The traffic officers on the Motorway stared in disbelief at the van, and then scratched their heads. One moment it had been sitting there, and then, almost as fast as they could think, it was in the middle of a field where if it exploded, no one would get hurt, except the two people on board. There was no reason to close the motorway any more. Moments later, the snarled up traffic started moving again.
“I’m done here!” Keira said, and bounded back to the police station.
After scrambling through the loo window, she arrived back at the interview room as a different female officer was walking down the same corridor.
“Keira Frost?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Here to make a statement?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“I’m PC Karen Mills; do you want a cup of tea?”
Keira grinned.
“That sounds marvellous; one sugar, please.”
Nineteen
The Prime Minister sat at his oval cabinet table when the three men were shown into the room. They sat without being invited and glanced nervously at each other.
The Prime Minister sat with his hands clasped together, he did not look happy.
“You three are supposed to be my security experts. Does any one of you have the slightest idea as to what happened earlier today?”
None could answer.
“How about the identity of the person who undoubtedly saved our asses?”
None of them had a clue.
“You have seen the film?” he asked.
The men nodded.
“Have you been fully briefed?”
They nodded again.
“You will be pleased to know that I’ve just heard from the Bomb-disposal people that there was enough explosive in that damn van to take out the junction. It was timed to go off at 5pm, so in the middle of the rush-hour. I do not need to tell you of the mayhem that would have caused.”
One of the men cleared his throat. He was Sir Giles Famshawe, head of MI5.
“Sir Giles?”
“We’ve managed to identify the occupants of the van. The male suspect possessed a false Portuguese passport in the name of Benjamin Gomez, but his real name is believed to be Mohammed Mehmet Khan. He has known links to several different terrorist groups in the Middle East and in Pakistan. He was last logged recruiting fighters in Pakistan. The woman is his girlfriend, one Shamin Khan – no relation, and is a British subject. We understand she was recruited by Khan while she studied in Pakistan. Her father actually reported him as being a suspected terrorist several days ago.”
“Why was he not picked up?”
“We understand that her father went to a London police station after having offered the man a considerable sum of money to leave his daughter. Threats were made, and the officer taking the report noted that he suspected it was a domestic disagreement.”
“Which it was, but we could have actioned the intelligence?”
“Indeed.”
“How about the other man; the one they dropped off and the girl reported?”
“He’s saying nothing. He sits in his cell and prays all day. He refuses to answer any questions and we have no idea of his real identity. He had some false papers and we have no idea as to how he entered the country. We assume it was either illegally or on a passport in a false name. The genuine holder of the documentation is actually in prison in Pakistan.”
“Robin?”
The Prime Minister looked at the next man. Robin Reece-Flynn, the head of MI6.
“Nothing for any sources. We can confirm that we know about Mohammed Khan, but have nothing on the other two.”
“Archie?”
The commanding officer in charge of the SAS did not expect to have to find answers, as his role was to send the chaps in to deal with the terrorists. He was here as a courtesy more than anything else.
“Nothing to report, sir.”
The door opened and a tall, elegant woman strode into the room clutching a slim briefcase. She was in a dark skirt and jacket, and although she could be anything from thirty-five to forty-five, all the men knew that she was older than she looked.
Her hair was neatly bobbed, but it was her eyes that were her most outstanding feature. They were brown, but of an unusual colour. They were almost amber. They also had the disconcerting effect of making anyone who made eye contact with her feel incredibly vulnerable and uncomfortable.
“Sorry I’m late, sir,” she said, sitting next to the Prime Minister.
“Thank you for coming at such short notice, Amber. You know the chaps, don’t you?” he said.
She smiled, nodding at the three men.
“I know them, but they’ve probably forgotten me.”
There was a little embarrassment over this comment. Archie Macrae, the soldier, had a vague memory of an incident on a Caribbean island back in the seventies, but couldn’t quite remember the details. The others just felt uncomfortable, but didn’t know why.
“I’d be interested to hear your views?” the Prime Minister said.
“I’ve gone through the course of events on my way over here, and I think I can actually help. We’re dealing with a highly sophisticated and skilled individual who has displayed remarkable resourcefulness and initiative, as well as shown a mature level of social awareness. The fact that we have no real idea as to her identity is testimony to her intelligence and ability to cover her tracks.”
“Her?”
“I have no doubt that the person responsible is a female, and probably quite young.”
“Young?”
“Under twenty.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“She reminds me of me rather a long time ago. Had it been a male, then I think the whole issue would have been dealt with far less carefully and probably involved a great deal more drama. I’ve read through the officers reports, and believe I have a suspicion that I know who she is.”
“Who is she?”
“No, with respect, Prime Minister, this has to be handled very carefully. I need a cast-iron assurance that I am to be the only one to make contact and to recruit her. This is not some fly-by-night vigilante, as she has displayed a level of power quite awesome in one so young and inexperienced. I am the only one who can help her reach her full potential, and although I trust my colleagues implicitly, I don’t think they’d have a clue how to deal with her.”
The men muttered in an almost-offended sort of way, but actually all were grateful not to have landed the difficult task of locating and dealing with anyone who has the powers that she appeared to possess.
“What do you propose?” the Prime Minister asked.
“Nothing, immediately; we’ll let this all settle down and allow everyone to believe that our police are still the best in the world. Those who witnessed the paranormal activity will have to be spoken to, and I suggest that I be the person to do that.”
“Agreed, what next? As we don’t want this person to just disappear, do we?”
“She won’t, I promise.”
“I’m still not convinced she’s a girl,” said the MI5 man.
“Trust me, I know what I know,” said Amber with a smile.
“What about the terrorists; they’re not talking?” the SAS commander asked.
“Where are they being held?”
“They’re all at different police stations in West London. The press are being a bit of a pain in the arse, as usual, but it’s still early days. The press release has been brief and to the point; a terrorist act was nipped in the bud by effective police work. No one was hurt and no property seriously damaged. A quantity of homemade explosive material has been recovered. We are not seeking other persons at this time,” said the MI5 man.
“Let me know where they are each being held, and I’ll go and see if we can free up some cooperation. I might just bring along a companion, as a sort of initiation rite, if you know what I mean?”