‘Good. Let’s keep it that way. My section is briefed and will be able to provide you with back-up.’Jeremy turned to Rafi. ‘I look forward to hearing what you suspect is going on. By the way, you really pissed off my colleagues who interviewed you. It seems that you managed to evade their questioning for over sixty hours without any sleep and practically no food or water. I dropped by to see them before I got here. They looked absolutely knackered! They thought that they’d got you hook, line and sinker, and are now – how can I put it? – in the doghouse! They’d never seen so much evidence stacked against a terrorist suspect and have the bugger slip through their fingers. I’m sorry for the harsh treatment the guards gave you.’ Jeremy paused. ‘It seems that you were set up good and proper.’Jeremy looked at Rafi. ‘Mr Khan I hope we can forget Paddington Green and focus on unravelling what the hell is going on.
‘Fine by me, but do call me Rafi – please.’
‘Good; thank you,’ said Jeremy. ‘And by the way we have arranged for Jameel Furud to be put under surveillance in Morocco…
Rafi suddenly remembered Mike and Andy’s comments about his sister, and looked across at Jeremy ‘On the basis of me being innocent, could you check that MI5 haven’t arrested my sister, and if they have, arrange for her release, please?’
‘A reasonable request… Leave it with me,’ replied Jeremy.
Rafi smiled – a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
‘Kate what have you got planned for us?’ enquired Jeremy.
‘David should be back shortly. I suggest we then have a council of war to sort out our strategy. In the meantime I’ve asked Greg Thompson, our IT specialist, to pay us a visit to set up some more computers. He should be with us any time now.’
As if on cue, Greg, a thin, bespectacled man of indeterminate age, walked into the room. ‘How can I help? I have arranged for two more networked desktops to be set up. Do you need anything else?’
‘When you have a spare minute could you ring Ray Isles, our IT gatekeeper?’ said Jeremy. ‘And Kate, who would you like to have in the loop with my section at MI5?’
‘Emma and me, please.’
‘Greg, please ask Ray to sort out the necessary encryption software so that MI5 emails and texts can be read. Also, please give him Kate’s and Emma’s mobile numbers.’Jeremy turned to Kate. ‘I’ll run you through the text message codes which will alert you when an important email has been sent.’ He turned to Greg. ‘Ray is a bit sensitive when it comes to his security software. If he stalls you, tell him you have clearance from the top,’Jeremy smiled. ‘You know how it is?’
Greg nodded. ‘If that’s all, I’ll be off.’
As he was leaving the room, Kate turned to her team. ‘Let’s get started. First how about we get Rafi to tell us what he really believes is going on. How long will you need to pull your thoughts together?’
‘A few minutes should do,’ came Rafi’s hesitant reply.
‘Excellent,’ said Jeremy. ‘That will give me time to visit Luigi’s, a small restaurant round the corner. Is it any good?’
‘Yes, but we tend to use the canteen downstairs,’ replied Kate.
‘I’ve been living off cruddy food for the past eight weeks,’ explained Jeremy, ‘I could do with something to perk me up; if it’s alright with you lot I’ll nip out to see what they do. How about I put the first lot on my card and after that someone else can have a go?’
Everyone looked sheepish.
Rafi guessed that expenses for food weren’t reclaimable. ‘Does anyone know where my personal effects and wallet ended up?’ he asked.
Kate looked at Rafi. ‘We got you out of Paddington Green in a bit of a hurry. Sorry, I’ve no idea.’
‘I’ve a suggestion,’ Rafi continued. ‘Could you get Luigi’s to run a tab, and as soon as I’ve got my wallet back, I’ll pay the bill?’
‘Great plan Rafi. I’m going to enjoy working here.’Jeremy looked delighted and was off out the door.
Kate and Emma looked a little surprised and uncomfortable.
‘I’m uncertain how to say this Rafi, but that doesn’t seem fair,’ said Kate.
‘I could do with some good quality food, and I owe you for getting me out of that hellhole. Don’t worry; I’m good for the money regardless. We’re in the City, remember? My word is my bond, and all that.’
Emma smiled. ‘Most unusual, but thank you.’
The door swung open and Jeremy entered, acting like a conjuror who was about to pull a rabbit out of a hat. He was clutching three bags with Luigi’s restaurant logos.
‘Here we are! Sorry for the delay. Luigi is a great chap. I’ve lined up a tab and have put it in your name, Kate. I hope that’s in order. Seems the guys downstairs were helpful when someone tried to break into his restaurant several months back. He’s very pleased to help in any way, any time of day. Who’s for coffee? And I’ve got orange juice, cappuccinos and some pizza… Help yourselves!’
The two women looked at the pizza and hesitated, thinking of the calories, then grinned at each other.
‘I should tuck in, you don’t know when we’ll next have time for a break,’ said Jeremy. He looked at his watch with a smile, ‘Or even time for a meal!’
Rafi sat savouring the food and drink.
‘Now that Jeremy’s back and Rafi has done his thinking, let’s get started,’ said Kate. ‘First question: how does the Bishopsgate bombing fit in with your theory of what is going on?’
‘I’m not entirely certain,’ replied Rafi, ‘but my gut feeling is that Callum Burns was on to something in Luxembourg and his crash was no accident. It also suggests that Prima Terra and others were up to no good.’
He paused. ‘Do we know what Jameel Furud is doing in Morocco?’ asked Rafi. ‘I thought he had work to do in Paris.’
Jeremy flipped open his mobile and spoke to a colleague. He listened intently and hung up. ‘My colleagues tell me that Jameel’s on his way to Marrakech. If I wanted to go somewhere safe as a Muslim, Morocco would be an excellent choice. He has booked a two week stay at a luxury five-star golf hotel on the edge of the city where he is scheduled to arrive later this morning. We’ve a colleague keeping an eye on him.’
‘I thought he’d do a runner,’ said Rafi smiling.
‘Can we please move on to the spreadsheets,’ asked Emma. ‘I see that Callum identified two public quoted companies with dubious shareholders: Dewoodson plc, a property services business and Renshaw Smithers plc, a small finance house focusing on public sector projects and outsourcing companies.’
‘Yes that’s correct,’ replied Rafi.
‘Let’s start at the beginning – exactly when did Prima Terra buy into these two companies?’ enquired Kate.
Rafi thought for a moment. ‘About two years ago. We took a large stake in Dewoodson plc when it came to the market.’
Jeremy grimaced.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Kate.
‘That’s bad news. If you plan something for a couple of years you are definitely up to no good! We’re likely to be up against a very well-planned plot, whatever it might be.’
Rafi sat there, thinking about what Jeremy had just said. Then, as if from nowhere, an associated thought flashed through his mind. He was wasn’t sure, but what if…
‘Are you feeling ill?’ asked Emma.
‘Er… No, I just remembered a company presentation I attended a few weeks ago and an incident that completely slipped my mind. Please bear with me for a moment,’ Rafi began hesitantly. ‘Let me try and recall it. It may seem like a shaggydog story, but it’s relevant, I’m sure.’
Rafi closed his bloodshot eyes and took his mind back to a bright January morning a few weeks earlier… ‘Yes, I recall it was a Wednesday, three weeks ago. I’d had a hectic morning. The market was buoyant. I had lunch scheduled with a bank and some brokers who were launching an IPO. It was a normal sell-side promote. I was running late and took a taxi. It dropped me a couple of minutes’ walk away from their smart new office building on the South Bank; a stunning development scheme. Great attention to detaiclass="underline" black granite walkways, fountains for children to play in and even a small Pooh sticks stream which flows down the middle of the walkway to Tooley Street, almost 400 yards away… Sorry; I digress.’