“Good evening,” he said, as calmly as he could. “Steve’s child?”
She nodded. McLachlan felt tears running down his cheeks. “Welcome to the family,” he said finally. “Steve, are the others here?”
“I asked them to wait in the next room,” Shahan said. “They understand the… delicacy of the situation.”
“I should hope so,” McLachlan said. “You know just how close you came to being handed over to… them.”
In 2010, the House of Saud had been forced to accept the Wahhabism practice of Islam by the growing currents of what ill-informed observers called fundamentalism. Not only was more and more oil money being devoted to terrorism, but there were new and very unwelcome restrictions on who could travel to Mecca; a fundamental Muslim obligation. It was no longer enough to be a Muslim; one had to be follow Wahhabism. In many ways, it had proven to be the turning point of the war on terror; many Muslims became devoted to defeating the evil and restoring the ideals of Islam, and the Jihad to Recover the Holy Cities had been in the forefront.
The House of Saud had demanded, in no uncertain terms, that the JRHC be disbanded and its members extradited to Saudi Arabia to stand trial. The then Prime Minister, grimly aware of growing anti-Saudi opinion, had refused; MI5’s quiet cooperation with the JRHC against terrorism had won them friends and allies. Amid rumours that the JRHC was training Jihadis to fight in Saudi, Howard Smith had discovered that there was no manoeuvring room at all; parts of the establishment were using the JRHC as a bargaining counter.
After all, how could one extradite the son of the Foreign Secretary?
“I suppose it would have been too much to expect you to have come for a pleasant meal and then a chat,” McLachlan said calmly, as he took his seat. His son and his wife sat on the sofa, holding hands; his other two guests took their chairs. Noreen Adam, member for Brixton and unofficial leader of the Muslim Party, and Sheik Kashif Hussian, the semi-official leader of Britain’s Shia Muslims.
“We would have preferred to make a formal contact,” Noreen agreed. McLachlan had read her security file; she was middle-aged and unmarried, almost unique for an Asian woman. Rumour suggested that she was barren, or had a sexual disease, but there was no proof of that one way or the other. McLachlan suspected that they were just rumours by her political opponents. The BNP was quite determined to ruin her career, whatever it took.
“As you know, Dad,” Shahan said, “I have been involved in the campaign to recover the Holy Cities of Islam…”
“You founded it, organised it, funded it and ran it,” McLachlan commented.
“And we were hoping that some kind of peaceful solution could be worked out,” Shahan continued. McLachlan shook his head; the growing tension between Saudi on one side and a strange alliance of democratic Iraq and very undemocratic Iran would lead to war, or would have done. If the two nations had any reason to actually work together, there would have been war by now – or by 2015.
“Unfortunately, the Saudis were proving bloody-minded,” Shahan said, without missing a beat. “We were preparing… some actions of our own, but we were very limited by what we could fund and deploy, as I’m certain that you’re aware.”
“Steve, as interesting as this is, I am a busy man,” McLachlan said. “We are at war with Nazi Germany, which is adapting quicker than we dared fear. V1’s are not supposed to show up for four more years, but the plans would have been in the Encyclopaedia Britannica, a copy of which seems to have fallen into their hands. Hell, schoolchildren could build one, given time and materials.”
A distant explosion underlined his words. “We have to negotiate with powers that are getting used to the idea that we have a sudden technology advantage, many of whom are scared to death. We have to produce new weapons. We have to build democratic governments in Egypt, Libya, Algeria and Tunisia. We have to overcome centuries of mistrust. Steve, what do you want?”
“We want to recover the Holy Cities,” Noreen said. “At the moment, they are in the hands of Ibn Saud and his band of barbarians. You know what they’ll do in the future – if you allow them to do so.”
“You want us to recover the Holy Cities for you,” McLachlan said slowly. “I admit that the idea of removing the House of Saud before it ever becomes a threat is tempting, but what will you do with it?”
“We can build a democratic Muslim state that will be a strong ally in the Middle East, decades before the first genuine democracy was established,” Shahan said, leaning forward. Sameena put a hand on his shoulder. “There are thousands of Muslims in Britain who would be willing to go to this state and build.” He smiled. “We could make the desert bloom with life again.”
McLachlan nodded. The House of Saud, frightened of boosting its population, had resisted establishing a desalination plant in their nation. His mind ticked over and over; if his son was right, they would solve two problems with one stone. On the other hand, he suspected that many of the Muslims would return to the UK when they realised how difficult it would be. That would create a security nightmare; they’d refused to allow any new tourists or immigration in order to prevent security breaches.
“We would also be willing to go,” Hussian said. “This will be a joint endeavour; Sunnis and Shias, working together as equals.”
“Perhaps,” McLachlan said. “You do realise that I cannot promise anything? I will have to discuss the matter with the Prime Minister. There is also the danger of becoming involved with America; they had interests in Saudi at the time. Tell me something; what’s our guarantee that you won’t create yet another disaster area?” He looked up at Noreen. “Even in Iraq of 2015, women are often regarded as second-class citizens. How do we know that we are not condemning British citizens to a life of hell?”
“You exaggerate,” Noreen said.
“Not by much,” McLachlan said. “Another question; how much are you expecting us to provide? We might provide transports and weapons, if a brigade of troops or so can be spared we might send them, but we don’t have the resources to embark upon a long-term project.”
Shahan didn’t hesitate; he’d taught him well. “All we ask for is transports, although if you’re offering troops and supplies we would be delighted to have them. We have quite a collection of building equipment from various Muslim companies that has been pledged to this… endeavour.” He smiled. “Among other things, we would also be building a 747-capable airport, like the one you have planned for Algeria.”
McLachlan scowled. His son must have a source within the Foreign Ministry. “We do need to get the airlines up and running,” he said. “We don’t have enough transport yet. And I admit that it would be helpful, particularly if you invested your new funds in building infrastructure that could help the region to develop.”
“If you do this for us, the Prime Minister will be supported by the entire Muslim Party,” Noreen said. “I imagine that nineteen certain votes in the Commons will be very helpful.”
“Perhaps,” McLachlan said. He steepled his fingers. “I will discuss matters with the Prime Minister,” he said. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to spend some time with my son and his wife.”
Noreen bowed slightly. It had become the accepted way of signifying respect when handshaking wasn’t respectable. “I hope to be hearing from you,” she said, and led Hussian out of the room, leaving the McLachlans’ alone together.
10 Downing Street
London, England
2nd August 1940
“Production of radar-guided anti-aircraft guns has now reached a steady rate of three hundred guns and thousands of rounds of ammunition per day,” Anna Hathaway, Secretary of State for Defence, reported to the War Cabinet. “Although there are glitches in some of the communications network tying civilian and military radars into the gunnery net, we can feel confident that we can afford to give the RAF a much-needed rest, at least some of the pilots.