monitored from Stuttgart.’
‘I know, but we all should have been thinking about Beirut. It should have set off some kind of alarm that Rahe had been taken from a hotel there. My question is this: where did we first learn about the website carrying the messages about future attacks? Was it through Youssef Rahe?’
‘Yes, it was,’ cut in Spelling, clearly having decided to jettison the co-architect of RAPTOR.
‘So we have basically been sold a dummy by Rahe and Loz. I believe that we know who Yahya is. Yahya is Youssef Yamin Rahe. I have to ask you how you came in touch with him, because I believe he has been using his connection with us all the way along.’
Vigo shook his head. ‘This is all guesswork. I am not going to answer these questions until there is some kind of evidence. ’
‘I think we shall have all the evidence you require,’ she said. ‘I just need that answer.’
‘For God’s sake answer her, Mr Vigo,’ barked the Prime Minister.
‘I met him through my book-dealing business.’ He spoke as though drugged. ‘Then I went to his shop in Bayswater. We talked and it was clear he might be able to help us.’
The room went silent again as Vigo slumped back in his chair, then in a lifeless voice asked the Prime Minister’s permission to leave. The Prime Minister nodded. Vigo rose stiffly and limped from the room.
‘Have you any more surprises for us, Miss Herrick?’ the Prime Minister asked.
She shook her head.
‘Sir Robin, does all this seem likely to you?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ he replied.
‘Then it is clear that you must trace Youssef Rahe and Sammi Loz wherever they are, as a matter of urgency. You will, of course, have the complete backing of the Security Services, the police and the diplomatic service. What else do you propose?’
‘The first thing is to get the eleven remaining suspects off the streets as fast as possible. I believe the BND and the French service may have already been alerted to some kind of operation. It was hopeless to expect us to be able to carry out this type of surveillance on their territory without them getting wind of it. We should make them party to everything we have learned, apologise and urge that these men be arrested.’
The Foreign Secretary stirred. ‘On what charges?’
‘Initially, on violation of immigration controls. We have the evidence on film that each man was carrying false passports. More serious charges may follow, but at least we’ll know the Heathrow team is under lock and key.’
The Prime Minister whispered to the Foreign Secretary. Herrick could not help lip-reading what he said. ‘Get that tosser of an ambassador in. Tell him the game’s up and that I’ll be speaking to the President this afternoon. Keep Norquist out of your talk. I’m going to need that as ammunition with the President. I’ll want a note about that from Teckman.’
The Foreign Secretary got up and left. ‘Right,’ said the Prime Minister, also rising. ‘The Civil Contingencies Committee will meet three times a day and liaise with the JIC staff. I expect constant progress updates for the next five days. Needless to say, there will be a media blackout on this. And that will last until I say otherwise. That’s it. Let’s get on with it.’
Only Herrick did not get up as he left. Instead, her hand darted forward to retrieve another biscuit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The seascapes by Cavendish Morton, the photographs and the small bronze of a man fly-fishing were back in the Chief’s office by lunchtime that Monday. Also returned to his complete control was the British end of RAPTOR, which took rather less time to effect than the hanging of his pictures. As he moved round his office, trying new positions for the canvasses, he dictated a memorandum that instructed RAPTOR to focus its efforts on preparing the foreign agencies for the arrest and charge of the suspects. The teams in the Bunker were instructed to concentrate their resources on predicting the exact location of every suspect over the next forty-eight hours, so that decisions could be taken about a coordinated action across Europe. At the same time, RAPTOR was tasked to provide evidence against the helper cells, the men and women who had smoothed the way for the suspects to merge into the life of cities all over Europe. Preliminary estimates suggested that in each case at least ten people might be arrested and charged with aiding and abetting a terrorist plot, although there was some doubt as to whether the evidence was strong enough to meet the requirements of more liberal regimes in Scandinavia. All governments were to be urged to use the Al Capone option: to seek convictions and custodial sentences for ordinary criminal matters such as theft, fraud and forgery, rather than for terrorism.
As British diplomats began to sound out and brief governments, they insisted that a news blackout was required until at least the end of the week, by which time the date mentioned by Loz in the recording would have been reached. In several conference calls, the Chief acknowledged that there were likely to be check-in systems designed to alert a central control figure of an arrest. The failure of one suspect to make regular contact might be enough to tip off the entire network. The reaction of most security services was still to press for arrest at the earliest possible date. The Chief also told them about Mohammed bin Khidir, the man apprehended in Stuttgart who had died when he bit into a cyanide capsule. The other suspects were likely to have been equipped with suicide pills in their teeth, so drugging them, perhaps by dart, would be a necessity rather than an option.
Herrick was present for most of these conversations and noticed once or twice a distinct lack of surprise in the voices of the various intelligence chiefs, especially from the French and Italians. Between calls she remarked as much to Teckman.
The Chief gave her an injured look and said, ‘After the work you have done for us, you can pretty much write your own ticket, Isis, but I do urge you not to give voice to these unworthy suspicions.’
Of course, she thought, the crafty old buzzard had found a way of keeping his main European allies in the picture. For a moment she marvelled at the ferocious will that lay beneath the Chief’s cheerful, gregarious presence.
One thing that remained held tightly to the chest of the British Secret Intelligence Service was the identity of Sammi Loz and Youssef Rahe, now in Teckman’s mind established as Yahya or The Poet. The Chief considered issuing descriptions and backgrounds, but then decided not to risk either of the men hearing that they were still regarded as live threats. He saw to it that Sammi Loz’s name lost the prominent place it had occupied on the FBI watch list for the last few weeks. Agents monitoring the empty consulting rooms in the Empire State withdrew.
In a gap between the Chief’s calls and discussions, Herrick phoned Dolph on his mobile.
‘Where are you, Dolphy?’ she said.
‘In the sticks, having coffee with Britain’s premier war photographer. He’s just agreed to download his entire Bosnian archive into my computer.’
‘You should be here. Things are moving fast.’
‘Yeah. I heard from Nathan Lyne. Look, I may have hit the jackpot with this stuff. I’m bringing it back.’
‘Come to the office. There have been changes.’
‘Yeah, Nathan told me that, too.’
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
‘I’m not. They shouldn’t have messed with you. Though I have to say I didn’t fancy your chances yesterday.’
‘You were right: they fired me.’
‘Tossers. Now look, I’m kind of busy here. Why don’t you call Helene Guignal. She’s the bird who was in Sarajevo. I think she’s good. Really, I’ve got a feeling about her.’
She dialled Nato headquarters in Brussels five times before getting through to a colleague of Guignal’s in the Press Office who said Helene was on vacation. Pretending to be a spokesman from the Ministry of Defence who needed Guignal urgently, Herrick managed to extract a mobile number that would raise her on the island of Skiathos. She tried this, but the phone was turned off.
She returned to the Chief’s office. Teckman looked distracted for a second, then leapt from his desk. ‘Come with me.’
