Latent Hazard

by Piers Venmore-Rowland

  Kate looked at Rafi with a grin. ‘Where did we put the overcoats?’

  He smiled. ‘In the boot, of course!’

  ‘Will we get more soaked making a dash for it to the front door, or getting our coats out of the boot?’

  ‘I have a better idea.’ He picked up Kate’s phone and dialled a number. When he got through he asked whoever was on the other end of the line, ‘Would you by any chance have a spare umbrella or two? We’re stuck ten metres away from your front door and we—’

  A friendly voice interrupted him. ‘It is rather nasty outside. I’ll get the porter to come and help you in.’

  Wielding a large umbrella in high winds and driving rain was a skill that Rafi hadn’t considered until then. They were ferried one at a time into the hotel. Kate went first and Rafi followed, wet at the edges but not soaked.

  He walked into the reception area. Kate was standing in front of a roaring open fire. She was beaming.

  ‘This is just brilliant. I think I’m going to like it here.’

  To his surprise she bounced over and flung her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss that was more appropriate to the privacy of one’s own room. Kate finished her show of affection and drew back noticing that he’d started to blush.

  ‘Sorry, I seem to get a bit carried away at times,’ she said to no one in particular. The hotel was busy for off-season February. Rafi wondered if, like the Savoy, it had also taken more than its fair share of those left homeless.

  At the reception desk they were greeted by an attentive receptionist who in no time at all had sorted out their booking and arranged for their luggage to be taken up to the room.

  ‘We’ve filled up since last week. Please forgive us if the service is a bit slower than what you might have hoped for. We’ve managed to find you a comfortable bedroom, though.’

  Rafi was disappointed. Oh well, he thought, if it’s to be a double bedroom and not a suite, so be it – in the circumstances it was understandable.

  He took the keys and, holding Kate’s hand, followed the porter across to the small lift and up to the room, on the second floor. The corridor leading to the room was spacious and newly carpeted. Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand in anticipation as they stood in front of the door. He opened it and they walked in. In front of them was a modest-sized sitting room with stunning views over the long sandy beach and the ocean. A large arrangement of flowers on the side-table added to the welcoming atmosphere.

  ‘Where’s the bed?’ asked Kate, sounding like a young girl itching to explore. ‘Let’s try this door,’ she said with a bounce in her step and disappeared into the next room. ‘Rafi, look what I’ve found.’

  He followed her and there in front of him was the wonderful sight of Kate lying on her back, spreadeagled across a large king-sized bed and bouncing up and down.

  ‘This is great! I couldn’t have chosen better if I’d tried,’ said Kate. ‘Nice, comfy bed – sorry, nice, big, comfy bed – great views and peace and quiet. Fantastic.’

  Kate rolled off the bed, reached forward and gave him a lingering kiss. She stood on her toes and looked into his eyes.

  ‘Promise me one thing,’ she said. ‘Let’s forget the terrorists and enjoy the now. Tomorrow can look after itself. It usually does.’

  He pulled her close to him and kissed her.

  ‘Wooah boy!’ exclaimed Kate as she came up for air. ‘All in good time. Let’s save that for later when there is no hurry and I can really enjoy you. But now there are things that need to be done first – I’d like to explore, find out what’s on the menu for dinner and what the dress code is. I hope they do a proper clotted cream tea; sipping that in front of the open fire downstairs will do nicely for starters. Also, I suppose we should pick up the faxes.’

  Kate had hardly drawn breath. Rafi looked at her; her eyes were full of sparkle and her face was radiant. He was going to enjoy his time here. She took his hand and led him to the door, where she stopped. ‘You know, it’s strange being in this style of building with its high ceilings and large open rooms. It brings back memories of living in a big house as a child. But this time I’ve someone I really want to share it with.’

  Once downstairs, Kate collected Jeremy’s fax which contained the mugshots of Radu Dranoff and Aslan Popovskaya. The three pages of information made for disconcerting reading. Popovskaya was made of stern stuff: he’d fractured his left collarbone, had had a pin put in his shoulder and broken his left wrist and arm in several places.

  ‘Shame he’s right-handed,’ was Kate’s comment.

  It was getting dark outside, but the rain had stopped.

  ‘How about a bit of fresh air to blow away the cobwebs?’ suggested Kate.

  They collected their coats from the car and headed off down the path to the beach. The wind had a bite to it. Rafi could smell the salt from the sea. The dark shadows around the buildings by the sandy beach brought back memories of his late night walk to Hampstead Heath to hide the USB stick; he shivered.

  ‘You look cold,’ said Kate. ‘Let’s go back and try their tea.’

  It was as Kate had hoped: scones, clotted cream and strawberry jam in front of an open fire. They chatted ten to the dozen, sitting comfortably on a huge sofa while time sped by.

  But their cosy little world was shattered when Kate answered a call from Jeremy.

  She filled Rafi in. ‘MI5 has intercepted a phone call; Popovskaya and Dranoff have met up, not ten miles from the hospital Popovskaya escaped from. Unfortunately, they have lost them and have no further information. Neil reckons that they’ll lie low for a couple of days to let Popovskaya recover and then come after us. An SAS team is on its way to watch the hotel and to protect us. They should be here later this evening and we are advised to get another bedroom to sleep in – incognito.’

  They dressed for dinner, then moved a selection of overnight things into the new bedroom the proprietor had found for them. Dinner was enjoyable; they ate hungrily and chatted, but somehow some of the vivacity had gone. The nightmare wasn’t over yet.

  Whilst they were having coffee in the sitting room, Jeremy phoned. ‘An SAS team of three are keeping watch over the entrances to the hotel. They like the fact that the hotel is so exposed because it makes it difficult for Dranoff to creep up unnoticed. I hope to be with you in about twenty minutes.’

  Sure enough, a short while later Jeremy appeared accompanied by a casually dressed individual.

  ‘Please let me introduce you to your SAS bodyguard: Corporal Colin Johnstone. He’ll be your shadow whilst Dranoff and Popovskaya remain at large. Have you eaten already?’ enquired Jeremy.

  ‘Well, yes,’ replied Kate, ‘but I can always find room for another pudding! Do come and have dinner so we can chat about things – you’ll like the food.’

  ‘Excellent,’ said Jeremy.

  ‘How about I find us a nice, quiet table in the dining room and see if I need to borrow a tie?’ suggested Colin.

  He reappeared a few minutes later. Jeremy and Kate were deep in conversation. ‘Dranoff and Popovskaya have disappeared off the face of the earth. We tried to lock on to their phone signals, but their phones are turned off and they’d moved on by the time we went looking for them. They definitely know what they’re doing.’

  Jeremy and Colin tucked into a hearty dinner.

  ‘Neil is sure that you’re their target – payback time for those who got in the way,’ said Jeremy. ‘We have considered other possible targets, but we keep coming back to the fact that Popovskaya will be feeling pissed off, and you, Rafi, seem the perfect target on which to vent his anger. What worries us is who arranged for Dranoff to come to the UK to help Popovskaya. We thought we had all the main players under lock and key, and incommunicado. We know Miti is on the run in Africa, but we don’t believe his influence goes this far. There has to be someone else out there – part of the terrorists’ web – who’s pulling the Chechen end of the strings. We’re looking again at UKSOIL and the team run by Kaleem Shah to see if
we missed someone, but haven’t found anything yet.’

  Jeremy paused. ‘Neil doesn’t think they know we are on to them. My colleagues are keeping an eye out for stolen guns or vehicles reported between here and their last known locations.’

  ‘When do you think that they might come looking for us?’ asked Kate.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ said Jeremy, ‘as soon as the paparazzi are on to you, your location will become public knowledge. Realistically, you could expect company any time from tomorrow early afternoon. Neil would like you to stay put, so if they do come for you, the SAS can protect you. It would be preferable to you going into hiding and then wondering for how long they will be after you.’

  The conversation moved on to the terrorists captured at Safi.

  ‘They’re due to arrive in Plymouth tomorrow. I shall be there to greet them; one of the perks of my job!’ said Jeremy.

  ‘How badly were the terrorists damaged by their investments in the markets?’ asked Colin. ‘Jeremy has been describing what they were aiming to do.’

  ‘I spoke briefly to Aidan earlier today,’ Rafi said. ‘He says that the markets have been remarkably resilient. In the areas where the terrorists were playing the derivatives market, prices have moved sharply against them. They’re sitting on some truly massive losses. With Maryam, Jameel and the sheikh unable to make contact with their dealers, their positions will be sold. Aidan reckons their collateral will be too little to cover their margin calls. This will cause real pain to the dodgy banks that acted as the intermediaries. Basically, they’ll also be put through a financial shredding machine.’

  Jeremy smiled. ‘Good – serves them right.’

  ‘Aidan is optimistic that several other shady people will be caught red-handed. He’s been liaising with Neil, who’s following up a significant list of very interesting leads. Maryam, it seems, is in bed with a number of European investors, many of whom are super wealthy, very well connected and of dubious character. Time will tell if they’re just plain greedy or linked with shady operators,’ added Rafi.

  After dinner, Colin and Jeremy walked with Kate and Rafi to their room. Colin had been given a room on the other side of the corridor, near the top of the stairs, and proceeded to set up a selection of monitoring devices in their room and along the corridor.

  They said their goodnights.

  Rafi and Kate’s new twin bedroom was comfortable and cosy. Rafi sat tentatively on the edge of his single bed.

  ‘I’d been really looking forward to this evening,’ said Kate. ‘Now we’re stuck with single beds and bugs. Sorry, but I’m not keen on sharing our fun with MI5 or the special services listening. And I haven’t even had time to go shopping for a sexy nightie! Can we save the fun for tomorrow?’

  Rafi looked at her and smiled weakly. ‘Why not? If you can last, so can I!’

  The next morning was overcast and drizzly.

  Jeremy phoned. ‘No sign of Dranoff or Popovskaya. Have you seen the morning papers?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Kate.

  ‘Well, there’s a picture in one of the tabloids of the two of you having dinner downstairs. If that’s not a red rag to a bull, I don’t know what is. The terrorists now know exactly where you are. Colin has asked for you to stay in your room. Sorry if it cramps your style, but—’

  ‘That’s alright,’ butted in Kate. ‘Rafi and I’ll be fine.’

  The rest of the morning passed slowly. Rafi read the papers and was in particular fascinated by an article in the Independent which gave details of the exclusion zone around Stratford and a summary of the building works that were in progress, and of those planned. It showed maps and explained how the transport and key utilities were being rerouted around the newly named ‘Isle of Stratford’.

  Kate meanwhile lazed around, read a magazine and wrote a postcard to her parents.

  They opted for an early, light lunch in their room.

  ‘Now what?’ enquired Kate. ‘I’m fed up with reading and writing cards!’

  ‘I’ve an idea; how about spending the afternoon . . .’ said Rafi as he turned on some music and pointed across to the bed – lest Colin was listening. He whispered into her ear, ‘If we keep the volume down, no one will be the wiser.’

  Kate moved across and sat on his lap. ‘From time to time, you do have some good ideas,’ she said softly, as she unbuttoned his shirt, her fingers lovingly teasing his hairy chest.

  A couple of hours later, cradled in Rafi’s arms, Kate was woken by the ring of her mobile. It was Jeremy.

  ‘Hi there; just thought you might like to know that Jameel et al. are safely in custody on English soil. He and his colleagues look seriously disgruntled. All he wants to know about is what the long gilts index and interest rates are doing. We haven’t broken the bad news to him, as yet. Oh, by the way, we’ve got Maryam under lock and key at a safe house. Neil is looking forward to playing her off against the other three. See you soon.’

  ‘Thanks.’ And with that Jeremy hung up. Kate picked up the bedside phone and rang down to reception.

  ‘What time does the post go? OK, thanks.’ She leant over and warmly kissed Rafi on the lips. ‘I have to nip downstairs to buy a stamp; the post goes in a quarter of an hour. Sorry; sending cards to the family is one of the things we always did as children. I thought my parents would appreciate it.’ Kate dressed quickly and left.

  Rafi wrapped himself in a bathrobe and went to sit by the window. It was almost dark outside. The floodlights highlighted the driving rain. He sat there thinking of very little. Nearby, on the bedside table, was a Sig Sauer P226 revolver, which had been given to him by Colin.

  ‘Its small size,’ Colin explained, ‘means you can carry it on you without showing the telltale bulge. All you need to know is that it has seven .38 calibre rounds, which will stop a man if you hit him anywhere in the torso. Remember, it has a safety catch on your thumb side for right-handers. Have you ever fired a gun before?’

  ‘A .303 rifle at school when I was in the Combined Cadet Force.’

  ‘Good. This little beauty only has a modest kick; aim a little low unless you’ve had time to cradle the gun properly.’ Colin had shown him how to hold the gun. ‘Be instinctive and please bear in mind that if you’re aiming at a person ten metres away, your accuracy as an amateur will be in the order of two to three metres. Be careful of bystanders!’

  Rafi recalled fervently hoping that he would never have to use the gun.

  After having been given their respective weapons, Kate had put hers in her handbag and he’d left his on the table, as he didn’t know what to do with it.

  Rafi watched a pair of bright headlights arc down the windswept drive. They belonged to a silver Range Rover. It parked opposite the hotel and out stepped a well-built man wearing a flat hat, plus fours and a checked sports jacket; he also had a Barbour jacket slung over his left shoulder.

  If it had been me in this rain, Rafi thought, I’d have had the Barbour on and not casually draped over my shoulder. Rafi watched as the man glanced around, turned and strolled towards the front door.

  Something wasn’t right. Rafi couldn’t see his face, as it was obscured by the hat and his coat. He was walking straight towards the door. In front of him was a large puddle. He didn’t walk around it but straight through it, and that’s when Rafi noticed his shoes. They were heavy, black, scuffed leather boots – the sort one would associate with a navvy or a soldier. He was thickset and his gait wasn’t that of a well-heeled City gent.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Rafi gasped and jumped to his feet. He felt certain he had just been looking at Dranoff. He picked up his gun and bolted out of the room, running down the corridor barefooted, with his white bathrobe open and streaming out behind him. As he passed Colin’s door, it opened and he shouted, ‘Dranoff’s downstairs and so is Kate!’

  At the top of the stairs an elderly couple shrieked as he passed by them, baring all. Rafi grabbed the banister rail with his good left hand and swung round and down the wide st
airs.

  In a couple of bounds he reached the half landing. As he headed down the last flight of stairs, the man came into view, walking through the reception area. Rafi focused on what little he could see of his face. Yes, it was Dranoff.

  Neither of the SAS men from outside was following him. Rafi saw Kate sitting across from the bottom of the stairs, sticking a stamp on her postcard. Dranoff was just on the other side of the glass divide between her seating area and the reception area.

  Her eyes looked up and met Dranoff’s just as he pushed through the glass swing door between them and out from under the Barbour came a sawn-off shotgun.

  Bloody hell, no! It can’t end like this, thought Rafi. He let out a blood-curdling scream, flicked the safety catch off and pointed the gun towards the terrorist. He couldn’t shoot at him as there were too many people close by; with the gun in his bruised hand he could hit practically anyone within ten feet of what he was aiming at. But he had to shoot to distract Dranoff and to draw his fire. Still screaming, he let off a shot at the plate glass window which ran along the wall by the door Dranoff was using. There was a loud bang and a crash of broken glass.

  Dranoff saw Rafi as a threat, swung his gun round and fired both barrels. The wooden banister rail at Rafi’s side erupted into a swarm of flying splinters as he fell headlong down the stairs.

  For Rafi everything went pitch black.

  Slowly, Rafi opened his eyes. He could see nothing. He couldn’t move; his head was in a vice. Where was he? To his left there was, he thought, a faint red glow and a dull bleeping noise. He tried moving again but nothing happened. His head ached, as did his stomach, right arm and thigh. He picked up the smell of disinfectant. It suddenly dawned on him; he was in hospital.

  Rafi felt something warm in his left hand. He squeezed it wondering what it might be. It moved and squeezed him back. A grey shadow moved into his line of sight. His eyes began to focus. There, sitting by him, was Kate.

  ‘He’s coming round!’ she called out in a croaky voice. Rafi’s head was immobilised. He couldn’t see who else was there. The door opened and light flooded in. He could see Kate’s face out of the corner of his eye. She looked tired; her eyes were red and puffy.