‘You don’t look too good yourself,’ Rafi added gently. ‘Where do we go from here?’
‘Time to ring Rick Feldon in Manchester.’
After a long wait Kate was finally put through to a tired sounding Rick Feldon.
‘Sorry to keep you waiting, but it is a bit busy here. Wesson is one sandwich short of a picnic and proving to be highly incommunicative. Anyway… When our word search on the computer files came up with nothing, I spoke to the MI5 suits and they have gone through the secretaries’ paper files. The good news is they have just found the letter. No wonder the word search revealed zilch – the letter was never saved on the computer. It’s being faxed to you as we speak. It gives you two more properties!’
Kate smiled. ‘Excellent work Rick; it’s just what we needed. Thanks.’
Rafi sat on the edge of his chair; he couldn’t wait to get his hands on the fax.
‘Oh, by the way, Rick, we think that we’re missing one more property,’ said Kate. ‘One in the South East or London area. It might be worth trying to chat to your man about it.’
‘I’ll see what I can do,’ said Rick, ‘And sorry again for not finding the letter sooner.’
‘We’ve got it now – that’s what matters.’
Moments later the fax arrived. Rafi read it. It was very straightforward. It confirmed that the value of two properties exceeded their book cost of?7.4 million. Rafi looked at the addresses: development land at Park Avenue, Wasdale Road, Gosforth, and Marfleet Lane, Kingston-upon-Hull.
Rafi went back to his desk and pulled up Google Maps on the screen. He typed in ‘Gosforth’ and was given the option of either Gosforth NE3 or Gosforth CA20. Rafi clicked on the CA20 link and a large scale map appeared on the screen. With a couple of mouse clicks, Rafi reduced the scale so that he could scan the surrounding area. Oh hell! He recognised the location; it was close to Sellafield nuclear reprocessing plant.
‘Kate,’ he called across, ‘do you have a spare moment?’ He showed her the map. ‘We have found another location. The terrorists have a property within a mile or so of Sellafield,’
‘Oh shit!’ exclaimed Kate. ‘This isn’t what we wanted.’
‘But at least we now know where to look,’ added John.
Rafi typed in the address of the Hull property and looked at the map.
Kate, standing over his shoulder, said, ‘Go east a bit. Thought so – it’s just down the road from Easington, where there is a gas terminal and storage facility… And it’s vast!.’ She looked pleased. ‘So, by my calculations, seven targets found… Three still to track down! As long as none of the missing three is a nuclear installation, I reckon we’re in with a chance.’
‘Or seven down and one to go, if we can get confirmation that the fifth missile launcher is on board Golden Sundancer. That would leave only one more to find,’ said Rafi apprehensively.
‘Let’s hope you are right,’ Kate handed Rafi a pile of papers. ‘Could you help me with a bit of photocopying…? There’s no one else to ask! I’m putting together corroborating evidence to support what we believe is going on – in case we get a frosty reception upstairs.’
Upstairs, Giles and David were preparing for the 8 o’clock meeting.
Air Chief Marshal Sir Nigel Hawser and the head of MI5, Ewan Thorn, were booked to come; however, it was proving more difficult to get the Government ministers to the meeting without telling them why.
Giles had phoned the Defence Secretary. He introduced himself and immediately cut to the chase. ‘I’ve arranged a meeting for 8 o’clock this evening. It is of vital importance; can you attend please?’
‘What’s it about?’ answered a frosty voice. ‘I have a social engagement – Covent Garden with the wife. The tickets are like gold dust.’
‘I can’t talk over the phone, but we would value your input alongside that of the head of the armed forces and the head of MI5.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll be there.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ Giles gave the minister the details of the venue and put the phone down. He looked relieved; the Defence Secretary, though new to the department, was a level-headed man and a renowned stickler for the minutiae. Once brought on side, he would be an invaluable asset to the team.
His next phone call, Giles mused, was likely to be interesting. The stand-in Home Secretary was a different ball game altogether. He phoned the Home Office, and was put through to the minister’s personal assistant.
‘The minister is in a strategy meeting and has left instructions not to be disturbed.’
‘This is extremely important; I would have spoken to the Home Secretary but he’s out of the country,’ said Giles.
‘Let me have a word with the minister,’ replied the secretary.
What seemed like ages later, the minister’s voice came on the phone. He sounded peeved.
‘What, may I ask, is the purpose of this call?’ he asked bluntly.
‘When we met at the Bishopsgate bomb location you said you would be available to help 24/7. I have arranged a meeting for 8 o’clock this evening; it is of vital importance. Can you attend please?’
‘I’m sorry but I’m busy. I could send my assistant, or we could have the meeting tomorrow morning, say, at 11 a.m.?’ replied the minister.
‘Sir, under normal circumstances I would have asked the Home Secretary,’ said Giles politely, hoping the minister would get the point that the meeting was crucial.
‘If I am to consider rearranging my diary, I’d have to know why it’s so important that I attend this meeting. I’m booked to give a keynote speech. I’m spearheading the launch of our new data handling unit on immigration statistics. The press will be there. I have a first class speech and it has already been distributed for tomorrow’s papers… Unfortunately, I’ll have to decline your offer.’
‘Sir, this is sufficiently sensitive that I can’t tell you about it until we meet, but it is of utmost importance.’
‘No. I’ve made my mind up; you can have my assistant or you can see me at my office tomorrow morning,’ added the minister uncompromisingly.
Giles raised his eyebrows, perplexed. ‘But it is important.’
The minister wasn’t pleased. ‘Damn it! You won’t be getting me to your meeting at this short notice. Do you know who you are speaking to? My press conference is far too important an opportunity to miss, particularly as our newly formatted statistics look excellent. Good evening to you.’ The phone line went dead.
The commissioner did not rise to the provocation; it was as if he was dealing with a petulant teenager. He dialled the 10 Downing Street hotline, got straight through to the PM’s office and asked to speak to the Prime Minister regarding the recent bombing. Within a minute the PM came on the phone.
‘How may I help you?’
‘Prime Minister, we have a situation developing. It would be helpful if we had your or the Home Secretary’s input, alongside that of the Defence Secretary, the head of the armed forces and the head of MI5. I have spoken to the minister covering for the Home Secretary and have been informed that his prior engagement means he’s unavailable. I was hoping…’
‘When do you want to see me?’ came the businesslike reply.
‘Eight o’clock this evening at Wood Street, please.’
‘I will have to put you on hold – bear with me; I need to speak to my secretary.’
Giles waited, fingers crossed. The recent General Election meant that the Prime Minister was working with a wafer-thin majority and had a lot to contend with.
The PM’s voice came back on the line. ‘My secretary has rescheduled my diary. Traffic permitting, I shouldn’t be more than five minutes late.’
Giles was grinning when he put the phone down. ‘There are times when a politician can restore one’s faith in the system.’
‘You couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to pitch our problems to,’ said David, who was also smiling.
A couple of minutes later the phone rang: it was a very disgruntled Home Office minister. ‘Regarding your recent phone call… For the record, I wish to repeat that I am unwilling to drop this press briefing, unless you explain to me in detail why it is so important I attend.’