Capture or Kill

by Tom Marcus

  Hiding my car’s profile behind a small delivery van, I wait for Alex’s update in second gear, ready to calmly but quickly make ground if I need to. I don’t have to wait long. ‘Vehicle One is exit ONE exit ONE, westbound, westbound towards Liverpool Marina.’

  ‘Roger that, Ryan has control. Vehicle One travelling west, one up, unknown male driver. Full thick black beard, dark top.’

  ‘Roger that, Ryan. Claire is backing from a distance.’

  This is good. We’ve managed to get control of this guy quickly without a fuss, despite having limited numbers. Without thinking, we’d slipped into standard MI5 surveillance operators’ mode, and it seems to have worked. For now, the game plan is to keep hold of this guy in the car and see where he takes us. At least we’ve got him and we don’t have to worry about an A4 team looking over our shoulders. The question is, who have we got? I hope to God Claire’s theory is right, and all this isn’t misdirection.

  ‘Roger the backing. Speed is three-zero,’ Ryan responds. ‘Three-five miles per hour going past the tourist sign to his offside.’

  ‘Ops, roger all the last, quick message?’

  ‘Go ahead, no change,’ Ryan replies.

  ‘Thanks. Now we’ve got him, let’s stay on this guy. Surveillance only. Ops out.’

  Surveillance only. Meaning for now we aren’t expected to kill anybody. I’m just starting to feel comfortable, in control, when Ryan comes back on. ‘That’s Vehicle One STOP STOP STOP on the south side of Northumberland Street. It’s a vehicle dead end. I’ve got this at a distance.’

  I’m the closest now, and I have a decision to make. Follow and risk exposing myself, or stay put and risk losing him?

  ‘Control car, permission from Alan?’

  Ryan is straight on the net, confidently in control of this. ‘Go ahead, Alan. No change. Vehicle is static south side, facing west. Ten metres from the end of the cul-de-sac. Hold on, on the map there’s a pedestrian cut through, though.’

  Dropping down the gears, I accelerate the car to the north-west side, to try and get into a position to follow this guy if he moves on foot, just as Alan pops up with his message on the net.

  ‘I’ve got a camera feed on this if you need it.’

  ‘All yours, Alan. Thanks, mate!’ Ryan responds.

  ‘Roger that, I have control.’

  Sly bastard, I think as I slow down again and park up in a row of cars and blend back into the area. Alan was just waiting for us to get stuck before revealing we had this asset. But I don’t care. With our options running out, this is the advantage we need.

  ‘From Alan, no sign of the driver yet, vehicle still static. For information, this is all sorts of illegal, I’ve back-doored my way into this local council camera. If they notice me on their network I’ll likely be kicked off so I’ll need someone close to hand it over. I can’t be relied on as a secure follow.’

  ‘Roger that, Alan, you have Ryan close in.’

  ‘Logan, likewise.’

  ‘Claire, likewise to the south.’

  ‘Thank you. No change.’

  This guy has driven down a dead end. Houses either side of him, the marina to his front. What’s he up to? It’s easy to start second guessing things when you’re on the ground. But good operators assess what they can see, rather than guess what could be happening. I’m on the next street, waiting.

  I don’t have to wait long for Alan to come back on. ‘OK. Unidentified male is out of the vehicle, walking west towards the water and marina. Solo.’

  ‘Roger that, Ryan is out on foot if you need it, Alan.’

  ‘Roger, thanks, Ryan. He’s now approximately one-zero metres from the water’s edge.

  ‘And now leaning against a post at the water’s edge, looking out onto the water, alone, I’ve got this on a long look.’

  ‘From Ryan, no looks back, he’s relaxed.’

  I’m not sure where Ryan is, but he must be close by. He’s experienced enough to know that with the assistance Alan is now giving, we can afford to give the target a little bit of space.

  ‘From Alan, male has taken something from his pocket and thrown it into the water.’

  ‘Yeah, from Ryan, he’s throwing bread to the ducks. And stations, for information, I think there is a drone being flown around locally.’

  A few minutes go by. Keeping a low profile in my car, I pretend to talk on my phone while keeping an eye out for this drone and anyone walking past. We’re used to blending into the environment, but in my experience it’s not just the target you have to be aware of, it’s third parties and the things you’re not concentrating on that will get you killed. Alan breaks the silence again.

  ‘OK, male now walking back to the car, five metres away.’

  ‘Ryan, roger.’

  ‘Into vehicle and vehicle doing a three-point turn to do a reciprocal route.’ Is he just going back to the same address? That’s not what we want. I stay parked where I am and wait. ‘Vehicle is now back towards the roundabout. Close in, can you? The network I’ve hacked is about to kick me out.’

  ‘Yes, Ryan has control, thanks Alan.’

  ‘Claire is backing.’

  I find it difficult to believe this guy has driven the short distance to feed the ducks, ponder life and return home. Something about this doesn’t feel right.

  Claire comes on. ‘Vehicle is towards home address now.’ Her voice is flat. I can tell she thinks her theory isn’t panning out. Maybe the brothers were just carrying clothes and personal stuff. And this guy is just a low-level facilitator.

  ‘Ops, roger. Alan can no longer provide technical support, his back-door access to the council network has been blocked. Let’s sit and wait on the address. We’ve still got the camera, but we have absolutely no technical assets coming out of there.’

  ‘Roger that, Ops, from Claire, that’s the vehicle now pulling up outside the address. Can you take this on the camera please? It’s too tight to sit close in here.’

  ‘Ops has control, that’s the unidentified male IN IN to the home address now. I can give a standby on exit.’

  ‘Roger that, Ops, all yours.’

  As we all swap our compass-point positions close in to the address, we form a thin but tight iron curtain on the surrounding streets. I can hear more buzzing in the sky, but at different pitches. There are at least two drones in the sky, maybe three. I can see one in the distance to my right. Flying low, it looks like it’s at the cheaper end of the hobby scale.

  We settle in, knowing it could be a long wait before we see any more movement. But my gut is telling me there won’t be. Unless we break down the door and pull the guy out, we won’t be seeing him again any time soon. I wrack my brains, trying to think of something we can do to get a handle on him, but after a few hours of ‘no change’ from Leyton-Hughes watching the camera on the front door, I haven’t come up with anything and eventually he decides to call it a night. ‘Cease and withdraw. All to acknowledge please. Guys, it’s late. The house is in darkness and has been for a while. Go and find yourselves hotels. We’ll go again before first light. Hopefully he’ll be up for morning prayers.’

  That’s going to be too late, I just know it. If we pull out now, I’m convinced we’ll never see this guy again. But apart from sitting here doing nothing, there isn’t anything we can do, unless . . .

  ‘Alan, mate. Just had a thought. Any chance we could do a Bluetooth sniff?’

  He instantly sees what I’m getting at. ‘Yeah, maybe. I could do a network scan and pull some data – see if we can get a phone for this guy, yeah?’

  ‘Exactly.’ It was a long shot, but at least we’d be doing something.

  ‘You’ll need to be right outside the address, though. Unfortunately, we can’t narrow the search for a network or devices, so you’re going to pull all the neighbours’ data too. Should only take a few minutes, is that OK?’

  He knows it’s not his call, but Alan’s trying to give me a warning. This is the sort of stuff I thought I would be
recruited for. Doing things without warrants that weren’t legal because they’re not targeted enough. As Alan said, we’d also have to hack the neighbours’ networks to narrow our scans to try and isolate this unknown male. Doing technical assaults on the ground is fucking dangerous, because if you’re caught it’s almost impossible to talk your way out of it. I’m basically going to have to get close to our target in plain sight and hope my cover won’t be blown. In other words, it’s a throw of the dice.

  Thankfully, either Leyton-Hughes doesn’t appreciate what a gamble it is, or he’s thrown caution to the wind. Or maybe he just likes putting me in dangerous situations. ‘Ops, did everyone get that?’ he asks. The team acknowledges and I can tell, despite their fatigue, that they want to give it one last go. ‘Ops, roger, thank you. I’m conscious of a biker being in that area this late at night. Alex, can you withdraw either home or hotel while the rest of the team support Logan please?’

  ‘Alex, yes, no problem. I’m on comms, though, if you need me.’

  Even I have to admit Leyton-Hughes made the right call there. Alex will start to stand out now. It’s hard enough for us to blend into the environment, never mind a biker.

  ‘Logan, do you read Alan?’

  ‘Loud and clear, mate.’

  ‘Roger that, great. OK, shouldn’t take too long and I’ll talk you through it over the net. In the kit bag is a PDA-style device. I need you to switch that on and log in with your pin number. I can then remote in to see the information you’re collecting. I’ll use that information to pull some phone numbers, hopefully including this unidentified male. OK?’

  ‘Yeah, roger that and good to go.’

  The device, the same size as my iPhone but quite a bit thicker, already has the screen brightness turned down to its lowest, but it still feels like I’m lighting up the entire street and can be seen for miles. I’m parked around the corner from the house, so get out and start walking towards the end of the street. I can’t talk on the net now, but my covert message will tell Alan that I’m on foot and, as I pass by the camera, I hope that he and Leyton-Hughes can see me.

  ‘Roger that. OK, I can see the information on your screen via my remote log-in here. Open the application called Gingerbread House . . .’

  Leaning against the target house, I fall into drunk idiot mode. A new cover, one that suits this area in the middle of the night. The app is initializing, and Alan is straight onto the net while I pretend to look around and fumble with my watch.

  ‘OK, the signal strength for the second Wi-Fi router down on your list seems the strongest. It’s password secured so we’re going to bash the password. The router ID needs to be typed into another application called Unlock.’

  Quickly typing the router ID into this new app without looking too sober is a balancing act. Hopefully I’ll be on my way, staggering around the block to get back to my car, before our target notices the drunk idiot outside his house.

  ‘That’s it, once the application has found the password it’ll connect automatically. Then, once inside the network, I need you to scan it for devices that are connected. Don’t worry, though, your PDA won’t show on their network traffic. Hopefully we’ve got the right one. Are you OK to stay on if this is for a neighbour?’

  I signal back for yes and Alan continues.

  ‘Roger that. OK, password has been gained and you’re connected to the network now. I need you to switch applications to one called Inside.’

  I can tell these applications have been custom built by Thames House or the geeks in GCHQ – massively powerful but with very basic graphics and user interfaces. Opening up this next application, I hope Alan will see something that will confirm this was the right address.

  ‘Great, OK, there are five devices on the network, two of them are phones; an iPhone and a Samsung. I have the details up here and will do some cross-referencing to get the IMEI numbers from the service providers. I need to be as sure as I can be that this is the right house. Switch applications to Sniffer, please, Logan.’

  The street is completely dark, but it doesn’t mean I can’t be seen. Plenty of people look out of their curtains randomly at night. In my peripheral vision, I think I see a curtain twitching on the first floor of the next house down. I need to speed things up. Maintaining my cover of drunken lost bloke while trying not to make much noise, I open up what I hope is the last app. Last thing I need is a neighbour piling out of a house thinking I’m looking to steal a car or the motorbike in front of me.

  ‘Great, thanks Logan. OK, I can see the same UUID numbers. Try and keep the device as still as possible to let the scanner settle. I need to see the strength signals of the phones it’s detecting.’

  Alan is still on the net but it now feels like he’s talking himself through the process rather than actually talking to me.

  ‘OK, iPad 2 signal strength too low, that will be next door. That iPad wasn’t on the network of this house, and the two phones we scanned are showing the strongest Bluetooth signal, meaning they are closest to you. I think we have it, Logan. Wait one – I’m just running a piece of software here.’

  I pretend to search for something in my pockets. Still no sign of life on the street.

  ‘Logan, I’m happy we’ve got it. Thanks, mate. Great job.’

  As I move off in a stagger, Riaz is first on the net.

  ‘Logan, I’ve got eyes on you, mate, Claire is at the end of the next street and will watch you to your car.’

  I can’t tell them about the neighbour watching through the curtains, who could already have called the target to let him know there’s suspicious activity outside his house. Every instinct is telling me to leg it to my car as fast as I can but I force myself to keep moving erratically. I feel like I’m holding a winning lottery ticket in my hand that someone could snatch away at any moment.

  After what seems like an eternity, I make it to the car and fumble with my keys in one last little bit of play-acting, before slumping gratefully into the driver’s seat. I rock from side to side as if trying to clear my head and do a quick visual sweep of the street. I can’t see anyone.

  ‘Logan is complete.’

  ‘Roger, thanks team, cease and withdraw and acknowledge please.’ Leyton-Hughes waits for the team to reply before continuing. ‘Alan is interrogating the mobile phone service providers now. It might take a few hours, as it’s not exactly an official request. Hopefully by the morning we’ll have a mobile number we can use to help locate this unidentified male or use the call and text message history to give us a lead on the brothers. Either way, it’s going to take till sunrise, at least. I’ll send you all a text message with an update and the time to be on air in the morning. Go get some sleep. Ops out.’

  As I drive out of the area I know I’ve done all I can. Now it’s up to Alan. What I need now is food and sleep.

  Then we’ll see what tomorrow brings.

  11

  It might seem odd, putting make-up on my forehead to hide the bruises from my brothers in the mosque and those I work with at the hospital. The spies would probably find it funny, if they knew about me. They don’t. The closer we get to our goal, the more I pray, to cement the strength I need to overcome the hypocrites in this country. I can’t risk someone at the hospital seeing my prayer bruises and taking an interest in me. It’s nearly time to meet Mohammed at the cut-through to the park, the spot we arranged a few days ago at last prayers.

  I leave my flat and go through the motions of a British doctor’s everyday routine. I even quickly update my Facebook status with the usual bullshit positive post: A great win for United last night. Had to watch from bed, I’m already off to work!

  If I have appeared on any radar of MI6 or MI5, I’m not doing anything electronically that I can be caught for. No internet chat rooms, no support for my brothers out in Syria, no travel to other countries. Everything I do is quietly whispered to Mo in person. As usual, I leave my mobile phone at the hospital so I can’t be tracked or listened to while I’m at home
or a meeting somewhere.

  The ones who get caught are willing to die; they want the police to come after them. But you can’t do any real damage or create change if you kill a few kufar. America and Britain don’t send their soldiers into our houses to die. They’re directed properly, operations are well planned and ongoing. That’s what I’m bringing to the streets of Britain. Only then will the government listen.

  It’s a five-minute walk to the park cut-through. I know Mo will be on time, he’s never late. My shift starts in an hour, it’s already starting to get light and if this all goes wrong, I have my tools with me just in case.

  Pausing at the traffic lights, I wait for the green man before crossing, just as I do every day. It allows me to take in my surroundings, and any change in my daily behaviour could raise interest in me. The street is still rather busy despite it being the early hours, but everyone is moving normally. As I cross the road I take the chance to look up and down at any cars on the street; no one driving suspiciously, no strange vans around. I’ll cross the road again soon, but this is still my natural route to the hospital. The hard rain gives me confidence that I can’t be seen by satellites either.

  Crossing the road to the cut-through, I glance over my right shoulder; no one behind me, no cars slowing down. I’m clear. I walk onto the dark, overgrown path and spot Mo’s outline. He’s carrying his motorbike helmet and is bang on time.

  ‘Mohammed, my brother, salaam. You rode down on your bike?’

  ‘I had to move fast, we have a problem!’

  Mo is panicked, agitated. I’ve never seen him like this before.

  ‘OK, we need to stick to the edges of the park and walk slowly so we’re not seen. Tell me, what’s wrong?’

  We’re completely alone in the still-dark park, it’s just us and the soaking wet grass, but I don’t like the tension surrounding Mohammed. If he’s had to use his motorbike and get here quickly, something must have spooked him.

  ‘The brothers left the safe house as planned. After they had gone I contacted some people from the mosque who have those little drones, you know the ones? I didn’t want them to know the real plan, so I asked them to fly them around the area to see if there are any signs of racist, far-right activity. You know the rumours?’