Mary Dear - Redux Read online

  His brother’s part in the Beslan massacre horrified him and made him feel ashamed. He could not understand what could have turned a fun-loving person like his brother into a monster capable of taking the lives of innocent children. He was determined to do all in his power to counter the evil that his brother had done.

  As soon as he could, Abdul changed his name to Khan to try to escape the stigma associated with his family name. On February 11, 2006 he attended a rally in London’s Trafalgar Square in protest of the publication of cartoons of the Prophet Muhammad. He was distributing leaflets when he got to talking with a man who said he was a Christian and wanted to know more about Islam and the Muslim’s point of view, because he felt the way to a more peaceful world was through mutual understanding and respect.

  Jake Scott was intelligent and articulate and got on well with Abdul. They met after the rally and chatted amiably. After a while and several more social meetings, they became friends. Much later, when Jake deemed that the time was right, Abdul found out that he worked for the British secret service and was involved in counter-terrorism operations. Abdul was passionate about Islam but detested extremists from wherever they may come. He grasped the opportunity to right some of his brother’s wrongdoing and asked Jake if there was any way that he could help. Jake had been waiting for this and he recruited Abdul as an undercover agent of MI6 under his direct control. He would lie low, keep his ears peeled but would not attract attention to himself nor put his life in danger. If he heard something was being planned he would send a text message to a secure number that Jake had given him. He would then be given a time to go to Finsbury Park and make his way to the Arboretum area and sit on a particular bench. He would take with him his book of the Koran to read.

  As usual, anyone watching him from afar would see a young, devout Muslim, seeking solitude and reading passages of the Holy Book to himself away from the turmoil of the crowded city.

  And again, no one thought anything of the young man in jeans, walking his dog and listening to music on his iPod, some thirty feet away from Khan and no one saw him press a push-button remote control he carried in his pocket, activating the powerful hidden transmitter underneath the bench.

  It was not music coming through on Jake’s headphones but Abdul’s clear voice—and what he heard made his blood run cold.

  Jake met Simon Cheshire, his section chief at MI6, and brought him up to date with the information he had received from his informant Abdul Khan.

  Cheshire put in a call to the Director General who called the PM at No.10, and an emergency meeting of Cobra was convened for 6pm.

  The civil contingencies committee, responsible for the handling of national crises, is named after the ‘Cabinet Office Briefing Room A’ located deep in the bowels of Downing Street where it normally meets.

  Though often chaired by different people depending on the nature of the emergency, on this occasion the prime minister himself was in charge.

  The PM had decided to keep the number of people present as small as possible. He asked the Director General, more commonly known simply as ‘C’ for Chief, to attend. In addition he invited the Commissioner of Police, the Home Secretary and Thomas Wilkins, head of GCHQ; rounding off the small gathering were Simon Cheshire and Jake Scott.

  The prime minister brought the meeting to order. ‘Good evening everyone. I think we’ve all had a brief outline as to why we’re here,’ he began, and then addressed Simon directly: ‘C has briefed me be but perhaps you’d be kind enough to fill us all in on the detail.’

  ‘Certainly Prime Minister, I will be happy to answer any questions afterwards, but I think you will find it interesting to hear a first-hand account from Jake Scott. He’s Abdul Khan’s handler and has a most interesting story to tell.’

  He turned to Jake indicating that he had the floor.

  Jake opened his notebook and looked around the table trying to decide where to begin.

  ‘Thank you Sir,’ he said and turned to the PM.

  ‘Prime Minister...gentlemen,’ he began, ‘It might be best if I start by telling you who this informant is. The man, Abdul Khan, is in fact the brother of the terrorist Yacine Benalia, I am sure you are all familiar with Benalia’s part in the Beslan massacre. But what you may not know is that Abdul was so sickened by what his brother did that he joined us voluntarily in order to, as he put it, make some small restitution and try to put right the wrong that his brother had done. I have tested the man’s resolve and the information he has provided me with in the past and can categorically state that I consider him an unimpeachable source of intelligence at the North London Central Mosque.’

  Jake looked around the room and saw that everyone was waiting for him to get to the point. ‘I have been successful in creating a reputation for Khan at the Mosque as a disaffected youth with strong Islamic militant tendencies. His profile has been enhanced by his attendance to meetings where the radical Muslim cleric Abu Hamza has been preaching his message of hate to the west. I have even had him thrown in jail overnight once or twice so that he might come to the attention of the hardliners in his community.’

  The prime minister interrupted with a comment. ‘We’re all aware of Abu Hamza and his cohorts but what’s this latest information that Cheshire wishes us to hear?’

  Jake decided to move things along. ‘Of course, Prime Minister, a man calling himself Timur Sautiev approached Khan recently. He said that he had fought alongside the terrorist Shamil Basayev and had been there at the Beslan massacre. He’s recruited Khan and told him that he is in the UK as part of a large Al-Qaeda cell who is planning a coordinated attack on London and Washington.’

  There was a stunned silence in the room and a sense of expectation as the prime minister spoke once more.

  ‘Has this “Sautiev” told your man what he intends to do and what the time frame is for the operation?’

  ‘Yes sir he has. They plan to detonate a smoky bomb in a crowded public place such as a cinema or the underground. The idea is to create terror in the population and use the attack and the threat of more of the same to coerce the British government into leaving Iraq and Afghanistan immediately. I’d like to add at this point that we don’t necessarily buy into Sautiev’s story. I mean, if he’s part of a large cell, why recruit Abdul in the first place? No, we think it more likely that he sees him as an expendable foot soldier. If there is a cell, and that is always possible, then Sautiev—and we have to assume that’s not his real name—will probably want to keep it secret but could be considering using Abdul to start a random terrorist attack of the sort he’s described.’

  The prime minister looked around the table to see if everyone else was following.

  ‘I hope you will forgive my ignorance but what exactly is a smoky bomb?’ The PM looked puzzled and Jake took this as his cue to explain.

  ‘We all know that a dirty bomb is basically a radiological dispersal device or RDD. Well, the fact is that the RDD is not, strictly speaking, a very efficient killing weapon; not the WMD that some journalists would have us believe. The smoky bomb on the other hand can kill many people if they are in a confined space when the device goes off. Without getting too technical, you will all remember the case of Alexander Litvinenko. He ate, drank or inhaled Polonium-210—we’re not sure which—with predictable results. Well, the terrorist’s solution lies in getting very finely divided Polonium into the air where people can breathe it.’

  Cheshire looked at Jake and indicated he still had the floor. ‘Smoky bombs based on alpha emitters might easily be just as dangerous as beta or gamma emitting dirty bombs. Air containing such radioactive debris would appear smoky or dusty, and be dangerous to breathe. A few breaths might easily be enough to sicken a victim, and in some cases to kill. If a smoky bomb exploded in a packed arena or on a crowded tube it could kill dozens or hundreds. It would set off a radiological emergency of a kind not seen before in the UK, and the number of people requiring life support or palliative care until death, would overwhel
m the number of beds now available for treating victims of radiation. First responders dashing unprotected into the cloud from such a bomb might be among the worst of the wounded. Fire and police departments around the country will need alpha radiation detectors, since the counters they carry now cannot see alphas.’

  Jake looked around the table at the sombre faces of all those present and continued. ‘The problem we face is one of time. The attacks are timed to take place before the U.S. presidential election is decided. That would be on November 4th 2008. Although that’s over a year away, we cannot tell exactly when the attacks will begin. What we do know is that they will take place between now and then. On the plus side, we have an inside line into the terrorist cell if we can keep Khan safe and talking to us.’

  The prime minister took over the meeting once more. ‘Thank you Mr Scott; it is clear that we have to tell our American friends what we know so far as soon as possible. We have to keep things away from the media; goodness knows we don’t need a panic right now. Simon, you can call on any resources you need in order to get a handle on exactly who this man Sautiev is. Maybe we can get a photo of him when he’s with Khan. It would be dangerous but handled properly, could save considerable time. Once we know who he is, we might be able to find out which particular cell he’s working with and when we know that we can grab them all.’

  The PM spoke to everyone around the table. ‘Please let me know your best guess as to who you think these people may be. I wouldn’t be surprised if they are not amongst the groups you currently have under surveillance.’

  The prime minister closed the meeting with a reminder of the importance of keeping the whole affair tightly under wraps, not a word of this must leak out to the press or they would have a field day with it.

  They all left the Cobra meeting leaving the PM to return to his private office and place an important call to his friend in the White House.

  ‘Our people are on it and I will get them to send you chapter and verse on the situation, George. It’ll be on your desk this morning.’

  The PM put the phone down. He buzzed his private secretary and asked him to come into his office.

  ‘William, I need to see the Queen. It’s rather urgent; could you please organize it for me?’

  William Burton gave him a quizzical look but saw that the PM was not in a talkative mood.

  ‘Yes of course Prime Minister,’ he said, and promptly left the room.

  President Bush placed a call to Langley and was put through to Nathan King. He then put the U.S. alert level at ‘elevated’, an assessment indicating that the potential threat is credible, and confirming the involvement of WMD.

  He then convened all the agencies involved with CONPLAN to attend a meeting at the White House to discuss recent events in Great Britain.

  When Milton heard about the security threat, all the ideas that had been rattling around in his head suddenly began to take shape. ‘Why not?’ he thought, the intelligence he’d been picking up, his conversations with his friend Dwayne, the business with the coke baron Esteban Blanco and his nutty idea about the presidential hopeful and once more he thought, why not? Granted, it’s farfetched but stranger things have happened and, working at the Bureau, he damn well should know. He called Dwayne.

  ‘I know Mil, I’ve heard.’

  ‘Now don’t shoot me down over this but do you remember my little theory?’

  ‘Mil, you can’t surely be thinking that Blanco’s tied up in this, can you?’

  ‘Well...I’m not ready to stand up in court and swear to it if that’s what you’re asking, but it sure as hell deserves some thought.’

  There was a pause and Milton could almost hear the gears going round. Then his friend was back.

  ‘Mil, are you free for dinner tonight?

  Chapter Nineteen

  HMS Swordfish left the Naval Base at Faslane, the home of the UK strategic nuclear deterrent force, carrying a classified cargo. Commander Alexander Griffiths’s orders were to sail towards Cocos Island and rendezvous with an undercover CIA agent who would land his seaplane at 05º32'N—86º59'W. His orders had come from the First Sea Lord and he in turn had received them directly from the prime minister. HMS Swordfish was on a course of 09º22.100'N 079º53.300'W that would take him to the Caribbean Sea where he would cross the Panama Canal and then set a new course. His instructions were not to surface until he reached Panama. Then he was to proceed submerged until the meeting point with CIA agent McFadden.

  Alex Griffiths had been in the Royal Navy for 20 years and taken command of the Trafalgar class nuclear powered attack submarine (SSN), in August 2006. The submarine was his third command, the previous two having been the patrol ships HMS Windsor Castle and HMS Edinburgh Castle.

  Before that, his career was spent exclusively within the submarine service. He joined the Royal Navy straight from school and, in the course of his training, won a Herbert Lott Sword as the best Midshipman of his intake at the Britannia Royal Naval College. Once his training at BRNC Dartmouth was complete he served in a variety of nuclear and diesel powered ‘boats’. Earning his Dolphins, the submariners’ coveted badge of qualification, in the nuclear submarine HMS Brilliant, he then spent several years in Oberon and Upholder type Diesel Submarines until that type of boat was withdrawn from service with the Royal Navy in the mid-nineties. Thereafter he returned to the nuclear world. Alex passed the Submarine Command Course, also famously known as the Perisher in 1998, before becoming Executive Officer of HMS Courageous. In the course of his considerable sea time he had covered most of the globe including the Far East, Arctic, Baltic, North and South Atlantic, Caribbean and Mediterranean. The Admiralty’s faith in the ability of this Commander to carry out this very secret and important mission was entirely justified.

  The Swordfish was one minute from the dive point and the Officer of the Deck reported to the captain.

  ‘Ship is rigged for dive, Captain, sounding is one zero zero fathoms and we are one minute from the dive point. Request permission to submerge the ship to one five zero feet and attain a one third trim.’

  ‘Take her down.’

  ‘Mark the dive point,’ the navigator called out and the OOD ordered the diving officer to submerge the ship and attain a one third trim.

  The diving officer ordered the chief of the watch at the ballast control panel to sound the diving alarm, and dive, dive echoed all over the sub; he then opened the forward ballast group’s main ballast tank vents.

  On the submarine all was quiet efficiency. The OOD trained the periscope to examine the bow and saw the geysers blasting upwards indicating that the forward main ballast tanks were venting correctly. He called out venting forward. He did the same for the aft vents calling venting aft as the Swordfish began to sink deeper into the sea.

  While the diving officer called out the depth the OOD did a surface search for close surface contacts and then trained the periscope aft again. As soon as the waves had covered the aft deck he called out deck’s awash and listened as the diving officer continued calling out the depth. When the sail submerged he called sail under. Frothy waves were now coming closer to his view and when they washed over the scope he called, scope’s awash and soon after, scope’s under.

  The Officer of the Deck now took a moment to do a circle search with the scope’s view trained upwards towards the surface and then he trained the scope to the bow, clicked up the periscope grips and reached up to rotate the steel ring surrounding the optic module clockwise. He heard the whoosh of the hydraulics and the optic module disappeared into the periscope well. The OOD called: ‘Lowering number two scope.’

  The angle of the deck was about 5 degrees and the diving officer ordered the planesmen to pull up at a depth of 150 feet, ordered all ahead one third and the planesmen to zero their planes. The whole procedure had taken twenty minutes and the Swordfish now set a course for the first leg of their secret rendezvous point some miles away from the Cocos Island.

  Cocos Island was in total dar
kness and very quiet, the only sound the lapping of the waves as they washed in and out of the shore. The air smelled fresh with just a hint of gasoline coming from the Zodiac’s outboard engine. McFadden wore night vision goggles that lit everything with a weird green haze. He recognized the swarthy man walking towards him as the one that had towed him with the Zodiac and had helped him anchor the Catalina onto a gangplank. He walked carefully pointing a torch to the ground lighting the way. Before he reached him, McFadden had him in his sight and fired a single shot from a Walther PPK fitted with a silencer. The dull splat made by the gun did not carry much beyond where McFadden was standing. He lost no time loading the body onto the Zodiac and now reversed the process towing the seaplane out.

  When he considered he was in deep water he tied a weight around the man’s waist, untied the guide line and fired four shots at the Zodiac which deflated and sunk after a few minutes. McFadden dumped the cargo of cocaine that was destined for Miami into the sea.

  Blanco tried to make contact with his man on the island to check if the shipment had arrived but, when he got no answer, Blanco figured he’d taken the drugs and was on the run. This happened from time to time but he always caught up with them. The men died slow and painful deaths. Not many people tried to steal from him once the word got around. He gave an order and the wheels were set in motion.

  On the island, McFadden started the Catalina’s engines. The sea was calm with only a slight swell and the seaplane moved smoothly over the water. He held the wheel straight as the aircraft bounced and bumped on the waves, the controls getting progressively lighter until the Catalina left the water and started climbing into the night sky heading for his assignation with HMS Swordfish. When the coordinates on his GPS told him he’d arrived at the correct location, he began a wide turn circling looking for the submarine but all he could see in the beam of the aircraft’s searchlights was darkness. He approached from the west skimming the surface of the sea before setting the plane down and racing along the waves. The Catalina slowed down gradually, settling into the water before coming to a complete stop.