by Andrew Smyth
He looked at me with annoyance which he quickly concealed and, since he had little choice if he wasn’t going to walk over me, he also held out his hand. ‘You must be the man from International Pharmaceuticals. I heard you were visiting us and I’m sorry I didn’t have the time to meet you personally. I hope Halim here has looked after you and answered all your questions.’
He started to walk on but I stepped in front of him. ‘I quite understand that you’re too busy at the moment,’ I said. ‘But I’m planning to return to Kenya shortly so perhaps you would be free before then?’
He stopped and looked at me with an expression of such contempt that seemed to me to be beyond normal annoyance at an unwelcome interruption. I sensed danger in his presence.
‘It’s Mr Hennessey, isn’t it?’ he said menacingly. ‘I thought it was easier to continue this charade for you to speak with my assistant, but I see that you persevere with it.’ He snapped his fingers arrogantly and Halim rushed up. ‘Show this man out.’ Jamaal Bakaar turned back to me and snarled: ‘I’d hoped that the message of the driver in Mumbai would have got to you. You will gain nothing by such persistence.’
I grabbed his arm as he turned, and he shook it off impatiently. ‘Mr Bakaar,’ I said, ‘I know you’re involved with supplying counterfeit drugs. I haven’t yet worked out how, but I will and then I’ll come looking for you.’
He shook his head. ‘We should have killed the driver, then you might have understood.’ He stepped to one side and snarled at Halim, ‘Now show him out!’ And with that he went through the archway and into one of the offices surrounding the courtyard.
Halim had been trying ineffectually to lead me out of the building, and after Jamaal had gone, Halim took my elbow and directed me towards the entrance foyer. He was now in a state of near panic at the prospect that he would be held responsible for allowing his boss to be jumped upon like that and he couldn’t get rid of me fast enough.
Back in London, Ken Maxwell told me that the successful bidder for the vaccination programme was Tau Pharmaceuticals and I realised that this meant there was a strong likelihood of the vaccines being fakes. I fumed at not having found the source of the counterfeit drugs but my phone ringing me reminded me that Sayed’s operation was still running. I’d left it on silent but had programmed in certain numbers to ring through and this was Sayed. I’d been trying to get hold of him since I’d returned but he hadn’t answered any of my messages. As I looked at the screen of my mobile, I realised that it was decision time.
‘Can we meet?’ Sayed didn’t waste time on pleasantries. ‘I’ve got some news.’
‘Where? In the park, or do you want to come to the boat again?’
‘Better make it the boat. Crossing London on the Underground I can check if I’m being followed.’
‘Fine. When?’
‘Make it this afternoon at around four.’
‘Is it okay if I ask Ali along,’ I asked, ‘now you’ve met him and know you can trust him?’
‘If you must. Although I’m not very keen on the idea.’
I disconnected the phone and immediately called Ali and told him that I thought it was about time I met with MI5 myself at Thames House. Not for the first time I wondered why the security services congregated along the waterfront, but eventually concluded cynically that it probably helped them to deal with any leaks. Perhaps there was something about the shifting nature of intelligence that when they looked out over the swirling, muddy River Thames, they were looking at something that mirrored themselves and the murky eddies they operated in.
But this time it was MI5 at Thames House, along the Embankment from the Houses of Parliament that I was visiting. These were the people who were supposed to be keeping us safe in our own homes, as opposed to MI6 who were keeping us safe from other people’s homes and had the entire globe as their canvas.
I’d given a call to Jeff Masters, the contact Ali had given me. I’d occasionally dealt with him when our work had overlapped – which hadn’t been often. We were always made to feel as though we were treading on their toes whenever we had any contacts in common, and they treated us with the patronising disdain that an uncle might treat an eager but rather dim nephew. But I couldn’t see how I could keep them out of this. I didn’t have to tell Sayed that they were involved – although, knowing him, he’d probably already guessed that his mosque was likely already under surveillance.
Jeff met me at reception and thought my security clearance at least enabled me to go up to their canteen, even if it didn’t allow me any deeper within their organisation. In order to discourage operatives from leaving the premises over lunchtime and run the risk of their conversations being overheard, the MI5 management had gone out of its way to make the staff canteen as attractive as possible. And certainly the view from the top floor was worth staying in for.
Jeff ordered two coffees and we took them to a table by the window, overlooking the river. I realised that he didn’t want to take me to his own office since he still regarded me as a possible security risk. I thought this was ironic because I was giving them information, rather than the other way around, but I understood I couldn’t be allowed to contaminate the inner workings of the agency. I’d only been up here once before and the riverside views and contemporary décor couldn’t have been further removed from the image given in a John Le Carré novel. Perhaps down in the basement they kept the frumpy middle-aged woman with a cigarette dangling from the side of her mouth spreading ash like a nuclear cloud behind her. Up here was more in keeping with the postmodernism of the offices of their brothers further down the river.
Jeff sat down opposite me and sneezed. ‘Sorry, a bit of hay fever.’
‘I thought you people were supposed to be tough.’
‘You’re confusing us with Military Intelligence. It’s you people who’re the tough ones. All that training out on the Scottish moors with only a thimbleful of water to keep you going for a week.’
‘It’s good to know we have such a reputation. Though in my case I always used to take a hip flask.’
‘And I bet it didn’t have water in it.’
‘No, but it went well with the dew from the heather. The Scottish equivalent of Bourbon and branch water.’
Jeff sighed, and frankly I couldn’t blame him. ‘Let’s get to the point, shall we? How can I help?’
I’d tried to work out the best way of introducing the subject of Khazim’s possible recruitment without bringing Sayed into it, but there was no way it could be done. All I could do was to be slightly economical with the truth. ‘As Ali told you, I picked up an informant in Afghanistan. He was brought here as a refugee and we’ve stayed in touch. He’s living in Harrow and attends a local mosque.’ I could see that Jeff was frowning and I knew why. ‘I know we were supposed to register contacts but at first he was adamant that he wouldn’t speak to anyone else. He reluctantly agreed to share his information with Ali, but since then he’s been rather quiet.’
‘Ali registered this information with us. So what’s the latest position?’
‘Sayed – that’s my informant – is meeting me this afternoon, so I assume he must have more information.’
‘So where did he develop this loyalty to Philip Hennessey, rather than coming straight to us?’
‘It was in Afghanistan. I promised his mother that I’d track him down and, as I say, I traced him here to north London and we’ve kept in touch. He told me he was grateful for my help and agreed to let me know if he came across anyone being radicalised.’
‘And did he?’
‘He told me he was suspicious of this other refugee – called Khazim. Apparently Khazim was going on residential Koranic study courses, and you know what that could mean. Presumably you monitor these things?’
Jeff looked at me for a while without saying anything. Eventually, he shook his head. ‘I know you had this reputation for working outside the rules, but I thought at least you would know what the rules are. From what you’ve told me
you appear to have been acting as a one-man counter-intelligence agency. Don’t you have any concept of teamwork?’
‘I always thought that teamwork was getting everyone doing what I wanted them to do.’
‘But you never could, could you?’
‘Look, Jeff. Cut it out, will you? I’m here now and I’m giving you this lead, aren’t I?’
‘Are you? I bet you’re going to take a mortgage over it – keep ultimate ownership.’
I was getting irritated. I didn’t come here to have my failings analysed. ‘Do you know about this place? It must have figured somewhere on your radar.’
Jeff realised that whatever he thought about it, I’d brought it to him like a cat with a mouse and dropped it on his mat. He sighed and pulled out a laptop and entered his password details. I waited as he navigated his way through to whatever intelligence they had on the north London activists. ‘You say the names are Sayed Alam and someone called Khazim?’ I nodded and he carried on with his search. After a while, he brought out his cell phone and dialled a number. ‘Giles, would you mind coming up for a moment?’
Jeff put the phone down and turned to me. ‘As it happens we do know about this group. Giles Hathaway is the case officer dealing with it. He’s been monitoring it for the past year. Ah, Giles.’
I stood up as Giles approached the table. He was a young man – probably not yet thirty – with dark wavy hair and a suntan that I didn’t think he’d picked up in north London. Jeff introduced us and explained about my contact with Sayed and I could see the surprise on Hathaway’s face.
‘So he’s your informant, is he? We had no idea he was in contact with anyone else, but are you sure he’s genuine?’
I explained again the background about how I’d tracked him down for his mother and how he’d kept in touch and told me his concerns about Khazim.
‘I suppose that makes sense,’ Hathaway said. ‘We’ve been keeping an eye on the people there in Harrow. We know about Sayed and Khazim and there are several others we think are involved. We were expecting movement, and have various bugs in place, but you say something might be on very soon?’
‘From what little Sayed said on the phone, my guess is that things are coming to a head. He doesn’t usually contact me unless he has something to say.’
‘And he says that it’s Khazim who’s going to be running the project?’ I nodded. ‘That’s probably quite likely. It’s something they often give to the new boys. Checking them out for more important things.’
‘So what have you got on file about Sayed?’ I asked. ‘Did you know about his background?’
‘You know I can’t give you any detail. You’re no longer security-cleared.’ I was getting used to these brush-offs. If he wanted to rub my nose in what it felt like to be on the outside, he couldn’t have done much better. He looked up and, as though reading my mind, he added, ‘This is a one-way street you realise? You tell us what you know, and we tell you nothing in return.’
‘That might normally be the case,’ I said evenly, ‘but I’m afraid you’re not going to get far with my informant if you try to take him over. He’s made that quite clear.’
‘And your informant, Sayed, what exactly is he going to give you that you’re now so eager to share with us even though you’ve waited all this time to tell us about it?’
‘I’m not eager to share it with you, as you put it. I realised that if things are starting to move then you need to know and I don’t know any more than I’ve told you. He thinks this young man, Khazim, is being groomed and, as I say, he promised to keep track of it and keep me informed.’
‘So what are we supposed to do with that information?’
I was getting angry but knew where that could lead. ‘First you criticise me for not telling you about this informant and now you’re making out that you’re not interested. You can’t have it both ways.’ I took a deep breath. ‘I came here because Sayed has asked to meet me later this afternoon and I thought it was time to get you people involved.’
‘This afternoon? Can we come along and see what he has to say?’
‘That wouldn’t work. It was difficult enough getting him to talk to Ali, bringing in anyone else would scare him off, but I can call you after he’s been and let you know what he says. We can then judge if it’s worth following up.’
‘We, you say? I think that’s something you’ll have to leave to us.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out another mobile phone. ‘Here, you’d better have this. It’s a burner and isn’t registered to anyone so can’t be hacked. You can give Sayed the number. It’s written here.’ He handed me a piece of paper. I wondered how many phones he kept to hand and doled out like candy. ‘In future, if you want to phone me use that and not your own.’ He reached into his pocket again and brought out a small box. ‘A tracking device. More accurate than tracing a phone.’
I took the phone, the tracker and the paper, and put them in my pocket without looking at them. I think I was being dismissed but I wanted to look as though I was leaving when I wanted to and not when he wanted me to. I stood up. ‘I’ll call you after I’ve spoken to Sayed.’
Ken Maxwell now insisted upon a full debrief and so I went on down to River House for a meeting. I’d already given them an outline of my meeting with Jamaal but thought they ought to understand what it meant.
‘He knew who I was,’ I told them. ‘He knew about the driver in Mumbai and he probably told them to do it.’
‘That’s not possible,’ said Ken. ‘How could he? I admit your cover wasn’t fool-proof, but it made sense. You were there to buy supplies for the UK.’
‘He must have heard what happened in Zanzibar, with Ansaar. They realised that I wasn’t an ordinary pharmaceutical buyer.’
‘Perhaps not an ordinary one, but in my experience such people have to be pretty resourceful.’
‘I don’t think they usually waterboard buyers who turn up on their doorstep. It wouldn’t be good for business. A card is usually sufficient.’ I was annoyed that they couldn’t see how things had changed. ‘They’ll be watching me now. They know I’m not who I said and they know that Ansaar’s operation has been compromised.’
‘Maybe,’ Ken said. ‘But perhaps they won’t have enough time to set up an alternative route.’
‘It’s obviously a well-established supply route,’ I told them. ‘We only followed the boat that supplied southern Kenya, but there were other boats loading up there and we have no idea where they were going.’
‘I can guess,’ Ken said with a trace of bitterness. ‘They could be supplying all of East Africa. Can you estimate the volume that goes through there?’
‘Not since we don’t yet know how they’re doing. I think there could be other similar warehouses on Zanzibar or even Pemba. If you think about it, it took them a day to strip down a container, take out the fakes and send the real ones on.’
‘It’s a pity you weren’t able to find out where they’re going – a consignment note or something.’
I thought this was pushing it a bit. ‘I’m sorry about that but I was a bit tied up at the time,’ I said a touch austerely. ‘We can’t be 100 percent sure, but nothing else would explain the operation which, as far as we could tell, was pretty well organised. Your satellite equipment seems to be effective, can’t you set up a surveillance operation?’
‘We looked into that, but there’s too much that could go wrong. We could follow the boats that left the warehouse, but we can’t track them at night or once they hit the shore and the cargo’s offloaded into trucks.’
‘Perhaps not, but you could find out what countries they’re going to. It might give you an idea of how big this operation is.’
I could see that Ken Maxwell was working through this. ‘I suppose we could get the Kenyan and Tanzanian office to follow this up,’ he said. ‘They might be able to get someone to track it once it’s unloaded.’
‘That’s only if you can trace it back to the original source. So far we’ve been
lucky in tracing this consignment but we can’t follow them all.’
‘I wouldn’t call it luck. But the real problem is that we don’t know who’s producing them.’
Once again, we got back to the essence of the problem. ‘I’ve been racking my brains,’ I said, ‘and I have this feeling that it’s right under my nose; that I saw it but somehow missed it. All we know for sure is that it’s got to be somewhere in or around Mumbai. How else could it have been loaded onto the container?’
‘So that’s all right, then,’ Ken said, laconically. ‘Only around twenty million people to search.’
‘Let’s look at it the other way,’ I said. ‘Follow the trail backwards from the point of delivery.’
‘What?’ Ken looked at me in disbelief. ‘You mean go around every market stall, every pharmacy in East Africa – every doctor’s surgery?’
‘No.’ I was disappointed by Ken’s immediate reaction. ‘Couldn’t we set up some kind of sting?’
‘A bit risky, but I could talk it over with Brent, see what he thinks about it. If it worked we could sit tight and let them bring the drugs to us.’
I’m not sure that Ken could consider that any idea that didn’t come from within his own service could ever be considered a good one, but he affected to think about it. ‘What do you think?’ I prompted.
‘We’ll work on it but now that your cover’s blown I don’t think we can risk you getting involved further, so I think it’s probably time to say goodbye.’ He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Brent says to tell you that we’ve been really grateful for your help. You’ve done a great job but I think we can take it on from here.’
