Trojan

by Alan McDermott

  ‘With Social Services. They’re taking good care of him, but that won’t last forever. If you don’t help us, he’ll be put up for adoption with a new identity and you’ll never see him again. I can’t guarantee that the couple who take him in will be Muslim, or even man and woman.’

  ‘You can’t do that!’

  ‘Oh, but I can, and I will,’ Harvey assured her. ‘By the time’s he’s two, he’ll be eating pork and learning about Jesus from both of his fathers.’

  ‘Only you can prevent that,’ Sarah said, playing the good cop. ‘You need to talk to us.’

  Tears were rolling down Malika’s cheeks, and Sarah handed her a tissue.

  ‘I’ll give you five minutes to think about it,’ Harvey told her. ‘Then the offer is off the table.’

  He motioned for Sarah to follow him, and they left Malika alone to ponder the threat.

  ‘If she doesn’t go for it, take her back to her cell and bring one of the others in,’ Harvey said when they were out of earshot. ‘One of them has to care enough about their child to talk.’

  After the allotted time had passed, Harvey went back into the room.

  ‘Well? Have you made your decision?’

  Malika maintained her silence, and Harvey sighed as he called for a guard to escort her back to her cell. While he waited for the next suspect, he flipped through the women’s records, which he’d had sent to his phone.

  He saw that, according to the information gathered in Lampedusa, Malika had no living family. That meant it was unlikely she had been coerced into bringing the X3 into the country. Of course, her story could have been a complete fabrication, but he wouldn’t be able to ascertain that until she broke her silence.

  The door buzzed and the guard ushered the next prisoner through the door. Harvey recognised her as Inas Abdullah, and while she was being connected to the polygraph, he read through her file. Like Malika, Inas was in her mid-twenties. Her story was also comparable in that her family had supposedly died in recent fighting, leaving only her and her son. As with Malika, since she supposedly had no remaining family, it would have been difficult to force her to transport the nerve agent. And the similarities didn’t end there: Inas also claimed to be a Shia Muslim, which didn’t add up. Why would a Shiite, of her own volition, help an organisation that was entirely Sunni, a sect that had vowed to eradicate her branch of Islam?

  Harvey asked Sarah to start the interview while he went into the other chamber and made a phone call.

  ‘Hamad, you’re a Muslim, right?’

  ‘Last time I looked.’

  ‘Which branch?’

  ‘Shia, boss. Why?’

  ‘Do you use a different Quran from the Sunnis?’ Harvey asked.

  ‘No, it’s the same book. It’s the hadith that are different. They were written generations after the prophet Muhammad died, and they contain many elements of traditional Islam that aren’t mentioned in the Quran, such as stoning adulterers.’

  ‘How well do you know your hadith, and are they very different from the Sunni version?’

  ‘To answer both questions, a lot.’ Farsi said. ‘Is this going somewhere?’

  ‘These female prisoners all claim to be Shia, but I’m not convinced. Could you pop down and see how well they know your hadith?’

  ‘No problem. Be there in a couple of minutes.’

  While Harvey waited, he watched Sarah try to get Inas to open up. The questions were simple and non-incriminating, but apart from confirming her name, Inas answered every question with a stern ‘No comment’.

  When Farsi arrived, Harvey swiped the lock and asked Sarah to leave so that their colleague could take over.

  ‘This softly-softly approach isn’t going to work,’ Sarah said once the door closed.

  ‘That’s my feeling, too, but we have to try. I’ll give Hamad a couple of minutes, and if she won’t talk, we’ll go back in and make the same offer we gave to Malika.’

  They watched and listened as Farsi did his best to get something – anything – from Inas, but after a few minutes of questioning her on the religious tomes it was clear the woman wasn’t going to answer him. Harvey swiped the door open and beckoned his colleague to leave before closing it again.

  ‘We’re wasting time,’ Harvey said. ‘Hamad, go and see how we’re getting on with the families they were staying with. We’ll have to backtrack and find out who helped them into the country.’

  Teams had been sent to the addresses the women had given on their asylum applications forms, and Harvey expected them to have something to report by now.

  Farsi left, and Harvey and Sarah went into the interrogation room to perform their good cop/bad cop routine. Unlike Malika, Inas showed no emotion when they threatened to take her son away forever. There wasn’t even the slightest flicker when it was suggested he’d be brought up worshipping another deity, and Harvey quickly realised they were wasting their time.

  He swiped his way back into the control room and asked Small how her polygraph readings looked.

  ‘Total apathy,’ the technician replied. ‘Malika’s were all over the place, but this one doesn’t seem to give a damn about her kid.’

  Harvey opened the door to the hallway and asked the guard to swap Inas for the next prisoner. He had a feeling that the remaining two interviews would go much the same way, and that wasn’t going to benefit either party. If he couldn’t get anything out of the women, then Home Secretary Maynard would take the matter out of MI5’s hands, and the prisoners would face a lot more than empty threats.

  Harvey ended his call and placed another one to the team that had been sent to the mosque in Woolwich. The families that the prisoners had been staying with all told the same story: the imam had called, asking them to put the women up for a few days. They’d never seen them before and had no idea how they’d managed to reach England beyond what the young mothers had told them. Harvey had people following up on those stories, but he didn’t expect they’d turn up any solid details to confirm or deny the women’s stories.

  His call connected, and the operative recounted his conversation with the imam.

  ‘He got a phone call a few minutes before the women turned up at the mosque, asking him to find accommodation for them. He doesn’t know who called, but he gave me the number from his call log.’

  Harvey entered the digits into his computer and the result wasn’t a total surprise.

  ‘It’s an unregistered mobile,’ he said. ‘Looks like another dead end. Give me the time of the call, though. GCHQ might have a recording that we can use for voice comparison.’

  Harvey fired off an urgent request to the Government Communications Headquarters, then went to update Ellis on the lack of progress. He was about to knock on her door when his mobile phone rang.

  ‘Andrew, one of the prisoners wants to talk to you,’ Elaine Solomon said.

  ‘Which one?’ he asked, already heading towards the exit.

  ‘Malika Ali.’

  ‘I’m on my way. Have her taken to the interrogation room.’

  By the time he arrived downstairs, Malika was already sitting at the metal table, a guard affixing sensors to her body.

  ‘Did she say what she wants?’ Harvey asked Solomon.

  ‘Nope, just that she needed to speak to you.’

  Harvey waited until the woman was wired up and Small confirmed that everything was working before he swiped his card to gain access to the chamber.

  ‘You wanted to see me,’ he said as he took a seat opposite Malika.

  ‘I want my son.’

  ‘I’m sure you do, but you won’t see him until you’ve answered all of my questions truthfully.’

  ‘No, I want my son now. If you bring him here and let him stay with me, I will tell you whatever you want to know.’

  ‘It’s not that easy,’ Harvey told her. ‘First, you answer a few questions, and if I think you’re being honest, I’ll pass your request on to my superiors.’

  Malika continued as if h
e hadn’t interrupted her. ‘I also want him to stay with me while I’m in prison.’

  ‘No can do. That’s only allowed until they’re eighteen months old.’

  ‘Then he stays with me for six months, but I get to choose who looks after him for the remainder of my sentence. I also want a new identity, and one for Jalal, too. When I’m released, I want our asylum requests to be granted.’

  Her requests sounded reasonable, but Harvey didn’t want to seem too keen to agree to her demands, otherwise she might decide to demand further concessions in exchange for her co-operation.

  ‘I understand,’ he said without committing. ‘Let’s start with an easy question. Is Malika Ali your real name?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘And who asked you to bring the phial to England?’

  ‘His name is Nabil Karim,’ Malika said. ‘My husband is a member of his group, Saif al-Islam.’

  ‘Who were you supposed to deliver the phial to?’

  ‘Bring me my son and I will answer the rest of your questions.’

  ‘First, you tell me who you were supposed to deliver it to.’

  ‘Not until I am holding Jalal in my arms.’

  Harvey could see the determination in her eyes, and decided not to push it. The sooner she had her son, the less time she had to change her mind.

  ‘Okay, I’ll make arrangements now. He’ll be here within the hour.’

  ‘And he stays here with me?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll have a cot brought in, plus anything you need to make him comfortable.’

  Harvey left her alone and called Ellis to inform her of the latest development.

  ‘Do you think she can be trusted?’ the Director General asked.

  ‘It’s a small concession, if you ask me. She knows about SAI and fingered Nabil Karim. I think we should give her whatever she asks for.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll have Sarah make the calls.’

  Harvey hung up and asked Gerald Small what the polygraph told them about her responses so far.

  ‘Hard to tell. Next time you speak to her, mix in some control questions about her age, her height, things that she can’t lie about.’

  ‘Will do,’ Harvey said. ‘You guys might as well get some lunch. It’s going to be a long day.’

  ‘So who were you supposed to deliver the phial to?’

  Malika looked up at Harvey, then back down to Jalal, who was feeding from a bottle.

  ‘I wasn’t given that information,’ she said. ‘We were all told that once we arrived in England we would have it removed. Then we’d be housed until we were well enough to return to Syria.’

  Harvey could understand her response, even though it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. If she were merely a mule, it made sense that she wouldn’t know the bigger picture.

  ‘Tell me why you agreed to have a phial implanted in your stomach and bring it here.’

  ‘As I said, my husband is a member of Saif al-Islam. When Nabil Karim asked for volunteers – mothers only – he put my name forward.’

  ‘Why just mothers?’

  ‘I assume it was because we would be the most likely to be offered asylum and given quicker passage through Europe. We saw many young men who had been on Lampedusa for months.’

  ‘What is your husband’s name?’

  ‘Yousef Ali.’

  Harvey knew Sarah would be passing that information upstairs to see if it tallied with any of the names Hannibal had fed them before his grisly death.

  ‘Do you love your husband?’ he asked.

  ‘It is my duty. When I was chosen to be his bride, I had no choice but to agree. I have seen what happened to those who refused such an offer.’

  Harvey had seen them, too. The sanitised images shown on the news channels were little compared to the real atrocities being carried out.

  ‘So it was an arranged marriage.’

  ‘I think “forced” is more appropriate,’ Malika told him. ‘There is no place for Jalal amid all the conflict back home. I saw it as an opportunity to be rid of the fighting forever. That is why I claimed asylum when I arrived here. There is nothing for us in Syria.’

  ‘What made you change your mind? You said you were only supposed to be here until you were well enough to return home.’

  ‘I discussed it with the other women on the journey over here, and we all agreed to stay. Not all Muslims believe in killing innocents in the name of Allah, and we want our children to grow up learning the true messages of the Quran.’

  ‘What arrangements were in place to get you home? Were you supposed to meet up somewhere?’

  ‘We were only told that someone would come to us once transportation was in place. I have no idea how they planned to get us home.’

  Jalal had finished his bottle and Malika gently rubbed his back as she held him close.

  ‘Who removed the implant, and when?’

  ‘It was done on Friday,’ Malika said. ‘The doctor didn’t mention his name.’

  ‘Where was it done?’

  ‘A place in London where people go to get new noses.’ Her expression turned to disgust. ‘And fake breasts.’

  ‘A plastic surgeon? What was the name of the place?’

  ‘I didn’t see it. We were taken in through the back and came out the same way. I only know it was that kind of place because of the posters on the walls.’

  ‘Think hard,’ Harvey urged her. ‘They usually have the company name on the adverts.’

  ‘They were not the kind of photographs I wanted to study too closely.’

  Harvey thought that was understandable, but finding the man who carried out the surgery could be vital.

  ‘If I showed you photos of the front and rear of every plastic surgery boutique in London, do you think you would recognise it?’

  Malika assured him that she would, and Harvey looked over at the one-way mirror. ‘Someone arrange that as soon as possible.’

  While his colleagues got to work on that task, Harvey turned his attention back to Malika.

  ‘I’d like to know if any of the information you gave in Lampedusa is true. You’ve already admitted that your husband is in Saif al-Islam, so the part about him being killed is obviously a lie.’

  ‘It was mostly a fabrication,’ Malika admitted. ‘A story created to help me get here. This is the only part that is true.’ She held up her hands, palms facing Harvey. ‘I was at home with my father when a rocket hit the house. He was trapped underneath a burning beam, and when I tried to lift it off, my hands were badly burnt. The only lie was that it happened over a year ago, not last month.’

  ‘The scars look fresh,’ Harvey said.

  ‘I know. To make my story more believable, Karim put a pot on a fire for an hour and made me pick it up.’

  ‘Why? He could have just altered your cover story to include the truth, that it happened a long time ago.’

  ‘I suggested that,’ Malika told him, ‘but Karim insisted. He said he had his reasons, and I was in no position to argue.’

  Harvey wondered what kind of monsters would do such a thing, especially to a woman, but to people like Nabil Karim, lives meant little. He certainly wouldn’t have lost any sleep over the pain he’d inflicted on Malika.

  ‘I need you to tell me everything, from the moment Karim approached you to the time we picked you up at Lunar House.’

  ‘I’d like a drink before we start,’ Malika said.

  ‘Sure. Tea, coffee or water?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to try Coca-Cola. It wasn’t deemed acceptable during my childhood.’

  Harvey signalled for someone to fulfil her request, and while they waited for the beverage to arrive, he asked her to begin her story.

  ‘The first I heard about it was when Yousef told me about Karim’s request. We were at home and he brought the subject up during dinner. At first he made it sound as if I was just going to be doing some travelling, and I was happy to help him, but it was only when I was taken to see Karim that I discovered what h
e really had in mind.’

  ‘Was that the first time you’d met him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where did the meeting take place?’ Harvey asked. ‘Was it at his home?’

  ‘No, some kind of warehouse. He was there with several others, but he took me into a room to explain what he wanted me to do.’

  ‘What was your first reaction when he asked you to have something implanted in your stomach?’

  ‘Please,’ Malika said. ‘It is better if I explain everything that happened, and then you can ask questions.’

  It wasn’t the way Harvey wanted to handle the interview. His plan was to keep probing, often rephrasing the same question in the hope of tripping her up, then flitting back and forth, testing earlier statements to see if her story changed. As it was, he had to balance his own wishes with the need to keep her talking.

  ‘I’m sorry. Please continue.’

  ‘Karim took me to a separate room so that we were alone. He impressed on me the importance of the mission, and let me know in no uncertain terms what would happen if I refused. By agreeing to meet him, I had already given my implicit consent.’

  Harvey was struck by her excellent grasp of the English language. She was clearly well educated, which only added to her mystery.

  ‘And so he told you that you had to undergo surgery as part of the deal?’

  ‘Not at that point,’ Malika said. ‘He did tell me that parts of the journey would be hazardous, but that he would provide as much assistance as he could. It was only a few days before we travelled that the five of us were told the full story.’

  Sarah buzzed the door open and walked in with a glass of water for Harvey and a plastic cup filled to the brim for Malika. The Syrian woman looked at the contents, and then placed the cup on the table.

  ‘Can I please have an unopened can and a fresh cup?’

  ‘Why?’ Sarah asked. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘I would just like to be sure that you haven’t added anything to it.’

  ‘We have no reason to do that,’ Harvey said. ‘You’re helping us.’

  ‘All the same, I would prefer an unopened one.’

  Sarah seemed put out, but Harvey nodded that she should comply with Malika’s request.