Laura walked over to one of the police officers manning the cordon, “Sorry, officer. Our specialist has recognised the chemicals and informed me of their explosive potential. We need to expand the cordon to a five-hundred metre radius.”
The officer’s eyes widened, clearly keen to move well away himself. “Of course, ma’am.” With that he was gone.
Laura walked back to David and the specialist. “So, what are your thoughts?”
“We need to raise the threat level,” David started. “These chemicals are very difficult and costly to develop and there is only really one purpose for them – chemical warfare. When mixed with an appropriate dispersement agent, that is.”
“David, you are worrying me. Just how serious is this?”
“I haven’t come across anything so serious throughout my career! Seriously, this is extreme!”
“What sort of area can be affected?”
“That’s impossible to say. It really depends upon the dispersement agent.”
Laura nodded and walked away to call Gurning in private. She had only heard Gurning swear a couple of times over the years, and he more than doubled the count during that one conversation.
“So much for this being a simple and short investigation for you!” Gurning concluded. “Get yourself back here as soon as possible, we’ll need to determine what we do next.”
“What about Rob?” Laura queried.
“Nat will be on the ground soon with ample support. We have to leave them to it; there’s not much we can do.”
Laura knew better than to argue, but felt aggrieved all the same. This was Rob, after all!
* * *
The rest of that day and all the next was spent trying to piece together how the chemicals had reached the disused warehouse and where they could have come from. While Laura and David focused, unsuccessfully, on those questions, a team of people under the specialist’s oversight started the long and hazardous task of removing and disposing of the chemicals.
Gurning briefed the Home Secretary as soon as he could and, together with the DG, agreed not to raise the nation’s threat level, but to review that decision on a daily basis as more information became available. The pressure was now on MI5 and Gurning called a meeting with Laura, David and their team late on the second day.
“Okay all,” Gurning started. “We are now under serious pressure. The Home Secretary wants progress and wants it now. Laura, what do we have?”
“Very little so far. There are so many lines of enquiry to follow. These chemicals are expensive, hazardous and difficult to produce. Fragments of documentation found at the location don’t really help given the variety of languages.”
“How do you mean?”
“They need a major production facility. This is not school-boy stuff.”
“Okay,” Gurning said thoughtfully, drawing the word out as he considered the possible implications. “Do we have any leads as to what these chemicals were intended for? Could there have been an innocent intent, or could they have been merely dumped?”
“I will answer that,” David volunteered. “It’s no to all those questions. Definitely not dumped – just way too organised in terms of their storage. Individually, these chemicals have a very limited range of uses. Together, they are mind-bogglingly lethal and almost only used for chemical warfare!”
“Shit! Any idea of their intended use, or where they were manufactured?”
“No to both those questions as well,” David continued. “Key to your first question is what the intended delivery agent is, and we don’t know that. Given the variety of containers and poor labels, these weren’t produced in a legitimate establishment, so there is no way of knowing where.” David pushed some photos over the table to Gurning that showed a motley of different barrels with amateurish labels slapped on the sides. “All I can say is that it is unlikely to have been within the UK.”
“Why do you say that?” Gurning asked, flipping through the photos.
“Well, we don’t really have much heavy industrial processing capability in the UK anymore. The operational plants we have are run by highly reputable and regulated companies, as you’d expect. There are no current licenses issued for these chemicals. Finally, all closed plants have been properly decommissioned and the sites are used for alternative purposes, so there is no way they are produced here. My guess is there’s an uneconomic facility in another country that has been sold for redevelopment and that has been converted, or reused.”
“Damn! That could be anywhere.”
“Our analysts are going through local CCTV on the off-chance a vehicle stands out as a possible for delivery, but that’s a long shot,” Laura added. Gurning merely nodded an acknowledgement to the necessary, but all too frequently fruitless activity.
14
The next day, Rob was up early, disturbing Freja from her slumber, where she had been cuddled up against him under the blankets. Rob apologised, grabbed some food and a bottle of water and headed off to his observation point. Wow! Her cuddles are nice, despite the discomfort of the ground. I’m sure it’s only a comfort thing, but I need to be careful, he thought as he went. I wonder what Laura is doing? It will be good to see her again.
Each time a vehicle arrived, Rob checked for reception, even though each disgorged a young family, one of which he recognised from the previous day. Freja arrived at one point with a mug of coffee and sat with him for a short time, arm around his waist and head on his shoulder, before returning to look after Alvaro.
Mid-morning Rob’s iPhone display suddenly lit up – a connection being established. A woman with two children had arrived a few minutes earlier and then spent the time fussing around in the car. Rob wrinkled his eyebrows. If she’s local MI6, she’s taking a big risk involving her kids in an operation, even if it does provide credibility for being here.
Rob sent a quick text to Nat and was delighted to receive a near-immediate acknowledgement that informed him to be ready for early afternoon. Excellent! Time to tell Freja and Alvaro.
* * *
A few hours later they were finding it so hard to stay cooped up in their little space. Having been very good since their arrival, Alvaro was starting to grumble and misbehave: he wanted to join the other kids playing in the water. Rob continued to scan the approach road sorely tempted to call Nat to ask where he was, but silence was important. He had no idea how secure, or otherwise the mobile hotspot would be and the last thing they wanted was for a call or text to be intercepted!
When they arrived it was obvious – two shiny black jeeps with darkened windows that didn’t stop where the other cars were parked. Instead, as per Rob’s instructions, they followed a rough track that crossed the river, bouncing, splashing and sliding all the way, Rob’s heart thumping in anticipation as he watched. He checked his gun and got ready to move. The performance had drawn a crowd of curious onlookers from the families enjoying the waterfalls. Just what we don’t need, Rob thought bitterly.
The two Jeeps parked side-by-side on a patch of dusty earth at the river’s edge, the damp trails left by the wheels quickly being absorbed into the ground. Two swarthy Mexicans carrying machine guns climbed out and looked about them before giving the thumbs-up, at which point Nat stepped from one car, also carrying a machine gun.
“Okay, let’s go!” Rob announced, pressing send on a pre-prepared text. Nat lifted his own phone, glanced at the screen and nodded, but did not reply. Instead, he kept scanning the surrounding area.
A few minutes later Rob, Freja and Alvaro emerged from the trees and started to cross to where the cars waited. On seeing them, Nat waved a hurry-up signal, he and his partners were clearly nervous. While Alvaro was bundled into one of the waiting cars, Rob dumped their camping gear on the ground behind the vehicles. “Freja, call out to everyone opposite that they can have this if they want.”
Then they all hurriedly jumped into the cars. As the doors slammed a fusillade of bullets started pinging off the sides of their cars as a convoy of four Jeeps came up the road driving fast. Freja and Alvaro screamed as Nat yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”
