The PM agreed and, on his authority, at 4.45 a.m. all armed services’ leave was rescinded. All personnel, including part-time territorial soldiers, all available medical and support Corps, were called to their barracks and put in a state of readiness. Every hospital with an Accident amp; Emergency Department within 100 miles of a nuclear plant was told to be fully staffed up by 6 a.m. The Home Secretary was contacted and advised to catch the first flight back to London. His ETA in Downing Street was 9.30 a.m.
Every barrack and hospital was told that this was a surprise training exercise, sanctioned by the Prime Minister to test their readiness to respond to a national emergency. The message went out to senior officers that the new Prime Minister wanted to use the exercise as a way of seeing where the problems might be and whether they had the right resources available.
Those in command were left in no doubt that they should prepare for a sizeable disaster or conflict.
The Air Chief Marshal turned to Brigadier Harold Sparkman and Colonel Bill Turner who were standing close by. ‘There are contingency plans in place for attacks on nuclear installations. What I want from the two of you is a plan – we’ll call it Operation Counterpane – which will deal with a serious radioactive leak, contaminating, say, ten to twenty square miles of a densely populated urban area. On your agenda there need to be robust provisions on how to get a nuclear leak covered from the air, arrangements for an exclusion zone with a guarded perimeter, decontamination and triage units, medical facilities, an evacuation and rehousing plan, and a system to monitor the identities of all those displaced. Basically, take what is already there and make it work – big time.’
He was looking perturbed. ‘Probably best if you include Len Thunhurst, commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, in your plans. Giles here has brought him up to speed with all our problems and he’s aware of the need for secrecy.’ He paused, ‘The transportation front is what really concerns me. We are short of a couple of squadrons of heavy helicopters. Without them, logistical support in an urban disaster area will be a nightmare. There will be blocked roads and restricted access at a time when speed will be paramount. The number of operational workhorse helicopters in the UK is far below what we’ll need.’
Then the beginnings of a smile appeared on the Air Chief Marshal’s face. ‘I think I’ll have a quiet chat with a close friend of mine who runs the Royal Netherlands Air Force. Colonel Turner, you are a logistics expert, please liaise with Ewan and get him to draw up a list of the whereabouts of all private helicopter fleets around the UK. Tell the operators that all helicopters capable of carrying four or more people are subject to a requisition order for the next twenty-four hours. Their helicopters should be fully fuelled, with pilots on immediate standby and ready to join a UK task force by 06.00 hours at the latest. They will be held on call for the rest of the day. Full compensation will be paid if requested. Inconvenienced clients should only be advised that their helicopter is on loan for a rescue operation.’
As of 5.35 a.m. the Royal Netherlands Air Force’s base at Gilze-Rijen, fifty kilometres west of Eindhoven, was on full standby and over half of the Dutch military helicopter fleet had been offered to assist the Royal Air Force.
The Air Chief Marshal breathed a sigh of relief on hearing the news – the Royal Netherlands Air Force had one of the most modern fleets in Europe and its helicopters were only an hour away from the east coast of England. Twenty-nine helicopters – Chinooks, Eurocopters and Apache Combat helicopters – were on standby and a direct link had been established with their operations room. This, in one stroke, had more than doubled the number of military helicopters available. He walked over to the PM. ‘Sir the deployment of the military is likely to lay bare the level of overstretch.’
The PM nodded. ‘Yes, overseas conflicts have tied up too many resources. I believe I’ve missed a very obvious threat to our well-being – countering large scale terrorist attacks on our own soil… Without guaranteed access to energy, we face an uncertain and potentially bleak future.’
‘Air Chief Marshal.’ The PM looked carefully at him. ‘When this is over, I want you to draw together a team of experts so that you can provide the Cabinet with a briefing paper on how we should shape the armed forces so that they’re fit-for-purpose in terms of protecting our country’s interests at home.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I have no wish for us to become a police state, but the prospect of a small, but well-funded terrorist cell attacking the heart of our energy supplies is a great concern.’
Back in the office, Rafi was still racking his brains about the two missing locations. He was willing to put good money on one of them being the crude oil pumping station at Cruden Bay – its location and its importance to the economy put it right at the top. Then for the other there was Sizewell nuclear power station or Grays liquid natural gas storage depot, but the special forces had still found nothing at either.
Kate and he had been exploring whether the location could be linked to the terrorists’ fish processing business and a possible new cold store in the London area. They had checked to see if the terrorists’ property company had used any specific firm of lawyers. Unfortunately, they used a different firm for each transaction. They had spoken again to Land Registry, but drawn a blank.
Neil had arranged a special visit to the terrorists’ property company’s offices an hour earlier, but they were empty. It transpired that they were being moved from London to Manchester. All their computers and files were in transit and MI5 were not surprised to find that they were unable to trace the removals firm.
As a last resort, the commissioner had decided there was nothing for it but to pull in PREH’s directors. There were four of them. Basel Talal was at large in the North Atlantic on board Golden Sundancer and the other three, it transpired from one of the director’s wives, were on a corporate bonding week with their staff in the Caribbean. The tour company advised that they had chartered a crewed yacht. No one in the marina from which they had sailed knew where they were heading. Their ship-to-shore radio was switched off, as were their mobile phones.
The yacht had left the marina twenty-four hours earlier with the wind a comfortable force three, gusting four. The US Coast Guard advised that with an average speed of eight knots the yacht could be anywhere within a couple of hundred mile radius, equivalent to an area of around 100,000 square miles. Neil had spoken to his opposite number at the US Homeland Security. Four US navy helicopters and all available coastal patrol vessels were dispatched to reconnoitre the possible area. They would try the captain’s usual haunts first but, given the scale of the area to be covered, they didn’t have high hopes of finding the yacht.
Meanwhile, Kate had rung Rick in Manchester. Wesson was asleep. Rick described the man as unhinged, with a persecution complex. He was still being totally uncooperative.
John had tracked down the flight of Roger Harewood, the immigration officer, and had eventually got through to the captain of the 747 and to Roger.
‘Er… Good morning, or is it evening? To what do I owe the pleasure?’ said a somewhat surprised and dazed Roger.
John explained about the fish processing business and the need to find their new cold store in London.