Close Call

Chapter 42

By half past five Peggy, in Thames House, was talking to her contact in the Border Agency, passing on the description of the lorry that might contain the weapons. She asked for all ports to be alerted but stressed that it was most likely to turn up on the east or south coasts. ‘Please let us know as soon as it’s sighted, but we don’t want it searched, or anything done to make the driver think he’s under suspicion. We need it to get to its destination, because what we are most interested in are the people who will meet it there.’

‘How are you going to keep tabs on it if we don’t delay it?’ asked the contact.

‘I was just coming on to that,’ Peggy replied. ‘We want your people to put a marker on it, and that’ll help us pick it up even if we miss it at the port. We’ll be able to keep our distance as we follow it. Have they got the equipment at all the likely ports?’

‘Yes.’ But he sounded doubtful. ‘That is provided it doesn’t turn up somewhere very small.’

‘No. Our expectation is that it’ll be on a normal freight route.’

‘What about the tunnel?’

‘I suppose that’s a possibility.’

‘OK. I’ll alert our people there as well.’

Peggy went to see Wally Woods, the chief A4 controller, responsible for the implementation of all surveillance requests. ‘Just giving you early warning,’ she said. ‘It’ll most likely be in the next week or so, and we may not know till it arrives at a port. The Border Agency will try to put a marker on. It’ll be going up to the outskirts of Manchester. One of four possible destinations. I’ll come down tomorrow and give you as much detail as we’ve got.’

Wally Woods grunted. ‘I don’t know where we’ll find the manpower. We’re chock-a-block already.’ Wally liked Peggy but he reserved the right to be grumpy with case officers.

‘Oh, Wally. Please do your best. Liz says it’s really important,’ said Peggy, knowing perfectly well that Wally would die in a ditch rather than let Liz Carlyle down.

Peggy’s next call was to Ted Poyser. Known to everyone in the Service as Technical Ted, he was the head of its eavesdropping operations. Ted had joined MI5 from the army after a legendary career in some of the most dangerous spots in Northern Ireland at the height of the Troubles. He was getting on now and due to retire in a couple of years, so he left most of the sharp-end work to his younger colleagues, spending most of his time on planning and research.

Peggy found him at his bench in the basement workshops, surrounded, as he nearly always was, with strange-looking bits of electrical kit, wires and laptops, their screens showing changing patterns of wavy lines. Ted seemed to like to work in a clutter. Once a compulsive smoker, the smoking ban had turned him into a compulsive sweet-eater instead, and his bench was always littered with discarded sweet papers and mugs containing cold coffee dregs. As he never seemed to put on weight and no one had ever seen him eating a meal, it was widely rumoured that he lived on a diet of Werther’s Originals washed down with coffee. Some of the younger intelligence officers called him ‘Grandad’ after the Werther’s advertisements, but Peggy always addressed him as Ted. Even though Ted was nearly sixty now, he wore his hair, which was very black (unnaturally black, some said), in a ponytail, and he rode a flashy Harley-Davidson motorbike while wearing the latest in leather gear. No one, except probably Personnel, knew anything about his private life, and no one had ever met a partner, or even a friend.

Ted still liked to play an active part in the occasional, particularly interesting operation, and his eyes lit up when Peggy told him that she needed eavesdropping and cameras planted in four warehouses on the outskirts of Manchester, as part of an operation to prevent a group of jihadis taking delivery of guns and ammunition. By now one of the police officers from the Chief Constable’s inquiry team had sent down the map coordinates for the warehouses, and also a description and approximate dimensions, all of which they must have got from McManus. By the time Peggy left him, Ted had summoned a Planning Team for first thing the following morning and was contentedly poring over maps.

Peggy went back to her office just in time to pick up a call from Liz, who had returned from Manchester and was back in her flat.

‘How was it?’ Peggy asked. ‘It can’t have been easy.’

‘It wasn’t – at first. He tried to embarrass me by making it personal. But in the end I found it rather sad. It seems such a pity that he’s got himself into such a mess. And he really has. I don’t know all the details, but it looks as though he’s in pretty deep with some very unsavoury characters, and not just the one we’re interested in. He’s facing a long stretch in prison according to the Chief Constable. Whom I liked, by the way. He’s young and seems very straight.’

‘Thank goodness for that,’ said Peggy.

‘How have you got on?’ asked Liz.

‘I’ve alerted the Border Agency, Wally and Technical Ted. I got the coordinates through from Manchester, and Ted and his team are going up tomorrow.

‘I’ve warned Wally and Borders that it could come in at any south or east coast port. Borders mentioned the tunnel and I asked them to warn them as well, though it’s probably unlikely – they’re much more alert there because of all the illegal immigrants. I’ll get on to the French tomorrow to ask them to keep a lookout. It would be great if we could know when it’s boarding the ferry on their side. The ferries to Harwich come from the Hook of Holland, so I’ll get on to the Dutch as well tomorrow first thing.’ She suddenly stopped, breathless.

‘Go home, Peggy,’ said Liz. ‘You’ve done all you can for one day. You sound exhausted.’

So Peggy went home, but later that night she dreamed of lorryloads of guns arriving at darkened ports all round the coast – ports that she hadn’t thought of – and driving off unwatched into the night.