“Only human ones at the moment. Our surveillance experts have arrived and are mapping any access points, but they are under strict instructions to do nothing until you arrive. Breaching that building will be entirely on your authority. Specialist police teams are heading for the site, but you will be the Officer Commanding.”
“Good. I think this is the only sensible way forward given we are under such terrible time pressure. I’ve got one final request, and I hate to ask this, but I think we may need Jonathan there to make sure we don’t miss anything.”
He turned to Roper. “I’m asking you to put yourself in direct danger. I have no right to do that and you have every right to refuse. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to stay back.”
Roper didn’t hesitate. “I want to be there.”
52
COBRA was a fancy name for a less than fancy place. Normally it was heavily staffed by senior civil servants. Today it was full of people either standing up and shouting or sitting and shouting.
The reaction had followed Mayweather’s briefing, and she was now waiting for everyone to calm down, so she could take questions. As well as military and police officials, senior figures from the emergency services were also present. The possibility of a nuclear attack had been discussed here in the past, but never in these terms.
It had been intended that Roper, Hooley and Major Phillips would be there, but at the last minute it was decided that Mayweather was more than capable of dealing with questions; the really important bit was getting to the bomb, and if Roper was going then the DCI was too.
The three men were just arriving on site. “Last chance to bail out,” said the Major.
Before either man could reply, they pulled up behind what seemed at first glance to be super-sized mobile homes, with impenetrable blacked-out windows and sporting an array of satellite dishes.
Inside, the clever design allowed them to be packed with computing power and communication systems. Hooley guessed they would boast jamming systems to take down mobile phone networks. They were greeted by a tall young woman in battle fatigues who was in charge of one of the smoothest and quietest operations Hooley had ever seen. He felt like he had just stepped on to the set of a sci-fi movie, which, in a way, he had.
The woman, Captain Helen Bowers, obviously knew the Major well, as she first saluted and then warmly shook him by the hand. She started explaining progress so far.
“When you give us the go-ahead we can cut all power to the building, take out the landlines and Internet and scramble any mobile signals. We have also accessed the roof space and will be able to ensure they cannot receive any satellite signals.
“I have been informed that a top-level decision has been taken to make this operation a priority rather than trying to move people away. The view is that, with the time available, either this will work or people die anyway, so why start a panic?”
Before anyone could react to this apocalyptic comment, two more people appeared: a man and woman. They looked like brother and sister with cropped hair, brown eyes, broad shoulders and expressions of intense glee.
They made Hooley jump by simultaneously shouting “Sir!” as they saluted the Major and then looked at him expectantly.
“Have you got your toy to show us, Jenkins? I think Brian and Jonathan will be very interested.”
The woman had been holding one hand behind her and now pulled it to the front to display an oblong-shaped device, about A4 size, with a tiny propeller mounted on each corner. Roper gazed at it in awe.
“Is that one of the new generation drones?”
Jenkins smiled in acknowledgement. “It’s about the best we’ve got. Just enough fuel for twenty minutes’ flight, so should be plenty in these sorts of urban conditions. I’ve got half a dozen more outside. One for each side of the building and two in reserve.”
“How quickly can you get them in the air?” asked the Major.
“We’ll be ready when you are, sir. Everything is warmed up and ready to go.”
Major Phillips glanced at his phone to read a message that had just beeped to signal its arrival; then he looked at the Captain.
“My assault team is here so we’re going to head into the building shortly. I’ve got eight units with me and the plan is to split them between the top floor and the roof.”
He turned to Jenkins. “I want eyes on that top floor by the time we arrive there and at that point we cut all outside power and communication. That’s it. That’s the plan. So let’s be careful, but let’s be quick.”
The Major departed, leaving Hooley and Roper in the Command and Control centre, and a few minutes later they were watching crystal-clear video feeds as the drones shot up the outside of the building. Arriving at the top floor, powerful cameras zoomed in. Two of the flats came back as totally empty, one had the curtains on one room partly closed, and one flat showed two men sitting down playing some sort of video game.
Roper and Hooley were both staring at the curtained room.
“Can we get any closer to see in there?” they said at the same time.
The Captain muttered into a throat mic, and moments later the window grew larger and larger until, in one corner, it was clear there was something electronic there. The screen on the far end, which had been showing the two men, suddenly filled with smoke.
The Major’s voice came over the airwaves. “We just fired a flashbang into the flat - it’s the last thing you expect ten floors up.”
Moments later the screens filled with black-clad members of the Major’s team. Seconds after that it was all over, and the two detectives were soon following on the heels of the bomb experts piling into the building.
With the power still off they were using the stairs, and by the second floor Hooley was waving Roper ahead. “You get up there and carry on. I’ll be fine coming up slowly.” He watched enviously as Roper bounded away up the stairs.
Panting heavily the DCI finally arrived at the top floor. He was too busy catching his breath to notice how quiet everything seemed. He walked in to see what was going on and could immediately tell by the collective body language that all was not well.
One of the SAS troopers directed him to the Major and Roper. He walked in to find the detective gazing out of the window and the SAS man looking serious and troubled.
“What’s the problem?”
“There’s no bomb here, just preparations for a bomb. And if you believe the two jokers we picked up, there never were any plans to build one.
“They insist they were paid to do exactly this and no more. They claim the only intention was to check out our responses and ability to pick up such a threat, but they were never going to do anything.
“It’s impossible to know how much of what they say is true; they may even believe it themselves, acting like ‘useful idiots’ if you like. But there is no bomb here and they certainly aren’t acting like people who have been thwarted at the last moment. They are far too relaxed about it.”
At that moment Roper walked over. He looked troubled.
“This has to be a set-up. I’ve been thinking back, and they provided just enough information to make me start thinking there was going to be a bomb here. The North Korean man speaking Russian was obviously part of it. They knew I would make the mistake I did.”
“Don’t take this on yourself, Jonathan. All you did was come up with an honest appraisal of what you thought was happening. The question I have is: why go to all this trouble? Is that worrying anyone else?”
An hour later they were heartily wishing they had never asked the question.
53
The message had arrived after they got back to the Victoria offices. The two detectives had slumped at their desks, morosely sipping coffee, while the Major paced restlessly. Then Hooley’s phone had chirped.
As he answered the caller started speaking. He spoke clearly with no hint of an accent. His words were short and to the point.
“There is a bomb and we will set it off. If you want
to avoid a disaster the price is allowing us to have sixty minutes unfettered, remote access to the system at GCHQ. You must reply within six hours. Use the email address you have just received. Do not make any attempt to trace it. We will know.”
Hooley looked at the message. It was the same as the verbal one he had just listened to. He handed it to the Major who, with Roper looking over his shoulder, spoke it out loud.
Roper was the first to react. “That’s actually quite clever of them. They could find out a lot of valuable information in that time and make a small fortune out of it, and we would never know what they had taken.”
Both the DCI and SAS officer spent the next fifteen minutes on the phone, and at that point Julie Mayweather appeared.
“Let’s decamp to my office. We’ve got more room there.”
They followed her out, with Roper bringing up behind, apparently deep in thought. As the other three sat down he said, “Can I say something?”
The Deputy Commissioner made a ‘you have the floor’ gesture, to which she had to add “go ahead” before he would start talking.
“We need to try and check some things with the Russians if that is possible. I would especially like to know if the scientist, Maria Vasilev is around - and do they know where Arkady Sokolov is?”
“Actually, I was going to raise that just now,” said Mayweather. “Bill Nuffield has been on that since we found out that Yebedev and Sokolov had dropped off the radar. Don’t ask me how but given the high stakes here, he’s reached out to the FSB.
“He’s got some sort of personal contact there, I don’t know who or how, but there is a degree of trust. Something about keeping lines of communication open. He says his contact was genuinely surprised and frightened at hearing about nuclear bombs.
“I was told that our people are inclined to believe this. The FSB insist they can find no trace of the pair and Nuffield says that this all goes to support Roper’s theory that we are dealing with a rogue team.”
“Is he totally convinced that there is no official Russian connection to all this?”
“That’s what he told me. He didn’t seem to have any doubts.”
Mayweather’s office was big enough to offer the scope for pacing around, which Roper did now. He was moving slowly, and it was clear to all three that he was deep in thought. Hooley held up two fingers to suggest they give him couple of minutes. The other two nodded approval.
In fact, it was less than a minute before Roper spoke. “All along there has been something bothering me. I couldn’t help thinking the plan was a bit obvious, and how were they going to make enough money out of it?
“Holding an entire country to ransom means you would be on the run for the rest of your life, so why was their plan so simple? Money was never going to be the answer - it’s too difficult to move the sort of amount we would be talking about.
“Then they could have tried to transfer it electronically but that would have been traced, no matter how many accounts it was moved through. With the entire world looking it would never stay hidden.
“And I don’t think I am showing off when I say that it was a very clever ruse to have sent me off in the wrong direction - although I was right to say the bomb was on its way - but I think there is another player here. I think the bomb was meant to be in that building but this new player changed the plan at the last moment.
“I don’t mean the original idea to dig up the plutonium and get it to the UK. I think that someone else seized control at that stage and took over, and it must have been someone the original plotters made contact with.
“And I keep coming back to your contact telling us about this ‘Concierge’ character.” I’ve been trying to place him in the Rainbow Spectrum and he doesn’t fit. That usually means that it’s an important thing that I don’t know enough about.”
Major Phillips had jumped to his feet.
“Might your Concierge be known by a different name and would he be connected with people trafficking, drugs and that sort of thing?”
“What’s making you say that?” said Hooley.
“There’s a bit of legend about a Brit who did brilliantly serving in the French Foreign Legion. He was promoted to the rank of Colonel when he was just 25 years old.
“That sort of thing is unheard of, but they really rated him and were grooming him for senior command. Then, to everyone’s shock, he stepped away before his contract came up. Just upped and left without a word.
“He’d decided to go into business for himself and, using the contacts he’d made and the reputation he’d built, he wasn’t short of money and men to build his own team. Everyone expected him to go down the mercenary route, but he had other ideas.
“He went into the smuggling business and I heard about him a few years ago because a couple of wannabe SAS types decamped to work for him.
“In very short order they made a lot of money, so it was said, and then retired. It was claimed that this man – who was known as the Courier - was a brilliant strategist who seemed to love outwitting people almost as much as he did making money.
“I even heard a horrible rumour that he was transporting tiny kids around London inside those suitcases you can take on a plane as hand-baggage. I must say I thought it would take a special type of scum to do that.”
Jonathan jumped in. “That ties in with what we were told about him. I think you must be right, this Courier is the man we want.”
The Major went on. “The Courier dropped out of sight a few years back but then a member of my team, Trevor Robinson, suddenly left without a word. I was surprised and asked around because he was a sort of mate, not close exactly but enough for me to check nothing bad was going on.
“Brothers-in-arms and all that, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t find out much at first but a couple of months later I bumped into someone I knew. A bit dodgy, if I’m honest, but I always had a soft spot for him.
“Turns out he not only knew I had been looking for Robinson, the meeting wasn’t accidental. Robinson wanted me to know he was alright and to stop looking. It was obviously a bit of warning, but I can never resist a challenge.
“So, I persuaded my dodgy mate it would be in his best interests if he told me exactly what he knew and then I could leave things alone. He’s a sharp lad and decided to spill the beans, or at least the bit he knew.
“He told me that Robinson was working for this Courier now and was set for life. But in his new job he definitely didn’t want to be talking to serving officers in the SAS. So I left it there.
“There’s one bit more. My dodgy mate can’t resist bigging himself up and claimed he worked for this Courier from time to time. He said the man only worked with the best and my bloke has an almost supernatural ability to talk his way into anywhere: a very handy skill on occasions.
“We’d had a few beers and he produced a picture on his phone which he said showed the Courier. It was quite blurry and taken from the side so didn’t show his full face. My bloke said it was the only known picture of him and he’d taken it because he couldn’t resist the challenge.
“I suspect he was lucky to get away with his life, but the point is I might be able to recognise him if we have a picture of him.”
Roper had been fiddling with his phone and surprised everyone by answering the question. “There’s nothing on the Home Office data base of anyone called the Courier. I was checking while you were talking. We need Bill Nuffield to check the classified database - but I’ve got another idea about how we can find him.”
54
They had all turned to look at Roper but when he continued speaking they realised they were going to have to wait. “I know we’re running out of time, but I need to go for a walk, clear my mind and make sure I’m not jumping to the wrong conclusions.”
He pointed at Hooley. “You come with me - but no talking.”
The brusque order made Mayweather arch an eyebrow, and the Major suddenly took a keen interest in the carpet by his feet. As he got up to follow
Roper, the DCI was sure that the SAS man’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter.
He supposed he could have made a fuss but knew there was no point and if Roper said he was onto something, that was all that mattered. He really didn’t get that bothered about status anymore, far preferring to get results.
They walked out of the building and into the crowds - this was one of the areas of London that always seemed busy - and Roper led them towards Vauxhall Bridge and crossed the river to turn left on the Embankment. As they approached Lambeth Bridge he started to slow then picked up the pace again towards Westminster Bridge.
Here they re-crossed the Thames and then hung an immediate left along Millbank and the return leg to the office. It was a warm day and they passed a young couple sitting on a bench. Hooley noticed enviously that they were drinking take-away coffee.
He’d have loved to have stopped for a drink but there was no chance since Roper was clearly on autopilot. This was one of his regular walks and familiarity allowed him to switch off while he was thinking.
Hooley wasn’t a gambling man, that addiction had nearly ruined his father - but he might have considered a very small wager that Roper was thinking about his Rainbow Spectrum.
The biggest clue was the speed at which they were walking. Normally Roper was the man who put the “brisk” into “a brisk walk”, but it was as though the brain power he was siphoning off for this bout of problem-solving was slowing him down.
Not that Hooley was complaining. This pace was perfect for him; it got his heart going but didn’t leave him hot and sweaty. Many were the times he had been forced to wait outside the office in order for his heart to slow back down to normal.
As they arrived back at Victoria, Hooley could sense Roper was coming back into the normal world.
“Have you had enough time to think about everything?”
“Yes.”
The Long Reach: British Detective (Jonathan Roper Investigates Book 3) Page 20
