The PM glanced across to the opposition benches. ‘I will ask the new Home Office minister in charge of Homeland Security to draw up proposals which will provide transparency as to who is in our country. Biometrics will be used for the unique identification of individuals. The software, I am advised, is available to facilitate this. I repeat: this is not the thin end of the wedge for the full-scale issuance of identity cards. One secure biometric database will be created and it will be used to confirm a person’s identity. Name, date of birth, contact address, photograph, fingerprints, iris scan and other such biometric data, as appropriate, will be stored on the database. Biometric information will be gathered at police stations and specialist Homeland Security offices free of charge. Visitors to the UK will be required to provide biometric data at their point of entry.’
The PM took a sip water. ‘This database will be available online for a restricted number of users, so that they can confirm a person’s identity. However, these users will only be able to confirm that the individual is who they say they are, by checking their biometric details online. We have become accustomed to having our PIN number checked when we withdraw cash from a cashpoint machine – this will be a broadly similar process. No part, I repeat, no part of the database will be available for downloading. In future, an individual’s biometric information will be checked as part of the process of obtaining a passport or driving licence and verification will be real time, online at an official office. Furthermore, as from 1 September, all new car insurance policies will require named drivers – each of whose identity will need to be verified against the biometric database.’
‘Over a relatively short period of time, users of public services such as, for example, the National Health Service, social and local authority services, tax offices and the Electoral Register will be required to be on the biometric database. However, I stress that each database will remain separate. It is fundamental that they do. The State does not wish to invade people’s privacy, but it does need to know the names of the people in our country, have a point of contact for them and know the basis on which they are here. It is currently not possible for the Home Office to give an accurate estimate of the number of people in the UK. Too many people are off the radar screen. The numbers run into hundreds of thousands. This is totally unacceptable. Those who are here illegally or without the appropriate documentation will be identified. There will be duplicates and anomalies, and these will be investigated by the authorities.’
The PM paused to let what he had just said sink in.
At the airport, the sheikh was beginning to get annoyed by the delay. He pulled out a wad of banknotes and gave them to one of his bodyguards, with instructions to hurry the mechanic up. Minutes later, as if by magic, the mechanic reappeared carrying an aluminium stepladder on his shoulder and a large toolbox. He set up his ladder and climbed up to the rotary engine, then removed a side panel and looked in. He stood there for a minute, seemingly tinkering around. He closed the panel, gave the pilot the thumbs up and walked slowly back to the buildings.
The helicopter was ready to get on its way to Safi. The thirtyminute delay was all that had been needed.
Once again Rafi’s attention shifted to the action at Safi.
Dakka Dudayev had left Golden Sundancer and was enjoying a cigarette on the quayside. Janet and Anna waved at him and his brief acknowledgement was taken by them as an invitation to go over to him. They hopped off Puddle Jumper and, in a carefree manner, walked around the harbour towards Dakka, with their caftans flowing in the wind. The material was bunched up and tied around their hips, thus obscuring the small pistols that were tucked into their bikini bottoms. Under their hair, out of sight, were miniature headphones, and tiny microphones were hidden in their bikini tops.
Janet approached Dakka as if he was the first red-blooded male she’d seen for a very long while. Anna stood nearby, looking on shyly. The two women giggled like teenage girls. They looked beautiful, flirty and helpless.
On Golden Sundancer, the captain and Basel were still on the flybridge. Dakka was on the quayside and this left the three remaining individuals below deck. It would soon be time for Clive and Jim to make their move.
Over the radio came the voice of Mark, one of the SAS men. ‘The captain is calling up the harbour master about refuelling. There’s no reply. He is sending Sergy to investigate.’
Sergy hesitantly walked up the gangway, and then off along the harbour side. As he passed Puddle Jumper, he received a friendly ‘Good afternoon’ from the commander’s wife who was sitting in the sun on the aft deck.
Sergy was about to discover the problem. The harbour master was lying unconscious at his desk – he had received a knock out blow from Colin, the second SAS soldier, who had also bugged the room and placed a small gismo looking like a Coke can in the rubbish bin. It was a radio-controlled device containing some of the strongest knockout gas known.
Rafi’s attention switched back to the TV. The PM was in his stride. His sound bites were excellent.
‘Stratford has shown how a few kilograms of radioactive waste can blight a vast area for millennia. The UK owns tonnes of highly toxic radioactive waste. Post Stratford the threat of being able to disperse radioactivity over an aggressor’s city will be as strong a deterrent as annihilating it with a Trident missile. We can therefore put to one side the next generation of Trident missiles and switch to lower cost, but highly effective dispersal missiles which will make use of our stockpile of radioactive waste. These dispersal missiles will include radioactive isotopes that will glow in the dark, so that there can be no misunderstanding as to where the radioactive fall-out is located. The switch from Trident to dispersal missiles will save tens of billions, and we will channel these massive savings into higher education and academic research. This will counter the underinvestment which higher education has suffered over the past three decades – during this time we have seen the relative rankings of our universities on the global stage slip. Despite this, fourteen of our universities are in the top 100 in the world; twenty-five are in the top 200 and forty-three are in the top 500. These are figures we can be proud of. UK higher education is an area of international excellence. We shall build on this excellence and it will benefit our economy.’
The PM then paused and again looked at his watch. It was coming up to 14.30 – he and the Chancellor still had a lot more talking to do.
Kate nudged Rafi and pointed towards the screens and the action taking place at Safi harbour.
Mark, who had been carefully watching Golden Sundancer, gave the all-clear. Clive and Jim slipped quietly on to the bathing platform. They peeled off their waterproof suits to reveal dry clothes underneath. Silently, they moved forward, their automatic pistols drawn. Basel Talal and the captain were on the flybridge, chatting, whereas Sergy and Dakka were ashore. That left Kim Chindriani and Alistair Hartnell below deck.
Mark’s monitoring device pinpointed the location of the two people in the cabins. Clive and Jim crept silently through the boat’s main stateroom and proceeded down the stairs to the cabins. They were directed towards the two men on their bunks.
Forty-five nail-biting seconds later Jim’s voice came over the speaker: ‘Both men are inoperative. They’re gagged and tied up. Please advise when we should expect our next customer.’