The Gulf Conspiracy

TWENTY

It had been getting light outside for some time. Steven saw that it was nearly seven thirty. All of them had had a go at trying to extract useful information from Gardiner’s database but without any real success and it was beginning to look as if they’d hit the wall. He got up from his chair to stretch his legs and walked over to the window to look out at a grey drizzle that was falling gently through early morning mist. A bus passed with an advert for internet access on its side. It gave him an idea.

‘There is something we could do,’ he said.

All eyes were on him as he turned round.

‘If Crowe and Mowbray did use any of these people in the database,’ he said. ‘They must have been contacted recently — they probably used the group’s e-mail server to make it appear official.’

‘Seems reasonable,’ agreed Dorothy Jordan.

‘So?’ said Hamilton.

‘If Gardiner has been considering disbanding the organisation, it’s probably been a while since he had any reason to contact anyone on the list officially. If I could persuade him to send out a message today, asking anyone who has been approached in the last month or so to get in touch with him personally… He could say there’s been some kind e-mail delivery problem.’

‘Worth a try,’ said Macmillan.

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Dorothy.

‘Anything that narrows it down,’ said Hamilton.

Macmillan checked his watch and said, ‘No one is going to be up and about for another hour or so. I suggest we take a break, have a shower, get some breakfast, whatever, and meet back here at nine?’

Steven stayed behind to speak with Macmillan. ‘I only hope Gardiner is in town,’ he said. ‘He’s in the process of retiring to the Highlands of Scotland with his wife.’

‘It would be ironic if he happened to end up in the middle of the target area,’ said Macmillan. ‘Maybe you should try him right now if there’s any question he might not be in London?’

Steven used his mobile to call the number of Gardiner’s flat in town. He smiled in relief and nodded to Macmillan when he heard Gardiner demanding to know just who the hell was calling him at this time in the morning.’

‘It’s Steven Dunbar, Sir James,’ said Steven respectfully. ‘I need your help. The country needs your help.’

Macmillan gave an approving nod at Steven’s approach.

‘I can’t talk about it over the phone. Could I possibly come over there and speak to you as soon as possible?’

‘You’ll have to give me time to get my bloody clothes on, man,’ growled Gardiner.

‘Would half an hour be all right, sir?’

‘Make it forty minutes. This had better be important.’

When Steven arrived at the flats he saw an elegant, well dressed young black woman, carrying an overnight bag, leave the building and get into a taxi. She seemed harassed and appeared to be leaving in a hurry. Surely not, thought Steven, but when Gardiner let him in he couldn’t resist being on the look-out for any sign of her origins.

Gardiner was alone in the flat. ‘Has Lady Gardiner gone up to Scotland already, Sir James?’ Steven asked pleasantly.

‘She has,’ replied Gardiner, who was wearing a plaid dressing gown and sheepskin slippers. ‘Left me to fend for myself for a few days while she sorts out carpets and curtains. ‘Coffee?’

Steven accepted and ran his eyes round the room as Gardiner filled two cups, which he placed on the low table by the doors leading to the south terrace. He walked over to pick up his and noticed a lipstick lying on the carpet at the side of the table. He picked it up and said, ‘Hope she’ll not be missing this.’ He placed it slowly down on the table.

‘Good Lord, she was looking everywhere for that,’ said Gardiner, snatching it up as if it were a long lost friend and slipping it into his pocket of his dressing gown.

‘Nice colour,’ said Steven. It was purple.

‘What is it you want from me?’

Steven explained, now feeling more confident than he had been that Gardiner was going to be helpful.

‘What exactly do you want me to say in this message?’ asked Gardiner when Steven had finished.

Steven told him and added, ‘We’ll have to change the group’s mailing list to exclude Crowe and Mowbray so that they don’t receive it and cotton on to what’s happening, and I’d also like to put a divert on for the replies so that they will be automatically forwarded to me at the Home Office.’

Gardiner waved his hands vaguely in the air and said, ‘I hope you know how to do all this. Takes me all my time to switch the damn machine on.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Steven.

The message went out to the people on the database at 8.45am and Steven returned to the Home Office after thanking Gardiner for his cooperation, adding, ‘I hope I won’t have to bother you again, Sir James.’

‘Always glad to help my country,’ said Gardiner with an uneasy smile.

Nerves were beginning to fray when it got to ten o’clock without any sign of a reply but then Steven’s computer bleeped to herald an incoming message and he clicked it open. The sender was a man named Eric Pope, which Steven read out aloud so that the others could start checking the name against the database. The message read, ‘Worried about having missed mail. Last communication received 2^nd September confirming date of exercise. Is there a problem?’

‘He works for Scottish Water,’ announced Dorothy Jordan, who was first to come up with the man’s details.

For a moment they all looked at each other in silence then Hamilton murmured, ‘Bloody hell.’

‘I’ll have the troops see what they can come up with on Pope,’ said Macmillan. He left the room to brief the regular Sci-Med support staff.

It was twenty minutes before the next message came in. ‘From a David Innes,’ Steven said, reading out the sender’s name. The message read, ‘Understand exercise going ahead as confirmed on September 2^nd. Please advise of any change or update.’

‘What exercise?’ muttered Steven.

‘If we ask, they may get suspicious,’ said Alan Deans.

‘Innes works for the Nationwide Building Society,’ said Charles Bristow.

‘A building society?’ exclaimed Dorothy Jordan and Alan Deans, almost in unison.

‘Search me,’ said Steven, returning to his screen as the computer beeped yet again.

This time the e-mail came from a man named John Curtis. Dorothy ran the cursor down the list on her screen. ‘Diamond Security,’ she said. ‘Scottish area supervisor.’

The message read, ‘Last message received 2^nd September, requesting suspension 8am — 6pm, on day of exercise. Please confirm.’

Macmillan came back into the room saying, ‘Pope is a middle manager with Scottish Water. He has wide responsibilities for their operations. The Scots haven’t privatised water yet so we couldn’t narrow it down any further area-wise.’

‘Damnation,’ murmured Steven. ‘Where does that leave us? A water-board manager, a building society employee and an area supervisor with a security firm.’

‘Some kind of hit on a building society?’ suggested Hamilton without much conviction.

‘The water connection worries me,’ said Dorothy Jordan.

‘Me too,’ agreed Steven. ‘In spite of what you said about dilution problems with bugs.’

‘These people will be waiting for replies,’ Deans reminded them.

‘Can you deal with that?’ Macmillan asked Hamilton. ‘Simple confirmation, I think. We can’t risk asking questions at this stage.’

Hamilton nodded and took Steven’s place at the computer as a young woman came into the room and handed a piece of paper to Macmillan. Her body language suggested that she knew Macmillan was going to be pleased. Macmillan read it and raised his eyes briefly to the ceiling before saying, ‘Building Society Man, Innes, is actually Major David Innes: he’s an officer in the Territorial Army.’

‘Now the word “exercise” starts to make sense,’ said Steven.

‘Curtis mentioned “suspension” in his message,’ said Bristow. ‘He could be talking about suspension of security measures supplied by his firm…’

‘While Innes and his men carry out an exercise,’ said Steven.

‘In an area with some connection to Scottish Water if Pope is involved,’ said Macmillan.

‘It’s my bet that Innes has organised this as a genuine military exercise,’ said Steven after a few moments thought. ‘And if that’s the case, he would have to have filed details with his superiors. It’s the army way.’

‘That’s something we can check,’ said Macmillan, leaving the room again.

‘Contacts have been reassured,’ said Hamilton getting up from the computer.

‘You’re sure they’ll think the message came from the same source as the enquiry?’ asked Steven.

‘Trust me,’ smiled Hamilton. ‘God, I’m knackered.’ He stretched his arms in the air and let out a big yawn. It set everyone else off.

‘I could sleep for a week,’ said Dorothy, rubbing the back of her neck.

‘You’ve all done well,’ said Steven. ‘We’re almost there. Why don’t you take a break while John tackles the MOD.? I’ll monitor the screen in case any more messages come in.’

‘You must be just as tired,’ said Dorothy.

‘I’m carrying the can for this if it all goes belly-up,’ said Steven. ‘That gives me more adrenalin.’

Alone in the room, Steven swivelled round in his seat and put his feet up on the table. It was something he would not normally have done. His tie had long since been discarded and successive buttons on his shirt had been opened to allow the flat of his hand to rest on his chest. The stubble on his chin was beginning to itch and a shower was beginning to seem like the most desirable thing on the planet. For the moment he made do with yet more black coffee while he waited to see if anyone else on the database would make contact. His eyelids were starting to go together when Macmillan came back into the room.

‘Most unlike the MOD to be so efficient,’ he said. ‘Here it is.’ He waved a handful of paper in the air. ‘A summary of the entire exercise. Where is everyone?’

‘I suggested they take a break,’ said Steven.

‘Get them back, will you.’

Luckily only Dorothy Jordan had left the building. Steven found her outside, arms crossed, looking down at the pavement as she walked slowly up and down, apparently deep in thought. He apologised and told her that Macmillan needed everyone back.

She responded with a nod as if too tired to say anything and followed him back inside.

‘The exercise we’ve been hearing about is to take place in the Loch Ard Forest in Scotland,’ announced Macmillan when everyone had reassembled. ‘I think maybe we need maps…’

Hamilton took his cue and sat himself back down at a computer to start typing in instructions.

‘Loch Ard and its forest,’ continued Macmillan, ‘are part of the Forestry Commission’s Queen Elizabeth Forest Park, which comprises some 50,000 acres of mountains, lochs, forests and open rough country. For the purposes of the exercise, Major Innes and his men are charged with hunting down three armed and dangerous terrorists who will be on the loose in the forest, intent on damaging water board installations in the area.’

‘Maps for everyone,’ announced Hamilton, collecting several sheets of paper from the printer beside the computer and handing them around.

After a few moments study, Deans asked, ‘Is Loch Ard used as a reservoir?’

‘Looks too small,’ said Macmillan but we’ll check that out.

‘Maybe that’s what would make it attractive for a field trial,’ said Dorothy Jordan. ‘It would get round the dilution factor.’

‘Strange,’ said Steven. ‘There’s an aqueduct marked on the map but its position with regard to the contour lines suggests it isn’t carrying water from Loch Ard… I’m not sure I understand it. There’s no water to the north of it; in fact, the ground rises quite steeply to the hills north of Aberfoyle.’

‘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.