Close Call

Chapter 52

Peggy had been staring out of the window, feeling as sluggish as the Thames at low tide, when the phone on Liz’s desk rang.

‘Hi, Border Agency here. I think we have something for you.’

‘Where?’

‘Hook of Holland. They called five minutes ago. There’s a Stena Line ferry leaving for Harwich at fourteen thirty their time; that’s half past one here, so fairly soon. Scheduled arrival time at Harwich is twenty hundred hours, British time. The lorry came in just before the deadline – they have to be quayside sixty minutes before sailing. It’s got the markings you’re looking for, though it’s carrying Turkish registration plates.’ He read out the registration number. ‘Just one driver, Turkish passport, name of Deniz Keskin, date of birth thirtieth October 1963.’

‘I bet that’s a false passport. If that’s our lorry it’s come from Dagestan and he’s not Turkish. What’s it carrying?’

‘Mattresses. Lots of mattresses, according to the mani­fest.’

Plus a few other things, thought Peggy. And she asked, ‘Has anyone looked inside?’

‘No. The Dutch are giving it a bit of space – as we requested. You said don’t scare them off.’

‘That’s right.’

‘It was weighed – all the vehicles are, so that can’t have aroused suspicion; it was apparently normal weight for its declared load. But it’s hard to tell much without looking inside. We can have Customs search it when it arrives if you want. Easy enough to do.’

‘No, thanks. We don’t want to risk alerting them at this stage. But please ask them to try and put the marker on as it goes through.’

As Peggy put the phone down she was hoping she’d taken the right decision. It was a big risk to allow into the country a lorry that she was pretty sure was carrying weapons, detonators and heaven knew what else, intended for a group of jihadis who had gone off the map and could be anywhere in the country. But she didn’t have much time to worry about it. As soon as she put the phone down, she picked it up again and rang Wally Woods in the A4 Control room.

‘Hi, Liz.’

‘No, it’s Peggy. Liz is out today.’

‘Oh?’

Obviously the news from Paris hadn’t percolated to the A4 control room. Peggy said, ‘I’m running the op until Liz gets back. I’ve just heard news of our lorry from the Border Agency. It’s on board the Stena ferry at the Hook of Holland coming to Harwich.’ She passed on the details she’d been given. ‘They’re going to get the marker on at Harwich.’

‘OK. We’ll be there. You still reckon it’s headed for one of those warehouses?’

‘Yes. But we don’t know which one. If I learn anything else I’ll let you know. Anything new on Zara?’

‘Yes. He’s made a move. I was just about to pick up the phone to tell Liz when you rang. Is she OK by the way? It’s not like her to leave her post just as things start hotting up.’

‘Yes. She’s fine but someone close to her has died.’ She hoped she’d said enough and not too much.

‘Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Wally and went on, ‘Zara took a train to Birmingham.’

‘Birmingham?’

‘Yeah. He’s doing anti-surveillance but not all that ­cleverly. He took the Skyrail from the train to the airport and now he’s in a hire car. Last seen heading towards the M6.’

‘Oh God. Have you lost him?’ asked Peggy, thinking of the lorryload of weapons she had just agreed to let into the country.

‘No. Not as you might say “lost”. We’re not with him at the moment but we know roughly where he is and what car he’s in, so the police teams will be behind him soon. He’ll be on the cameras, and if he takes the M6 or the Toll, he’ll be snapped every few hundred yards. And we can always stop him at the Toll gate if we need to. The paying system can break down for a bit.’

He must be heading towards Manchester, thought Peggy. Nothing else makes sense.

‘Our team is ready to join in in case he goes off the M6 up a minor road,’ went on Wally. ‘Don’t worry, Peggy. I think we can cope with little Mr Zara whatever he does.’

‘He may be picking up some others somewhere.’

‘Yeah. That occurred to us. He’s hired a big enough car.’

‘You’ve got all the addresses he might be going to, haven’t you?’ asked Peggy anxiously. ‘The four warehouses and his mother’s house.’

‘Relax, Peggy. We’ve got it all in the brief. And we’re in touch with Manchester CT Unit.’

‘OK, Wally, thanks. Keep me posted please. I’ll be on my mobile.’

‘You going somewhere?’

‘Yes. I’m going up to Manchester to liaise with the police. I’ll be in the Ops Room up there.’

There was no point in hanging around in London. Not with both Zara and the lorry apparently heading for Manchester. So Peggy went back to the open-plan office and told the others where she would be, then headed out of Thames House and hailed a passing taxi. As she leaned back in her seat, she pulled out her mobile. The last thing Liz probably needed now was a phone call, but knowing Liz she would be wondering what was going on and, after all, she had asked Peggy to keep her informed. So Peggy sent her a text:

She hoped Liz wouldn’t be away too long. She wasn’t at all sure that she could fill her shoes.