Kate winked at Emma. ‘Come on, Rafi, we’re meant to be elsewhere – if you can tear yourself away from those sexy lips.’
Rafi looked into Emma’s eyes and sensed a real fondness. He kissed her on the cheek and followed Kate down the corridor.
‘Nice to see Emma again?’ asked Kate.
‘Yep,’ Rafi replied. ‘You’ve one hell of a good friend there. She left me in no doubt that I had to take good care of you, or else!’
Kate had a broad grin on her face as they entered Beverley’s office. She waved them into her boss’s meeting room.
It very looked neat and tidy. There, sitting at the table, was the commissioner, together with a dark-suited gentleman, who Rafi recalled as being the Prime Minister’s permanent secretary, and Ewan from MI5. Kate and Rafi sat down opposite them.
The content of the meeting was a surprise. Rafi had gone along expecting Kate to be offered a posting far away from the south-east – somewhere like Manchester – and assumed he’d been invited along so he didn’t feel left out of the process.
The meeting started with the PM’s permanent secretary setting out his boss’s stance. ‘Following the recent terrorist attacks, the PM believes that the EU is missing a trick in the war on terror. Standards and ethics of what is acceptable and unacceptable, or what is legal or illegal, differ from country to country. Despite anti-money laundering legislation being enacted, there seems to be no let-up in the shady financial activities of terrorists and drug dealers. The PM believes there is an urgent need for transparency. More information needs to be in the public domain as to who controls which company or business.’
He adjusted his cufflinks and continued. ‘The Stratford terrorists built up large business interests and concealed them right under our noses. The concern is that with a growing number of public companies going private and the enormous wealth of a relatively small but significant number of individuals, the authorities are losing sight of who is controlling what, and what exactly the money is being used to finance in the shadier recesses of our countries. At one level, profits are being channelled out of Europe into tax havens and at another, a growing number of private companies and individuals are operating as if they’re beholden to no one. Giles, would you like to continue?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Giles. ‘Before Stratford, being an immensely wealthy person entitled one to low levels of scrutiny. Key questions weren’t asked for fear of driving business away. The richer someone was, the more a blind eye was turned. There’s a dichotomy: on the one hand we have the politicians who have power to smooth people’s paths, but rarely have much personal wealth, and on the other hand there are those with immense personal wealth and insatiable desires, but who need favours to pursue their ambitions. Too many people view greasing a palm or two as a cost of doing business. There are, across Europe, growing levels of corruption and a lack of transparency as to what is going on. This trend concerns the PM.’
‘DCI Adams and Mr Khan,’ interjected the permanent secretary, ‘the President of the European Commission is also very concerned that the lack of financial transparency and the dubious financial practices are encouraging criminal activities and resulting in billions of Euros of tax slipping away. He is creating a new task force, led by the former head of a German State police force. His team will comprise four senior detectives, four special advisers and a small team of technical specialists who have a detailed knowledge of criminal practices and money matters. It will be based in Luxembourg. The remit is to report to the EU President on the practicalities of making European-wide financial affairs more transparent. DCI Adams, you are requested to apply for one of the four senior detective posts.’
Kate’s mouth fell open.
‘Obviously, as this is a European Union appointment, there will be an interview process to go through; a shortlist has been drawn up and unless you tell the interview panel to take a hike, I would submit that the post is yours. You would be seconded from the City of London police force and be able to come back here at a future date. Salary and terms and conditions will, we believe, be acceptable. There would be a modest flat in Luxembourg included in the package. The post in the first instance will be for three years.’
Before Kate had the opportunity to reply, the permanent secretary turned to Rafi. ‘Mr Khan, you have shown yourself to be very enterprising in unravelling the web that the Stratford terrorists had spun. The President of the EU Commission and our Prime Minister have asked me to enquire whether you would be willing to have your name put forward to join the task force as a special adviser. You would suffer a significant reduction in remuneration, but it has been suggested to us that there may be other aspects of the job that would appeal to you, thereby making the salary less of an issue?’
There was a pause. Kate looked at Rafi and he at her. Kate had a smile on her face, which he took to be a ‘yes’.
‘Who would I be working for?’ Rafi enquired.
‘Well, that depends upon who you’re talking to,’ said Ewan. ‘Officially, you’d be employed by the European Commission, but in practice you’d be on secondment from MI5. I have it on good authority that Neil and his team are very impressed by you. Intelligence will be an important feature of your work, hence your inclusion with our security services.’
‘Are you interested?’ asked the permanent secretary.
Rafi looked at Kate again and then back at the permanent secretary.
‘Would it be alright for Kate and me to discuss this by ourselves for a few minutes?’
‘Of course; do use the room next door,’ said the commissioner.
Kate sat down with Rafi in the adjoining office.
‘What do you think?’ asked Rafi.
‘I have a few concerns: first of all, could you bear to work and live with me? And how would you feel working for me? And also, do you like the idea of living in Luxembourg and travelling around Europe, working out how the system is being manipulated?’ said Kate.
Rafi looked at her smiling face; there could only be one answer – ‘yes’.
‘Excellent. Shall we give it a go? If we enjoy it, great, but if we’ve been sold a pup we can always come back to the UK and find something else to do.’
‘I don’t think we should be seen to be too hasty. Why not ask them a few more questions before saying yes?’ suggested Rafi.
They walked back into the meeting room and sat down.
‘Your proposals are intriguing and interesting,’ Kate started. ‘How much autonomy would there be?’
‘It will be a small team and it will have autonomy.’
‘If I’m operating overseas, why is MI5 and not MI6 involved?’ asked Rafi.
‘Good point,’ commented Ewan. ‘MI6 know nothing about what’s going on. We thought that, as you know us and we know you, it would be simpler if you were seconded from MI5.’
Rafi nodded.
‘Will other national intelligence services be involved?’ asked Kate.
‘Undoubtedly. It’s likely that each special adviser will have an intelligence background. You, Mr Khan, are the so-called ace up one’s sleeve. Whilst the Kates of this world know their way around accounts and corrupt businesses, and intelligence service people have their skills, you have the real market experience and a sixth sense for the extraordinary.’
‘Is there a pecking order in the team?’ asked Kate.
‘Yes. There’s a boss, to whom you’ll report, and, below you, you’ll have a support team at your beck and call. As far as the four police officers and four special advisers are concerned, it’s expected that you’ll work as partners. The type of work you’ll be doing doesn’t go with structured hierarchies.’
Rafi looked across at Ewan. ‘If I get the job, would it be possible to spend a few days with Neil’s team to see what resources are at my disposal?’
‘Of course!’ said Ewan. ‘If you accept this post you’ll become one of us and will have access to the full scope of our resources. The PM himself places great importan
ce on this specialist task force. There may only be a few of you, but what you might lack in numbers will more than be made up for by a combination of your individual skills and the resources behind you.’
‘Why Luxembourg and not, say, Brussels?’ enquired Kate.
‘Luxembourg has become a major money and fund management centre. It’s midway between the two European Parliaments – Brussels and Strasbourg – and it’s within driving distance of Frankfurt, where the chief currently lives. Plus, it has a good little airport at Findel, five kilometres north-east of the city, which gives access to a large number of European cities. Also, there’s a well-staffed British Embassy there. And I hear the standard of living is rather good,’ came the helpful reply.
‘Last couple of questions,’ said Kate. ‘Are the identities of the other people known at this point in time and, if so, when do we meet them? And what’s their English like?’
‘Yes, I believe they are, and English will not be a problem. If you have no more questions then I can tell you that your interviews have been arranged for next week. They’ll be at the EU’s offices in Storey’s Gate, St James’s.’
Rafi raised an eyebrow indicating that the address meant nothing.
‘Bottom of Horse Guards Parade.’
‘Got it – thank you.’
‘Assuming you decide to take up the offer of the jobs, we’ve arranged for you to meet the team for dinner next Friday evening in Luxembourg, as guests of our Embassy there. That way you can see how you get on. On the languages front, I have to stress again that your would-be colleagues have an excellent command of English as well as each being fluent in a handful of other languages. Your support team will provide you with the necessary translators, should they be required,’ added Ewan, helpfully.
Kate looked at Rafi. He winked back. She slowly turned and looked at the commissioner, at Ewan and then across to the permanent secretary.
‘Who books the plane tickets and the hotel?’
‘Funny you should mention that.’ The commissioner turned over several pages of the notebook he was using, pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it to Kate.
‘In case you said yes, here are the details of your e-tickets and the hotel you’ll be staying at. We booked you on a flight from London City Airport on Friday; it takes off at 12.05 and lands at around 14.00. We’ve arranged for you to be met at the airport.’
Kate stood up, shook hands, said her thanks and goodbyes, and made for the door. Rafi stood up to leave after her.
‘Mr Khan, would you stay with us a moment longer?’
Rafi sat back down. Ewan looked at him intently. ‘Can you recall how you felt when you were at the Headland hotel and you knew that there was a person out there in the darkness who wanted to kill you and Kate?’
‘Yes.’ The thought sent a shudder through him.
‘Please be under no illusion. We don’t know what you and Kate may be getting into. There are powerful forces at work below the surface in Europe. These shadowy people have big vested interests and antiquated concepts of what are acceptable and unacceptable practices. Furthermore, the enlargement of the Union has brought into our midst both hard-working people keen to improve their lot in life and, unfortunately, a quagmire of organised crime. These criminals, like terrorists, operate freely throughout the EU. To put it bluntly, you’ll be entering a very murky world – the world of sophisticated, ruthless criminals. We at MI5 and those at MI6 will do our utmost to protect you as and when things get difficult; the Prime Minister has made it clear that you will have our full support. But it’s your decision as to whether you’re willing to leave the comfort of the City and cross over to our world and its dangers.’
Rafi thought for a few moments. The Bishopsgate bombing had claimed four lives, Stratford would claim innumerably more. If there had been better financial transparency the terrorists would not have been able to operate so freely. Perhaps they would have gone elsewhere or have been caught in good time. It was a no-brainer and if it was what Kate wanted, then he wanted to be with her.
‘Thank you for your warnings. I’d like to attend the interview next week and – interview permitting – I look forward to becoming part of the team.’
‘That is good news,’ said the dark-suited civil servant. ‘The PM will be very pleased.’
Rafi got up and went to find Kate. His life was changing fast. Only a few months ago he had been a well-respected and very highly paid equities fund manager. He was about to take a huge salary cut, work in Luxembourg and join MI5. Bloody hell, wasn’t life fickle?
He found Kate talking with Emma in her old office.
‘I’m being posted to Luxembourg,’ he heard her say.
‘Congratulations. I’ll really miss you. Promise you’ll keep in touch,’ replied Emma.
Rafi turned to Kate. ‘What do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?’
‘Well, I need to tidy my desk. Then I can start planning the next chapter of my life with my new partner,’ she quipped with a mischievous look on her face.
She spotted a pile of messages on her desk. ‘Would you believe it? I’ve had a call from Jeremy and he’s in Luxembourg! He says he will be there to meet us at the airport on Friday and show us some sights, before he takes us to our hotel, which is near the Embassy.’
Rafi looked at Kate. ‘What, pray, is Jeremy doing in Luxembourg?’
‘Heaven only knows. But I hope he’s been posted there; it would be great to have him as part of the team.’ Kate hesitated. ‘What time is it? I’ve just remembered a couple of things I need to finish off.’
Rafi looked at his watch. ‘It’s just gone 4.15 p.m.’
‘Could we meet back here at 6 o’clock? Could you find something to keep you occupied for about two hours?’
‘No problem.’ Rafi flicked open his mobile and rang Aidan. He felt slightly guilty that he hadn’t made more of an effort to keep in touch since that day they’d given the presentation at Number 10.
Aidan answered the phone straight away. He definitely wasn’t at the office; from the background noise Rafi guessed he was enjoying a glass or two of champagne at a local hostelry.
‘Hi Aidan, Rafi here.’
‘How are you, you old sod? I thought you’d been avoiding me – great to hear from you. Where are you?’
‘Wood Street.’
‘It’s POETS day. Do come and join us; we’re in the Pavilion at Finsbury Circus Gardens. It’s been a rather good week; we’re a bit over the top, but do join us.’
‘See you in ten minutes.’
The Pavilion was a short walk away; it was a likeable wine bar in the middle of Finsbury Circus, overlooking a bowling green. Rafi grabbed his coat, hurried downstairs and headed down Chiswell Street towards the wine bar. On arrival he was greeted by a joyous Aidan. He had taken a few clients out for lunch and they were still going strong. As an equities man, Rafi’s path tended not to cross with the derivatives specialists. They tended to be high-octane people with a ‘work hard, play hard’ ethos.
‘Let me introduce you to everybody, Rafi,’ Aidan said, then paused. ‘On second thoughts, there’s no need as I reckon they all know you from your pictures in the papers!’ To general amusement, those that Rafi hadn’t met before introduced themselves. Aidan ordered him a freshly squeezed orange juice and Rafi sat down and listened to their stories. Aidan was on cracking form. He’d picked up a whole host of new clients after all the publicity he’d received for his work for the Treasury.
‘Rafi,’ he said, ‘have you heard the one about the MD of a major international bank who one Monday morning turned up to the office to attend a video conference meeting with a major client, only to find that all the equipment had been taken away for servicing?’
There were howls of laughter around the table.
‘And he thought that I had something to do with it! He saw that the market was closed and decided it was an omen to go off and have an extended lunch.’ This was greeted by more laughs.
&n
bsp; ‘You know, every time I meet the MD, he asks me how I’m getting on in the second-hand electricals market – some cheek!’ said Aidan.
The conversation went from pillar to post and time flew by all too quickly. Rafi said his goodbyes and left the ever-merrier group to their next bottle of champagne. He arrived back at Wood Street in a taxi, picked up Kate and they headed for Clapham. It had been quite a day.
The Tuesday interview at Storey’s Gate was just a formality. Rafi sat at one end of a long table with two grey-suited individuals sitting at the other end.
The first twenty minutes were spent completing a detailed CV about Rafi: schooling, degrees, employment, work skills and competencies, leisure activities, etc.
The first real question was: ‘Do you think that your financial and analytical skills are appropriate for this position?’
‘Yes,’ Rafi answered, expecting a follow-up question.
‘Thank you,’ came the reply. ‘We don’t have any more questions. Do you want to ask us anything?’
Rafi shook his head.
‘Good. On your way out, please pick up the envelope from the secretary next door. It contains your employment contract. Thank you for coming in.’
And that was it.
Kate had a similar interview. Back at the flat, they went through the contents of their envelopes. Kate was bowled over by the hike in her salary. There was an accommodation allowance, travelling to home allowance, even a clothing allowance. In her eyes the package was fantastic. Rafi’s package was practically identical, other than his basic salary, which was a couple of thousand Euros less, but in the small print he saw that he would be getting a special allowance which brought him to a financial parity. He smiled. It was a nice touch.
Their flight out of London City airport on the Friday was uneventful. Luxembourg from the air looked smaller than they’d expected. Jeremy was waiting for them and was on great form. He had been posted to the Embassy a couple of weeks earlier as a commercial attaché. He showed them the sights and at Rafi’s request they visited the spot where Callum and the Mercedes had been found. Standing there, Rafi felt a pang of guilt. Next time he was in England he really should visit Callum’s parents.
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