“Mobilise the armed forces with all our chemical warfare equipment,” the Secretary for Defence suggested.
“But their presence will cause panic,” protested the Home Secretary.
“Not if it is presented as an exercise,” the Prime Minister, said, wading into the debate once more. “They should be mobilised tomorrow.”
The discussion continued for a number of hours in the windowless room surrounded by note-takers recording every word.
40
The Head of Security at Fawley Oil Refinery near Southampton was a distinctly worried man as he walked back to his office from the nearby coffee point. He had been left stunned following Laura’s call. He had immediately called for a meeting of the refinery’s Crisis Management Committee, or CMC. However, he needed a strong coffee first.
“You okay, Don?” a familiar and friendly voice asked. “It looks like you’re carrying the whole world on your shoulders!”
Don looked round to see Cameron emerging from a side corridor. “I am!” he replied, despairingly. “I’ve had to call a meeting for the CMC.”
The two men knew each other well from playing football together and living just a few streets apart. On hearing this Cameron gave Don a puzzled look, enquiring “What’s up? You normally take such matters in your stride.”
Don guided Cameron to one side to ensure they couldn’t be overheard. “This time it’s for real! You mustn’t say anything, the CMC needs to decide what to do first and agree the plan of action with other refineries and the authorities. The thing is, there’s intelligence suggesting that refineries and other locations could be subjected to a chemical attack!”
“Oh, bloody hell!” Cameron exclaimed, turning pale.
“Yes, that was my reaction as well. It appears that toxic chemicals have been smuggled into this country, including near to here.”
Cameron had now turned very pale and leaned against the wall for support, attracting a concerned look from Don. “Are you okay?”
Shaking his head, Cameron barely whispered “I’m not sure. I think we need to talk.”
Don, his mental alarms ringing, guided Cameron to his office. As soon as the door was closed, Cameron, seated in front of Don’s enormous desk laden with an array of security monitoring equipment, divulged all he had been doing in a quivering, spluttering voice.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Don filled the eventual silence, “You crazy, bloody idiot! You of all people Cam! Money and sex are never worth it! How often have we discussed that with the guys?”
“I know. I’m sorry,” Cameron stuttered, looking at the floor.
“Save your apologies! Do you know who else is involved at which other refineries?”
“All I know is that there are a number of refineries involved across Britain and Europe. I knew one name, but he’s dead.”
“Stay here!” Don stipulated, standing up and heading for the door, which he locked on his way out. Having asked a colleague to keep an eye on Cameron, Don left for another meeting room.
* * *
While Cameron was pouring his heart out to Don, Gurning, Laura, Rob and David were sitting around the meeting table in Gurning’s office having received Nat’s message.
“I agree with Nat; Kamal’s words are chilling – what did he mean by saying it’s already started? There haven’t been any reports of anything untoward, either here or in Europe,” David was saying.
“Could they be a dying man’s delusional dreams, or threats?” Rob asked hopefully.
“An optimistic thought,” Gurning remarked, “But sadly, I suspect not. I trust Nat’s instincts as to a dying man’s reactions – particularly if he was able to then attack Tugra!”
“Which suggests that either something is imminent, or we’ve got it completely wrong!” suggested David.
“So what do we do?” Laura questioned. “We can’t just sit around! What lines of enquiry remain open for us? There has to…” she broke off when her mobile phone rang. Looking at the display, she frowned, recognising the number. “Excuse me, I may have to take this… Hello?”
The others waited in polite silence, watching her for signs of how important the call could be. Laura’s expression and next words were sufficient answer: “Don, sorry to interrupt, I would like to call you straight back from a conference phone. I’m currently discussing this matter and it will be good for everyone to hear.”
Laura hung up and while she used Gurning’s conference phone to call Don back, she explained. “Don is the head of security at Fawley. An employee has just divulged some critical information about unscheduled, unrecorded chemicals getting on-site. Everyone’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Hello? Is that Laura?”
“Don, hi. Yes, hello again.”
“So…”
“Don,” Laura jumped in quickly. “I’m with some colleagues, all of whom are working on this threat.” As Laura as speaking, she winked at Rob, knowing full well that he wasn’t an MI5 operative and would appreciate being referred to as a colleague. “I’ve given them an outline, but we would all like to hear exactly what the situation is at Fawley, particularly if there have been any casualties.”
“Absolutely no casualties. As far as I’m aware, there has been no incident … Yet.”
“That, at least, is something,” Gurning said. “Don, my name is Steven Gurning, Laura’s boss. What else do you have?”
Don took a deep breath, “A colleague, Cameron Robinson, has just informed me that he has been assisting an organisation called ‘Clean Emissions For All’ to smuggle chemicals on to site for a number of months.”
“Don, sorry to interrupt, but what role does Cameron hold to be able to do this? And what happens to the chemicals?” Laura asked.
“He’s Head of Logistics, so he controls the movement of everything that comes and goes. And when I say everything, I mean everything, from loo rolls to materials used in the refining process, plus all deliveries leaving the plant.”
“Okay, so that explains how the chemicals got in. As to the why, he sounds too senior not to know better?”
“Well, he’s admitted to bribery having been caught in a honey-trap and blackmailed as a result of some very explicit photographs.”
