The Disappeared (52 page)

From
the crummy depths of her handbag she fished out the two Xanax tablets covered
in fluff and grime which she'd kept - pretending to herself they weren't there
- for dire emergencies. She swallowed them both and waited a clear two minutes
for them to hit her system before summoning Pironi. Alison traipsed in behind
him. Jenny was beyond objecting. No breach of protocol could make the situation
any more absurd.

Jenny
glared at him. 'Well?'

'I've
no idea, Mrs Cooper,' he said, deadpan. 'What just happened in there was
nothing to do with me. I think you can pin that one on MI5. And what I've got
to tell you is nothing to do with them. Not yet.'

Jenny
pressed her hands to her aching head. 'What are you talking about?'

'About
an hour ago I had a call from Mr McAvoy ... He claims to have found the remains
of Nazim Jamal and Rafi Hassan. He's given a location in north Herefordshire.'
Pironi swallowed. 'And to quote him, he said, "
That black-hearted
bastard Tathum held onto it until his last God-forsaken breath
."'

Pironi
called Jenny with the news about Tathum as she and Alison hiked up a steep
muddy track. It was located over a mile from the nearest road through a
plantation of dense, oppressive pines. His body had been found in an
outbuilding at his farm with holes the size of pudding bowls in both his thighs
where the shotgun blasts had ripped away the flesh. One side of his face was
staved in and his right arm was broken in several places. The weapon was found
outside in the yard. McAvoy was being hunted on suspicion of murder. Jenny
could think of nothing to say and rang off with a muted, 'Thank you.'

They
arrived at the tiny clearing which had been formed by several fallen trees.
Jenny and Alison watched in silence as two scene of crime officers gently
brushed away the earth to reveal the heel of a shoe, a white shin bone, shreds
of semi-decomposed clothing, a wristwatch around a wrist hone. As more soil was
removed, the pelvis of a second body gradually emerged, also laid face down.
Vertebra by vertebra, the painstaking work uncovered the spine and finally the
curve of the skull.

'Jesus
Christ,' the sergeant said under his breath, 'look at this.' He pointed a
gloved finger at the base of the skull, just above the junction with the spine.

Jenny
stooped forward in the fading light to see a neat, round entry wound.

'At
least it would have been quick,' Alison said without conviction.

The
moment of dispatch might have been, but the preamble would have been
protracted. It was a ninety-minute drive from Bristol and a long, lonely trek
up the hill to the place of execution.

Something
stirred in Jenny: a bitter sense of satisfaction that Tathum had suffered as
much, if not more, than his victims. She was glad for what McAvoy had done. She
pictured him standing outside the village hall on the very first day of her
inquest, his hair tossed in the wind, the lines he had recited:

'Oh,
I could kneel all night in prayer, To heal your many ills . . . My Dark
Rosaleen.'

She
would see him again. She had to.

It
was Friday morning. Gillian Golder and Simon More- ton sat alongside Alun Rhys
at the reconvened secret inquest. They had come to ensure that the deal stuck.
Only after lengthy and ill-tempered negotiations and having secured the
personal approval of Mr Jamal and the Hassans, had Jenny grudgingly agreed to
the terms: there would be no mention of Anna Rose Crosby or the ongoing
investigation surrounding her; neither would there be any mention of Mrs Jamal
or the continuing police inquiry into her suspected murder; and finally, as Dr
Sarah Levin was in protective custody while she assisted the Security Services
with their inquiries, her evidence was to be delivered by way of a statement to
be read aloud to the jury. In return Golder had agreed that at the conclusion
of the inquest Jenny would be fully briefed on why the secrecy measures had
been necessary, and on what had become of Alec McAvoy.

Dr
Andy Kerr produced detailed photographs of two complete skeletons, copies of
which were shown to the horrified jury. He stated that DNA tests and dental
records had confirmed that the remains were those of Nazim Jamal and Rafi
Hassan. Both young men had met their deaths in a similar fashion: they had been
shot through the base of the skull with a single nine-millimetre bullet. Each
had an identical three-inch diameter exit wound on his forehead.

A
ballistics expert, Dr Keith Dallas, confirmed that the same firearm had been
used to kill both men. Two spent Corbon 115 gram DPX rounds had been recovered
from the area near the bodies. These were hollow-tipped bullets designed to
expand on impact: Nazim and Rafi's brains would have been quite literally blown
out of their skulls.

Neither
Denton nor Havilland asked any questions of these witnesses, leaving Collins
and Khan to extract every last gruesome detail. When there were no more
physical horrors left to be exposed, Alison read Sarah Levin's statement to the
jury.

I
am Dr Sarah Elizabeth Levin of 18C Ashwell Road, Bristol. This statement is
true to the best of my knowledge and belief and I make it knowing that if it is
tendered in evidence I shall be liable to prosecution if I have wilfully stated
in it anything I know to be false or do not believe to be true.

In
October 2001 I was a first-year undergraduate student at Bristol university
studying physics. Towards the end of that month I was attending a faculty
drinks party when I was approached by an American man who introduced himself as
Henry Silverman. Silverman said he was a Professor of Chemistry carrying out
confidential research for an Anglo-American defence company. I would estimate
he was in his early to mid- forties at the time. He was polite and charming and
I was flattered by his attention.

Several
days later Silverman telephoned me to ask if I could meet him to discuss a
'professional matter'. He said my head of department, Professor Rhydian
Brightman, had given him my number. I met him on a Friday evening after
lectures in a cafe near Goldney Hall, where I was living at the time. It was
during this meeting that he told me he was also helping to collect intelligence
for the American government on British Muslim students suspected of being
engaged in extremist activity. He said he was looking for a 'bright young
woman' to work with, and that his employers could help me a great deal. He claimed
to have helped other students gain scholarships to top American universities
and said he could do the same for me. At that time my education was being
funded through loans and I was tempted by the prospect of being able to pay off
my debts and study abroad. I told Silverman I would think about it, and met him
on one further occasion - at the Hotel du Vin restaurant in central Bristol -
before agreeing to work for him.

During
our third meeting, this time at a cafe in Whiteladies Road, he told me that he
wanted me to pay special attention to Nazim Jamal, one of the students in my
year group. He said that Nazim was involved with an organization called Hizb
ut-Tahrir and that, along with other students, he was attending a radical
mosque. I was told their mullah was a man named Sayeed Faruq, who was suspected
of being a recruiting agent for terrorist groups. Silverman claimed that emails
had been intercepted in which Nazim and a close friend of his - a law student
by the name of Rafi Hassan - had discussed ways of 'bringing off a British
9/11'. He admitted that it might just have been a case of young men
fantasizing, but emphasized that they both exactly fitted the profile of those
al-Qaeda was known to be recruiting. When I asked Silverman why he thought I
could get close to Nazim, he replied that he liked to look at pretty blonde
girls on the internet. I told Silverman right then that I had no intention of
prostituting myself, but he assured me that wasn't what he was asking of me - I
was just to try to talk to and befriend him. He offered me £500 in cash and
promised there would be more payments as and when I came up with information.

Getting
close to Nazim proved easier than I had anticipated. I teamed up with him
during a practical exercise in the lab and struck up a rapport. He wasn't at
all how I had expected. He'd been to a good school and it turned out that we
had many interests in common. During the following weeks we worked a lot
together and became genuinely fond of each other, although Nazim was
uncomfortable about being seen with me in public. During the last week of term,
at the beginning of December 2001, he invited me back to his room and we ended
up spending the night together.

We
kept in touch during the vacation and our relationship continued into the
following term. By this time I had become extremely attached to Nazim and had
almost allowed myself to forget how the relationship had started. But Silverman
began calling me in January and pressing me for information. Over the course of
the spring term Nazim and I became closer. We spent several nights a week
together, although he was very conflicted over this and would get up to pray at
dawn, even when I was in the room. He didn't talk much to me about religion or
politics, but I could see from the books he read and by checking the sites he
visited on the internet that he had become very committed to the Islamist
cause. Several times I overheard him talking to Asian friends about Israel and
Palestine and the war in Afghanistan. On the few occasions I tried to speak to
him about his beliefs, he would invariably change the subject and say that it
was irrelevant or that I wouldn't be interested. Increasingly, I got the
feeling that he had two lives: one he shared with me, the other with his Asian
friends, and he never allowed them to cross. As a result I didn't have much to
tell Silverman, who became frustrated by my lack of progress. He started
phoning me most days, suggesting ways I could ask more questions. He even said
I should talk to Nazim about converting to Islam.

I
was growing increasingly uncomfortable with the situation, and quite frankly I
was looking for a way out when, at the very end of term Nazim announced that he
wanted to end our relationship. He wouldn't give any reasons, but he was
visibly upset. I remember thinking that it was almost as if he'd been found out
and had been ordered to stay away from me.

I
told Silverman what had happened and he was furious. He said he had other
information that Nazim and several friends had been discussing an attack on one
of the four nuclear power stations along the Severn estuary. They'd been
followed one weekend driving to Hinkley Point, then on to Maybury. He ordered
me not to take no for an answer. By this time I was really frightened of him and
had no one to turn to for help.

At
the start of the summer term I tried to get back with Nazim, but he became
hostile towards me, telling me to stay away from him. Silverman responded by
giving me several miniature listening devices and told me I had to hide them
in Nazim's room. That was the one time I did prostitute myself. I went to see
him late in the evening and begged him to let me in. We spent the night
together, but he made me swear not to tell anyone. The next morning he was in
tears: he'd missed his dawn prayers and he blamed me. He said I was a whore and
had been sent by the devil to tempt him. He was very emotional and left the
room while I got dressed. I was angry with him and disgusted with myself. I
locked the door and searched though his papers. I found a pad on which he'd
taken down notes at one of his religious meetings and discovered that at the
back of it he'd written a list of times and places. I remember the first entry:
it was Avonmouth fuel depot. I photographed the page with a miniature digital
camera Silverman had given me.

He
was delighted with the list and said it was evidence that Nazim and his friends
were planning to hijack a fuel tanker and crash it into one of the four power
stations. He even speculated that they were planning multiple hijacks and
hoping to blow a hole in the side of a reactor. He wanted to know more. I told
him the relationship had broken down, but he insisted I get as close to Nazim
as I could. No detail was too small - changes in mood, the slightest alteration
in appearance - he wanted to know everything.

I
did what I was asked. Throughout June I contacted Silverman nearly every day.
I observed Nazim become increasingly distracted and withdrawn. He missed
lectures and classes. He wouldn't speak to me or any of the other students. I
became concerned and asked Silverman what was going to happen to Nazim. He
wouldn't answer. He just told me to keep reporting.

By
mid-June I had convinced myself that Nazim was genuinely involved in a
terrorist conspiracy. Then something happened to change my mind. Out of the
blue he stopped me in the corridor - I think it was on the 24th - and said that
he was sorry he had behaved so badly towards me. His mood had completely
altered: it was the first time I'd seen him smile in weeks. I asked if he was
OK. He said he was fine. He touched my hand and then walked away. We never
spoke again.

On
Saturday 29 June 2002 Silverman phoned and arranged to pick me up outside
Goldney Hall. He drove me up to Bristol Downs and handed me an envelope
containing £5,000. He told me that Nazim and Rafi Hassan had been arrested - he
didn't say by whom - and that I wasn't to say a word to anyone. He didn't make
any specific threats, but he didn't need to: his manner told me everything I
needed to know.