Kate hesitated and then replied. ‘Thank you. You’ve given us more than enough to get on with. All your help is much appreciated.’
‘A pleasure. I must go now. Give me a call if you need anything more. I regret being the bearer of such bad news.’
She switched the speaker phone off and sat there, taking in what the colonel had just told her… Kate broke the silence. ‘These Estonian trawlers sailing from the Baltic Sea to the Faeroes would go within a couple of hundred miles of Peterhead. If en route they rendezvoused with one of the Peterhead trawlers, then the missiles could now be in the UK!’
‘Things have just got bloody scary, haven’t they?’ exclaimed Emma. ‘When the safety specifications were drawn up for oil and gas depots, or even airports or nuclear power stations, they can’t have had any idea that such a monster as the Kornet missile existed?’
‘I doubt it,’ replied Kate, ‘or if they did, it was a masterly cover-up by our political masters.’
‘If only we had a better idea of the timescale,’ mused Rafi.
‘We should work on the basis that the attacks are imminent,’ said Kate.
‘A thought,’ Rafi replied. ‘If Aidan and I are right and the financial markets are at the heart of the terrorists’ plan, then the attacks won’t come today – it’s already too late. They’ll come first thing in the morning. That way they will get full news coverage and have the whole day to spook the markets. Now whether that’s tomorrow or next week, I don’t know.’
‘We must get information on who the foot soldiers are and what they are targeting. Carry on researching your leads and keep me informed of any developments,’ said Kate with a note of urgency in her voice. ‘I need to brief the commissioner.’
John returned with Jeremy right behind him.
‘Rafi, I’ve been thinking a bit more about the terrorists and their possible exit routes,’ said John. ‘I really would put good money on them using a fast motor vessel in addition to the trawlers. Especially as they could easily afford something very fast.’
‘Where would you start looking for something like that?’ Rafi asked.
‘Firstly, I’d look at the ringleaders,’ replied John, ‘And check out whether the sheikh, Basel, Jameel or Maryam own a large powerboat.’
‘I’ve a friend at Lloyd’s Shipping Register. Let me give her a ring,’ said Emma.
It turned out to be a short conversation. ‘She says our task will be difficult. There are many large powerboats scattered all around the smart harbours and marinas of Europe. The difficulty is that most are owned through special purpose companies for tax reasons and this makes it hard to trace their owners.’
Emma thought for a moment, then got up and went to see Aidan, who was sitting behind a large volume of paper.
‘Aidan, if you wanted to find out if a business contact owned an expensive motor vessel, where would you start?’
He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Anyone who spends several millions on a yacht will no doubt think it’s the best thing since sliced bread. My bet would be to go and look in their offices, where they’re bound to have photos of it.’
‘Good idea, but we don’t have the time,’ said Emma.
Rafi lifted his head up from his paperwork. ‘Of the four individuals, I doubt whether Jameel has one stashed away. He’s never spoken of boats to me and, to my knowledge, he spends most of his holiday time skiing or playing golf. Basel is a workaholic and I don’t see him leaving something valuable tucked away in a marina, unused. That leaves Sheikh Tufayl and Maryam.’
‘I’d rule out Maryam,’ said Emma. ‘She also works long hours and spends too much time between her homes in the Gulf, Luxembourg and London. I don’t see a large powerboat and outdoor activities going with her lifestyle.’
‘What about her hubby?’ asked John. ‘He is extremely wealthy.’
‘Could be,’ said Kate, ‘But in my book the sheikh seems to be the most likely.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ said John. ‘It’s a bit off the wall, but how about we chat to someone working for the tabloid press and see if they’ve any photos of Sheikh Tufayl or Maryam’s husband on board a big boat? We must have some good contacts. Should I make a couple of phone calls and get some names?’
Kate nodded. ‘But the discussions will have to be in confidence, perhaps in return for a story later?’ Ten minutes later, John’s phone rang; he scribbled down the information on two contacts: one working for a red top newspaper and the other for a tabloid magazine.
‘I could do with a volunteer to pay a journalist a visit,’ said Kate.
‘Count me in,’ offered Jeremy.
‘See what you can find,’ said Kate.
‘Will do.’Jeremy picked up the piece of paper with the names and phone numbers on. ‘Which do you reckon I should try first?’
‘I’d take the top one – he works down at Canary Wharf when he’s at home but, like most tabloid journalists, he could be almost anywhere.’
‘Thank you,’ said Jeremy, slightly sarcastically. ‘It seems a straightforward task.’ He dialled the first journalist, Pete Lockyer, and smiled when the mobile was answered almost immediately.
‘Hello, I was wondering whether you could help me?’
‘Who are you?’ a rather high pitched voice enquired.
Jeremy gave a wry smile. ‘Someone you don’t know. And who probably doesn’t exist in any of your files.’
‘Are you taking the mick?’ snapped Pete Lockyer.
‘No,’ replied Jeremy. ‘I work for a rather special part of the Government and your name has been put forward as someone who could help us.’
‘Sorry mate, I’m rather busy at the moment.’
‘So be it,’ said Jeremy. ‘I thought I’d try you first as you come highly recommended, but if you’re too busy, not to worry. I’ve another couple of people to try, including a rather pushy sod at a tabloid magazine.’
There was a silence at the other end of the phone; one could sense Pete considering whether he was about to turn down a potentially lucrative story.
‘How much of my time would you need?’ inquired Pete.
Jeremy tried hard to conceal a large smile and winked at Emma. ‘Not long! Perhaps you might have time for a cup of coffee or a glass of wine?’
‘It’s a bit early for me. Let’s make it a cup of coffee. There’s a decent coffee bar around the corner from where I work.’
Jeremy took down the address. ‘Could we meet there in, say, twenty-five minutes?’
‘Fine,’ agreed the journalist. ‘How do I recognise you?’
‘Oh,’ said Jeremy, ‘I look fairly nondescript – 6’ 2”, brown hair and in a grey suit. My name’s Jeremy, by the way.’
‘See you in half an hour.’
‘Twenty-five minutes would be better,’ said Jeremy and hung up. He looked across at Kate. ‘Any bright ideas on how I get to Canary Wharf and back?’
‘No problem. If you go downstairs, I’ll arrange for you to be looked after.’
‘Thanks.’ Jeremy picked up his notepad and hurried off on his errand.
The pressure was on. The team had uncovered a number of crucial leads, but the overall picture was still far from clear. There was tension in the air.
‘Emma, how have you been getting on with your maps?’ asked Kate.
‘Rather well, actually,’ replied Emma. ‘Before I show you what I’ve got, though, I think we should consider how many targets there could be.’
‘Good point.’ Kate nodded for her to continue.
‘They have five missile launchers. Of the twenty missiles they started off with, four were used in Estonia, leaving three or four missiles per launcher. This gives each operative probably one or two targets only. The missile launchers and their tripods are bulky. If the terrorists don’t want to be captured and are keen for a quick getaway, I’d go for one target per launcher and use the three or four missiles to knock the living daylights out of it. A well-trained operative could fire four missiles in less than two minutes and then leave the area discretely.’