2
21st September
“An imperfect plan violently executed now is far better than a perfect plan executed a week too late” said the Colonel as we both stood with our backs to his house, making the most of the last of the autumn sun.
‘Patton, right?’
He nodded. ‘Correct, young man. And I feel an imperfect, violent plan coming on right about now. The Home Secretary wants to see both of us tomorrow, 0800 hours Zulu. Straight after that, I want you to get down to Hendon and start gripping them for CCTV footage.’
Colonel Mahoney’s family house was just outside Yately. From where we stood, his grounds swept down to the lakes. We weren’t too far from Sandhurst. Maybe that was why he’d bought this particular pile, maybe not, who knew.
‘Riz, I’ve had enough of this crap with the Met, the CIA, and God knows what else. I’m going to reactivate RPOC.’
RPOC. The Resistance and Psychological Operations Committee, which was a fancy name for the UK’s secret underground army. The original RPOC had been created within the Reserve Forces Association in 1970, which was the last time the powers that be had thought the wheels were really going to come off. It encompassed elements of MI5, M16, SAS and SAS reserves and any other useful MOD and ex-military people. As far as I was aware it had been disbanded in the late Seventies and forgotten, and any hope of a revival had died along with the bomb that had killed Airey Neave.
‘You can do that, boss?’
He smiled. ‘Of course. I’m the last surviving member. Listen, Riz. Post the attacks, the country is teetering on a knife-edge. The communities are at the point of boiling over, we’ve got the EDL trying to march on every Muslim city centre going, there are guaranteed to be orchestrated riots very soon…that’s bad enough. You’ve heard about what the Infidels are talking about?’
I had. The Infidels were the people who thought the EDL weren’t hard enough. They’d split and teamed up with a resurgent Combat 18.
‘Yep boss. The chatter is that they want a spectacular. A revenge attack on a Muslim target.’
‘Riz, that is not going to happen on my watch. Which is why I want my two favourite kids and my favourite gang of Blackeyed lunatics on the case. Job two for your intray. By the way, we raided the CIA Station chief’s house last night.’
I turned in shock. ‘You did WHAT?’
‘What I said. Of course, he has immunity, but we took his computers. Couldn’t find anything yet.’
Up near the house, the Colonel’s wife Sandra was fussing about with some garden chair covers.
I spoke. ‘Reckon we can find who took Holly still?’
His shoulders twitched. ‘That area has more camera coverage than most conurbations, and straight after the attacks we got our surveillance planes up. There’s bound to be something. We should be able to track them. If it’s the Septics, they’ll leave a trail.’
He looked at me. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘I’m OK, boss, honestly I am. Ready to go.’
‘Riz, let me read your tealeaves son. Your head is, at this moment in time, a mess. You may think you’re functioning but you’re not. You’re not sleeping. You’re having nightmares.’
He cast me a glance. ‘Am I right?’
The breath went out of me and I nodded.
‘You’re missing her. You have, what is called, a “Man Down”. Want to know about Man Down? I’ll tell you.’
The Colonel looked out over his wife’s beautifully manicured lawns.
‘Have you got a cigarette on you?’
In all the time I’d known Colonel Mahoney, I’d never seen him smoke even so much as a cheroot. I did have some on me. I handed him a Silk Cut and a lighter, and he lit it, and took a long drag. Finally he spoke.
‘Listen in. Provinces, 1986. We had an operator in Divis Flats. She hit her beacon. She’d been spotted. Her name was Stella and she was one of my best operators. When we finally got to her she’d shot three of the opposition but it was too late, they’d run her over with a car, and then dragged her to some lockups nearby. They’d kneecapped her with an electric drill and then bludgeoned her to death with a sledgehammer. I was first to find her.’
Jesus Christ. If this was his way of bolstering my morale…
He wasn’t listening. ‘I thought I was coping at first, but then the nightmares started. Then the waking nightmares. Then-’
His monologue was interrupted by Sandra, storming across the lawn towards us. She didn’t look happy.
‘David! Leave the poor boy be, the last thing he needs right now is your war stories!’
She took my shoulder. ‘Look at him, David, he’s in a state. And WHAT are you doing smoking?’
The Colonel dropped the cigarette like a hot rock and stubbed it out. Then he looked even more guilty and picked up the butt.
Sandra glanced at me and clucked at the bruises on the side of my face. ‘Come back inside, Rizwan. You need some tea.’
All the life had gone out of me.
‘Colonel…the only woman I have ever loved…the only woman who ever had any time for me is dead, shot dead. Or dead in the hands of the Americans.’
The Colonel barked an order.
‘Rizwan Sabir!’
Christ. I raised myself to an assemblance of attention.
‘If you loved her, you would damn well find her, alive or dead. And I’ll help you all the way. Tomorrow you
will
get to it.’
‘Sir.’
It had grown chilly and rain was coming. We went back inside. I suppose you could have called that shock therapy.
3
22nd September
8am the next morning at 2 Marsham Street, headquarters of the Home Office. It was a Saturday, so there was hardly anyone in the building apart from some Technical Group people sweeping our meeting place for bugs and checking the microphones had been disabled on all the PCs and telephone speakers. We could tell where they’d been by the trail of red stickers they’d left on everything.
I was slightly hungover from the testimonial revue at the Windmill Club last night so I was making the most of the very strong tea I’d gotten the canteen lady to make me.
In the corner of the room a television was tuned to Sky News. A ticker tape was saying that the youth wing of the Venezuelan Movimiento Primero Justicia was claiming responsibility for shooting up and setting fire to the London embassy. I raised an eyebrow at the Colonel. He grinned back. Oh, our office could be creative when needed. That was good. The news then went to a piece on French embassies on high alert worldwide because some idiot had made a film disrespecting the Prophet Mohammed. I muttered a short prayer under my breath as I watched the riots. Back in the studio someone from government was trying to explain why the Chief Whip had been swearing at the Downing Street coppers.
Suddenly the Home Secretary swept in from the corridor with a grim expression and a slim file in her hand. The Colonel and I got to our feet. Something told me that someone somewhere was in for a bollocking.
The Home Secretary was a slim woman with a rather severe grey bob haircut and a terrible reputation among the police. They hated her with a passion, but that was fine because she absolutely loathed them back. This, in itself, made her alright in my eyes. Anyone who hated coppers even more than me was halfway OK.
She slapped two letters down on the desk, took her chair and gestured to them.
‘The world has gone mad. David. Look at these…these…clowns in blue is too mild a term.’
The Colonel walked over to the letters and read them, then started chuckling.
‘Oh, so we’ve upset a professional Muslim and the Chief wants my hide, does he?’
He turned. ‘Riz - come and have a read.’
I went over and read them. Bloody hell.
“The Director of Public Prosecutions has instructed me…” read the Colonel out loud and laughed. ‘More like the Chief has asked the DPP to instruct
him
, over a nice Met expense account lunch.’
Suddenly the Home Secretary seemed to register my presence in the room and stood.
‘And you must be Rizwan Sabir. I’m terribly sorry, it’s been such a rushed morning.’
She extended a manicured hand. For a second I thought about dropping to my knee and muttering ‘Don Corleone’, but I resisted the impulse and shook the hand with as much decorum as I could muster.
‘Home Secretary.’
‘Rizwan, I’ve heard many great things about you, and I am so sorry for your predicament.’
I smiled weakly. ‘We can fix it Ma’am, I’m sure of it.’
My left side still ached. I supposed she knew about my busted ribs and bullet wound sutures. They were invisible under my clothes but I still had dressings on and was on major painkillers.
‘Indeed we can. I would like to see two things resolved swiftly. Firstly, we are going to assist you in finding Holly. Secondly, you, I, and Colonel Mahoney are going to establish a plan that neutralises these elements within the police, or, if needs be, the Metropolitan Police Service itself, as an impediment, irrevocably.’
The Colonel and I looked at each other and I raised an eyebrow.
‘All the way, ma’am?’
She nodded. ‘All the way. They have gone too far this time. Personally I feel the sooner they’re all put out to pasture and the whole thing is outsourced to G4S, the better, as far as I’m concerned.’
She barked a harsh laugh. Christ, this was like a briefing from Good Queen Bess. We’d better not screw up.
There was a knock at the door. The Home Secretary looked up and beamed. ‘Philip! Come in!’
And in walked the Defence Secretary, and that made a full house. Both our nominal bosses were in the room. This was getting serious. He strode straight up to the Colonel and gave him the full grip and grin. ‘David. How’s Sandra? Let’s talk about RPOC, shall we?’
Again, the politician-gaze settled and focused on me. We’d actually met, some time back. ‘Hello Riz.’
We shook. Good memory on the man. No more fripperies. Phil delved into his carry case and produced some folders, which he handed out. They had a black diagonal band on the cover and the title “Resistance and Psychological Operations Committee Re-Spiral”.
I had no idea what a Re-Spiral was. I supposed some bright spark in the Defence Secretary’s team had felt like slipping some new jargon in. I opened my folder. Page one started off with-
“
TOP
SECRET
/
CODEWORD
/
FLINTLOCK
Counter
Extremism
Measures
JS
449
N
/
K
/
34
Army
Combat
Development
Committee
.
A
meeting
was
held
at
the
Ministry
Of
Defence
(
in
Horseguards
),
in
conference
room
5
,
Tuesday
18
September
2012
.
The
meeting
discussed
a
'Table
Of
Circumstances
And
Typical
Military
Response
On
Request
From
Civil
Authority'
.
Ref
ACDC
/
F
(
12
)
B
18
SEPT
2012
The
report
formed
part
of
their
studies
on
Counter
Extremism
Operations
and
Military
Aid
to
the
Civil
Power
.
These
may
include
:
1
.
Threat
Circumstance
2
.
Typical
Military
Response
3.
Military
Aid
to
other
Government
Departments
.
Military
Aid
to
other
Government
Departments
(
MAGD
)
covers
assistance
provided
by
the
Armed
Forces
on
urgent
work
of
national
importance
or
in
maintaining
supplies
and
services
essential
to
the
life
,
health
and
safety
of
the
community
.
MAGD
is
controlled
under
orders
made
under
section
2
of
the
Emergency
Powers
Act
1964
.
4
.
Military
Aid
to
the
Civil
Power
.
Military
Aid
to
the
Civil
Power
encompasses
the
provision
of
military
assistance
(
armed
if
necessary
)
in
its
maintenance
of
law
,
order
and
public
safety
using
specialist
capabilities
or
equipment
in
situations
beyond
the
capability
of
the
Civil
Power
.
5
.
Threat
Assessment
and
Dissemination
.
5
. (
a
)
MOD
Counter
Extremist
Advisory
Group
.
Within
MOD
,
the
CEAG
is
the
focus
for
all
counter
terrorist
and
extremist
matters
in
UK
,
excluding
NI
.
The
main
purpose
of
CEAG
is
to
receive
and
consider
assessed
intelligence
on
current
or
future
terrorist
and
extremist
activity
from
both
indigenous
and
international
threats
which
are
of
concern
to
defence
interests
world
-
wide
.
CEAG
usually
meets
on
the
first
Wednesday
of
each
month
and
issues
an
extremist
threat
assessment
signal
.
Should
any
new
intelligence
become
available
or
terrorist
incidents
occur
between
the
regular
meetings
,
the
CEAG
would
meet
in
special
session
.
All
members
of
the
CEAG
are
on
call
at
all
times
.
5
. (
b
)
Warnings
.
Warnings
are
passed
to
the
Defence
Crisis
Management
Centre
(
DCMC
).
DCMC
informs
the
CEAG
Secretary
who
arranges
for
a
reassessment
to
be
made
by
members
of
the
CEAG
if
required
.
The
DCMC
disseminates
any
change
in
the
Alert
State
to
the
MOD
on
authority
of
the
chairman
of
the
CEAG
.
In
the
event
of
immediate
danger
to
life
,
the
DCMC
Duty
Officer
may
issue
instructions
on
his
own
.”