by Bill Ward
Al-Hashimi turned away and looked into the distance. “You are right… I was not always like I am today... I do not want your sympathy for myself but maybe for the hundreds of thousands of innocent people your government has murdered in Iraq. A few dozen from the West are killed and you act like it is the end of the world. Are our lives not equally as important?”
“The answer is not terrorism,” Powell said emphatically.
“Your leaders are just as much terrorists. The only difference is they have more money and weapons. For every bomb we make you drop one hundred or more on us.”
“We want to live in peace,” Powell stressed.
“That is a lie. The West is engaged in a modern day crusade against Islam.”
“Right now, I am concerned only about this exchange.”
“This woman must be very important to you. Is she your wife?”
“No, she is more like my daughter.”
“I understand. I would do the same in your place. I suppose I should be grateful. I didn’t think I would ever again get to enjoy the countryside like this… Even though it has only been for a short time.” He sucked the fresh air greedily into his lungs. Then he added, “My family were all killed by your bombs. I have nothing left to live for.”
Powell had nothing further to say. He watched closely as Crawford’s man arrived and silently took over Jenkins position supporting Al-Hashimi. Barnes then took the other arm from Brian.
“We’re good to go,” Powell said into the phone. “Let me have a quick word with Afina.”
Crawford handed the phone to Afina but remained close enough to hear what was being said.
“Afina, when he tells you to start walking, just come towards me at a normal pace and everything will be fine. Don’t try to run.”
“Okay.”
“Give the phone back now.” Once Crawford had the phone again Powell continued, “Let’s do it.” He turned to Barnes and said, “You can go. Remember we are all armed and won’t hesitate to shoot you if anything happens to Afina.”
Barnes and the other man took the first few paces towards Crawford and at the same time Afina started walking. Powell watched carefully but was reasonable confident the exchange was going to take place without drama. However, he was also certain Crawford did not intend to simply let them drive away into the sunset and live happy ever after.
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR
Powell ended the call to Crawford and watched until Afina had safely passed Al-Hashimi going in the other direction.
Powell quickly called O’Neill. “How’s it look over there,” he asked.
“Seems okay. I can’t spot any other of Crawford’s men. Whatever they’re planning, I don’t think it’s imminent.”
“Right, then it’s time for you to leave. All being well, we’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”
Powell ended the call and returned his attention to the exchange. Afina had increased her pace and was getting close. Al-Hashimi was moving slower, which was a positive. Every second’s advantage might end up being important.
Out of the corner of his eye, Powell saw O’Neill drive out of the car park. He hoped he wasn’t going to regret having sent him away too early.
Afina ignored Powell’s instructions and ran the last few yards. She threw herself into Powell’s arms.
“It’s good to see you,” she said. “I was so scared.”
“We need to get going,” Powell said, breaking away. “We aren’t out of the woods yet.”
He gave one last look in Crawford’s direction to see Al-Hashimi delivered. Then they all headed towards the car where they were out of view of Crawford and his team.
“Follow me,” Powell instructed, walking past the car and down a grassy incline.
He led them over the brow of the hill and before they disappeared completely from view, he glanced behind and was pleased he couldn’t see any obvious sign of being followed. They walked at a fast pace down a steep hill but it was a walk he had done many times before and knew was safe. He had been pleased to see Afina was wearing trainers and not shoes with a heel.
They took paths that looked more suitable for mountain goats and were soon at the top of the Three Hundred Steps, which Powell knew led down towards the village of Poynings. He’d run up the steps many times as part of his kick boxing training. He was relieved to have reached cover. They could no longer be seen from above as there were trees overhanging the steps.
The fast pace didn’t encourage anyone to speak and they were focused on not losing their footing. They were soon at the bottom of the steps and Powell was relieved to see O’Neill waiting for them, parked up at the side of the road.
Powell opened the rear door of the car and took a bag of clothes from the back seat. “Afina, can you please sit in the car and change all your clothes.”
Afina looked as if she hadn’t heard properly. “What did you say?”
“You must get rid of all your clothes urgently,” Powell emphasised. “Crawford may have put a tracker on you. It doesn’t even have to be a solid object nowadays. They can just use a powder.” He thought it was unlikely as nobody had given chase, which they could have done if they had planted a tracker but it was best to be safe.
Afina did as asked. She sat on the backseat and a minute later emerged in different clothes. The men had all been gallant enough to look away while she changed. She handed the bag with her old clothes to Powell and he threw them into a nearby clump of bushes.
“Right, we need to hurry,” Powell said. “O’Neill, you can keep driving. I’ll sit in the front.”
They all piled into the car and O’Neill accelerated away.
“This was a good move on your part,” O’Neill said. “As I drove down the hill there were two cars waiting on the side of the road, who I would bet were Crawford’s men.”
“I’m not surprised. By now he’s probably guessed we have other plans but he doesn’t know what car we’re driving.”
“He wouldn’t have to be a genius to guess it’s your car,” Jenkins said. “We should keep off the motorways so we stay away from the cameras. Otherwise they can find us too easily.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Powell agreed. “I must be getting old. My brain’s slowing down. I should have thought of that. Let’s stick to the side roads.”
“Can I borrow your phone,” Afina asked Powell. “I need to call my mother to let her know I am okay.”
“Of course,” he said. “But make it very quick. Crawford may try and find us by our phones. We all have them switched off.”
“I will just be one minute,” Afina said, accepting Powell’s phone.
Everyone could hear as Afina told her mother she was well and would call her again later.
“So what do we do next?” Brian asked, once Afina had finished her call and handed the phone back to Powell.
“I’ve been thinking about our options,” Powell replied. “And I believe the best thing we can do is to publish what we know. If the whole world knows what we have discovered, then it makes it difficult for the likes of Crawford to come after us. The government and all the agencies, including the CIA, will be on the back foot.”
“Publish and be damned,” Brian agreed. “I will call the DG and let him know. I’m not sure he will be very happy about going public but at least we’re giving him notice.”
“Is your job at risk by us publishing?” Powell questioned.
“I don’t think so,” Brian replied. “I will say it’s all your idea and I wasn’t in favour but you went ahead anyway.”
“That’s probably for the best. We need you to keep us informed from the inside. If he acts fast, he may be still able to pick up Crawford and Barnes. Is the tracking device working?”
Brian checked his phone. “Working fine. He’s heading back towards the A23. Where did you end up putting the tracker?”
“Tina wrapped it into the fresh bandage on Al-Hashimi’s foot. Because he’s in so much pain she doesn’t think he will det
ect it.”
“He may not be travelling with Crawford. There’s a fair chance Crawford will have his men take him to a new safe house while he and Barnes head back to London.”
“Who is Tina?” Afina suddenly asked. “And what is all this talk about publishing?”
“She’s the sister of Samurai,” Powell explained. “He is the hacker, who helped me trace where the Bennett children were living in Saudi Arabia. Do you remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“He is going to publish our story on the internet. He is sending it to all the news outlets.”
“You have been busy,” Afina smiled.
“We have. Give me ten minutes and then I’ll bring you up to date with everything that’s happened while you were away.”
Powell looked sideways to O’Neill. “Do you have the registration number of the car Crawford was driving?”
O’Neill recited the number out loud.
“I think we’ve done everything we can do. Let’s hope the DG acts on it,” Powell said.
“At the very least, the Home Secretary will find it difficult to block an investigation,” Brian said.
“I’m sure he will try hard to block an investigation if he’s implicated,” Powell replied.
“There is also another important consideration,” Jenkins added. “If Crawford is planning further terrorist attacks, as Barnes says, then he’d be a fool to go ahead with new attacks once the story comes out. I think publishing is the best way of stopping further attacks and that means we will be saving lives.”
“We’re all agreed then?” Powell asked.
Hearing no dissenting voices, he took out his phone and pushed the fast key for Samurai’s number. “Go ahead and publish,” Powell said. He felt a bit like he was launching an atomic weapon. The fallout would be similar. Whether the full extent of the conspiracy would ever be revealed he doubted.
“The information can be online within ten minutes,” Samurai answered. “There will be no going back once I hit the send key.”
“Go ahead. I’m not sure what exactly the outcome will be but it is our best option. It’s our only option.”
“A disruptive strategy is often the best approach. It works in technology. Information is a more powerful weapon than guns.”
Powell hoped he was right. “Send me a text to confirm when it’s live. And thanks for all your help.”
“My pleasure. It should make for interesting headlines. I look forward to following the story from my home abroad. My friends will ensure it has global coverage.”
“You have a home abroad?”
“My work has paid very well over the years. I have several homes. I intend to move to the sunshine for a period of time and let the dust settle. It means from tomorrow, I will be out of phone contact. If you need to get hold of me in an emergency, you must place an advert in the Argus personal ads. I will then contact you.”
“What about Tina?”
“She enjoys the sun.”
“Good luck and thanks again for your help.”
Powell ended the call feeling a sense of relief. Samurai was no fool. He and Tina would be safer abroad. They had discussed the issue Barnes knew where they lived and Samurai had said not to worry but Powell had been concerned.
Powell was also feeling in need of spending some time abroad. He was feeling tired and wanted a holiday. He would take Afina to Rome or Venice perhaps. They were two of his favourite cities. He knew she had been to neither. There was little to celebrate but the two of them deserved a break. When they reached the hotel where they were going to spend the night, he would start searching the internet for flights. The bar could stay shut for a few more days.
EPILOGUE
The presentation was to take place at Buckingham Palace and Powell was surprised but pleased to receive an invitation. It was his first visit to the Palace and in all likelihood would be his last. Although he wouldn’t get to meet the Queen in person, he would get to see her make the award.
He was sat with about twenty other guests, who had loved ones receiving a variety of awards. The recipients of the awards were sat in a special row of seats at the front. The room had thick carpet and the walls were covered in large portraits and ornate, gold decoration. Around the room were stood Yeoman of the Guard in their red and gold, Tudor style uniforms.
Powell had time to think about recent events while he waited for the ceremony to commence. It had been a traumatic six months for the British people. Samurai’s release of a story speculating there was a conspiracy that went to the heart of government, enjoyed a short life in the media. The government quickly sent DA-Notices to all the mainstream media outlets citing implications for national security, which put an end to further articles.
It was left to the foreign press, especially in France and Germany, to freely publish their stories but much was just conjecture and speculation, and even these stories were soon replaced on the front pages by the reporting of further acts of terrorism around the world.
The official government reports identified Phoenix as responsible for the London pub bombing, in addition to the attacks in Brighton. There had been CCTV at the pub but on the night in question it had not been working. The truth was that one of the first people on the scene worked for a secret branch of MI6 and had swapped the tape showing Brown arriving and leaving, for one that was blank.
Al-Hashimi was reported as shot dead resisting arrest. The truth, Brian revealed, was that he was already dead when they found him, killed by a cocktail of drugs, which had been injected into his body soon after he was handed back to Crawford. His value had finally been outweighed by the risk of keeping him alive. Al-Hashimi was named as the marathon bomber and the press were informed all the terrorists responsible for the atrocities were accounted for and dead. It made for a better story than making wild accusations about political intrigue.
ISIS was blamed for all the attacks and the Prime Minister gave an impassioned speech from Downing Street, promising swift retaliation. Parliament passed an emergency Bill supporting additional air strikes in Syria, which took place within days. A further bill doubled spending on counter-terrorism.
Powell met with the DG and Brian where he was asked not to stir up more trouble. The DG promised that he and his counterparts in MI6 were routing out the bad apples. There was no appetite for public examination of possible conspiracy theories. That would only be playing into the hands of the terrorists.
Crawford had scurried back to America before he could be formally kicked out of the country. A very strong complaint had been made about his suspected behaviour and the CIA were left in no doubt he was persona non grata in the UK.
According to the DG, Barnes had been dealt with, whatever that truly meant. Powell suspected he had been pensioned off and he’d gone back to life in the country. A small price to pay compared with the price paid by Lara.
The only people who seemed to escape any censure were the politicians linked to Barnes and Crawford. The DG promised there would be an inquiry but there wouldn’t be any washing of dirty linen in public.
The most positive outcome was that there were no further terrorist attacks. Whatever Crawford had been planning as his final attack never came to fruition. Six months on from the last attack, the country was returning to normal and the threat had receded in most people’s minds.
Powell had wanted to be sure Afina and the rest of them were safe from any further attempts on their lives. The DG was able to assure him that was the case. So when the DG, on behalf of the establishment, asked Powell for his silence, he had only one demand in return for quietly returning to Brighton.
Today was the day the DG honoured Powell’s demand. A large fanfare announced the event was about to commence. At each end of the room where Powell was sat, two pairs of ebony-veneered cabinets with gilt-bronze mounts were built into the wall beneath tall mirrors. The mirror and cabinet opened as one to reveal a concealed door and in walked the Queen attended by a number of men in suit
s. The room fell quiet and everyone stood while the Queen walked to the centre of the room and stood behind a small, raised dais. One of her staff then asked everyone to sit.
Powell watched as Lara’s name was read out and her father walked forward to shake hands with the Queen and receive her posthumous George Cross medal, for an act of the most conspicuous courage, in circumstances of extreme danger. Her actions had saved the lives of many innocent bystanders.
The press had been fed the story she worked for MI6 and had been tracking Al-Hashimi’s cell, when she was captured by the terrorists. They subsequently placed the suicide vest on her, drugged her and threw her out of a van in Leicester Square. She had quickly become a national heroine.
The George Cross being the highest gallantry award for civilians, Lara’s father was a very proud man. Powell had spoken with him and explained how she had helped him in Saudi Arabia to recover the Bennett children. She was a friend and would be missed.
Powell initially felt some feelings of guilt. He had failed to protect Lara but the feelings had eroded over the months. It had been Lara’s choice to work for MI6. She had chosen a dangerous career and he wasn’t responsible for her death. At least he had managed to establish her innocence and she was truly deserving of her award. He would remember her fondly despite them having shared a rocky past.
THE END
TRAFFICKING
Powell Book 1
Trafficking is big business and those involved show no remorse, have no mercy, only a deadly intent to protect their income.
Afina is a young Romanian girl with high expectations when she arrives in Brighton but she has been tricked and there is no job, only a life as a sex slave.
Facing a desperate future, Afina tries to escape and a young female police officer, who comes to her aid, is stabbed.
