by Tom Marcus
‘Meaning?’ Obviously this operation and the thing with Khalid has gotten under her skin.
If he’s intimidated by her reaction, he doesn’t show it. ‘The burning phone device you left on the ground,’ he barks back. ‘You don’t leave operational kit out. It’s just basics. And it’s even more crucial for Blindeye. We haven’t got anyone to clear up after us, and if we start leaving clues lying around for another team to pick up, we’ll be finished before we’ve even got started.’
So no ‘Well done, team’ then. Is this the way it’s going to be? The device would have destroyed itself anyway . . . Questioning the decisions we have to make in a split second on the ground from the safety of his armchair? All I can think to myself is that this is the type of fucking boss you get in the normal office world, not in MI5 and definitely not in the deepest deniable parts of intelligence. It feels like Leyton-Hughes is out of his depth here. And I wonder if, when he says ‘we’ll be finished’, what he really means is ‘I’ll be finished’. After all, this is a big step up for someone who is really just a glorified PA for the DG. Yes, he got results as a traditional intelligence officer back in Thames House, but that doesn’t make him a good operations officer. With little or no real operational experience despite his military background, he hasn’t been able to see it through our eyes on the ground, the dangers we face and risks we take, all the time. And if it all goes tits-up, there’s no safety net. It’s not a question of losing your job; it’s more like destroying the reputation of the security services and spending the rest of your life in jail – or worse. No wonder he’s getting arsey and starting to flap.
I’m about to throw some more oil on the flames by explaining exactly why I had to ditch the distraction phone device and asking him what he would have done in the same situation, but before I get a chance, Alan walks into the briefing room.
‘Sorry, boss, I should have told you. I told the guys the devices are disposable if need be. They definitely self-destroy, no compromise. If anyone does get curious, it just looks like a broken old phone, a very burned one.’
Leyton-Hughes pauses for a good few seconds, obviously trying to decide whether Alan has just undermined his authority or saved him from an argument that would end up with him losing it anyway. But Alan’s laid-back, shambling presence has already taken the tension out of the room. I reckon, over the coming days and weeks, we’re going to rely on Alan for a lot more than just providing our kit. Leyton-Hughes shares a nod with Alan approvingly, as if chucking the diversion device in the bin was his own idea in the first place, and we move on.
‘Right, let’s take stock of where we are. One-seven-zero Mill Road looks like the real deal. Alan has run a piece of software on the surveillance footage to confirm if the brothers have been at the house and whether they are still there.’
Alan takes the cue and fills us in on what he’s found. ‘The reason Iron Sword and Stone Fist weren’t seen at the Mill Road address is that the camera on that front door isn’t being monitored any more. It’s on an extraction list and the camera is due to be removed by the techs from Thames House any day. The cousin, Light Rain, was being investigated years ago. But due to the lack of intelligence gained, he dropped down the priority list. There simply isn’t the man power to watch video footage of someone who isn’t a tier 1 priority target, hence the extraction. Needless to say, the DG doesn’t want to alert anyone by reactivating surveillance on it, so it’s down to us to make sure the brothers don’t slip through the net again. I’ve got access to the camera, so we’ll know if they show their faces, they are confirmed in that address though, and I’ll be monitoring it here with the help of my bit of software I’m running.’
Jeremy takes control again, ‘I’m sure I don’t need to tell you we need to get up there pronto.’
Riaz raises a hand. ‘How long will we be—?’
Leyton-Hughes cuts him off before he can finish the sentence. ‘Until we have got control of Iron Sword and Stone Fist, this operation is ongoing. If you need to contact your family to let them know you won’t be home for a while yet, I suggest you do it now.’ He smiles in a way that makes it clear he has no sympathy for Riaz’s concerns.
There are murmurs around the room. Maybe it’s just sinking in for the first time exactly what they’ve let themselves in for. And Leyton-Hughes’s breezy, no-nonsense manner isn’t helping. If you’re going to ask people to go above and beyond the call of duty, they need to know exactly what’s at stake. As if he’s reading my mind, Craig puts a hand up.
‘Is there any further intelligence about what the brothers are planning? We’re sure they haven’t dropped off the grid because they’ve got cold feet?’ He’s putting it politely, but I know what he’s really asking is whether we’ve just killed someone to prevent an imminent terrorist attack, or just to find out whether there is a terrorist attack being planned at all.
Leyton-Hughes’s response is instant – and not reassuring. ‘Negative. What I’d like is to get some surveillance on them and tie them to a specific address, whether it’s this one or somewhere else. When we’ve pinned them down, we’ll engineer a police special forces executive action team to go and arrest them.’
Engineer. Code for, he’ll get the information in play while concealing its source. Us. But if he’s confident he can do that, why is he sending us up to Liverpool and not a regular A4 team with police backup? Is there something else going on? Some deeper game he’s not telling us about?
Claire’s spotted the inconsistency too, and it’s given her a chance to clarify some things that have been bothering her. ‘Boss, sorry. Can we address what we are all thinking here? We were recruited to stay on the ground when A4 couldn’t, to do things they can’t in order to stay ahead of the game. But are we a surveillance team or an escalation of the executive action teams? You’ve asked us to be a part of something that is completely deniable, I’m OK with that. You’ve told us that if caught, we are on our own, no one will come for us. I’m OK with that too. But we need to know what we’re going to be tasked with, going forward.’
In other words, was killing the preacher an unavoidable one-off, or is that what Blindeye is designed to do?
Leyton-Hughes doesn’t look happy. I can tell what he really wants to do is tell her to shut up and obey orders, but he’s going to have to realize that this is a two-way street; we aren’t soldiers in the army and we aren’t MI5 operators anymore. The DG recruited to get ahead of the terrorist curve. We volunteered for this and we have the right to know every scrap of intelligence about our targets and exactly what our operational parameters are.
‘You were all recruited to form a fast-moving, small and deniable surveillance team. But as we saw today, this team needs to be capable of carrying out the actions of a strike group. The people we’re going after are too dangerous to be allowed to stay on the streets, even under surveillance. Will your actions save lives – possibly hundreds of lives? Trust me, they will.’
Trust me. The trouble is, I don’t. But it looks like that’s the best we’re going to get.
To prevent any further questions, Leyton-Hughes makes a show of looking at his watch. ‘We don’t have a lot of time. Make those calls and be ready to change vehicles. Let’s get to the target address ASAP.’ To make it even clearer that’s the end of the discussion, he taps a number into his phone and leaves the briefing room to make the call.
All around me, the team are doing the same, pulling out their phones and leaving this signal-blocking secure room, making the calls they need to people expecting them home at some point. I reach into my pocket but stop short of pulling my phone out, realizing I’ve got no one to call. If I disappear for a week, there’s no one to miss me, no one to wonder where I am or whether I’m safe. Unlike Craig, Riaz, Claire and the others, I have nothing connecting me to the normal world, the world beyond Blindeye; the world of loved ones, next of kin and watching a boxset on TV is fantasy to me. Even Alex, who lives alone and as far as I know doesn’t have a partner
, is texting someone. I wonder if, for her, it’s just a way of making contact with that other world to reassure herself it’s still there, that the cruel world of Blindeye, the world of terrorists and killers, isn’t the only one that exists.
For me, it is the only one, and finding the brothers is the only thing I can think about. Moving past everyone on the stairs, I’m desperately trying to not look like I’m hurt by this situation.
Down in Alan’s tech bay, I can still hear the incinerator burning like a jet fighter taking off, as he sorts out new vehicle keys. I have to raise my voice to get his attention. ‘Alan, the van. Have we got decent clean-up kit? It won’t happen, but Stormy Weather made a mess in the back. If we end up on the wrong side, his DNA is all over it . . .’
He nods absently without looking up from his task, as if I’ve just asked him about cleaning up some spilled milk. ‘Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll get it cleaned out here, then I’ll take it to the compound and change it. I’ll make sure it gets a respray and put into the system as another ops van for Thames House. No problemo.’
‘Brilliant, mate.’ Alan is still obviously very plugged-in to MI5 and Thames House, and the fact he’s a tech and constantly working remotely gives him a fairly plausible reason to be here, there and everywhere without anyone asking questions.
He finishes sorting the keys as the rest of the team file over. He holds a set out to Alex but she shakes her head. ‘I’ll take my bike out, the rest go up in the cars, given the area?’
Whoever she’s been texting upstairs, Alex is now totally focused on the task. There’s only six of us on the ground, so we’re going to need a biker. Getting a pick-up and a successful surveillance follow, whether the end goal is to guide a police or Special Forces team in, or get close enough for a vital bit of intelligence, is not going to be easy. If we have a foot follow going straight into a vehicle move, then Alex, on her high-powered motorbike, will give us a chance of keeping hold of the targets.
We all grab spare batteries for our radios along with our keys, and I make a mental note of the cars the team gets into. As before, we’ll make an operational plan as we drive. I get into a black Mazda 6 and, thankfully, when I turn on the engine it’s enough to finally dull the noise of the incinerator. As the roller doors start to rise, I tap the steering wheel as impatience builds up in me. I need to be kept busy, but know I have a couple of hours driving to do yet, so need to keep a lid on it.
Then, suddenly, Alan shouts and rushes towards the roller doors looking agitated. He presses the button and the roller doors start to come down again. Shit. What now? We turn our engines off and get out of the cars. Alex takes off her helmet and swings it in one hand as if she’s about to brain someone with it.
‘We have a problem,’ Alan starts, as if we hadn’t figured that out already. ‘The camera feed shows the brothers leaving the house ten minutes ago.’
There are groans from the team, even Alan airs his frustration. ‘I’m sorry, there must be a lag in the feed.’ He’s trying to do the job of an entire technical support team and it’s just not possible, despite his incredible skills. He’s still just one person. Alex just manages to stop herself from throwing her helmet to the ground in frustration, and I think the only reason she doesn’t is out of pure respect for Alan. A chill goes through me. I can tell from Alan’s face that there’s more.
‘They were carrying two large bags.’
Craig shakes his head. ‘And I’ll bet they hadn’t just done a family shop at Aldi.’
‘Fuck.’ Riaz sums up everyone’s feelings perfectly.
We’re all getting our heads around the fact that we’ve just killed a man for nothing. And not only that: we’ve just had a pretty good indication that our targets – the ones who could be on their way to absolutely anywhere with no way for us to pick them up again – could now be tooled up with a significant amount of arms or explosives – or both. And there’s nothing we can do except wait and see what they do with them. Sure, A4 surveillance jobs come to a dead end sometimes, but the backup the MI5 teams have in terms of technical surveillance and wider targets – it all feeds back into creating a new lead or getting hold of the targets again. We don’t have that. We can’t have that, without revealing our existence.
I can feel rage building inside me. Nothing. It was all for nothing. I’m about to slam my fist into the bonnet of the Mazda when Claire’s quiet voice makes me turn.
‘Hold on a minute. They left on foot, right? Not in a vehicle.’
Alan nods cautiously. ‘They may well have had a vehicle waiting nearby, but the camera was only focused on the house.’
‘But is there a vehicle parked outside the house?’
‘I don’t know. What if there is?’
‘Don’t you see? Whatever it was they were carrying in those bags, someone delivered it to the house. That’s the person they’ve been waiting for. That’s why they haven’t moved until now. Whoever else is still in the house, they probably won’t know anything about the brothers’ plan or even who they are. But the person who brought them what they needed – he must know exactly what they’re going to do. And if he’s still there . . .’
Leyton-Hughes looks sceptical. ‘That’s a lot of “if”s. We don’t know if there is a car or who it belongs to. You’re clutching at straws here.’
Claire shrugs. ‘What else have we got? I’d rather clutch at something than wait to see if anyone dies. At least let’s find out if there’s a car.’
Alan finger-punches furiously into his phone and turns away from us. He’s not talking though; from his body position he’s looking at the screen, maybe the camera feed. After a minute, he puts his phone back in his jacket pocket and turns around.
‘OK, there is a vehicle parked outside. Maybe, just maybe, the driver could be connected to our targets. But if he’s still in the house, he sure as hell won’t be for very long. Let’s get to the address as quickly as we can.’
‘And the car?’ Craig asks.
‘It’s a green Toyota Avensis, can’t see the registration plate. It’s parked directly outside the house. I’ve got the only access to this camera feed and will let you know immediately if the situation changes.’
Within minutes we’re on the road, heading west. I’m behind Alex in the black Mazda, the sort of unassuming car that didn’t scream ‘police’ but had enough juice to keep up with a fast vehicle move if necessary. But she soon peels away, knowing that her added manoeuvrability on the bike should get her there ahead of the rest of us. I know the rough route towards Liverpool, but I prefer to let the satnav guide me to an address three streets over, so I don’t have any compromising locations on the car’s computer if the shit hits the fan. After everything that’s gone wrong already, I don’t want to leave anything to chance. I need to zone out a bit to recharge my batteries – there won’t be any opportunities for that once we get to the address – but it’s hard to relax knowing the clock is ticking and our slim last chance of getting back in the game could slip away at any moment. Luckily, driving as fast as possible without drawing attention to myself takes all my concentration, and a couple of hours slip by without any interruptions from Leyton-Hughes.
The next thing I hear is Alex letting us know she’s at the address and trying to identify the car. It makes me nervous. I’ve never liked having someone in the area without the backing of the team around them. Dropping down a gear, I speed past three cars slowing for an amber traffic light. Pushing harder on the gas, I make it through just before it hits red. ‘Alex, I’m figures one minute out.’
‘Thanks, mate, I’ve seen the car.’ Alex’s speech is clear but I can tell she’s still got her helmet on by the way her breath is caught on the mic. ‘We can box this in and cover the exits to this street if we get a stand-by from Ops. I’m holding north on Mill Street at the roundabout.’
‘Roger that, I’ll take south.’ As the other guys shout-up their intended positions and ETAs, we get the news we’re waiting for.
‘STA
NDBY STANDBY from Ops. Unknown male OUT OUT and into the Avensis. He’s solo in the driver’s seat.’
Here we go, a hot rolling start. Obviously not Light Rain though.
I switch gears and the adrenaline starts pumping. This is what operators live for, getting the stand-by and getting hold of the target. Let’s hope Claire’s right and this is our man. ‘Vehicle moving northbound, northbound on Mill Street out of sight to Ops.’
Alex comes on again. ‘Alex has a long view on this. Vehicle travelling north, I have control. I can give direction at the roundabout but it will be difficult to go with.’
An A4 surveillance team wouldn’t have an issue here; it’d be a standard pick-up, even if they weren’t quite in position yet. The sheer size of an A4 team means they can afford to burn one or two operators to keep hold of the target till the rest of the team arrives. But there are only six of us, and we can’t afford to lose anyone. I’ve made good ground coming in from the south and I can see the target. ‘Alex, I’m now northbound. I’ve got a loose eye on Vehicle One. Give him away at the roundabout and I’ll take it.’
‘Roger that. Five-zero metres short of the roundabout now, no indication.’
‘Craig is ready for the east option on the roundabout.’ Everybody’s chipping in now, the net is red hot and we become one entity, just as a team should. It looks like we all got here just in time.
‘Awesome, thanks Craig,’ I reply.
Alex again: ‘Two-five metres short now, no indication.’
‘Claire is further north if you struggle, Logan.’
‘Roger, thank you.’
‘From Alex, Vehicle One is now at the roundabout, no indication, wait one.’
