Sleeper Cell (13 page)

Leila was woken by a tap on the window above her head. She’d arrived back at Scotland Yard at 5.50am and had taken the opportunity for an hour’s shut-eye in the passenger seat of her Peugeot.

Another tap.

‘DS Reid,’ a voice said. She turned her head stiffly and looked up into the face of DC Steve Jones. He was holding a paper cup of coffee. Reid wound the window down.

‘Thought you might need a liquid refresh,’ Jones said, handing the coffee to her. ‘DCI Lawrence is coming in at eight.’

‘Thanks,’ she said.

Leila took the plastic lid off the cup and threw it behind the seat. Jones was a man who knew how to further his career in CTC. In the office she always took her coffee black, no sugar. Breakfast was the exception: cappuccino, plenty of froth and a couple of sachets of demerara. She took a sip. Jones would go a long way with attention to detail like this.

She drained the last of the coffee as she walked down the corridor to Commander Thorne’s office. There were already a dozen officers milling around, and plenty more in the other offices she had passed on the way. She couldn’t wait another hour for Lawrence to arrive.

She tapped on the Thorne’s door and went in before he could stop her.

‘DS Reid, I didn’t expect to see you here,’ he said. ‘I thought you’d phoned all your intel in last night. Is there a problem?’

‘I’m hoping you can tell me. Have we found Phillip Shaw yet?’ she said. She sat down opposite her boss, again before he had chance to tell her not to.

‘Shaw?’ He spread the files on his desk. ‘The second shooting…’

‘Double assassination in Broadwater Farm last night. I said we needed to find him as a matter of priority.’

‘It’s… in the system. We’re stretched thin on leads that are going nowhere.’

‘Well this one isn’t going nowhere. We need to get Shaw out of the system and into action.’

‘You think he’s something to do with this?’ He opened the file and scanned the first page of the report that Inspector Davis had copied through to CTC.

‘Yes, I think he’s something to do with this,’ Leila said. ‘His family wouldn’t have been killed if he wasn’t.’

‘But what’s the connection? They’re black, they’re not Muslim, they’ve no political affiliations. They’re just ordinary people.’

‘All terrorist operatives are just ordinary people. That’s how they do what they do.’

‘You think the Shaw boy’s part of the cell?’

‘No, I don’t. I’m just saying his ordinariness doesn’t mean anything. He’s not a terrorist, but I think he knows about them. I think he found something and someone needed to make sure he didn’t tell us about it. We need to get to him before they do.’

‘OK. I’ll get the Gang Unit onto it. They’re our best chance at Broadwater.’

‘Let me know when they find him.’

‘Your shift ended about six hours ago, DS Reid. You’ve done what DCI Lawrence asked you to do. I don’t remember recalling you for today’s shift.’

‘My shift doesn’t end until this does. We’re closing in and I need to be here. So, where are we with the bomber?’

‘Remember who you’re talking to, DS Reid.’

‘My apologies, Sir. Can you tell me if we got anything from Jaafar’s safe?’

Thorne sighed deeply.

‘His tip-off was good,’ he said. ‘Ghada Abulafia kept her passport and a small amount of cash with him, along with a bank deposit book with a balance of two hundred and eighty pounds.’

‘What do we know of her?’ Leila said.

‘Immigration have confirmed she was a Palestinian national who came here with her father, Ibrahim Abulafia, in January 1988, age thirteen, claiming refugee status. She became a naturalised British citizen in 1990 and lived with him until 2006, working agency shifts for various hospitals as an orderly. She had an address in Wembley for six months, then left when the tenancy was up for renewal. After that, we’ve got nothing. She went dark.’

‘For nine years?’

‘Jaafar has confirmed that she spent some time at the Vallance Road flat in the last year, but was not a permanent resident. We’ve got nothing else yet. The murdered women may have known more, but Jaafar himself had hardly spoken to Abulafia.’

‘OK, so they came here early 1988. That’s the beginning of the first intifada,’ Leila said. ‘Where did they come from?’

‘Silwan in East Jerusalem. It would account for the level of politicization.’

‘Except Ibrahim emigrated. Hardly the actions of a highly politicized man. Plus they were legal: background checks would have thrown anything up when they were naturalised.’

‘The father’s background is murky.’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Just that. It’s a sealed file. SIS deny any knowledge of him, but it’s possible he was an informant. Either way, he’s been a model citizen since he arrived here.’

‘Are we giving any more credence to al Sahm in this?’

‘It’s a working title. SIS are reporting anything they’ve brought in on the ground overnight at the eight o’clock briefing. I’m assuming you won’t be there.’

Leila looked at him but he gave nothing away. She wasn’t sure whether that was an order or just an acknowledgment that she was working to her own timetable. Not that she cared either way. She had no intention of being at the briefing.

‘So what are we doing with the father?’ she said.

‘His flat in Ealing’s under surveillance. He’s a cleaner for London Underground. His shift starts at eight. There’s nothing in his record to suggest he knew anything about this, so for now we’re just watching him.’

‘Why not bring him in?’

‘If he is operational, he’ll clam up or give us deliberate false leads. Watching him is far more useful right now. Whether he just clocks on for work as normal or tries to make contact with anyone else, we’ll be there. We can pick him up if necessary.’

‘Come on. You can’t kid a kidder. If this was anyone else, you’d have him in the cells by now. SIS are doing more than denying him, aren’t they?’

‘They assure us he’s not involved. If we want any more than that, we’ll need a warrant from the Home Secretary. My guess is even then they’d delay us until next Christmas.’

‘So he was an informant. How interesting.’

Thorne shrugged. ‘We’re strictly hands off. Of course, if he was ever working for SIS, it makes it highly unlikely he’d be involved in this.’

‘I agree. Even if they screwed him over, this would be way out of proportion. Send his address to my cell. I want to go and check out the flat.’

‘You might think you’re still on duty, but I’m telling you, you need to take a break. And I expressly stated that I don’t want you hands-on with anything sensitive. You’re acting as a consultant for now, nothing more. Dyson and Page are on the ground at the flat. They’ll go in when he leaves.’

‘Dyson and Page’ll go through there like a couple of elephants,’ Leila said. ‘Right now, we don’t want to spook him. If you’re right and he’s an ex-informant, he’ll be hyper-aware of being watched. Get them to tail him. You don’t want me anywhere near suspects, so I’ll make sure I don’t see him when I go in.’

‘You are unbelievable.’

‘But I’m what you need right now. Sir. Let me take a look at the flat. He’ll never know I was there. I can get a handle on him if I can see where and how he lives. He’s the only live link we’ve got back to al Sahm, and even that’s tenuous.’

‘What makes you think there’s anything worth finding there? Surely if he knew anything he would have been targetted by the assassin too?’

‘He may be on their list. Or it may be that they daren’t risk taking him out because it would lead us to look into his family. They don’t know we’ve identified Ghada yet.’

‘Or more likely SIS are telling the truth and he knows nothing at all.’

‘Maybe not, but there are two reasons why it’s worth me taking a look. Firstly, you say there’s two hundred and eighty pounds in Ghada’s bank account. That’s a decent float to keep you alive day to day, but not to run an operational cell. There’s more money somewhere. Secondly, what did the passport tell you?’

‘Nothing. It had never been used.’

‘That’s what I thought. She has it so she’s got ID. But she’s travelling on another one. There’s probably a whole other identity.’

‘And you think it’ll be at the father’s place?’

‘It’s a long shot, but it’s the only shot we’ve got. Send a copy of her passport photo and details to my phone so I’ve got a point of reference. We need to move fast on this.’

‘You still think they’re going to strike again?’

‘I’ve no evidence for it, but I’m sure they’re planning to. They haven’t done it yet, so they’re waiting for something, something significant. We’re less than four and a half hours to the time the first bomb went off yesterday. If they are going to strike again, that would be a symbolically powerful time to do it.’ She stood to leave.

‘And please,’ she said, ‘get Trident to find Phillip Shaw. He might just be able to tell us who al Sahm is, and what they’re planning to do next.’

Raha Golzar woke in her cell in Low Newton Prison at six, exactly as she always did. At eight she ate breakfast, showered, then returned to her room. Same as always. She waited, but this time she knew what she was waiting for. If she was being moved, the unit’s Clinical Director, Dr Penhalligan, was going to have to sign off on the transfer.

He arrived a little before nine.

‘Good morning, Raha,’ he said from the door.

‘Good morning,’ she said.

‘Are you well?’

‘Fine.’

‘Taken your medication this morning?’

She looked up at him. ‘I’m not medicated. I’m on anti-allergy drugs for my… challenged immune system, not anti-psychotics.’

‘Your file says you’re a paranoid schizophrenic,’ he said with just a hint of a smile. Golzar just looked at him.

‘Still not talking?’ he said. ‘Raha, I know you’re not a schizophrenic. I know you shouldn’t be here. I know Thorazine made you shake like an old man and flaked your skin quicker than the lupus. But I’d rather sign you off with a clear conscience than throw you into general population with the slightest doubt that you still need our help. So talk to me.’

‘Do you know anything about my transfer?’

‘Enough. Please, come down to my office and we’ll have a chat.’

Golzar followed the doctor to a small, softly furnished office. None of the nurses paid her any attention. Never in fifteen months had she been violent or even disrespectful. They had even less idea why she was there than she did.

‘Please, take a seat,’ Penhalligan said. ‘As you know, we’ve had a request from the CPS to transfer you to Holloway. You’re to be rearrested, but your papers have already been marked restricted, meaning the exact reason is classified. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more than that. Hopefully your lawyer will be given a bit more courtesy than we are.’

‘They think I’m a terrorist,’ Golzar said. ‘All very hush-hush.’ She smiled.

‘Indeed. And that’s why I just want to go over your file one more time. What you said to me when you first came here was puzzling. We have never been able to corroborate any of it, and I’m afraid that’s largely the reason the security forces have insisted you stay with us. I must say, your case is curious. Have you ever read ‘One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest’?’

‘No.’

He nodded. ‘Anyway, in order to certify you of sound enough mind to be transferred, we need to revisit your statement. Which I am sure you are clever enough to realise might be a perfect opportunity for you to evade your trial, but…’

‘I will tell you the truth. If nothing else, you’ve given me a lot of time to think.’

‘Good. Then we’ll start at the beginning. I’m going to work through your transcript and I want you to stop me as soon as anything I say troubles you. If you now think any of it should be changed, please tell me. OK?’

Golzar nodded.

‘Your name is Raha Golzar, born 15th August 1973 in Qon, a hundred miles south of Tehran in the Islamic Republic of Iran.’ He looked up; Golzar nodded.

‘Good. Your mother was a nurse, your father an engineer, you were educated latterly at Tehran University, doing a masters in biochemistry.’

‘Nursing.’

‘Sorry?’

‘I was training to be a nurse.’

‘Really?’ He wrote something on her file. ‘OK. Let’s continue for now. In 1996 you were seconded to a facility in Kazakhstan associated with a Russian military organisation called Biopreparat?’

‘No. A nurse would not get work with the Russian military.’

‘But you do know the name Biopreparat, an ex-Soviet weapons facility. That’s real?’

‘It existed. Iranian students are not so very different from any others; we were curious about the world. I don’t know if it’s still there now though. Obviously, I’ve never been there.’

‘So you know nothing about bioweapons.’

‘I know which end of a hypodermic to put in a patient’s arm. Someone better paid than me filled the syringe.’

Dr Penhalligan flicked through the remaining pages of the statement.

‘A nurse,’ he said, almost to himself. He leaned back.

‘I’m confused,’ he said. ‘Were you arrested here in Britain or…’

‘Jerusalem.’

‘Jerusalem. So that much is true. Why were you in Jerusalem?’

‘Humanitarian volunteer work in the West Bank. I was taking a short holiday before the job started. You can verify my placement.’

‘Not my job, Raha,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you’ll be questioned more thoroughly in Holloway. All I’m here to do is assess your mental state. It makes no difference to me whether you were on holiday, where or who with. And to be candid,’ he leaned forwards and tapped her file, ‘it makes no difference to me whether what’s in here is lies or the truth. If you’re in trouble, if you need to stay here, tell me. They can not move you unless I sign you off, and what’s in this file is a textbook case of paranoid delusional behaviour. If you tell me you still believe it, neither I nor anyone else can prove otherwise. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?’

‘I was a nurse, Dr Penhalligan. And my mental state is fine.’

He nodded.

‘Then can I confirm…’ he turned his attention back to the printed transcript. ‘The CIA have no interest in you?’