Intervention, p.4
Intervention, page 4
Following a short discourse in Spanish, Freja replied. “She will take you using the longer route that is mostly in the trees.”
“Fantastic! That’s great thinking. Crucially, I also need to be able to say where we are now, so that we can be found. What’s the name of this place?”
Freja’s next round of discourse was a lot longer, with their hostess frequently shaking her head. Freja kept pressing, asking questions but the shake of the head kept coming, their host looking down at the table. Eventually Freja reached out and held the woman’s hand, comforting her, talking more softly.
Rob waited patiently, it was clear something was up. This doesn’t look good, I wonder what’s up?
Still holding the woman’s hand, Freja looked up. “This is an illegal settlement – there is no name. They are not on any map. Many of the paths we’ve used are not mapped out either, people simply learn them.”
“Drat. I suspected as much from the conversation. Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, just ashamed at having to admit it to us. She feels inadequate allowing us to see where and how she lives when we are used to places like the resort.”
Rob felt his shoulders sag. “Please assure her that we think she is wonderful and we are so grateful. Don’t worry, I will find somewhere else for a pick-up.” As Freja continued to comfort and encourage the woman, Rob studied a map that he had downloaded on to his iPad, soon finding a remote, yet very identifiable place; La Cascada Encantada. On the plus side, the area was forested to provide plenty of cover and the river afforded a barrier between the primary track leading to the minor tourist spot. That meant he could study every vehicle that arrived, decide if they were friendly, or not, and determine if their contact was being followed. On the downside, one way in meant one way out – unless they crossed the river and tried the narrow, rough track. The problem with taking that route was that it was a very long way round to get to a town.
That night, Rob slept fitfully, haunted by his narrow escape earlier that day.
* * *
Laura read and reread Rob’s first text, willing the words to say more than they did. The loud beeps had awoken her from her restless slumber. She had intentionally turned the volume to maximum in the hope that she would receive something, even though the news reports remained clear – everybody found at the resort was dead.
Tears of mixed emotion rolled down her cheeks: heart-warming joy for knowing that Rob was alive, but concern that he was not safe. Also, odd feelings she couldn’t quite understand – there was no warmth to the words of the text; it was simple, matter of fact and dry. He’s not giving anything away, nothing about how he’s feeling, she thought miserably. Much the same as my hurried texts over the last few weeks before our holidays. Damn, I wish I could turn the clock back!
Laura’s phone beeped again. This time a text from Gurning informed her that he had just spoken to Rob and was arranging help to bring him home. He added that would be challenging because Rob was being hunted having rescued the Estes boy. Gurning ended by writing that Rob had asked after her.
How on earth did Rob get involved with the Estes family? Laura pondered, concern mounting. That was not a family to be involved with, whether as a result of a rescue or not!
Some more beeps a short while later disturbed her turmoil. Another text from Rob made her heart leap, but it was, again, so short. It must mean that he isn’t replying to my text. I wonder why? Reading the text only made her turmoil worse. Why is he asking me to let Steven know he’s okay? It must mean that Steven didn’t tell me everything and that Rob’s in danger. Oh, I so wish I was there with him. Why didn’t I go with him?! Knowing that she would both be unable to enjoy the rest of her holiday and would be a drag on her friends, Laura picked up her iPad and booked a flight home for the next morning.
9
Early the next day, Gurning informed the Foreign Office so they could, in turn, inform their counterparts in Sweden that Freja had been found. He briefed Graeme Spreachley, his counterpart at MI6 dealing with international intelligence matters and operations. Gurning wanted to send one of his best men, Nat McCall, to Mexico to help with Rob’s rescue. Nat had worked on many of the operations launched so far to dismantle Demir’s criminal network and Nat’s involvement would give Rob a lot of assurance. It also helped that Nat was a former special forces officer.
Spreachley agreed to pool resources and immediately shared that MI6 had heard that the hit on Estes was not an internal Mexican affair. As a result, sources indicated that the cartels were meeting to discuss their response.
* * *
That afternoon, Gurning waited anxiously to hear from Rob. Knowing that it was early morning in Mexico and that Rob would have a long trek to reach somewhere with reception did not help. Rob had already encountered members of the Estes cartel, and if the heads of all cartels were meeting, that could only mean one thing: possible collusion to not only find the perpetrators but also Alvaro. And that meant finding Rob!
Laura arrived at Thames House just after lunch, frantic for news and immediately met with Gurning in his office.
“Laura, there’s nothing we can do until Rob calls in. I understand your concern and I will, of course, ensure that you are informed as soon as he calls. And yes, you can join that conversation. Depending on the time, I will link Nat in by conference call.”
“Thank you, Steven. I should have been there with him. You know he invited me to join him?”
“Yes, I did know, and there were good reasons why you couldn’t go. Once Rob is back, I think the two of you should take some time out, go somewhere, and spend time together.”
Laura looked at him, unsure whether to share her feelings for Rob, or not. Even though she respected Gurning in a way that transcended a normal boss-employee relationship, Laura was apprehensive of doing so. Although, maybe he’s already guessed, or has Rob said something?
Gurning broke her train of thought. “In the meantime, you can be useful. It’s a small matter that will benefit from your insight for a few days until Rob’s return.”
“Oh yes?”
“Yes, yesterday evening some boys found a number of barrels of chemicals in a disused warehouse not far from Southampton. Sensibly, they called the police who immediately called us.”
Laura raised an eyebrow. “Why call us?”
“Two reasons. First, they couldn’t understand the language but recognised the toxic labelling that apparently did not appear very professional. That in itself was suspect. Secondly, thanks to Burak, the Spanish police have located and searched Donald Norcott’s house. There was a concealed basement office which revealed very little. However, there were some hand-written notes that referred to electronic espionage and some reference books on chemical warfare.”
“So you think there could be a link, that the chemicals found near Southampton could be for a chemical attack?”
“I hope not, but we want that potential discounted. Given the proximity and importance of Southampton, not to mention the nearby naval bases, I’m concerned. The brief is waiting on your desk. I was hoping you could go down there and take a look tomorrow and let me have your assessment.”
“Of course, when…”
“It’s probably nothing, there have been a number of similar incidents over the years, none of which have come to anything. You should be able to wrap the matter up quickly, ready to take some time out with Rob. The two of you need it.”
“When do you think we will get Rob out?”
“No idea yet. I need to speak with Rob and get Nat on the ground. Encouragingly, the Mexican authorities want to help so they can take the young Estes boy into protective custody and prevent him from becoming a figurehead.”
“Oh, Steven – you also mentioned electronic espionage. Is there anything to do on that?”
“Ah, no. The Spanish say that there is insufficient information to go on – merely Norcott’s notes ticking-off when he had passed cryptically referenced documents on to someone. Sadly, the place was virtually sterile. Burak’s requirements for caution were clearly respected.”
Having finished their conversation, they wandered down to the Thames House canteen for some lunch.
* * *
As Laura and Gurning were having lunch, Rob and his hostess set-off for San Pedro Mixtepec. At the same time, the heads of the Mexican drug cartels and Alvaro’s uncle were arriving for their meeting at an expansive, heavily guarded hacienda in the barren, rugged landscape of northern Mexico. They mostly arrived by helicopter, flying low through the valleys to avoid detection. The hacienda was perched on the edge of a valley with commanding views in all directions.
Once all were settled, Alvaro’s uncle called the rare meeting to order. “Welcome, thank you for coming. My sources in the Oaxacan police have informed me that two of the dead found at the resort were members of my brother’s assassination squad. Identity checks have confirmed they were foreign mercenaries.”
“How can you be so sure they weren’t on your brother’s team? After all, he didn’t always use home-grown talent,” grumbled one of the others.
“Apparently it was easy to distinguish between his protection team and the attackers; they had different weapons and no identification.” The questioner nodded, satisfied. “So, the question is what we are going to do?”
“Before thinking about that, I want to know why Henrique was targeted. I won’t participate in anything that he brought upon himself,” stated another.
“I agree,” came yet another voice. “We need to know if this was an attack on all of us and our business, or personal to Henrique.”
“I can answer that,” volunteered a grey-haired man, his rugged, tanned features matching many of those around the table, but his cold, staring eyes penetrated the others sending a chill throughout the room.
Alvaro’s uncle regarded the man he had met only once before. “Well?”
“Henrique pioneered our entry into the UK and Europe. Remember, a few years back we had become too reliant on the US market – we still are. Henrique pioneered other avenues that many of us have benefitted from. If we had paid attention we would have known that has caused tensions. I’ve heard that our competitors aren’t happy about the drop in price and their lower volumes and have been looking for ways to deter us.”
Outraged grumbling broke out around the table. When it had died down, Alvaro’s uncle refocused the group. “So, what are we going to do about it? We have two choices: first, we back-off like cowards, and stick to our traditional markets, or we take the fight to those who dare fight us!”
“We fight,” said one.
“Yes, we fight.”
“Fight.”
“Yes, hit back.”
Another five, although silent, nodded their approval.
“Good. But first, we need to find Alvaro – make sure that they haven’t got him . Also, to…”
“What?!” exclaimed one. “You think the assassins took Alvaro?”
“I don’t know. But who else would do that? As I understand it from the police, other than the nanny, only one other person remains unaccounted for – an Englishman who has already been seen in Puerto Escondido and one of the illegal settlements.”
“No doubt trying to buy a flight out of the country!” said the grey-haired man.
“That confirms it, then,” announced another. “We work together to find Alvaro and the man who has kidnapped him, and interrogate that man – painfully!”
“If you have people in Oaxaca, then please let them know as soon as possible,” continued the uncle.
Soon after, the somber, hard-faced men started departing as they had arrived.
* * *
As the cartel meeting broke-up, Rob and his host arrived at outskirts of San Pedro Mixtepec. Rob looked at her and gave her the thumbs-up sign and she nodded, before walking off in a different direction, their plan of action memorised. Alert for danger, Rob strode purposefully towards the centre. As he went, he sent Gurning a quick text:
Will call within 10 minutes. R
Rob imagined Gurning’s reaction upon receiving the text and smiled inwardly, thinking of current meetings or telephone calls being terminated and other messages being sent to gather whoever had been selected to assist.
First, Rob had two tasks to complete. The route memorised, he found a bank and withdrew the maximum amount of cash permitted from the cash machine. Pleased to see another European couple wandering about, clearly tourists, Rob tried to mimic their relaxed behaviour, interested in their surroundings. When he arrived at the designated shop to surreptitiously meet his host she was clearly nervous. Brushing passed a few other shoppers, smiling apologetically, he deposited the pile of cash into his host’s rustic shopping bag before moving on to browse a battered postcard stand. Deciding not to buy anything, he headed back towards the forest, taking a different route as he looked for a place to call Gurning.
* * *
Meanwhile, Laura and Gurning were sitting silently in Gurning’s office, fidgeting as they waited for the call. Nat was holding on a conference line, ready to be connected by Gurning’s assistant once Rob called.
“He’s late,” worried Laura.
10
That same morning, Arroz and Kamal arrived in Romania on the outskirts of a dull town known for its heavy industry. Against Arroz’s advice, Kamal had wanted to visit the production plant again. With Kamal’s money they had purchased the site nine months earlier and paid for the necessary adaptations, so he wanted to see what his money had bought.
From the outside, except for the improved fencing and security, the sprawling site of buildings and a few chimneys was much as it had been when Kamal had bought it – lifeless. The place had been closed down and allowed to deteriorate for two years before Arroz found it and realised its suitability for Kamal’s purposes. The very bored security guards at the entrance waved them through, recognising Arroz. They had no idea what was so important about the place, but they were being paid well at a time when employment was hard to come by. Therefore, they weren’t going to ask questions.
Arroz drove through the site and into an essentially derelict building where a number of other cars were parked. Dust puffed up from the concrete floor with every step they took walking towards a new, full height metal turnstile door in one wall. Kamal surveyed the space with a keen eye, scowling at the mangy pigeons flying about. Arroz was aware of the sceptical scrutiny, but didn’t care: once through the door everything would change.
“Your biometric details have been scanned into the system, Kamal, so there should be no issue with you getting in.”
Arroz led the way, placing a hand low down on a large wall-mounted plate beside the door. A blue light scanned his hand before a panel slid open at the top of the plate revealing an eye reader. Arroz bent down and looked directly into the eye reader, at which point the door clicked open for Arroz to enter the well-lit room beyond.
Moments later Kamal joined him, looking around suspiciously at the empty room. At the far end of the room there was another heavy metal door. Cheap plastic seats were scattered throughout the bright, clinically white painted room, as though a new hospital.
“This area doubles as a waiting room and, if attacked, somewhere to defend ourselves,” Arroz stated, pointing at holes in the armoured windows as he strode down the room towards the next door.
Following a similar sequence of identity checks to open the next door, they moved into a large open plan office. Dozens of people were working at their computers, multiple screens displaying masses of data. Along the wall closest to the door, there was a bank of lockers. At the opposite end of the large room a long rack holding protective chemical suits stood next to yet another door and a metal stair that led to a newly erected metal balcony.
As Arroz led the way across the room, barely a head turned to acknowledge them. “Your man will probably be in the production area.”
He helped Kamal into a protective green suit and headed up some metal steps, once again ignoring Kamal’s questioning look. At the top, Arroz opened another door that led out on to a series of gantries that spread throughout a brightly lit vast expanse of open space. “As you can see, production is in full swing,” Arroz said turning towards Kamal, sweeping his arm in an arc. “I thought you would appreciate seeing things from this height to grasp the scale of the operation.”
“Indeed. Very impressive. But surely you didn’t waste money on these walkways simply to enjoy the view?”
“Not at all. Beneath each walkway is a winch and track. The chemicals are so toxic that we minimise handling. You will notice that each gantry passes over every chemical collection point next to the production vats with the ventilation systems above.”
Kamal stood and reviewed the operation, nodding to himself. “What’s the rate of production?”
“A thousand litres a day of each chemical. The store is nearly full again so Hans is making arrangements for the transportation. He’s over there,” Arroz said, pointing. “Rightly, he is very proud of this facility, so let me introduce you, and he can answer your questions.”
Arroz led the way along the gantry and down another set of metal steps. In the centre of the space, a raised platform rose like a statue, banks of desks and computers arranged so that operators could see in real time what they were instructing the machines and people to do. Hans, who had overall responsibility, stood in the centre, occasionally stepping forward to talk to one of the computer operators. Except for Hans, who was in an orange protective suit, everyone else was in green.
