‘If the people of Saudi Arabia thought bin Laden had ordered the assassinations for his personal benefit, they might react like that. But if he claimed it was done for religious reasons, he might be welcomed home to Riyadh. Don’t forget that the House of Saud is perceived by many Arabs to be corrupt, Westernized and blasphemous, and this bloodbath could lead to Al-Qaeda establishing a firm base in Saudi Arabia, and maybe bin Laden even assuming power as the new religious leader of the holiest land in all Islam. That’s the real nightmare scenario, the thought of Al-Qaeda controlling the Saudi oilfields, with everything that implies.’
‘Holy shit.’
‘Beautifully put. Now, what do we do about it? Who do you have to call?’
Saadi had been right about the security: all bags were being carefully searched. The three men had no trouble, because they were carrying nothing but tickets. They arrived separately, three anonymous gellabbiya-wearing Arabs in a cosmopolitan crowd of racing enthusiasts, and only acknowledged each other once they were inside.
‘We’ll meet where we agreed in forty-five minutes exactly,’ Saadi instructed. ‘Meanwhile, do nothing to attract attention, just enjoy the racing and merge with the crowd. But do not be late.’ Saadi looked closely at the two men who’d been his almost constant companions for the last week. ‘Remember the importance of our mission. We will strike at the very heart of the sickness that infects the palaces of Riyadh. We are the cleansing wind of pure Islam that will rid the holy land of the corrupt and blasphemous House of Saud.’
The three men walked away, their paths diverging almost immediately.
Richter’s Enigma phone rang.
‘Why is it that every time I send you off to do a simple job of investigation you end up trying to start World War Three?’ Simpson demanded.
‘Not my choice,’ Richter replied, ‘and I’m not trying to start anything here. I’m trying to stop it.’
‘How certain are you?’
‘Right now I’m not sure of anything, but what’s been happening out here seems to make sense only in one context — an attempt to mislead us into looking for a terrorist bomb in the wrong place. While we’re all poncing about looking for a pile of Semtex in some fancy hotel, the terrorists will be out at Nad Al-Sheba assassinating the senior Saudi royals as they sit watching their horses go by. And this does pretty much tie up with what Salah Khatid learned in Germany. It’s a relatively small target, but with obvious economic consequences that would affect almost every nation on earth.’
‘I’ve talked to the Intelligence Director,’ Simpson said, ‘and he thinks it’s possible you’re right. And if you are, there’s a clear threat to the Saudi oilfields.’
‘The ID always did like to hedge his bets,’ Richter remarked.
‘Don’t be impertinent. What steps are you taking locally?’
‘I’m at the embassy with the local Six man, and we’re just about to contact the Dubai police and tell them what we think we know, or rather what we believe we suspect.’
Simpson’s snort of disgust was clearly audible. ‘And what will they do? Issue a parking ticket for the terrorists’ van, or whatever else they’re driving around in? Don’t they have any paramilitary forces out there? Something like the SAS or GSG-9?’
‘I don’t know, to be honest.’
‘Well, I suggest you find out, and quickly. In the meantime, tell the plods by all means, but this looks like your problem, and now I expect you to solve it. Use whatever local resources the Six office has got, starting with getting yourself a personal weapon. You say you’ve got the local Head of Station with you now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right. Put him on.’
Richter passed the phone to Watkinson and watched with interest, not to mention a certain weary sense of inevitability. Several times Watkinson started to speak, but was cut off on each occasion, and he finally handed the back the phone without another word.
‘Richter.’
‘Right, you’ll get whatever help the local Six people can give you, not that it’ll do you much good because I don’t think they’ve got much to offer. But you have to sort this out. The Saudi oilfields are far too important to the West for us to risk any chance of losing them.’
Suddenly his tone became less hectoring and more serious. ‘This is the formal bit, so listen carefully. Your original tasking is now cancelled. You’re hereby authorized to take any and all measures necessary to prevent any acts of terrorism from occurring in Dubai. Once I’ve finished this conversation, I’ll be contacting Vauxhall Cross and the FCO to ensure that the Dubai Government is made fully aware of your presence, and to ensure that you get all the assistance they can provide. All this will be put in writing, with copies for you, so you’ll have all the backing you need. When’s this race taking place? When do you think the attempt will be made?’
Richter glanced at his watch. ‘The World Cup starts in a little under ninety minutes.’
‘Christ, that soon? Right, you’d better get on with it.’
‘Forceful man, your boss,’ Watkinson observed, as Richter ended the call.
‘That’s been said before, though usually a lot less politely. What did he tell you?’
‘I’m to give you a personal weapon — which I tried to tell him I wasn’t authorized to do, not that it made any difference — and between the pair of us, with or without the assistance of the authorities, we’re to ensure that the Saudi royal family and everyone else at Nad Al-Sheba enjoys a peaceful and uninterrupted day at the races. He’s talking about going straight to the top of the Dubai Government and shaking some very important trees. Can he really deliver?’
‘You don’t know Simpson. He’s direct, persistent and very well connected. He’ll do exactly what he said he’d do. I don’t particularly like the man, but I do respect his abilities.’ Richter glanced at his watch again. ‘Look, we’ve got to get going, Michael, and right now. What weapons have you got here?’
‘You are sure about this?’ Watkinson looked troubled. ‘If we go busting into Nad Al-Sheba with all guns blazing, we’re going to cause a hell of a diplomatic incident.’
‘Only if I’m wrong,’ Richter said, standing up. ‘And if I am, causing a diplomatic incident will be the least of my worries. Now, what weapons have you got?’
‘Not many. Half a dozen Browning Hi-Power nine-millimetre pistols, each with two magazines, three privately owned hunting rifles and a couple of shotguns.’
‘And?’
‘And that’s it. Remember this is one of Her Majesty’s embassies, not the local branch of Kalashnikovs-R-Us.’
‘Shit,’ Richter said, ‘I was hoping for an assault rifle at least. We can forget about the shotguns, because confronting terrorists touting Kalashnikovs when all we’ve got is a couple of Purdeys is a really good way to commit suicide.’
Watkinson grinned. ‘Purdeys they’re not — just a couple of skeet guns.’
‘Even worse. And I suppose the hunting rifles are bolt-action single-shot twenty-twos, because no gentleman would dream of going hunting with a high-velocity auto-loader?’
‘Not quite. One is a single-shot twenty-two, while the other two are about thirty-thirty calibre deer rifles, with magazines. But they’re all bolt-action — you’re right.’
‘Forget them, then,’ Richter said. ‘We’ll have to take the pistols and hope we get close enough to use them. Bring four of them, all the magazines, and every round of nine-millimetre you can lay your hands on. You do have some ammunition, I hope?’