The three targets arrived closely followed by agents Booth and Richards in their battered old escort that was completely out of keeping with the BMW that their targets arrived in and the majority of the locals drove. They had left their lodgings at 41 Firs Street on the far side of the Dudley Southern Bypass only moments earlier, taking Hall Street to its junction with Trindle Road and then entering Birmingham Street from the South. Everything was as usual, nothing to report although report they did. At 09.49am they suddenly had something to report when the entire front of the building exploded outwards in a ball of flames destroying the five expensive cars parked on the opposite side of the road; shattering all the windows in a 200 yard radius, including that of the flat they were on duty in; setting off every alarm in hearing distance and clearly killing all the occupants of the no longer existent Muslim Community Centre.
-SHIT!-, shouted agent Stewart as he shakily struggled back to his feet although he couldn’t hear himself above the loud buzzing noise that seemed to come from outside but in reality came from inside, inside his head. He also couldn’t hear agent Graham groaning in pain on the floor to his right, clenching his ears as blood oozed between his fingers from his pierced ear drums. None of the equipment in the room was where it had been having been lifted and shuffled by the expansive wave from the blast. Finally he discovered his dust covered mobile phone from beneath the rubble and punched in the number of head office.“ where does all the dust come from?” he thought to himself as he spat some of it out of his parched mouth. -Strange, red dust! -he said to himself.
-Hello, its agent Stewart, -he started at the same moment that agent Booth and Richards burst into the room.
-Shit, that was fast -he shouted in their direction although frustratingly he still couldn’t manage to hear himself above that bloody buzzing noise. -That was fast -he repeated even loader but to no avail, the buzzing noise was making him deaf he thought and then realised that the buzzing was in his head and a result of the blast.
-You alright, -appeared to mouth agent Booth in his direction while agent Richards attended that heap on the floor that he slowly understood to be agent Graham. “Strange”, he thought, “Graham didn’t say a word about being hurt”, and then collapsed once more into unconsciousness.
It took the fire brigade almost the whole day to put the fire out and despite the intense pressure they were under from “above” no one was allowed onto the site until the following morning.
The remains, if the jumble of pieces that they encountered could be called remains, of three bodies were found, all male and all of Arab origin. The bits were taken to the morgue under MI5 custody to be reassembled as best they could and the attempts to identify them began.
They quickly discovered that the DNA from the remains coincided with that of the evidence they recovered from the flat they had shared at 41 Firs Street and as a result the identities were quickly and gleefully confirmed as those of, Rashid Al Maktoum, Tawid Abdallah and Jamil Matar, all suspected terrorists under observation by MI5. It was also quickly confirmed that, as expected, the blast had been caused by the apparent accidental explosion of the bombing devices they were preparing.
The facts that MI5 had nothing to do with their deaths and that they had no idea that they were assembling bombs, was insufficient for them to refrain from basking in the glory of yet another foiled terrorist plot and in this instance the elimination of three of what they considered to be the most dangerous potential terrorists.
Rashid Al Maktoum was born in the rougher part of Liverpool at 23 Eversley Street, off Granby Street in the heart of Toxteth´s Muslim community. Twenty five years of age, six foot tall, his first brush with the law came at the age of nine when he was caught stealing a radio from a car on Aigburth Road just a stones throw from his area. By the time he was fourteen he had already spent two spells in borstal and was smoothly sliding down the slippery slope to a lifetime in and out of jail. That however, all came to a halt when he was obliged to attend attitude rehabilitation classes at the Al Rahma Mosque and Cultural Centre, where, with local authority funding, Jamil Matar (formerly known as Colin Wilkinson) helped guide youngsters like Rashid out of a life of crime and into the warm embrace of the loving Islamic Community, or at least that is what the funding was for, the reality was that in the case of Rashid he was quickly and easily converted into a radical extremist who lived for and was more than prepared to die for the Islamic cause and the return of Islam to it’s former glory. Too many times had this particular Englishman been labelled and abused as a “bloody Paki” for him to give much resistance to the wiles of a religion that did all it could to help, support and understand him and his strife. By he age of seventeen and having spent two spells in Pakistan completing in depth studies of Islamic Culture, once again sponsored by the local council under the auspices of the Ethnic Trust Integration Fund (ETIF officially EFIT to the locals), he was a fully fledged and determined Islamic Radical. Believed to have received training in chemical warfare at the Abu Obeida training camp, along with his mentor Jamil Matar, he had been under MI5 observation for some three years.
Jamil Matar was born Colin Wilkinson to a well to do mixed race family from the Childwall area of Liverpool, living on Druids Cross Road and playing out his happy childhood in the well kempt Calderstones Park. At least the part of his childhood that was not spent at private school. Jamil was the least likely Arab that could be imagined. Five foot eight in his bare feet, feet that were like the rest of him, excessively hairy and greying, he resembled a cross between a Hobbit and Grumpy; he suffered from extremely poor eyesight and wore glasses that appeared to have been handmade out of the bottoms of milk bottles. If one word summed him up it was OBSESSIVE. Colin as a young man studied Islam the Culture and the Faith, at Liverpool’s John Moores University where he distinguished for his ability to convince all that were willing to listen of the merits of the Islamic Faith and the similarities between it and the Christian Faith. The difference to him was that the Islamic Faith was purer and truer than the Catholic clergy corrupted Christian Faith. After working for nine years in the Social Security Office on High Park Street in Toxteth´s where he witnessed the injustices suffered by the ethnic communities in what was a poor and downtrodden area, he decided to seek local authority funding and to help his fellow believers at the local mosque. With his University degree and Civil Service background the local authorities were only too willing to help as were the local radicals who in no time convinced him of their cause. Colin became a key figure in the Merseyside Islamic Community quickly learning Arabic and dominating completely the phlegm wrenching pronunciation and in 1995, at the age of thirty three, converted to the Islamic faith and adopted the name of Jamil Matar. Travelling on behalf of and representing the, community, he made frequent visits to both Pakistan and Afghanistan where he was known to have associated with active Al Qaeda members. His lectures were ever more radical until suddenly after a recent visit to South Waziristan, he became strangely subdued and palliative. Believed to be an expert in explosives and chemical warfare this sudden change in approach was seen as disconcerting. He had been under observation for five years.
Tawid Abdallah was a different kettle of fish, six foot tall, slim, athletic with a penetrating stare and olive skinned good looks, he was every woman’s idea of a mystic lover. His sexual appetite was legend as where his violent inclinations, more than one woman having required medical attention for a beating he had applied. He was in constant inner turmoil, unable to conciliate his philandering with the teaching of the Qurán, whilst at the same time obsessed with the need to prove his worth to Islam, his faith and his right to enter the kingdom of heaven. Born in 1983, son of an unmarried mother who had only escaped the ultimate punishment due to the intervention on her behalf of the British Armed Forces to whom, reputedly, his father belonged, he had been tormented and shunned by the other children of the village of Ainab, south of Beirut in Syria where he was raised. Insultingly known as Kafir (the infidel, the one
who covers up his lack of belief) he was forced to watch in shame as his beloved mother was stoned to death the same day as the British withdrew their troops, and at the same time her protection. It was a torture that he could neither forgive nor forget and it conditioned the rest of his life. At the age of twelve he moved to England with the help of his father but rejected adopting his name and denied all contact with him. What he did allow was for his father to finance his studies, firstly at Eaton and later Cambridge. The military future that his father had planned was never however to come to fruition, after he decided to enter the service of Islam and suddenly disappeared from Cambridge leaving his studies unfinished and his fellow students relieved. Tawid had an uneasy relationship with his fellow students. Charming at times and excellent at his studies, he was too popular with the females for the liking of the male population and too violent with them for the rest of the female population. He had been, reportedly, saved from expulsion on two occasions by the intervention from “above”, something that unnerved the rest of the student population. Indhira Prasad a brilliant and stunningly attractive Indian Student had disappeared from canvas for a month after he had allegedly beaten her, something she vehemently denied on her return, a denial that did nothing to convince her peers. The other woman was a prostitute who went by the dubious name of Candy and whose catch line was “I’m Candy, sweet, tasty and a great suck?” with excessive emphasis on the pronunciation of the s in suck, which resulted puerile yet as effective as where her pouting botox filled lips and size 38 silicone breasts. She had withdrawn charges against him from her hospital bed, after having initially claimed that he had beaten her whilst continually calling her an Infidel Whore. The reason for her withdrawing the charges was never clarified but his record was wiped clean. He had returned for a short time to his home town where he allegedly took revenge on several of the “playmates” that had tortured his youth and had then travelled to Afghanistan where he entered the Al Ghuraba training camp where his hatred of the British above all else was to earn him both the trust and admiration of his peers, so much so that he had been granted the honour of beheading one of the British electrical engineers kidnapped in Iraq and later executed on live television after the British Government had refused to accede to their demands, a task he fulfilled with chilling efficiency. Tawid had returned to Britain accompanying Jamil when he returned from Waziristan. He was fully prepared for what was expected of him
Harvey appeared disconcerted by the reports he read of the explosion. Although clearly delighted with the elimination of suspected terrorists he was alarmed that they had been so close to launching an attack without them having been aware of the fact, but there was something more, something was wrong; something didn’t fit in the puzzle.
-I’d like to see the reports from agents Stewart, Graham, Booth and Richards as soon as possible, Stewart and Graham are conscious now I believe and I’d like to see the tapes of the events leading up to the explosion as well. I want an initial forensic report and initial results of the autopsy by the end of the day if possible. I want to know what type of explosives they were using and where they came from, are they typical of Al Qaeda, is there any sign of outside influence or help, are there any traces of the same explosives in the flat they shared and I want to know if there are any distinguishing marks on the bodies of the remains that are being examined in the autopsy. Get someone out to see the cleaners, I want to know the times they claim to have arrived and left the building and exactly what where the tasks of each that morning, and I want the interviews taped at their homes, do not bring them in, I want them to feel comfortable, also I want you to inspect the footwear that they used to go to work in, it was wet this morning wasn’t it? Keep it brief at first, look for the anomalies. No, hold on a moment, I’ll go to the morgue myself to see the remains. -
Harvey left his office and headed for the Heliport, he was due to be briefed on Mad Dog that morning, in Bristol, and he wouldn’t have time to go by road, not if he wanted to be at the morgue in Birmingham that evening.
The briefing that morning was to be in the form of a synopsis of all the information they had, which all though bulky didn’t appear to be telling them much. He hadn’t even arrived when he received the first piece of news, his CIA counterpart Charles Claridge called to advise him that the American Police had found Wakefield’s body or at least what was left of it and the 4x4 they had hired, but they had found no signs of anyone else.
-Good Morning gentlemen, -greeted Harvey as he entered the operations room of Mad Dog that now occupied what had previously been three rooms of the burns unit. -I have some good news for you. Wakefield’s body has been found, well, to be precise the remains of Wakefield’s body have been found. It was found partially inside and partially outside of the 4x4 and had been to a large extent consumed by what would appear to have been a bear. Before you ask, no they found no sign of Alan. Agent Evans, I’ve asked for your link man, -
-Agent Cliff Cooper-, interjected agent Evans.
-Thank you agent Evans, -continued Harvey, -I’ve asked for agent Cooper to be sent to the scene, right up by the Canadian Border I understand, a place called Rats Root Lake if I’m not mistaken. I’ve organised a flight for you this afternoon so we’ll start with your report with Harris’s permission. -
-Granted-smiled Harris, -I was going to start with him anyway. -
Agent Evans related how Alan had been a startling student, remarkably so considering his mother had never given signs of academic brilliance and his father was a penis with a brain, how he had remained so after the untimely death of his mother and the birth of his brothers, whom due to the circumstances of their birth were both disabled. He explained how he had collaborated Alan’s teachers and lecturers views of him, with fellow students, friends and fellow workers and all concurred that he was a truly outstanding person and athlete who doted on his brothers and cared for them like the father they never really knew. Those who worked with him at the Wolf Centres concurred also that he had a remarkable, if not scary, affinity with the wolves, that he was if anything, obsessive about them.
To agent Evans, Alan’s father was the key to his change. It would appear that he suddenly disappeared at the same time that, according to the medical reports, the twins had an unfortunate accident that left them terribly scarred. He rightly believed that the two occurrences were far from a coincidence but failed to deduct that Alan had killed him, nonetheless it was clear that from then on Alan occupied himself with the upbringing of his brothers with the help of a local Latin American girl called Josie who later was to become his wife. It was shortly after her death that Alan left for Scotland. There really was nothing to suggest that the Alan that everyone described would become the monster that he became.
He concluded that they had no clue as to where he could have gone as they had searched everywhere that he had previously been connected with and there was nothing to suggest he had either been to them or been in touch with anyone, that they had tried unsuccessfully to locate his father and that they had even trekked up to the last known hunting areas that he frequented. There had been no sign of him just a load of run down unused shacks.
-Thank you agent Evans- said Harvey, -but I think you’ll find that Alan in fact killed his father. Wakefield told me that Jay had suspected as much and that they were intending to look for his body. Now I know that Jay was in fact Alan it would appear to me that he would have no reason to suggest it if it wasn’t true, after all he was going to be getting rid of Wakefield anyway. -
-Yes thank you agent Evans, -said Harris, -If you want to get off to the airport you may do so. I’ll send you a script of the rest of the reports if that’s okay with you? -
-Yes that’ll be fine, -answered agent Evans; -I’ve already been through them all with Charlie and DS Watts anyway. -
-Okay, -said a somewhat molested Harris,-we don’t want to keep you by repeating things. DS Mann if you don’t mind, perhaps you could now bring the rest of us up to date, the rest o
f us being Harvey and I that is! -
DS Mann in turn related the events as he had been able to unveil since Alan’s arrival in Britain on the 18th March 1997. Alan had arrived in Scotland accompanied by the twins, as confirmed by both Derek McKenzie who collected them from the airport, who included the service as part of the deal when selling Alan the Range Rover that he had used to such vile ends and Alexander Skelton who sold him his first property, Crowdie Cottage, a farm building with barn that he used whilst he worked for the Highland News Group, at first as their Information and Technology Correspondent and later combining his duties with the role of a current affairs reporter specialising in mountain rescue and missing persons, at least that is how they got the first images of him while he helped search for a couple of missing Liverpudlians who, as it happens, they never found, -at this point he passed a still of Alan extracted from a news footage clip,
-Remarkable similarity to Jay don’t you think? –
Shortly after he joined the television company Granada as a reporter, where under the adopted name of Alf Fowler had soon established himself a glowing reputation as an excellent one on one interviewer, capable of making the most distressed of people feel at ease, he had bought and renovated Howtowdie Farm with the last of the money from the sale of the ranch in Ely and with the money from the sale of Crowdie Cottage he bought his flat in Manchester. There was little else to add, he appeared to have a perfectly normal life, none of his ex’s and none of his friends or colleagues had the slightest idea of the existence neither of the twins nor of Howtowdie Farm. Alf Fowler seemed a perfectly normal and balanced young man.
-So gentlemen, after three months of investigations we have enough information about Alan to write a biography but do we have an answer to the famous “FIVE W’s”, who, where, why, when and how? Do we? asked Harvey.
Mad Dog Page 4
