi that he had been oblivious to all the press coverage of the past week and the vilification to which he would have been subjected.
‘Fine,’ replied Kate with a gleam in her eye. ‘Good idea. Come on, let�
�s go.’
On their way to the car, Kate picked up an old pork-pie hat and a scarf, and handed them to Rafi.
As they were getting into the car, Neil Gunton arrived. ‘Goddamn it! We so nearly stopped them from doing any serious damage. I’m willing to bet that Stratford will be a defining point in the history of this country… People will soon be talking in terms of BS and AS - Before Stratford and After Stratford. Even in my book, the sheer scale of Stratford is mind-blowing.’
Neil paused. ‘Sadly, though, I doubt if people will ever appreciate how much carnage your actions prevented. I was talking to one of our boffins; he described what a thermobaric warhead could have done to a waste storage pool at a nuclear power station. In his words, It would have made Stratford seem like an inconvenience.’ Neil gave Rafi a pat on the back, shrugged his shoulders and went on his way.
Chapter 6
Thanks to the curfew, the traffic was unprecedentedly light. On their arrival at the Savoy Hotel, Kate went in and sorted out the formalities, whilst Peter, who had been driving, and Rafi waited in the car. She returned clutching a key card.
Rafi put on the pork-pie hat and wrapped the scarf around his neck and lower face. He felt a bit of an idiot. They said their thanks and goodbyes to Peter and then made their way to the lift.
‘Are you very, very wealthy?’ Kate asked, while they were waiting. ‘One night here costs about the same as my monthly mortgage payment!’
Rafi was too tired to explain that he simply wanted comfort and was willing to pay any price for it. The last week had been worse than anything he had ever known and he yearned to put it behind him.
They arrived at the door to the suite. Kate opened it. ‘Wow! This looks fantastic. Do you normally live like this?’
‘No, I have a two-bedroom flat in north London. This is the first time for me as well.’
Kate looked at him with a smile. ‘What makes you think that I haven’t stayed in a place like this before?’ she hesitated. ‘I have a confession to make. I hope you don’t mind but I’ve changed our suite from a two-bedroom to a one-bedroom, so that they could give our booking to a displaced family.’
Kate looked at him anxiously, waiting for his reply. She felt as if she’d been caught doing something wrong at school.
Rafi was too tired to care – he just wanted to get some sleep. He smiled at her as she opened the door. ‘Fine by me,’ he replied in a deadbeat manner.
The apartment was opulent; a modest entrance hall gave way to a spacious sitting room, with windows overlooking the Thames below and the Millennium Wheel down the river to the right. To one side of the sitting room was a door leading into a spacious bedroom containing the father of all king-size beds and a large en suite bathroom.
They were travelling light; they didn’t even have a toothbrush between them.
Kate went to explore the bedroom and bathroom and came back proudly clutching a sumptuous white towelling robe in one hand and a toothbrush in the other.
‘What more could a girl want?’ she asked rhetorically, eyes shining.
Where she’d got her second wind from, Rafi didn’t know. He was desperate to just crash out. ‘I’m ready to drop; let’s toss for who’s going to use the bathroom first,’ he suggested.
‘No need to do that,’ replied Kate, ‘Women and children first. I have already got the water running. In the meantime, will you order something to eat?’
Rafi looked at her. ‘I’m too tired for food; can we see what’s in the bar?’
Unlike other hotel rooms he had been in, this hotel apartment had its own bar area. He opened the refrigerator. ‘What would you like? Gin and tonic, fresh orange juice, wine, smart mineral water – you name it we’ve got it.’
‘Orange juice and a large gin and tonic, please.’
‘There’s some great-looking chocolate and the nuts look good. How about cashew nuts, crisps or chocolates with your drink?’ asked Rafi.
‘Anything. It all sounds great.’
Rafi dug around in the refrigerator, carefully choose a few items and handed them to Kate, before taking a few for himself to a nearby armchair.
Kate was smiling. ‘Thank you for all you’ve done. I hope that when this is over we’ll be able to get to know one another better.’
‘What was that about?’ pondered Rafi. He was too tired to consider whether it was an offer of friendship or something more.
Kate took her two drinks, placed them by the side of the bath. ‘I won’t be long. If I fall asleep in the bath, feel free to wake me. In the meantime, I suggest you make yourself comfortable and have a stiff drink or two.’
Rafi looked at her. ‘You can do the drinking for both of us.’
‘How silly of me, I forgot you don’t drink.’ And with that, she turned and walked off towards the bathroom. As she went, she unclipped her hair and gave her head a shake. A mass of deep auburn hair sprang out.
It was the first time Rafi had seen her with her hair down. He gazed at her. She looked after herself well – her slight frame, though not curvaceous, was nicely proportioned and well toned. Her shoulder-length wavy hair looked soft and would undoubtedly be a stunning feature when washed and brushed. He was too tired to think any further.
The sound of the running water stopped. Soothing splashes washed through the air. Rafi poured himself another large glass of fresh orange juice and looked out of the window. London seemed calm and still.
He mulled over the twist of fate - this part of London had been spared the ravages of the explosion at Stratford. His mind wandered – had the wind been blowing in the opposite direction, it would have covered the City, and for that matter the West End of London, under a deadly blanket of radioactivity. Would the closure of the City of London have stopped the terrorist leaders from cashing in on their profits? Of course not; they would also have positions in Frankfurt and Chicago. His tired brain left it there.
Rafi stood gazing out over the Thames, drinking his orange juice and enjoying the tranquillity. He heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Kate emerge, snuggled into a soft white bathrobe, clutching an empty glass in her hand.
Her face lit up as she smiled. ‘This is my idea of heaven.’
Rafi looked at her approvingly and replied, ‘Mine too. Would you like a top-up?’
‘I think I can do that, thanks. You can have that bath you deserve – and undoubtedly need,’ she said, holding her fingers over her nose like a clothes peg.
As he walked past her to the bathroom he smelt a sweet orange aroma. The bathroom had the same smell, which now reminded him of her. He smiled as he discarded his scruffy clothing. He was looking forward to getting back into his normal clothes.
The hot, gushing water of the shower was wonderful. He eventually got out and, after wrapping himself in a luxurious towel, walked back into the bedroom. The room was peaceful; Kate had turned off all the lights except for the small lamp on his side of the large bed. She was sound asleep, her damp hair framing her face against the background of the white duvet and pillow. Lying on the floor was her bathrobe. She stirred slightly; she looked beautiful – stunningly beautiful. She snuggled further under the duvet and continued her well-earned sleep.
Rafi slipped off the bath towel, slid under the crisp duvet and turned the light out. As he drifted off to sleep, he reflected that something good had come out of the worst week of his life.
Rafi awoke to find the curtains half open and noticed that it was dark outside. Kate was sitting at a small table by the window in her bathrobe; her mass of hair was neatly brushed and resting strikingly on her shoulders. He looked carefully at her face and the splashes of freckles on her cheeks and across her nose – she had an innocent schoolgirl-like quality. He liked what he saw.
‘Late lunch is served,’ she said. ‘Hope you don’t mind but I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a selection of things: a couple of starters – smoked salmon or pâté – followed by medium-rare steak or Dover sole, a couple of delicious-looking gooey choc
olate puddings… and loads of fruit.’
Rafi opted for the pâté and the fish, letting Kate finish off both chocolate puddings.
Whilst they were eating, Kate thought about the person sitting opposite her. What was it about Rafi that made her want to be in his company? His inner strength? Perhaps they were soulmates? She hoped so. She worried that she had shown her feelings to him too soon.
‘I hope that was alright changing suites,’ said Kate, coyly.
Rafi looked across at her lovely face. He’d been working alongside her for almost four days and hadn’t fully taken in how beautiful she was. ‘I’m glad you did,’ he replied. ‘If I wasn’t more enthusiastic earlier, I apologize. I didn’t know whether I was coming or going with tiredness.’
She smiled and poured a cup of steaming coffee. They sat there, sipping their coffee and enjoying each other’s company.
When they had finished their late lunch Kate got up and, looking at Rafi, said, ‘I have some bad news. Well, not that bad… Our time here is running short. We have got forty-five minutes before we have to leave. But before we go, I think we should get that off,’ she said, pointing at him.
Rafi raised his eyebrows.
She gave a beaming smile. ‘No, not what you are thinking. I meant that dirty Elastoplast bandage. Whilst you were asleep, I asked the manager for a medical kit.’ She opened the first aid box and pulled out a pair of scissors and a roll of bandage. She leant forward, took his hand and carefully cut the plaster from top to bottom. She finished and moved closer.
‘I fear this is going to hurt. If it’s anything like strip wax, it’ll hurt like hell – sorry.’
She pulled the plaster with a sharp, prolonged tug. There was a quiet ripping noise as it pulled the hairs out of his arm. This was accompanied by the sharp hissing sound of Rafi sucking air in through his teeth.
As Kate moved back, her bathrobe fell open across her chest, revealing a lovely and distracting sight. ‘That wasn’t too bad, was it?’ she said.
LATENT HAZARD: On the Edge Page 27
