The Gulf Conspiracy

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?’

‘Three hours ago,’ said Mick. ‘They said you would fill in the missing bits.’

Steven nodded, screwing up his face with the effort of trying to converse above the noise of the engines. ‘Where are we headed?’

‘We plan to keep well away from the area in question,’ said Mick. ‘We’ll land on the west side of Loch’ — he pronounced it, Lock — ‘Lomond and boat it across south of Inversnaid. We’ll tab it cross country from there to the Loch Ard Forest and skirt round the bottom of Loch Chon, staying in the forest all the way along the south shore of Loch Ard before approaching the aqueduct. Think you’re up to it?’

‘I hadn’t anticipated this,’ said Steven.

‘Just a walk in the park,’ smiled Mick.

Steven’s answering smile was a bit more fragile.

The engine noise made unnecessary conversation difficult so the remainder of the journey was largely completed without it.

Steven felt a slight hollow feeing in his stomach as he watched the helicopter take off into the night sky, leaving them a couple of hundred metres inland from the west bank of Loch Lomond. He busied himself getting into the kit that had been brought along for him while the others prepared the inflatable boat for the crossing. Luckily it was a calm night with stars visible in a clear sky, although it had been raining earlier and the ground was wet and the air full of the smell of wet pine needles.

‘Ready?’ asked Mick as Steven secured his Bergen rucksack after having packed away his own clothes in it.

‘As I’ll ever be.’

The loch crossing was bumpy but not as uncomfortable as Steven had anticipated. By the time they were pulling the boat up on to the east shore and finding a suitable place to hide it away, he had actually started to feel exhilarated. It was certainly a change from what he would normally be doing on a Monday night and he felt very much alive. He felt even better when Mick said, ‘There’s a forestry track leading inland from here. We’ll use that.’

They headed inland and were discussing radio codes and channels to be used when Walsh, who was walking up ahead, held up his hand and signalled that they get down. They dropped to their knees and remained quiet and motionless while Walsh investigated whatever it was that had caught his attention. He re-appeared as if by magic a few moments later at Mick’s shoulder and whispered, ‘Two blokes camping. They sound like bank clerks.’

Mick nodded and said, ‘We’re crossing the route of the West Highland Way here. We’ll skirt round them.’

The six men made a slight detour to the north to bypass the men who would never realise they had been there and rejoined the path to head inland. It was heavily rutted in parts through use by heavy Forestry Commission vehicles but easy-going compared to what Steven had feared. Trying to make good progress through knee-deep bracken on ground that never seemed to be level, as he remembered from Highland walks in the past, could be soul-destroying. He was to become reacquainted with the feeling when, south of Loch Ard, Mick said it was time to leave the track.

At three in the morning they were in position at a point west of the aqueduct which afforded them a good view of it.

‘Get your head down for a couple of hours,’ said Mick to Steven. ‘I’ll wake you if anything’s going down.’

Steven needed no second invitation. He woke at six, alerted by a burst of static on the radio.

‘Marines are in position in the breather duct one mile south of here,’ said Mick.

‘Good,’ said Steven accepting the glasses which Mick offered him and taking a good look at the aqueduct and the area round about through them. There was a white van parked near the base with ‘Diamond Security’ on its side.

‘We’ll move closer as soon as the civvies clock off,’ said Mick. ‘In the meantime we’ll have a brew… won’t we Terry?’

“Yes boss,” replied Terry who set about making tea.

Mick outlined plans for guarding the aqueduct during the course of the exercise. They would split up to individually cover all possible angles of approach, the exception being Steven who would stay beside Mick in case his advice was needed.

‘How dangerous is this stuff?’ asked one of the men.

‘It won’t kill you,’ replied Steven. ‘But you could end up wishing it had if you get infected. Ideally we want to take it from these three characters before they have a chance to open whatever they’re carrying it in — probably something that looks like a thermos flask.’

‘So don’t go having a fly cuppa, Cluedo,’ said Mick. ‘You might get more than you bargained for.’

The comment served to release the tension that had been building almost imperceptibly.

When it got to seven thirty the men turned their radios to the channel being used by the Territorial Army for the duration of the exercise so that they could listen in to what was going on. At a quarter to eight it started to rain and at five to, Walsh, who’d been keeping watch on the aqueduct, reported, ‘Civvies moving out, Boss.’

Almost at the same time the radio crackled into life and the men heard Major David Innes ask his deployed units to report their position. Mick marked them down on the map as they radioed in. ‘Can’t fault that,’ he murmured.

‘Operation underway gentlemen,’ said Innes. ‘Good luck everyone.’

‘Half a dozen Terries by the aqueduct, Boss,’ said Walsh.

‘Mick took a look at the soldiers who’d been detailed to guard the aqueduct and said, ‘Time we moved in. Anyone who gets himself spotted by a Terry gets my foot up his arse.’

The men made last minute adjustments to their camouflage clothing, a couple of them adding yet more bracken to better the match with their surroundings. They wished each other well before moving out at ten second intervals. Steven and Mick moved south east of the aqueduct and fashioned themselves a hide in a small hollow, which they augmented with a makeshift roof made out of dead wood and leaves from the forest floor.

‘What happens to the flasks when we get them?’ asked Mick.

‘A mobile lab will be in position just outside Aberfoyle on the east side,’ said Steven. ‘They’ll take care of them.

‘The very thought of germ warfare makes my flesh creep,’ said Mick.

‘Can’t say I’m a big fan either,’ said Steven.

Three hours went past slowly in complete radio silence and the small talk had long since run out when Mick let out his breath in a long sigh and murmured, ‘C’mon.’ He looked at his watch and frowned but it was another half hour before he suddenly clapped the earphones, which had been hanging round his neck, to his ears. ‘They’ve got one,’ he told Steven. He slipped the earphones down again and marked the position on his map. ‘Well done the Terries,’ he said. ‘Captured one man and secured the container he was carrying.’

Steven’s facial expression indicated that he was impressed too. He was even more impressed when at one thirty a second terrorist was taken prisoner by the soldiers.

‘Did they get the flask?’ asked Steven.

‘Yup, safe and sound. Who would have thought…’ said Mick, thoughtfully. ‘These guys are good. I take back everything I ever thought about them. They’re doing a cracking job.’

By four in the afternoon both Mick and Steve were getting edgy. Steven was even beginning to think that the third man might have abandoned the mission if he had been aware of the capture of the other two. He was about to say this to Mick when the radio crackled into life again and Mick smiled broadly as he relayed news of the capture of the third man.

‘Bloody hell,’ said Mick. ‘We were a waste of space. The Terries got them all.’

Mick switched the radio back on to speaker mode and Steven heard Innes tell his men that the operation was now over. They had taken all three terrorists prisoner and captured the “biological weapons” they were carrying intact.

‘Well done everyone,’ said Innes before giving out a map reference for the troops to rendezvous at.

‘Time to offer our congratulations, I think,’ said Steven getting to his feet. ‘I take it you have a cover story?’

‘MOD observers,’ said Mick with a smile.

The SAS men met up and marched together to the rendezvous point given out by Innes. They arrived there fifteen minutes later, attracting strange looks from the soldiers already there. Steven sought out Innes, showed him his ID and introduced Mick and his men as MOD observers sent in to monitor the exercise without forewarning. Innes beamed as he was congratulated on the performance of his men. ‘We do our best,’ he said modestly like the captain of the winning team on school sports day.

Steven asked about the containers the terrorists had been carrying.

‘They’re being brought in with the prisoners,’ said Innes. ‘They should be here at any minute.’

Steven used his mobile phone and asked to be patched through to the mobile lab waiting at Aberfoyle. He requested that it make its way down to the rendezvous point.

‘Roger that.’

As he ended the call, Mick came across and told Steven that the men from 45 Commando were asking if was all right to restore the water supply.

‘Tell them, yes,’ said Steven.

‘Here they are,’ said Innes as a long wheelbase Land Rover appeared through the trees. When three soldiers got out unaccompanied, Innes asked where the prisoners were.’

‘You said the operation was over, sir,’ replied the driver, a corporal. ‘They asked to be dropped off about a mile back. They said they’d hidden their vehicle there in the trees. It made more sense than coming in here and then having to get a lift back.’

‘I suppose,’ said Innes.

The news made Steven’s throat constrict to a point where he could hardly speak. He exchanged alarmed glances with Mick. ‘And the flasks they were carrying?’ he croaked.

‘Right here,’ replied the corporal, returning briefly to the Land Rover and returning with three metal flasks with apparently unbroken seals.

‘You’re sure this was all they were carrying?’ Steven said.

‘Absolutely,’ replied the corporal.

‘Anything wrong?’ asked Innes, aware of Steven’s unease but failing to understand it.

‘No, nothing,’ replied Steven. ‘Really.’

‘Then I suggest that beer in Aberfoyle might be in order,’ announced Innes in a loud voice. This brought a cheer from the troops. ‘I’m sure we’d be delighted if you chaps would join us?’

‘Thanks, Major,’ said Steven. ‘We’ll be along shortly.’

‘Just to make sure that you do, I’ll leave you one of the vehicles,’ said Innes, now filled with the surge of confidence that success brings.

‘Thanks,’ said Steven.

‘Everything all right, Steve?’ asked Mick as the Territorials started to move out.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Steven. ‘Something doesn’t feel right…’

The mobile lab appeared at the end of the track and the sight of it interrupted his train of thought. As it pulled in to the side and drew up Steven took the three flasks round to the back of the vehicle and waited for the doors to be opened. The two men in the back were wearing white biohazard suits. Only the full hood visors were missing.

‘You have something for us,’ said one of the men.

Steven handed the sealed metal containers to them and said after a moment’s hesitation, ‘I realise that you chaps are only expecting to transport these south — and this may be a very stupid question — but is there any way you could tell me right now if these containers contain living biological material?’

‘You have doubts then?’

‘Yes,’ replied Steven without really knowing why.

‘There’s no way we could go about identifying any bug or virus,’ said the man. ‘But if it’s a simple yes/no you’re after, that’s possible — if it’s really important?’

Steven took a moment to consider the man’s obvious reluctance to open the flasks before saying, ‘It is.’

The man shrugged and said, ‘Okay, give us ten minutes.’

Steven watched the men don their hoods and check the sealing on each other’s suit before closing the back doors of the vehicle.

Steven felt the need to be on his own. He walked over to the edge of the trees and looked back down the valley at nothing in particular. When he heard the doors of the mobile lab being opened again he turned round and hurried towards it.

‘Well?’ he asked the first man to take his hood off.

‘As far as we can tell,’ said the man. ‘The three containers contain nothing but red dye…’

‘Fuck,’ said Steven as his world suddenly crumbled around him. It had been a perfectly genuine exercise with three mock terrorists attempting to carry out an attack on water supplies with red dye and being thwarted by men of the Territorial Army!

The SAS men seemed to sense Steven’s embarrassment and stayed away from him as he walked back over to his vantage point over the valley to look into the middle distance as he fought to come to terms with what he now saw as complete and abject failure.

But why had it been arranged through Gardiner’s organisation at all? asked a small voice inside his head. Why use these people at all to arrange details like… suspension of civilian security… from eight till six on the day of the exercise? From eight till six on the day of the exercise… The phrase repeated itself. Steven looked at his watch. It was 5.30. Who was guarding the aqueduct right now? He asked himself. No one, replied the little voice.

Steven spun round on his heel as suddenly it all started to make sense. What was it Mick had said earlier when the Territorials made light work of capturing the second terrorist? Who would have thought… Who would have thought?’

YOU IDIOT! THEY WERE MEANT TO CAPTURE THEM! screamed the voice inside his head.

‘Sweet Jesus Christ!’ Steven yelled at the SAS men. ‘There are more of them!’ He ran to the Land Rover left behind by Innes and tugged at the starter as the SAS men piled in behind him. Mick swung his legs in the front as Steven took off, sending up a hail of stones from the spinning wheels.

‘The aqueduct is unguarded from now until six o’clock,’ yelled Steven above the roar of the engine, which he kept in low gear, using high revs to keep up speed. ‘The third man made sure he was captured well before that time in order to ensure a gap.’

‘And the water supply has been restored,’ yelled Mick.

‘What an idiot!’ Steven berated himself. ‘It’s perfect, just what they wanted! Officially it’s been a completely successful exercise with the squaddies triumphing and the terrorists getting nowhere near the water supply. They planned to slip the agent into the water after the exercise was over so that no one would ever be able to work out where the infection came from. It was to be another bloody secret!’

‘There’s a security van there,’ said Mick as the aqueduct came into view.

‘I don’t believe it,’ yelled Steven. ‘Civvies don’t start early.

‘Christ, there’s a bloke up on the aqueduct!’ said one of the others. They all caught sight of a dark clad man moving along the gantry before dropping out of sight again.

‘Get on to the 45 guys. See if there’s any chance of getting the supply interrupted again,’ said Steven. Walsh got on the radio.

‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Mick.

‘If you get the chance, kill him,’ replied Steven.

‘They’re half a mile away,’ said Walsh, reporting on the commandos’ position.

‘Tell them to get there as soon as they can,’ said Steven. ‘It’s a matter of life and death.’

Walsh relayed the message and Steven slowed the vehicle to walking pace as they neared the base of the aqueduct.

‘Let’s go,’ yelled Mick as he leapt out and others followed with the exception of Walsh who was still in touch with the commandos. ‘Fuck me, are you not there yet?’ Steven heard him say. ‘Bunch of big girls’ blouses.’

Steven was vaguely conscious of an unprintable reply as he brought the Land Rover to a complete halt and got out to look up. There was no sign of the figure they’d seen earlier but he must still be there, he reasoned. There was nowhere else for him to go.

Steven climbed the steep grassy bank leading up to the iron aqueduct and steadied himself on a short section of railing at the top, designed to restrict access to the feeder pipe which emerged from the ground to spew water into the open channel. He looked along the channel expecting to see a man hiding there but saw nothing but fast flowing water.

‘Where the f-’ mouthed Steven, unable to understand where the man could possibly have gone. ‘There’s nowhere… absolutely nowhere…’ he kept reasoning, ‘So how…?’

Steven almost fell over backwards as a figure suddenly emerged like Poseidon from the water about twenty metres along the aqueduct. Instead of a trident, he was holding up a metal flask in his right hand. He had finally run out of air.

Steven gave the man a moment to get his breath and let the water drain away from his face before saying, ‘It’s all over, best give that to me.’ He held out his hand. The man, who had been lying on his back under the surface, was now in a sitting position with the water flowing past him. ‘Something tells me I’m still holding all the aces,’ he said, making a slight movement with the flask in his hand.’

Steven started to move towards him but the man immediately switched the flask to his other hand and stared undoing the cap.

‘For Christ’s sake man!’ said Steven. ‘Have you any idea what you’re about to do?’

The man shook his head. ‘None at all,’ he replied. ‘That’s the way I like it. I’m a soldier. I get my orders. I carry them out. They pay me. That’s all I need to know.’

‘Don’t you care about…?’

‘Don’t waste your breath,’ interrupted the man. ‘I’ve soldiered all over the world. I’ve seen everything one human being can do to another human being. I stopped being interested a long time ago.’

Steven knew he had to stall the man as long as possible so that the commandos would have time to put the divert back on the water supply again but it wasn’t looking hopeful. ‘Even if money is the only thing you’re interested in, surely you’ve already been paid?’ he said.

‘In part. The rest goes into my account for Miriam and the kid when the job gets done.’

‘Look, if it’s a matter of money…’ began Steven.

‘And professional pride,’ said the man, smiling for the first time as he started to get to his feet. ‘You didn’t know mercenaries had pride, did you? Well, we do. To be one in the first place you have to be good and British mercenaries are the best; that’s why we get paid the best. Nice and simple. Nice and honest. No bullshit, no flag-waving, no pretence.’

‘Even if that’s true-’ said Steven. He was interrupted by a shot shattering the silence as the man stood up and became visible over the parapet. A puzzled look appeared briefly on his face before he pitched forward to fall face down into the water. Steven climbed into the aqueduct channel and waded as fast as he could towards the figure before it floated away, his one thought the safe retrieval of the flask. He reached the body and straddled his legs across it while he reached down into the water to feel if the man was still holding the flask. He was but, as Steven suddenly realised in a surge of panic, he was holding it in both hands! He wasn’t completely dead. He was trying to undo the top!

Steven wrenched it from his grasp and brought it to the surface as Mick and two of the others appeared on the gantry and came to help. They pulled the man — who now seemed to be dead out of the water and tipped his body over the edge of the aqueduct to fall to the ground below with a thud.

‘Okay?’ asked Mick as Steven tried to ascertain whether there had been any leakage from the flask. There was no doubt the seal was broken. It was just a question of how far the top could be turned before the sealing gasket ceased to have any effect. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Did the commandos get the divert on in time?’

‘Mick made a gesture with his right hand that indicated it might have been touch and go.

‘Then it’s wait and see time,’ said Steven.

They left the gantry and came slowly back down the grassy slope to the ground.

‘Christ, I could do with a drink,’ said Steven as he felt himself go weak at the knees as the adrenalin left his bloodstream.

‘Looks like we’re done here,’ said Mick. ‘I’ll call in the chopper.’

Steven, dressed in a smart suit and dark tie, stood at the window in his flat, watching the sunlight sparkle on the Thames. It was a sight that usually gladdened his heart but not this morning. He was due at the Home Office in forty-five minutes and he was not looking forward to it. He thought he could see what was coming and he was going to need all the self control he could muster. There was no way that that the establishment could let the whole truth come out so he was reconciled to a cover-up. It was just a question of degree and how much he could stomach before anger got the better of him. A slight smile played on his lips when he remembered what Lisa used to say when she sensed temper getting the better of him. Deep breaths, Dunbar, deep breaths…

Steven found the Home Secretary with Macmillan when he entered Macmillan’s office. Both men seemed relaxed and smiled as he came in.

‘Welcome back,’ said Macmillan.

‘Good to be back,’ replied Steven automatically.

‘I felt I had to come along and congratulate you personally on a job well done,’ said the Home Secretary.

‘Thank you, sir, but we’re not out of the woods just yet,’ replied Steven. ‘There’s still a chance that Glasgow’s water may have been contaminated.’

‘And that’s something we’ve been taking very seriously,’ replied the Home Secretary.

Steven thought how much like a politician he sounded.

‘We’ve been in touch with the Scottish Executive, Glasgow City Council and Scottish Water. They’re putting out a general warning that water taken from Loch Katrine may have been contaminated with faeces from grazing sheep. Steps are being taken to issue bottled water until we’re sure the danger’s past.’

Steven nodded.

‘I take it, you’ll be looking forward to some leave now?’ said Macmillan. ‘God knows, you deserve it.’

‘I was rather hoping you were going to brief me on what’s been happening down here,’ said Steven. He noticed the uneasy glance that passed between Macmillan and the Home Secretary.

‘About Crowe and Mowbray, I mean,’ said Steven, in case there was any doubt.

‘It’s… difficult,’ began Macmillan.

Oh, God, here it comes, thought Steven. He felt his cheek muscles tighten and his fingers start to clench.

‘They know, of course, that the trial of their biological agent has been a complete failure and that they won’t be getting any money from abroad…’

‘But?’

The Home Secretary cleared his throat. Steven thought it a nervous gesture. Macmillan diverted his gaze.

‘Well, to cut a long story short, they’ve offered us a deal,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘They will hand over the antibiotic that can cure their damned agent and also provide technical details of its design and manufacture.’

‘In exchange for getting off scot-free?’ said Steven.

Macmillan said, 'It is a very difficult situation, Steven.’

‘Professor Rees believes he could come up with an effective antibiotic on his own,’ said Steven.

‘There’s no guarantee, and it could take time,’ said Macmillan.

‘I’m sure we don’t have to point out to you the enormous benefits of being able to treat Gulf War Syndrome after all this time,’ said the Home Secretary.

‘So it does exist then?’ said Steven. He noticed a flash of anger in the Home Secretary’s eyes but there was no follow up. Macmillan, sensing the danger, intervened. ‘We know how you feel, Dunbar: believe me, we do. In many ways we share your frustration.’

‘It’s just that some of us have to look at the bigger picture… for the common good,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘We can’t afford the luxury of—’

Truth, honesty and decency, thought Steven, but he bit his tongue.

‘seeing each individual case in isolation,’ completed the Home Secretary.

‘So they are going to get away with it?’

‘I don’t think their lives are going to be that comfortable,’ said Macmillan. ‘They may escape legal proceedings but neither will ever work again professionally and they are going to find themselves—’

The phrase excluded from polite society sprang to Steven’s lips but, again, he remained silent.

‘generally unwelcome wherever they go,’ said Macmillan.

Steven heard Lisa’s voice say inside his head, ‘Deep breaths, Dunbar, deep breaths…’

Both Macmillan and the Home Secretary read the slight softening of his features as acquiescence. ‘Good man,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘I’m sure, when you think about it, you’ll come to see that this is the only reasonable course open to HMG in the circumstances.’

‘O course, sir… the big picture,’ said Steven. It drew a questioning look from the Home Secretary but once more, Macmillan stepped in. ‘Now, about that leave?’

‘That would be most welcome,’ said Steven.

‘Any idea what you’ll do?’

‘First, I have to go up to Glasgow. Then I’ll go spend some time with my daughter.’

‘Glasgow?’

‘Call it… the small picture,’ said Steven, ‘and I’ll need some of the antibiotic that Crowe and Mowbray have agreed to hand over.’

‘I’m not sure if—’ began the Home Secretary but Macmillan shot him a warning glance as he saw Steven’s expression darken. ‘Maclean?’ he asked.

Steven nodded.

‘I’m sure that, in the special circumstances, there won’t be a problem,’ said Macmillan.

Steven smiled. ‘Then, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen?’

‘Thank you again,’ said the Home Secretary.

Steven paused outside the entrance to the Home Office to look up at the sky and savour the fresh air. Deep breaths, Dunbar, deep breaths…