‘Thank you,’ said Rafi, getting up a little unsteadily.
They passed through a further set of security checks and descended some sets of stairs.
Rafi looked at the woman he was following. Her cleancut, formal white shirt and black skirt were unremarkable, however her neat blonde hair was eye-catchingly beautiful.
When they arrived at the subterranean briefing room, the woman turned. ‘I will come and get you when the PM is free.’ Her businesslike face was transformed by a fleeting smile.
Rafi saw Kate chatting to a swarthy-looking man and went over to join them.
‘I was updating Kate on our progress,’ he told Rafi. ‘We are making headway, but it’s a massive large task. No doubt you want to know about the escaping terrorists? But first let me introduce myself. I’m Craig – MI5.’
The young officer looked the opposite of Jeremy: short, thickset, dark haired – and almost uncouth.
‘Golden Sundancer is currently going like a bat out of hell round the Western Isles of Scotland, averaging almost forty knots. Her rendezvous with Northern Rose, north-west of Pentland Firth, went without a hitch. We now expect her to rendezvous with Highland Belle west of Stanton Banks, just before dawn tomorrow. Rosemarie is heading for the Straights of Dover. We estimate she’ll rendezvous with Golden Sundancer south of the Isles of Scilly, in the early hours of Sunday morning. The question is, are we right in believing that Golden Sundancer will head for Morocco?’
He fell silent for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. ‘The Navy has checked what vessels it has between the Scilly Isles and Morocco. At Gibraltar, they have HMS Scimitar and Sabre: two sixteen-metre fast patrol boats, capable of thirty knots plus. There is nothing else in the vicinity which can get close to matching Golden Sundancer’s speed. I understand that the boffins at the Admiralty are currently hatching a plan.’
Craig paused. ‘Jameel is still in Marrakech where we’ve an agent keeping an eye on him. The sheikh’s private jet is scheduled to land there at 12.45 p.m. on Monday. He’s hired a helicopter for the afternoon and his plane is scheduled to take off again at 22.30 that evening.’
Kate nodded.
He continued. ‘We’ve looked at all the ports within range of the helicopter from Marrakech, in the time available. The Moroccan Atlantic coastline is long, but thankfully there are only three ports that we believe fit the situation: Safi, Mohammedia and Casablanca. For a number of reasons, Safi is the one our anoraks confidently predict they will use.’
‘So, how are you going to capture them?’ asked Kate.
‘The Prime Minister wants them captured alive,’ answered Craig. ‘The bosses believe that there’s a better chance of success if we seize them when they are all in one place. The plan is to have a vessel, with SBS personnel aboard, waiting for Golden Sundancer in Safi. They then overpower the terrorists and whisk them away to a waiting submarine.’
‘So quite simple, really,’ said Kate, with a grin.
‘Why aren’t they using the SAS?’ Rafi queried.
‘The special boat service, or SBS,’ replied Craig, ‘Is the Royal Navy’s special forces unit – it is every bit as formidable as the SAS, but is, in essence, the aquatic version. In many quarters they’re rated more highly! Things will have to be done quickly, which could complicate matters. The terrorists and their masters will probably be in our grasp for only a few hours. At Golden Sundancer’s present rate of progress, she’ll arrive in Safi early Monday afternoon, which gives us only twenty-four hours to prepare an appropriate welcoming party.’
‘How’s the plan going?’ Rafi asked.
‘Hold on a moment,’ said Craig, ‘Let me make a call.’ Several minutes later he put down the phone. ‘It seems we’ve arranged for two resourceful female Naval Lieutenants – Anna Gregson and Janet Steiner – to be flown to Gibraltar. They’re on their way as we speak, together with some special kit for our SBS friends.’
Craig continued explaining the plan. ‘Obviously, we don’t want to scare the terrorists’ leaders away. A fast motorboat moored in Gibraltar has been identified. We ruled out HMS Sabre, as there’s no way we can disguise her military parentage – one sight of her and the terrorists would run a mile. Furthermore, the Moroccan Authorities wouldn’t take kindly to the Royal Navy operating within their territorial waters. So we’re renting, or purchasing if we cock up, a Sunseeker Manhattan 56 called Puddle Jumper. She has a top speed of some thirty-two knots and is fast enough to get down there before them. Puddle Jumper is being given the once-over and provisioned as we speak.’
Craig paused, as if searching for an elusive word. ‘The awkward bit is that we have a hiccup or two on the resources front. SBS’s M Squadron, which deals with maritime counterterrorism, should be on standby. They’re, er… rather busy at the moment. They’re in action in the Middle East. The Air Chief Marshal has secured the services of two of their team who are cutting short their current operation and will be joining those on board Puddle Jumper. We had hoped for more, but so be it. The special forces command centre is sending SAS soldiers to Marrakech Airport and to the ports of Safi, Mohammedia and Casablanca. The last two, just in case our intelligence has ballsed up.’
A grin spread across Craig’s face, his white teeth framed by his tanned face. ‘A bright spark at the Admiralty has dreamt up a cunning plan. Our two naval officers and the two SBS operatives on board Puddle Jumper are to be joined by two retired civilians.’
Kate tilted her head to one side in surprise.
‘Yes, I know you must think that they’re off their rockers. The Navy has trawled through their records for recently retired naval officers who had seen active service and who could go along as parent figures to keep up the illusion that those on board are civilians. The retirement age for many very able officers is early fifties.’ Craig grinned. ‘They couldn’t believe their luck. They found a retired couple who are both still fleet of foot. Adrian Bell is a highly experienced commander and a master navigator, with considerable experience of active service. As a youngster, Adrian commanded one of the three HMS Scimitar class, fast training craft during the Cod War in the North Atlantic. They were at that time the fastest wet hulled military craft in the world. And it gets better: the commander’s wife, Helen, also has twenty years’ experience in the Navy. So we have two capable “parents” to look after our boisterous rabble. The two naval officers will become their daughters and the two SBS operatives will be the boyfriends.
‘Not surprisingly,’ continued Craig, ‘The husband and wife were a bit taken aback to be volunteered. They were at home in their garage, varnishing their dinghy. They’re currently packing their sailing gear. Two, twin-seat Harrier jump jets are waiting for them at the nearby Thorney Island army facility and will fly them to Gibraltar.
‘The two parents, as I call them, together with the two naval officers, will arrive in Gibraltar in the next couple of hours. Puddle Jumper should put to sea an hour after they land. The SBS officers will rendezvous with her in the next twelve hours. I understand a wet jump is planned.’
Craig paused. ‘As I was saying, the terrorists’ boat, at her current rate of progress, should make Safi by Monday early afternoon. Our team on Puddle Jumper plan to arrive under the cover of darkness, late on Sunday night.’
A frown fell across Craig’s face. ‘Getting them away is also proving difficult. It is rather embarrassing as a world power, but we seem to have all our submarines in, er… The wrong places or in dry dock for repairs, and the four new Astute class submarines are still not in service. The cutback in numbers, without the new replacements, has left the Navy decidedly short. The earliest any submarine can be off the coast of Safi is 15.40 on Monday. However, those at the Admiralty are a tad uncomfortable – well, that’s an understatement – as the only one that could get there in time is one of their Trident Class nuclear submarines with all her nuclear missiles on board. It seems that the prospect of having our terrorists on board her is beyond the Admiralty’s comfort zone. Out of the frying pan and into the fire! However, they have been won over by the PM. She’s broken off from her current manoeuvres and is sailing at full speed to be on station Monday afternoon.’