‘Oh my God,’ said Dorothy Jordan, turning pale. ‘I think I know what that is.’
The ensuing silence was broken by Hamilton coming back from the computer and saying, ‘Loch Ard is not used as a reservoir… What’s wrong? Who’s seen a ghost?’
All eyes stayed on Dorothy Jordan as she said, ‘I remember reading about this in one of the medical journals. The aqueduct Steven has picked up on is part of a water supply system built in Victorian times by a man named Baleman, if my memory serves me right. It carries water taken from Loch Katrine, which certainly is a reservoir and, as you will see on the map, is well to the north of the area. Underground pipes are used to bring the water south except here where it flows for a short distance across an open aqueduct before going underground again.’
‘Where is it going to?’ asked Hamilton.
‘Glasgow,’ replied Dorothy. ‘This is the source of Glasgow’s water supply!’
‘They plan to attack… an entire city!’ exclaimed Hamilton, aghast at the very idea.
‘It’s ironic really,’ said Dorothy Jordan. ‘This water supply system is largely credited with wiping out cholera in Glasgow in the late eighteen hundreds. That was the substance of the article I remembered.’
‘That’s how they plan on getting round the dilution problem,’ said Steven who’d been staring at his map. ‘Instead of trying to contaminate the entire reservoir — Loch Katrine must be ten miles long — they’re making the hit downstream on water that’s already been taken from the loch and is on its way to the taps of the city — a tiny proportion of the volume.’
‘Clever.’
‘Very.’
‘Well done everyone,’ said Macmillan. ‘It is clever but you have proved equal to the task and beat them to it, I think you can all go home now and get some well-deserved rest. ‘We here will set the wheels in motion to make sure this doesn’t happen.’
When the last of team had left Steven turned to Macmillan and asked, ‘When is this scheduled to take place?’
‘The 8th of September,’ replied Macmillan as if his mind was already working on something else.
‘But that’s tomorrow!’ exclaimed Steven.
‘Yes, it is,’ said Macmillan. ‘I thought we should talk in private. ’Let’s not panic. Let’s keep our nerve and establish priorities. First and foremost we must ensure that the agent doesn’t get into the water supply. We could do that through sheer weight of numbers but what else do we have to consider?’
‘We want to get our hands on the agent,’ said Steven. ‘I know Rees is working on an early version of it and it looks as if he’s going to come up with the goods but it would be better to know just how sophisticated the finished article is. If we draft hundreds of police and troops into the area we’ll scare off the opposition and end up back at square one.’
‘Right,’ said Macmillan, mentally ticking off a list. ‘We want the agent.’
‘It would also be in our interests to take the three ‘terrorists’ alive so we can question them and establish the connection with Crowe and Mowbray,’ said Steven.
‘I don’t think the Territorials will be planning on shooting them,’ said Macmillan.
‘You’re leaving it up to weekend soldiers?’
‘If the hares see us change the hounds to the Marines they’re going to smell a rat,’ said Macmillan. ‘I thought we could mount a professional guard on the aqueduct itself — I’ll call on Hereford — and let the Territorials go through the motions of the man-hunt in the forest as planned.’
‘Good idea,’ agreed Steven. ‘Maybe it would be as well to have some kind of a stop put on the water downstream of the aqueduct, just in case things go wrong. I think we have to assume that these three will be good.’
‘Probably ex-Hereford themselves,’ agreed Macmillan, referring again to the home of the SAS. ‘Mind you, that might not be possible if the water goes back into underground pipes again,’ said Macmillan. ‘But we can certainly make enquiries. Anything else?’
‘I’d like to be there,’ said Steven.
‘I can’t say I’m surprised but are you sure that’s wise?’
‘I’d like to see this through to the end,’ said Steven.
‘Your decision,’ conceded Macmillan. ‘But you badly need some rest. Go home now and come back this afternoon. We’ll talk further then.’
‘You’ve been up all night too,’ said Steven.
‘I’ll set some wheels in motion then I’ll grab a couple of hours too.’
Steven showered and set his alarm for three in the afternoon before drifting off into a fitful sleep. His limbs felt heavy and he wanted to sleep for a week, but there were so many questions going round in his head that he couldn’t manage to escape the grey margins dividing true sleep from wakefulness for more than a few minutes at a time before being plagued by thoughts of the exercise to come. He couldn’t see why they had organised it in the first place. Surely a straightforward assault on civilian security at the aqueduct would have been simpler. After all, three Special Forces men were not going to have too much trouble evading Territorial troops or overcoming a guard mounted by weekend soldiers so it would come to the same thing in the end. Unless of course… they wanted to keep the contamination a secret!
It was so obvious that Steven shook his head slightly on the pillow without opening his eyes and told himself he really should have seen it earlier. Going through the pantomime of the military exercise would allow the opposition to taint the water without anyone realising what had really happened. He must really be tired not to have seen that.
When Steven got back to the Home Office he noticed that Macmillan was wearing the same clothes and deduced that he hadn’t left the building.
‘You haven’t had any sleep at all, have you?’
Macmillan responded by taking out a packet of pills from his desk and showing Steven the label. ‘Benzedrine,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t spare the time. They’ll see me through.’
Steven nodded. He knew the stimulants would keep Macmillan awake and alert as long as he kept taking them but sleep deficit would build up and the price would have to be paid when he stopped. ‘What’s new?’ he asked.
Macmillan turned the map on his desk towards Steven and said, ‘There are a number of breather ducts above the pipeline south of the aqueduct. I’ve arranged for a team from 45 Commando at Arbroath to gain access at one and interrupt the water supply for the duration of the exercise.
‘Good,’ said Steven.
‘Six men from the SAS regiment have been detailed to support you in mounting the guard on the aqueduct if you’re still intent on being there?’
Steven said that he was.
‘In that case I’ve to let them know. They’re going up by helicopter. They’ve made a special arrangement to pick you up at City Airport at 6p.m. Don’t be late. They don’t want people asking questions.’
‘I won’t,’ said Steven.
‘Best be off then,’ said Macmillan with a look that wished him well.
TWENTY ONE
Steven had a not unpleasant feeling of deja vu as he sprinted across the tarmac in a crouching run to get into the helicopter.
‘Just like old times,’ he said as the door was closed behind him and he barely had time to sit down before the whirling blades had plucked them up and away.
‘We heard you were regiment,’ said one of the six men sitting there in combat gear but with no badges or indications of rank. ‘I’m Mick.’
‘A long time ago,’ said Steven.
Mick turned to the others and pointed as he said, ‘Terry, Jonesey, Popeye, Cluedo and Walsh.’
Steven nodded and said, ‘You’ve been briefed?’