Dark Clouds (34 page)

‘Because I’m on my way home ... my shift’s over, all right?’

OK. There’s a chirpy Chinese accountant on the cab radio. He’s giving advice about how to save money by growing your own vegetables. I like the idea, and I let it all roll over me as we zip through the relatively traffic free streets.

‘
Another good way of beating the credit crunch
,’ the radio guru says, ‘
is to make your own wine and beer ... first of all, for the beer, you’ll need a large plastic container ...
’

I’m nodding off when we reach Park Lane, and the cabbie’s suddenly coming up with a lot of friendly guff about tourists. ‘We don’t see too many Americans now, guv ... and it’s a shame, because in my view you folk really appreciate what we’ve got here in old blighty ... don’t you think?’

He wants to cover his tip, but when he tells me how much he’s charging, I just give him the right amount and walk quickly towards the hotel.

‘Morning, sir!’ a beaming porter says. I need a shave, but I’ve got just enough confidence to ‘
morning
’ him back and walk straight through to reception.

‘Hi,’ I say to the guy on the desk. ‘I’ve come to see Carla Hirsch.’

‘Yes, of course, sir.’ He’s glancing at a clock on the wall –
’a little early, don’t you think, even for a breakfast meeting
.’ ‘I’ll call her.’

‘That’s OK – I’ll just go straight up.’

‘But sir ...’

I’ve got fifty English in my hand. ‘I’ll tell you what ... I’ll go up and you can call her. Say I’m on my way ... OK.’

‘She’s in 403, sir.’

Great. Looks like it’s close to the top. There’s no one about, but when I get to the eighteenth floor, I’m cautious. It’s somewhere on the right hand side, and as I get close a door opens.

‘You’re the fuckin’ arse hole I spoke with on the phone, aren’t you?’

The woman’s in her late thirties, early forties. She’s wearing a Japanese silk robe, and she’s formidable.

‘Is Carla here?’ I ask politely

‘It’s none of your fuckin’ business, right!’

There’s something about the pupils of her eyes that’s unusual. Heroin and cocaine can do strange things to people, so I’ve got to be firm.

‘If you don’t get her out now, I’m calling the police ... you got that?’

The woman’s fists are clenching and there’s saliva edging out of her mouth when my nominal Controller from US Homeland Security sways out and says, ‘It’s all right ... I know him.’

She’s wearing a hotel towel that covers her breasts and upper legs. Her normally perky hair spikes are flat on her head and her eye pupils are also dilated.

‘Go to the lounge upstairs, Rudi – I’ll see you there,’ and then to her companion, ‘come on, Julie ... it’s OK.’

I don’t think it is. Julie wants to punch me, so I step back. ‘It’s important,’ I tell Carla, and when I’m sure she’s got the message, I turn and walk back along the carpeted corridor. I’m trying not to think too much about what I’ve just seen. The only reassuring element is that we can all be fallible. I can remember a priest at high school saying, ‘
one has to keep an open mind on everything, Rudi ... we can all fall by the wayside. But if we repent, we’ll be forgiven.
’ In Carla’s case, there’s maybe a tendency on my part towards hubris, which I’m trying to check. There’s no point in being
holier than thou
.

‘Coffee, sir ... and would you like yesterday’s
New York Times
?’ a waiter asks on the top floor lounge. There’s a great view over Hyde Park and I’m the only one around.

‘Excellent, thank you – ’

‘And will you have breakfast to follow?

‘Not just yet ... maybe later.’

‘And to which room shall I charge the coffee, sir?’

‘Put it down to 403, please ... I’m waiting for Miss Hirsch.’

It’s fifteen minutes before she appears. Her hair spikes are almost straight. She’s wearing a neat suit, shirt and heels, but her eye pupils are still out of sync.

‘This had better be good,’ she says, avoiding eye contact.

Is it heroin, cocaine or crack, I’m wondering? And who is Julie?

‘Black coffee,’ she tells the waiter, ‘and could we have a pot.’

‘I think it’s going to be nuclear waste,’ I say when I’m sure she’s listening.

‘How do you know?’

It’s a simple story. They go right through the centre of London – sometimes two or three nights in a row, according to Ingrid. All Pele Kalim or his associates would have to do is hijack one of them, wire it up with explosives and bang! Mission accomplished.

‘It ties in with what Khalad was saying. There’s no point in blowing up a passenger train. Unless you target every carriage, the initial death toll would almost certainly be less than a hundred. But if nuclear waste had a plutonium element and it showered out all over London ... wow!

‘And you got all of this in your girl friend’s apartment?’ Carla asks.

More of a studio, I’d say. But I think she’s interested.

‘Also ... Pele Kalim was friendly with a Kashmiri scientist called Khan, who worked at Sellafield for a while.’

I can see she’s struggling. So I start the train at the nuclear power station in Kent. I take it through the most densely populated part of London and then onto the remote reprocessing facility at Sellafield in Cumbria.

‘Where did you get the stuff about Khan?’

‘From Sulima Sharif.’

She’s finished one cup of coffee and is pouring herself another.

‘That woman is still our best bet,’ she says. ‘I want you to find out where she is ... we need to be there when Kalim contacts her.’

‘No – ’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I don’t know where she is, and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.’

‘Listen ... you fucking asshole – ’

‘
Don’t you dare lecture me, you crackhead
,’ is what I want to say, but I hold back and after a while we connect.

‘I’m sorry, Rudi ... the strain’s getting to me ... I need to ask a favour.’

You don’t kick someone when they’re down, so I listen.

‘Julie’s a hard case,’ she says. ‘We met on the street – and yes, we had a lot of stuff last night. I’m sure my father, god rest his soul, wouldn’t approve, but I’m trying to do something to stop what happened to him, or worse, from being repeated ... can you see this?’

I do, and in a weird sort of way, I respect her position. She’s been under a lot of pressure and whatever she does in her free time – well, who am I to throw stones at anyone? It’s none of my business, although I am giving the odd prurient glance towards the door just to check that Carla’s friend isn’t watching from the corridor.

‘OK ... I’m feeling more together,’ she says when she’s finished a second coffee. ‘What are we going to do?’

Forget about Sulima. If Pele contacts her, she will do whatever she can to dissuade him on the nuclear front. ‘But let’s work on the waste train option,’ I suggest. ‘If we can narrow it down a bit, we may be able to work out which shipments are most at risk. We can then target the trains.’

‘Do you enjoy your work as a journalist, Rudi?’

I’m not sure what’s coming here, so I say I have done for a while. But it’s palling a bit now and I’m hoping to try something different.

‘I’m sure we could find an opening for you in Homeland Security.’

I don’t think she’s joking, so I’m shaking my head.

I want to write a book about Fenian dreamers,’ I tell her, ‘and I’m hoping to do it on a Greek island.

I never thought I’d see it happen, but Carla Hirsch is smiling at me. She’s almost maternal. If it wasn’t for Julie with her poppy seeds or whatever, I might have been tempted to grin back.

‘I’ll tell you what we’ll do,’ she says when she’s come through her emotional moment. ‘I’ll call Earl, and we’ll see where we go from there. It’s tricky, but the Brits will have to decide what they want to do on this ... I’m just on secondment here, Rudi.’

I feel I’m experiencing a very different Carla Hirsch. She seems almost human, but I’m still partially on guard. I watch her call Earl, and when she connects, she gets up and walks over to the huge windows that look out over Hyde Park on one side and Buckingham Palace on the other. She’s there for a while, but when she returns, she’s looking brighter.

‘He’s going to consult with his people at M15. Apparently, there’s a meeting of the Joint Intelligence Committee later this morning. ‘He wants me to speak to them about where we’ve got to so far.’

‘Fine – ’

‘Maybe – because we need more resources. Only I believe it would help if you also talked to these guys, Rudi.’

I suspect the opiates have got to her. An A+ all the way through Vassar and Harvard brain has clearly been screwed up with illegal substances and dubious after hours company.  But she’s serious.

‘You could start with your visit to Sharif and his sister in Geneva and the Pele connection. You might also like to mention the intimations you had from Rashid Kumar before he died ... and Khalad – ’

‘Is he OK?’

‘Yes ... and there’s still a deal on offer if he wants to take it.’

‘But what the Brits have to do is stop the waste trains.’

‘And they will,’ Carla says. ‘But I want you to talk with the decision makers.’

I’ll need a drink. Only Earl’s on his way in from St Albans, so Carla suggests we move to a table by one of the large windows for breakfast.

‘There’s not much point in having a special relationship with the English,’ she says, ‘unless we can make an impact, Rudi.’

Already, I’m thinking of Roosevelt and Churchill. ‘
Together we beat the god-damned Germans. So come on, Osama, get out of your wretched cave, man ... and waiter, could I have a large whisky with my scrambled eggs, please
.’

*  *  *  *  *

I have a briefing with Earl at the Ministry of Defence shortly before I’m called to address members of Her Majesty’s Joint Intelligence Committee.

‘These people are very understated,’ he tells me. ‘It’s how it is here ... as I’m sure you will have gathered.’

I think I’m getting along rather well with all of the stiff upper lip stuff, but Earl has a point to make.

‘Mr McCarthy from the Home Office is with the Committee at the moment. He will have told them about Carla and yourself, and what you’ve already achieved for us. I think they accept that there is a nuclear threat, but they’re undecided about what exactly it is ... at least on the basis of the evidence we’ve produced. Do you have a view on this?’

I like Earl. Maybe one day if I’m passing through Tobago, I might drop by at the Connors holiday villa and have a rum as the sun sets.

‘I believe they’re going to try and hit a waste train,’ I say. ‘The only other option is a dirty bomb in a suitcase. They’ve got the expertise to do this, but ... ’

Earl’s coughing when a large guy approaches and I can see Carla Hirsch coming through the military guard checking procedure at the Defence Ministry entrance.

‘Mr McCarthy, sir,’ Earl says respectfully as the large guy and Carla join us. ‘You’ve already met Miss Hirsch from US Homeland Security ... and this is Rudi Flynn.’

He gives Carla a smirky smile and shoves out a huge hand for me to shake.

‘I’ve been hearing about you, Rudi, and how you got a picture of that fellah Kalim ... we do appreciate the help you’ve been giving us and I think it would be helpful if you could give our Committee an indication of how you see the present situation.’

I think he’s the Minister for police and security services. He’s carrying a lot of excess weight and I can smell cigarette smoke on his clothes as he pumps my hand up and down.

‘I’d be privileged to do so, sir,’ I tell him and I think I’m getting a slow wink from Carla.  ‘
We yanks must stick together
,’ it says.

I follow on behind as Minister McCarthy leads us all to the conference room where the Committee are taking a break for tea and biscuits. I can see a general, a police commissioner and an admiral in uniform. The rest are in suits and I assume they’re all from one or other of Her Majesty’s various intelligence or security services.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the Minister says when they’ve returned to their seats. ‘In recent times we have had generous and helpful co-operation in our fight against terrorism from our friends and allies in the United States. Many of you have already met Carla Hirsch who’s presently on secondment with us from US Homeland Security. It’s a welcome alliance ... and Rudi Flynn, who’s here with us today is another valued member of the American team presently operating with us here in the United Kingdom.’

I’m taking in one of two attractive women amongst the security service delegates.  She’s got shiny dark hair and as I grin at the Committee members, she’s giving me a cool but welcoming smile.

‘Rudi’s going to present us with a few pointers shortly,’ the Minister says, but before he does, I feel it’s appropriate to tell you that he and Miss Hirsch share a painful memory ... ’

I wish the guy would shut up, but he’s caught the interest of the Committee members.

‘They both lost loved ones in the appalling tragedy we now refer to as 9/11 ... Rudi ... ’

I’m getting applause from delegates as I move to address them from one end of a long conference table. I can see that Carla’s eyes are moist. The situation is serious – so I make a start. 

‘I took a picture the other day of Pele Kalim in King’s Cross,’ I tell them. ‘Shortly afterwards, he threw a hand grenade into a crowd of Nationalist supporters. Twenty died and many more were injured. The same person, almost single handed, initiated a riot in Brixton last week where Muslim Asians appeared to be inciting Afro-Caribbeans to loot and burn the whole neighbourhood. We have indications from Muslim sources that a nuclear incident is being planned for London. One of these people has suggested there will be an explosion involving a train. My own feeling, having spoken to a woman who has close personal links with Pele Kalim, is that he will be the perpetrator ... and I think that takes us pretty well to where we are just now ... ’

I don’t really have anything else to say, but the Minister is keen to encourage questions from Committee members.