They’d been back in London for almost four weeks. Thursday had been a quiet day. Rafi had cooked supper, which was being kept warm in the oven, and he was sitting with his feet up reading the evening newspaper. He looked up at the clock. It was almost 9.30 p.m. Kate had rung to say that she would be a bit late, so he was not worried.
There was a clatter downstairs as Kate opened the front door, bounced up the stairs and greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss.
‘Forgive me for being so late. Supper smells good. Thank you for waiting.’
‘I hope it’s still edible.’
He noticed Kate’s cheerful demeanour. ‘Did you have a good day then?’
‘Yep, it was quite something. It seems I’ve been promoted. You now see before you Detective Chief Inspector Kate Adams!’
Rafi listened to her story of how she’d been dumbstruck when she’d been called into a meeting with the commissioner. ‘Emma is being promoted into my job. Jack Fisher from John’s team downstairs, who did all the work on the terrorist sleepers, is taking on Emma’s role and Peter Ashby is to become their sidekick. According to the commissioner, that left him with a bit of a problem as to what he should do with his newest detective chief inspector! I didn’t follow what he was saying until he said, “Yes, Kate, the appointments board has approved your promotion. It puts you as the youngest DCI in the City of London. Congratulations.” I left feeling light-headed,’ continued Kate. ‘I was only promoted to detective inspector last year. I seem to have missed a large number of rungs on the ladder.’
Rafi leant across and kissed her. ‘Fantastic! This calls for a celebration. It’s what you deserve. I’d love to see your family’s faces when you tell them the good news.’
‘But that’s not all. He asked if you and I would attend a meeting with him, Ewan Thorn and the PM’s permanent secretary tomorrow afternoon at 3 o’clock?’
“So we won’t have to wait long to find out what they have in mind for you.” Rafi gave her another kiss, got up and walked through to the kitchen. From the back of the fridge he pulled out a bottle of sparkling white wine, scooped up two glasses from a cupboard and walked back into the sitting room. Kate had kicked off her shoes and was sitting on the sofa with her feet curled up under her.
‘Look what I found in the fridge.’ He passed the bottle to Kate. ‘You can do the honours.’ There was a loud pop as the cork flew up and made a small dent in the ceiling.
Rafi put a glass out to catch the effervescent wine as it bubbled out of the top.
Kate filled her glass. Rafi stretched his arm out and she poured an inch of the liquid into his glass.
He raised it. ‘A toast: to you, the most talented policewoman in the City!’
Rafi looked into the eyes he loved so much and, out of the ordinary, took a sip of the sparkling wine. It tasted different to what he’d expected. The little bubbles danced on his tongue.
Kate raised her glass and took a long swig. ‘I’ve a confession to make: this isn’t my first glass of champagne this evening.’ There was a chuckle in her voice.
Rafi smiled. ‘You deserve being made a fuss of. What exactly does your promotion mean?’
‘Heaven only knows! I suppose they want me to move somewhere new, which is why they’ve asked for you to be there.’
They chatted over the well-cooked supper. Kate was buoyed up with the excitement of the news. As to what the future held, all would be revealed tomorrow. They left the dirty plates where they were and retired to bed.
Kate was up and out of the flat early the next morning. Rafi tidied up and spent a leisurely couple of hours reading the papers. He was feeling rested. The terrors of the previous month were a thing of the past. He left in good time, dropped into a florist on the way and headed off for the meeting at Wood Street. He arrived almost fifteen minutes early and went up to the fourth floor office to look for Kate. To his surprise, he found Emma sitting at Kate’s desk and opposite her was Jack Fisher.
‘Hi there, I came to have a last look at where I was imprisoned and to convey my congratulations to the two of you.’ From behind his back Rafi produced a bouquet of spring flowers, which he handed to Emma. ‘Congratulations and well done.’
Rafi turned to leave but Emma stopped him at the door. ‘You can’t get away that easily.’ She placed her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss. ‘You look after Kate, or else I’ll come and sort you out. Got that? She’s a very special girl.’
Rafi felt a firm tap on his shoulder. ‘So this is what you get up to when my back is turned: making out with my best friend! I should have guessed that the two of you had a soft spot for each other!’
Kate winked at Emma. ‘Come on, Rafi, we are meant to be elsewhere – if you can tear yourself away from those sexy lips.’
Rafi looked into Emma’s eyes and sensed a real fondness. He kissed her on the cheek and followed Kate down the corridor.
‘Nice to see Emma again?’ asked Kate.
‘Yep,’ Rafi replied. ‘You’ve a really good friend there. She left me in no doubt that I had to take good care of you, or else!’
Kate had a broad grin on her face as they entered Beverley’s office. She waved them into her boss’s meeting room.
The meeting room looked very neat and tidy. There, sitting at the table, was the commissioner, together with a dark-suited gentleman, who Rafi recalled as being the Prime Minister’s permanent secretary, and Ewan from MI5. Kate and Rafi sat down opposite them.
The content of the meeting was a surprise. Rafi had gone along expecting Kate to be offered a posting far away from the south-east – somewhere like Manchester – and assumed he’d been invited along so he didn’t feel left out of the process.
The meeting started with the PM’s permanent secretary setting out his boss’s stance. ‘Following the recent terrorist attacks, the PM believes that the EU is missing a trick in the war on terror. Standards and ethics of what is acceptable and unacceptable, or what is legal or illegal, differ from country to country. Despite anti-money laundering legislation being enacted, there seems to be no let-up in the shady financial activities of terrorists and drug dealers. The PM believes that there is an urgent need for transparency. More information needs to be in the public domain as to who controls which company or business.’
He adjusted his cufflinks and continued. ‘The Stratford terrorists built up large business interests and concealed them right under our noses. The concern is that with a growing number of public companies going private and the enormous wealth of a relatively small but significant number of individuals, the authorities are losing sight of who is controlling what, and what exactly the money is being used to finance in the shadier recesses of our countries. At one level, profits are being channelled out of Europe into tax havens and, at another, a growing number of private companies and individuals are operating as if they’re beholden to no one. Giles, would you like to continue?’
‘Yes, of course,’ replied Giles. ‘Before Stratford, being an immensely wealthy person entitled one to low levels of scrutiny. Key questions weren’t asked for fear of driving business away. The richer someone was, the more a blind eye was turned. There’s a dichotomy: on the one hand we have the politicians who have power to smooth people’s paths, but rarely have much personal wealth, and on the other hand there are those with immense personal wealth and insatiable desires, but who need favours to pursue their ambitions. Too many people view greasing a palm or two as a legitimate cost of doing business. There are, across Europe, growing levels of corruption and a lack of transparency as to what is going on. This trend concerns the PM.’
‘DCI Adams and Mr Khan,’ interjected the permanent secretary, ‘The President of the European Commission is also very concerned that the lack of financial transparency and the dubious financial practices are encouraging criminal activities and resulting in billions of Euros of tax slipping away. He is creating a new task force, led by the former head of a German State police force. His team will comprise four senior detectives, four special advisers and a small team of technical specialists who have a detailed knowledge of criminal practices and money matters. It will be based in Luxembourg. The remit is to report to the EU President on the practicalities of making European-wide financial affairs more transparent. DCI Adams, you are requested to apply for one of the four senior detective posts.’
Kate’s mouth fell open.
‘Obviously, as this is a European Union appointment, there will be an interview process to go through; a shortlist has been drawn up and unless you tell the interview panel to take a hike, I would submit that the post is yours. You would be seconded from the City of London police force and be able to come back here at a future date. Salary and terms and conditions will, we believe, be acceptable. There would be a modest flat in Luxembourg included in the package. The post in the first instance will be for three years.’
Before Kate had the opportunity to reply, the permanent secretary turned to Rafi. ‘Mr Khan, you have shown yourself to be very enterprising in unravelling the web that the Stratford terrorists had spun. The President of the EU Commission and our Prime Minister have asked me to enquire whether you would be willing to have your name put forward to join the task force as a special adviser. You would suffer a significant reduction in remuneration, but it has been suggested to us that there may be other aspects of the job that would appeal to you, thereby making the salary less of an issue?’
There was a pause. Rafi looked at Kate. She had a big smile on her face, which he took to be a Yes.
‘For whom would I be working?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Well, that depends to whom you’re talking,’ said Ewan. ‘Officially, you would be employed by the European Commission, but in practice you’d be on secondment from MI5. I have it on good authority that Neil and his team are very impressed by you. Intelligence will be an important feature of your work, hence your inclusion with our security services.’
‘Are you interested?’ asked the permanent secretary.
Rafi looked at Kate again and then back at the permanent secretary.
‘Would it be alright for Kate and me to discuss this by ourselves for a few minutes?’
‘Of course; do use the room next door,’ said the commissioner.
Kate sat down with Rafi in the adjoining office.
‘What do you think?’ asked Rafi.
‘I have a few concerns: first of all, could you stand working and living with me? And how would you feel working for me? And also, do you like the idea of living in Luxembourg and travelling around Europe, working out how the system is being manipulated?’ asked Kate.
Rafi looked at her smiling face; there could only be one answer – ‘Yes.’
‘Excellent. Shall we give it a go? If we enjoy it, great, but if we’ve been sold a pup we can always come back to the UK and find something else to do.’
‘I don’t think we should be seen to be too hasty. Why not ask them a few more questions before saying yes?’ suggested Rafi.
They walked back into the meeting room and sat down.
‘Your proposals are intriguing and interesting,’ Kate started. ‘How much autonomy would there be?’
‘It will be a small team and it will have autonomy.’
‘If I’m operating overseas, why is MI5 and not MI6 involved?’ asked Rafi.
‘Good point,’ commented Ewan. ‘MI6 know nothing about what’s going on. We thought that, as you know us and we know you, it would be simpler if you were seconded from MI5.’
Rafi nodded.
‘Will other national intelligence services be involved?’ asked Kate.
‘Undoubtedly. It’s likely that each special adviser will have an intelligence background. You, Mr Khan, are the so-called ace up one’s sleeve. Whilst the Kates of this world know their way around accounts and corrupt businesses, and intelligence service people have their skills, you have the real market experience and a sixth sense for the extraordinary.’
‘Is there a pecking order in the team?’ enquired Kate.
‘Yes. There’s a boss, to whom you’ll report, and, below you, you’ll have a support team at your beck and call. As far as the four police officers and four special advisers are concerned, it’s expected that you’ll work as partners. The type of work you’ll be doing doesn’t go with structured hierarchies.’
Rafi looked across at Ewan. ‘If I get the job, could I spend a few days with Neil’s team to see what resources would be at my disposal?’
‘Of course!’ replied Ewan. ‘If you accept this post you will become one of us and will have access to the full scope of our resources. And we might even throw in a spot of training as well! The PM is placing great importance on this specialist task force. There may only be a few of you, but what you might lack in numbers will more than be made up for by a combination of your individual skills and the resources behind you.’
‘Why Luxembourg and not, say, Brussels?’ enquired Kate.
‘Luxembourg has become a major money and investment management centre. It’s midway between the two European Parliaments – Brussels and Strasbourg – and it’s within driving distance of Frankfurt, where the chief currently lives. Plus, it has a good little airport at Findel, five kilometres north-east of the city, which gives access to a large number of European cities. Also, there’s a well-staffed British Embassy there. And I hear the standard of living is rather good,’ came the reply.
‘Last couple of questions,’ said Kate. ‘Are the identities of the other people known at this point in time and, if so, when do we meet them? And what’s their English like?’
‘Yes, I believe they are, and English will not be a problem. If you have no more questions then I can tell you that your interviews have been arranged for next week. They’ll be at the EU’s offices in Storey’s Gate, St James’s.’
Rafi raised an eyebrow indicating that the address meant nothing.
‘Bottom of Horse Guards Parade.’
‘Got it – thank you.’
‘Assuming you decide to take up the offer of the jobs, we have arranged for you to meet the team for dinner next Friday evening in Luxembourg, as guests of our Embassy there. That way you can see how you get on. On the languages front, I have to stress again that your would – be colleagues have an excellent command of English as well as each being fluent in a handful of other languages. Your support team will provide you with the necessary translators, should they be required,’ added Ewan, helpfully.
Kate looked at Rafi. He winked back. She slowly turned and looked at the commissioner, at Ewan and then across to the permanent secretary.
‘Who buys the plane tickets and books the hotel room?’
‘Funny you should mention that.’ The commissioner turned over several pages of the notebook he was using, pulled out a sheet of paper and passed it to Kate.
‘In case you said yes, here are the details of your e-tickets and the hotel you’ll be staying at. We‘ve booked you on a flight from London City Airport; it takes off at 12.05 and lands at around 14.00 hours.’
Kate stood up, shook hands, said her thanks and goodbyes, and made for the door. Rafi stood up to leave after her.
‘Mr Khan, would you stay with us a moment longer?’
Rafi sat back down. Ewan looked at him intently. ‘Can you recall how you felt when you were at the Headland hotel and you knew that there was a person out there in the darkness who wanted to kill you and Kate?’
‘Yes.’ The memory sent a shudder through him.
‘Please be under no illusion. We don’t know what you and Kate may be getting into. There are powerful forces at work below the surface in Europe. These shadowy people have big vested interests and antiquated concepts of what are acceptable and unacceptable practices. Furthermore, the enlargement of the Union has brought into our midst both hard-working people keen to improve their quality of life and, unfortunately, a quagmire of organised crime. These criminals, like terrorists, operate freely throughout the EU. To put it bluntly, you’ll be entering a very murky world – the world of sophisticated, ruthless criminals. We at MI5 and those at MI6 will do our utmost to protect you as and when things get difficult; the Prime Minister has made it clear that you will have our full support. But it’s your decision as to whether you’re willing to leave the comfort of the City and cross over to our world and its dangers.’
Rafi thought for a few moments. The Bishopsgate bombing had claimed four lives, Stratford would claim innumerably more. If there had been better financial transparency the terrorists would not have been able to operate so freely. Perhaps they would have gone elsewhere or have been caught in good time. It was a no-brainer and if it was what Kate wanted, then he wanted to be with her.
‘Thank you for your warnings. I’d like to attend the interview next week and, interview permitting, I look forward to becoming part of the team.’
‘That is good news,’ said the dark-suited civil servant. ‘The PM will be very pleased.’
Rafi got up and went to find Kate. His life was changing fast. Only a few months ago he had been a well-respected and very highly paid equities fund manager. He was now about to take a huge salary cut, work in Luxembourg and join MI5.
Kate was talking with Emma. ‘I’m being posted to Luxembourg,’ he heard her say.
‘Congratulations! I’ll really miss you though. You’ve got to promise to stay in touch,’ replied Emma.
Rafi turned to Kate. ‘What do you have planned for the rest of the afternoon?’
‘Well, I need to tidy my desk. Then I can start planning the next chapter of my life with my new partner,’ she quipped with a mischievous look on her face.
She spotted a pile of messages on her desk. ‘Would you believe it? I’ve had a call from Jeremy and he’s in Luxembourg! He says he will be there to meet us at the airport on Friday and show us some sights, before he takes us to our hotel, which is near the Embassy.’
Rafi looked at Kate. ‘What, on earth, is Jeremy doing in Luxembourg?’
‘Heaven only knows. But I hope he’s been posted there; it would be great to have him as part of the team.’ Kate hesitated. ‘What time is it? I’ve just remembered a couple of things I need to finish off.’
Rafi looked at his watch. ‘It’s just after 4.15 p.m.’
‘Could we meet back here at 6 o’clock? And could you find something to keep you occupied for about two hours?’
‘No problem.’ Rafi flicked open his mobile and rang Aidan. He felt slightly guilty that he hadn’t made more of an effort to keep in touch since that day they’d given the presentation at Number 10.
Aidan answered the phone straight away. He definitely was not at the office; from the background noise Rafi guessed he was enjoying a glass or two of champagne at a local hostelry.
‘Hi Aidan, Rafi here.’
‘Great to hear from you. I thought you’d been avoiding me… Where are you?’
‘Wood Street.’
‘It’s POETS day. Do come and join us; we’re in the Pavilion at Finsbury Circus Gardens. It’s been a rather good week; we’re a bit over the top, but do join us.’
‘See you in ten minutes.’
The Pavilion was a short walk away; it was a likeable wine bar in the middle of Finsbury Circus, overlooking a bowling green. Rafi grabbed his coat, hurried downstairs and headed down Chiswell Street towards the wine bar. On arrival he was greeted by a joyous Aidan. He had taken a few clients out for lunch and they were still going strong. As an equities man, Rafi’s path tended not to cross with the derivatives specialists. They were high-octane people with a ‘work hard, play hard’ ethos.
‘Let me introduce you to… Rafi,’ Aidan said enthusiastically, and then suddenly stopped. ‘On second thoughts, there’s no need – I reckon everybody here will already know you from your pictures in the papers!’ To general amusement, those that Rafi hadn’t met before introduced themselves. Aidan ordered him a freshly squeezed orange juice and Rafi sat down and listened to their stories. Aidan was on cracking form. He’d picked up a whole host of new clients after all the publicity he’d received for his work for the Treasury.
‘Rafi,’ he said, ‘have you heard the one about the managing director of a major international bank who one Monday morning turned up to the office to attend a video-conference meeting with a major client, only to find that all the equipment had been taken away for servicing?’
There were howls of laughter around the table.
‘And he thought that I had something to do with it! He saw that the market was closed and decided it was an omen to go off and have an extended lunch.’ This was greeted by more laughs.
‘You know, every time I meet the MD, he asks me how I’m getting on in the second-hand electricals market – some cheek!’ said Aidan.
The conversation went from pillar to post and time flew by all too quickly. Rafi said his goodbyes and left the ever-merrier group to their next bottle of champagne. He arrived back at Wood Street in a taxi, picking up a tired Kate before heading straight for Clapham. It had been quite a day.
The Tuesday interview at Storey’s Gate was just a formality. Rafi sat at one end of a long table with two grey-suited individuals sitting at the other end.
The first twenty minutes were spent completing a detailed CV about Rafi: schooling, degrees, employment, work skills and competencies, leisure activities, and so on.
The first real question was: ‘Do you think that your financial and analytical skills are appropriate for this position?’
‘Yes,’ Rafi answered, expecting a follow-up question.
‘Thank you,’ came the reply. ‘We do not have any more questions. Do you want to ask us anything?’
Rafi shook his head.
‘Good. On your way out, please pick up the envelope from the secretary next door. It contains your employment contract. Thank you for coming in.’
And that was it. Kate had a similar interview. Back at the flat, they went through the contents of their envelopes. Kate was bowled over by the hike in her salary. There was an accommodation allowance, a travelling to home allowance, even a clothing allowance. In her eyes the package was fantastic. Rafi’s package was practically identical, other than his basic salary, which was a couple of thousand Euros less, but in the small print he saw that he would be getting a special allowance which brought him to a financial parity. He smiled. It was a nice touch.
Their flight out of London City airport on the Friday was uneventful. Luxembourg from the air looked smaller than they’d expected. Jeremy was waiting for them and was on great form. He had been posted to the Embassy a couple of weeks earlier as a commercial attache. He showed them the sights and at Rafi’s request they visited the spot where Callum and the Mercedes had been found. Standing there, Rafi felt a pang of guilt. Next time he was in England he would visit Callum’s parents.
Kate and Rafi were eventually dropped at their hotel, with time to shower and dress for dinner.
‘What do you think?’ asked Kate. ‘Do I look smart enough?’
The dark emerald, satin dress fitted her perfectly. Her matching high heel shoes lifted her almost to Rafi’s height and accentuated her slim figure.
‘Wow, you look stunning. Yep, you’ll do very nicely!’
The dinner was held in a formal dining room. The Embassy had spared no expense. During the pre-dinner drinks Kate and Rafi were introduced to their prospective boss, Jorg Emcke. He was of average build and height, with receding hair – and introduced himself with great enthusiasm.
‘I heard you wanted to know what my English was like. It’s good, but I still find the English sense of humour impossible. But don’t worry; I enjoy a good laugh, particularly when it’s at the expense of those we catch!’
The individuals alongside whom they would be working looked genuinely unimpressive. They could have been having dinner with a team of auditors who were in the middle of a particularly dull company audit. However, Rafi soon found that appearances could be very deceptive.
The French police chief, Stephanie Doucet, looked incredibly businesslike. She was wearing a plain trouser suit and looked to be in her mid- to late forties. Rafi discovered that she had worked for the Parisian police force and then Europol and, like Kate, had specialised in criminal financial activities.
The Italian detective introduced himself as Celso Morassutti and his Polish counterpart was Ludomir Jablonkowski. Both, Rafi learned, had substantial experience of dealing with organised crime. The background of the three other men remained a mystery.
At dinner, Rafi’s suspicions were confirmed. He had had a feeling that the group had met before and were sizing up the two newcomers. There was great interest in the jobs he had done, but he sensed that they had been fully briefed and were only filling in the gaps. On the other side of the table, Kate was also being discreetly quizzed.
After the main course had been cleared away, Jorg stood up. ‘This will not be a long speech. A couple of hours should do!’ He winked at Kate. ‘Probably a lot less! As you know we’ve been tasked with advising the President of the Commission on what should be done to improve financial transparency. He wants there to be a level playing field, so that when EU tax harmonisation comes in, it will be harder for EU companies aviod paying their taxes. The sums involved are immense, as is the political will. Tens, if not hundreds, of billions of Euros per annum are involved. Our formal role is to be the data gatherers. Technically we will be part of the European Court of Auditors. Their offices are just around the corner in rue Alcide De Gasperi. We will therefore have excellent resources at our disposal.’ He paused and then went on. ‘This is the front under which we will be operating. Your real task is to understand how the criminal fraternity use the current opaqueness of the financial markets to assist them in their activities. While the ways of criminals and terrorists are not identical, the atrocity at Stratford has brought home the scale of the problems facing us. Our activities will remain covert – our aim is not to go out there and arrest people or close down bent corporations; it is to gather evidence that others will use to thwart the criminals and terrorists. I trust we shall all keep a low profile.’
Jorg studied Kate and then Rafi. ‘Seven of us have met before on several occasions. This evening we are joined by the last two members of our team. They perhaps look on the young side to us. However, their track record speaks for itself. They bring to the table cutting edge experience of the lengths to which terrorists and criminals will go in order to get their way. Their knowledge will complement our skills-base. You’re a team of equals – if there’s to be any pulling of rank that is my prerogative and my prerogative alone. Unless I hear any dissenting comments, I shall assume that you are all willing and happy to work together as a team.’
He looked around and then continued. ‘In that case, you will be expected to report for duty at our new offices a week on Monday. That, I trust, will give you sufficient time to sort out your affairs at home, to dust off your suitcases and to find suitable accommodation in Luxembourg.’
Jorg sat down, picked up a large cigar, chopped off the end, carefully lit it and started puffing as though he had no cares in the world – and smoking bans didn’t exist.
After dinner things became more informal. They were ushered into a comfortable sitting room where they chatted and bounced ideas around. Rafi looked around the room: there was definitely an esprit de corps. The special task force was up and running.
At just after 1 a.m., Jorg said he was calling it a night and left with a simple parting remark: ‘It has been a good evening. I look forward to seeing you all in our office on Monday week at 9 o’clock for a strategy meeting.’
It was almost 2 a.m. when Kate and Rafi walked back to their hotel.
The wind had a nip to it, but Rafi had a warm feeling inside him; it had been a fascinating and illuminating evening.
Back in the hotel room, Kate flipped off her shoes, sat suggestively on the corner of the bed and looked across at Rafi who had taken off his jacket.
‘What do you think of this situation we’ve got ourselves into?’ She sounded very excited. ‘I am the luckiest girl in the world. My two wishes have come true: a fantastic job where I can do something worthwhile and a man at my side for whom I would do anything…’
‘And what about my wish?’ enquired Rafi.
She smiled and looked into his dark eyes. ‘I wonder what that might be?’ She turned her back to him and said, ‘If you could help me with my zip…’ but let her voice trail off.
Rafi sat next to her, ran his fingers provocatively down her back and felt a small shudder race through her.
Kate stood up; her satin dress slipped silently to the floor, revealing her breasts enticingly covered by a lacy black bra, just inches from Rafi’s face.
Rafi sat still, taking in the sight before him. He was captivated.
‘Do you like…?’
Rafi pulled her forward and kissed her. The question was left unfinished.
He felt his shirt being unbuttoned; as it went over his head, he stood up and moved closer to her. Her body was warm against his. Their lips met again – her tongue danced provocatively between his lips. He could taste a hint of Cointreau.
Rafi felt her hands effortlessly undress him. Her fingertips tenderly caressed his naked body.
Kate was enjoying the effect her teasing was having on him.
Rafi reached over and switched off the light. He lifted the sheet and slid under the crisp cotton, closely followed by Kate.
‘Now where was I?’ Kate asked playfully as she disappeared under the covers.
Rafi tingled all over as she slowly explored his body. She worked her way back up to his lips and kissed him lovingly.
‘I meant what I said: I’d do anything for you,’ she said as she moved on top on him. ‘At the Headland hotel when I saw Dranoff’s eyes latch on to mine and the sawn-off shotgun come out from under his coat, I was completely petrified. I froze. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed you flying down the stairs screaming at him, trying to draw his attention away from me. It all happened so fast: me thinking I was about to die, you screaming and firing and Dranoff blasting both barrels at you. I saw the wooden banister rail disintegrate into splinters only centimetres away from your body and when you landed in a gory mess at the bottom of the stairs.’ Kate tenderly kissed his lips. ‘In that split second, I realised how very much I loved you. You offered up your life to save mine. I was filled with amazement. I vowed there and then, I’d do absolutely anything for you.’
She snuggled closer. ‘My fantasy is to make you blissfully happy.’
The next morning, when Rafi woke, Kate was sleeping soundly by his side. He lay still, not wishing to disturb her. He gazed at her elfin-like features and savoured the memories of the previous night.
They had a lazy breakfast, showered together and were several minutes late for their coffee with Jeremy in the hotel lobby.
‘My, you’re looking radiant this morning,’ Jeremy said to Kate. ‘I see that Luxembourg with a man in tow suits you.’ He smiled at Rafi. ‘Aren’t you the lucky one?’
The question needed no answer.
‘I hear that the dinner went well,’ Jeremy continued. Rafi resisted asking whether they’d been bugged.
‘Jeremy, how much do you know of what Rafi and I are doing?’ asked Kate.
Jeremy smiled. ‘Ewan has briefed me. I’m to be your liaison with MI5 and MI6. I’ll be based at the Embassy and will have a desk next to yours in your offices.’
‘That’s great. Anything else I should know?’
‘Don’t tell Emma and Jack yet, but they’ll be part of your support team.’
‘Fantastic!’ said Kate with a big smile. ‘And is there anything more?’
‘I understand last night you had lengthy conversations with the three police officers, but found their partners less than forthcoming.’
‘Yes. They were rather secretive.’
‘Probably best if they bring you up to speed once you start working with them. Basically, Pierre Simmon works for the DGSE, La Direction Generale de la Securite Exterieure, which is France’s equivalent to MI6. Then there is Luca Duilio, who gained an impressive track record with the Italian Anti-mafia Investigative Directorate; he’ll tell you in due course what he’s been up to for the past couple of years. Bernhard Michalak is from Warsaw. And at one time he worked for the Stasi in East Germany and then had a stint with the FSB, the Russian Federal Security Service. He is a specialist on the whys and wherefores of organised crime in those former Russian states that are now part of the EU. Oh, and he’s a close friend of Luca.’
Rafi looked carefully at Jeremy. ‘They are a forbidding team, aren’t they?’
‘Yep, I’m glad that they are on our side. Heaven only knows what all of you will dig up!’
Their coffee was finished and they said their goodbyes. Kate and Rafi went off to explore the shops. After lunch, Jeremy had arranged for them to meet one of the Embassy staff.
The afternoon was spent looking at apartments. The first looked unremarkable from the outside, was comfortable and spacious on the inside, but had poor views. The second flat was smaller. However, it was only a short stroll from the office, overlooked a small square and was conveniently located for easy access to the airport. The main rooms were light and airy and the master bedroom was a good size with an impressive en suite bathroom. In the basement there was secure parking for two cars.
They both liked it. It would make an ideal and comfortable home for a couple doing a fair amount of travel. They decided not to look any further.
‘Is it within our budget?’ Kate enquired.
‘Money will not be a problem,’ came the reply. ‘When you’ve settled in, do let me know if you need any changes and I’ll happily organise them for you.’
Four hours later, Kate and Rafi were back in Clapham, sitting in front of her gas fire. They were tired, but elated by the prospects of their new lives.
Lying on the table amongst the post was a smart envelope with a crest on the back. It was addressed to both of them. Their company was requested at a reception and dinner at Windsor Castle, six weeks later, to celebrate a State visit by the President of the European Commission.
Rafi looked puzzled. ‘I wonder why we have been invited?’ ‘It’s probably to do with our new jobs,’ replied Kate. ‘Or perhaps we have gone up in the world following the capture of the terrorists?’
The day of the dinner at Windsor Castle arrived. Rafi and Kate had taken half a day off.
They arrived at Kate’s flat in the early afternoon. She was dithering. ‘It’s alright for you; a dinner jacket is a dinner jacket, end of problem. What am I going to wear?’
‘I thought you’d already bought an evening dress?’
‘Well, that’s the problem!’
‘You’ve left it a bit late!’
‘No, it’s just that I have a couple of options and then there’s what shoes and jewellery to put on.’
‘How’s about you put your choices on the bed and we go through them?’
‘Would you be willing to sit through me changing in and out of things, dithering while trying to decide what to wear?’
Rafi nodded, trying to look enthusiastic.
‘Give me a moment and I’ll get everything out,’ said Kate heading for the bedroom. What seemed like ages later, Rafi heard a call from the bedroom. He sauntered down the corridor, wondering what he’d let himself in for, and pushed open the door. There, standing in front of him was Kate with her hair up in a sophisticated fashion. Around her neck was a most exquisite gold necklace of blue gemstones with diamonds, pointing down to a lacy bra, panties, suspender belt and sheer silk stockings.
‘Now watch this.’ Kate smiled and walked into the evening sunshine. Rafi let out a quiet whistle. The blue gemstones in the necklace and the matching earrings had turned a fiery amber colour, setting off her hair perfectly.
‘Magic, isn’t it?’ asked Kate with a grin.
‘You look stunning… What are they?’
‘Blue amber. I’ve always wanted to wear them but never had the occasion before. They’ve been hidden away since my granny died a few years back.’
‘She had the same colour hair as you?’
Kate nodded.
‘I can see why she gave them to you. They are fabulous. I love how the amber changes colours. You look ravishing.’
They walked back to the bed. Four long dresses were draped across the duvet cover.
Rafi picked up a pale gold dress which had an almost translucent quality. It shimmered as it moved in the light. He wasn’t certain about the colour, but Kate seemed to like it. He suggested she try it on.
‘Do you think the colour is too much with my hair? A little shop in Milan made it and some matching shoes especially for me. I paid them a visit while I was working there a couple of weeks ago.’
Rafi watched as she slipped it on. He was surprised at how much he liked it; it hugged her figure, enhancing her subtle curves, and the colour actually accentuated the beauty of her skin and hair.
‘It’s perfect. There’s no need to look any further.’
‘In which case we have a some time to kill,’ said Kate suggestively, slipping off the silk dress. ‘It’s a bit cluttered in here. How’s about we try the sitting room?’
The taxi arrived outside Kate’s flat on time. The twenty-mile journey to Windsor Castle was good for the hour of day.
Emma and Aidan had also received official invitations to the dinner. Neither had expected the other to be there. The seating plan had them next to one another near the top table. Kate and Rafi sat opposite each other at the other end of the room, with a European Council member, two immensely wealthy Continental European industrialists and a French newspaper editor, Jean-Michel Coeurs.
Kate and Rafi noticed a lot of famous faces as they mingled during the pre-dinner drinks. The Royal family, senior politicians and the movers and shakers of the British economy were out in force.
At dinner, Rafi’s conversation with those sitting around him ebbed and flowed. It turned to international businesses and whether too many were exploiting accounting and taxation loopholes. Surprisingly, it suddenly got interesting.
The industrialist on Rafi’s left explained, ‘As the chairman of a listed company, I have analysts crawling over practically everything we do. I’ve got to play by the rules.’
‘That’s your choice,’ countered the other industrialist. ‘I find life so much easier running a private business. I have a flexibility that gives me a distinct competitive edge.’
‘What about the Commission and its approach to matters financial?’ Rafi asked.
This sparked off a lively debate.
‘Remind me how many millions – or was it billions? – of the Commission’s budgets were unaccounted for last year?’ asked Jean-Michel, the journalist.
‘I can’t answer that question as the accounts aren’t due out for several months,’ countered the bureaucrat defensively.
‘OK, what was the figure for the year before, approximately?’ asked Jean-Michel.
‘Roughly, in percentage terms, around… one percent’
This seemed to rankle Jean-Michel. ‘That’s over €1 billion. It would be bad enough if that was the correct figure, but I believe the true figure is far, far greater. Didn’t the European Court of Auditors raise serious concerns about where the €80 billion spent on agricultural and structural projects actually went?’
‘Yes, there are undoubtedly a number of grey areas,’ replied the bureaucrat without any hint of embarrassment.
The topic of conversation continued until the speeches, but the disputed figure still hadn’t been resolved.
Rafi mentally missed most of the speeches. His mind was on the recent conversation. Two things struck him: first, the lack of concern that the bureaucrat had about the Commission’s unbalanced books and the system’s opaqueness, and, second, the opportunities to which the private industrialist had alluded, which enabled him to play the system, make easy money and enjoy being accountable to no one. Then there was the journalist, Jean-Michel; he seemed to know his stuff. Rafi made a mental note that he was a man worth talking to.
After the dinner, whilst Kate and Rafi were waiting for their taxi home, Jean-Michel came over and said his goodbyes. He too was on his way back to Central London.
‘Why don’t you join us? We practically go past the front door of your hotel,’ suggested Kate.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That was a truly memorable evening. Your Royal family certainly know how to entertain and make guests feel special.’
During the forty-minute ride into London they chatted about various things. After a lull in the conversation Jean-Michel turned to Kate and said, ‘I believe we have a mutual friend?’
‘Who might that be?’
‘Stephanie Doucet; she and I grew up together. I saw her for dinner a couple of nights ago. Our conversation touched on the terrorist attacks in London. She mentioned you, and that you reminded her of when she was younger. It seems you made quite an impression!’
The taxi came to a halt at the hotel and Jean-Michel climbed out. His parting remark was, ‘Perhaps we could have dinner with Stephanie sometime and continue this evening’s conversation?’
‘That would be nice,’ replied Rafi.
The taxi moved off. Kate playfully nudged Rafi in the ribs. ‘Thinking about your dinner with Stephanie, are we?’
‘No, I was thinking about our first night in Luxembourg and hoping you aren’t feeling tired,’ he said with a mischievous grin.
Early summer arrived; Kate and Rafi continued to travel around Europe. There had been a steep learning curve in understanding the intricacies of how the European Union, the Commission and big pan-European businesses operated.
Once every three or four weeks, they spent a weekend in London at Kate’s flat. This Saturday, they had slept in, and were lying on the bed enjoying a breakfast of croissants and coffee while going through a pile of post.
There were two smart envelopes; their backs bore the Royal Coat of Arms.
Kate opened her envelope to find it was a formal invitation to a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace, to be held in five weeks’ time. In the envelope there was a second gilt-edged card which requested the pleasure of her company at an audience with the Queen an hour and a half prior to the Garden Party.
Rafi opened his envelope. He, too, had two invitations. He recalled how, on his return from Newquay, he had liaised with an enthusiastic SJ at Number 10 regarding the idea of a Garden Party. He had thought nothing more of the conversation.
‘First a dinner, and now a Garden Party and an audience with the Queen. Aren’t we moving up in the world!’ said Rafi.
‘Wow, doesn’t it look smart?’ Kate exclaimed. ‘What an excuse to buy another new dress!’
Rafi looked across at her beaming face.
‘Would you believe it, I shall be in Milan again the week after next?’
Major Charlie Stavely and Saara phoned during the weekend to say that they, too, had received invitations to the Garden Party. They were very excited. After a flurry of phone calls, it was arranged that Kate and Rafi would see Saara and Steve for supper the night before the Garden Party and then meet up with family and friends the following morning.
Kate and Rafi had become accustomed to their European travels and over the past couple of weeks they had gone in opposite directions.
Their new boss, Jorg, and their paymasters were giving them the freedom to research and delve where they wished. Jorg was very good at keeping people off their backs and keeping the politicians happy.
To the unsuspecting outsider, the team remained a nondescript data-crunching organisation. However, in reality progress was being made on a number of fronts. The team was gaining an in-depth understanding of how pan-European players operated and the areas into which organised criminals had been drawn. It had not been the aim of their investigations, but links between corruption, wealth and certain well-connected individuals were becoming apparent. Rafi wondered how long it would be before they knew how dangerous a can of worms they were opening.
Kate and Rafi’s cosy flat in Luxembourg remained a haven of tranquillity. In contrast, their office down the road was a different world. They had slotted into the team remarkably easily, and worked well with the other members, though they suspected that they were viewed as the junior partners. This had its benefits, though, as their colleagues seemed genuinely keen to help.
The date of the Summer Garden Party was fast approaching. The week leading up to it had been tiring. Rafi had been to Paris, Frankfurt and Amsterdam, whilst Kate had been to Prague and Milan.
They were looking forward to their supper with Steve and Saara on the evening before their outing to Buckingham Palace.
The hour’s time difference meant that they could catch the 6.00 p.m. flight to London City Airport and be in Hampstead by 8.00 p.m., London time.
They chatted for much of the flight, enjoying one another’s company. They had learned at an early stage not to talk about work in public places.
During a lull in the conversation, Rafi browsed through an English newspaper where one story in particular caught his eye. It was a follow-up on some of the families made homeless by the Stratford nuclear catastrophe. It described the public support that they had received and how they had been relocated and rehoused. The little girl whose teddy had become world-famous, and her family, had found a home in Norfolk. If the picture -which showed her with a broad smile clutching her teddy – was anything to go by, she was enjoying her new life. The article went on to report that she was one of the lucky ones; many of the dispossessed had still to find permanent new homes.
The journey from London City airport to Hampstead Heath was straightforward. The taxi pulled up in front of Rafi’s old flat at 7.45 p.m. They stood in the passageway by the front door to the flats. It was the first time he’d been back since that fateful February morning. It seemed such a long time ago now, but he was still uneasy standing there; too many vivid and painful memories flooded through his mind. He had hoped that returning to his flat would help him to slay the ghosts of the past. It certainly gave him the creeps.
Rafi pressed the bell. Saara answered. ‘Do come in.’
The door buzzed and opened. They entered. As they climbed the stairs, Rafi recalled his conversation with Kate, on their return from Cornwall, about where he might live. She had been surprised when he had asked if he could move in with her.
‘But my flat is bound to be nothing like as nice as yours. Jeremy tells me that they’ve done a good job in putting it back together again!’ she had said.
‘Your flat has nice memories – mine has too many ghosts,’ had been his reply.
They arrived outside the front door of his old apartment. Rafi knocked. It sounded different, very solid. The door opened and there in front of him was his little sister, looking very grown-up.
‘Come in, come in. Sorry about the chaos. We only just beat you here! Steve is dying to meet you, Kate.’
‘Hi there, I’m Steve,’ he said, cheerily as he appeared from the kitchen. Great to meet you at last, Kate. Can I get you a drink? A cup of tea… or something stronger?’
‘Tea would be nice,’ replied Kate, as she and Rafi walked through to the sitting room-cum-dining room.
Rafi saw that his minimalist decor had been replaced by an eclectic mix of furniture and paintings. Saara and Steve’s clutter was everywhere. Paperwork spread from the table, across the floor and on to the windowsill. It gave the place an untidy but lived-in feel.
Rafi looked at their faces. Their smiles said it all.
‘We thought that, if it was fine by you, we would eat out at your favourite Chinese restaurant. Mr Cheung is looking forward to seeing you. He says his turnover has hit wock bottom since you moved away!’
‘Sounds perfect,’ grinned Rafi.
‘Let me show you around,’ offered Saara. ‘The MI5 people arranged for the redecorating and the new steel front door. They said your old one had been sold for matchsticks!’
Rafi and Kate followed Saara into the spare bedroom. The pictures on the walls he recognised from her bedroom in their parents’ house and the duvet cover from her house in Birmingham. The bed and curtains were new and very John Lewis.
‘Kate, if you need anything when you’re getting changed, please shout,’ said Saara.
Rafi looked into the bathroom. He recalled the conversation with a man from MI5, apologising about all his furniture and personal effects. He now saw what he had meant. Everything had been replaced.
‘Come on – come and see what Steve and I have done to our bedroom,’ said Saara excitedly.
Kate and Rafi were ushered along the corridor and up the small staircase. Shambolic would have been a good word to describe the look of their room. Cluttered could have been an alternative.
‘Isn’t this great?’ beamed Saara. ‘So much floor space! Knocks our old house in Brum into a cocked hat!’
Rafi looked at Saara and noticed she looked a little apprehensive.
‘It’s been a hectic day. We prayed that your flight would be delayed, so we could have done a little tidying up.’
Rafi walked over to Saara and gave her a big hug. ‘It’s great. I’m pleased you enjoy living here. You should see Kate’s flat,’ he added with a wry smile. At which point he received a sharp dig in the ribs.
Saara looked at her watch. ‘Mr Cheung is expecting us in half an hour. And Rafi, thank you – Steve and I love it here.’
Before leaving Saara’s bedroom, Rafi walked over to the window and looked out. The Heath could be seen to the left and central London was in the distance. Rafi glanced down at the road. His heart missed a beat. There, in the evening shadows opposite, was the dark form of a large Mercedes car. Haunting memories rushed back. Kate, who was standing nearby, sensed his apprehension.
‘Seen an old ghost?’
‘Sort of,’ he replied.
‘We should be going soon,’ came a shout from downstairs. ‘We don’t want to keep Mr Cheung waiting, do we?’
Thirty minutes later, after a quick wash and change, they were standing in front of the restaurant. Saara was at Rafi’s side.
‘You first, big Bro.’
He opened the door. The sight that met his eyes stopped him in his tracks. There, standing in front of him, were John and Jeremy. To their left were Aidan, Emma and the doctor and his wife from Newquay. He looked around the room. It seemed that everyone was there. The commissioner was in deep conversation with Ewan at a corner table. The brigadier and Colonels Turner and Gray were talking to an elderly gentleman whose back was to Rafi. Suddenly it dawned on him; it was his grandfather’s back. He looked across to the other side of the room and saw Kate’s brother. He glimpsed Kate’s parents sitting down, looking very proper, with Air Chief Marshal Sir Nigel Hawser and the back of someone he couldn’t quite place. Ah yes, it was Donald Hollingsworth, and next to him was Kate’s former boss, David. He looked around again; to try and take in all the faces.
Rafi walked across the threshold and was greeted by a cheer. Mr Cheung, appeared as if out of thin air. ‘Mr Khan, so pleased to see you this evening. No takeaway tonight, I think?’ he said with a chuckle.
‘I thought we were going out for a quiet supper,’ Rafi said in amazement to Saara. ‘How on earth did you manage to arrange something so big and keep it a secret?’
Saara grinned. ‘It wasn’t easy!’
Jeremy stuck out his hand which Rafi shook energetically.
‘What a surprise meeting you here,’ he said with a broad smile stretching almost from ear to ear. ‘I had a devil of a problem travelling on the same plane as you without being spotted! Good training, eh? When Saara told me what she and her boss, the Chancellor, had planned for your party, I couldn’t resist hopping on a plane. Oh, I forgot, the PM, the Defence Secretary and the Chancellor of the Exchequer send their apologies. They’ve got a meeting which is running late, but they should be here in half an hour.’
‘You’re joking. They are not really coming, are they?’ asked Rafi.
‘’Fraid so. It seems the Chancellor reckons you deserved a proper thank you – it looks as if you’re going to have yourself some party! Better be on your best behaviour!’ said Jeremy with a grin.
‘What can I get you?’ asked John. ‘Champagne?’
Rafi looked at Kate, who had started to shift into party mode. Her eyes sparkled and she looked fantastic in her summer dress.
‘As this is a very special occasion, champagne would be great, please.’
As if by magic two glasses arrived.
Rafi gave Kate a kiss. ‘Isn’t this fantastic? Did you know anything about this?’
‘Honestly, no. But I should have guessed something was in the wind given the strange phone calls I’ve been getting from Saara and Emma over the past few weeks!’
‘How’s about we circulate? See you in a bit,’ said Rafi.
The evening went by far too fast – so many people to talk to and lots of news to take on board. As Rafi worked his way around the large room, he came across a few faces he didn’t recognise. The retired commander and his wife, their two daughters, the SBS boyfriends and the two SAS soldiers were on good form recalling their escapade and their close call with the Moroccan Air Force.
Rafi was introduced to the crew of the first helicopter to carry concrete to the wrecked train, who by the end of the day had flown more sorties than any other crew. He then found himself talking to Roger and Steve from the Immigration team. They seemed awestruck by their fellow guests and were standing quietly to one side – conversation with them was an uphill battle.
‘I’m so pleased you could come. Whilst you are here, you might like to make the most of it – where else can you meet the head of MI5?’ Rafi surreptitiously pointed out Ewan. ‘Next to him is the Chief of the Defence Staff and shortly we’ll be joined by the Prime Minister. And, Roger, you might even pluck up the courage to tell the new Home Secretary what you think of the system you work under! You shouldn’t feel out of place… please remember that without your help things would be far, far worse.’
They visibly grew in stature and headed off to mix with the other guests.
At that moment the PM and the Chancellor arrived with their entourage. Saara did the introductions, from which it became apparent she now had friends in high places.
The PM was apologetic. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve brought along a couple of gatecrashers. My last meeting overran and, as a reward for them talking too much, here they are!’ he introduced the leaders of the two main opposition parties, who were now high-ranking cabinet ministers.
The PM moved off to work the room as only a top class politician can.
Meanwhile, the Chancellor was greeted by Steve and Saara. He was in an ebullient mood. The flak he had feared following the Stratford disaster had not happened. His initiatives had worked their way through Parliament and were having a rejuvenating effect on public sentiment.
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you a question, if you don’t mind?’ asked Rafi. ‘How close were we to joining the Euro?’
The Chancellor put his arm on Rafi’s shoulder and ushered him to one side. ‘Between you and me, it was close – very close! In the House, I was almost more worried waiting to receive the message from the Bank of England, which would tell me whether they’d done a deal with the Central Banks, than the messages telling me if the terrorists had been captured. When I stood up we only had a couple of smaller Central Banks offering to support Sterling, but it was at an unacceptably low exchange rate and contingent on others getting involved. The Governor of the Bank of England did a fantastic job.’ His voice went quieter. ‘I am told it is a senior individual at the Hong Kong Monetary Authority who we have to thank. He realised how intertwined Sterling, the City of London and the international financial markets were. Anyway, within forty-five minutes he had three of the top twenty countries with the highest foreign exchange reserves agreeing to support Sterling. Then Japan, the US and India came on board and the rest is history.’
The Chancellor smiled. ‘I was jubilant when I read the message saying how much support Sterling had. I could scarcely believe my eyes. And I must tell you how much I appreciate all you have done. Your foresight into what was going on in the financial markets, and your team’s proposals got me out of a really difficult situation. Thank you.’
Saara and Kate joined them. Rafi sensed that his conversation with the Chancellor had come to an end and he and Kate went off to mingle.
Food appeared. It was Mr Cheung at his best and Rafi told him so.
Plate in hand, Rafi stood in the middle of the room, enjoying the atmosphere and taking in the scene around him. He felt a soft squeeze around his waist from behind. ‘If I’d known you were this well-connected perhaps I’d have taken you a bit more seriously!’ said the seductive voice. ‘And who would have guessed that so many of my friends are friends of yours?’
The sentence was interrupted by the restaurant door swinging open. There, filling a substantial portion of the frame, was a heavily-built man. Behind him, was a well-dressed man of indeterminate age and a stunning dark-haired young woman.
The deep voice rang out. ‘Have I missed all the fun? Look who I met at the airport – a Dutch generaal! Someone should have told me that Heathrow is further away than your City Airport; and whoever put in those bloody bus lanes should be told they screw up the traffic when you’re in a hurry!’ This was followed by a booming laugh. ‘They tell me this is where we can find DCI Adams and an air chief marshal,’ rang out the deep voice, ‘And if I’m lucky, a Mr., Khan might be hiding here, with some vodka – if he values his life!’ The colonel paused. ‘If not, I’ve brought some best Estonian Turi.’
Beaming, Rafi and Kate went over to meet Colonel Matlik and his two companions.
He stuck out his hand as Rafi approached. ‘Rafi, it is great to meet you at last! I hope you don’t mind, I’ve brought my daughter, Kristina, with me. She knows nothing of your English ways. I thought if Kate and Emma were here to keep an eye on possible suitors, she might just be safe,’ he said with a chuckle.
‘And we have an invitation to see your Queen for tea tomorrow afternoon – such a nice surprise. Kristina has been impossible for weeks, fretting about what to wear. Now, where did you say the vodka was?’ And off he strode as if he were a man on a mission.
Rafi looked across towards Saara. She was smiling. He sensed that the guest list was complete. Standing behind Rafi was the Air Chief Marshal, and next to him was the PM.
‘Prime Minister and Mr Khan,’ said the Air Chief Marshal, ‘it is my pleasure to introduce you to Generaal Wilm Van Dijk of the Royal Netherlands Air Force. Had Wilm not stuck his neck out for us and lent us almost all his fleet of helicopters and transport planes, we would have been in great trouble.’ They shook hands and started talking.
Emma came over and introduced herself to Colonel Matlik’s daughter, Kristina. The colonel reappeared with two glasses and passed one to his daughter. ‘I told you they do things a bit differently here.’ He pointed out some of the more illustrious guests. ‘Where else in Europe can one go to a local Chinese restaurant and meet the Prime Minister, the heads of the armed forces and the intelligence service, and two police chiefs – and find them all mingling with the public? There must be an election coming up soon!’ he boomed.
David appeared at the colonel’s shoulder and suggested he might like to meet Ewan. Emma, meanwhile, took Kristina under her wing and together they went off to find Aidan.
Rafi walked over to chat to his grandfather, but saw he was in deep conversation with Colonel Gray. He stopped and moved over to be with Kate, who was standing watching the party. Within moments he and Kate were joined by the two commissioners.
‘We are most grateful to you for all you’ve done,’ said Len. ‘I always knew Giles had a good team at Wood Street.’
‘I understand that we’ll be meeting you again tomorrow,’ said Giles.
‘At the Garden Party?’ enquired Kate.
‘No, before that,’ said Giles.
Kate and Rafi looked puzzled.
‘Has anyone told you why you’re to see the Queen beforehand?’
‘No,’ said Kate blankly.
‘Well, Kate, you’re to be awarded the Queen’s Police Medal and Rafi is to be given the Queen’s Gallantry Medal. The police force is very proud of you.
They both looked at Giles in amazement and Rafi gave Kate a hug.
Ewan joined them. ‘Thank you for the invite; Jeremy tells me that you’re keeping him busy. Oh, by the way, did you see the photos of Maryam in the newspapers a couple of months ago?’
Rafi nodded. ‘I recall reading an article which described her as: Helping the police with their enquiries and intimated that she had done a deal – is that true?’ asked Rafi.
‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read,’ said Ewan. ‘In reality she’s being totally uncooperative. The photo was a setup. She’d thought she was about to be released on a technicality and was meeting a European human rights judge. The sheikh, Basel and Jameel, who are locked away in separate high security prisons, just happened to see the papers that day. They’re furious! As the saying goes, Divide and rule.’ Ewan gave Rafi a friendly pat on the shoulder. ‘Great party; if you’ll excuse me there are a couple more people I should like to chat to. Do keep in touch.’
‘Time to mix with family?’ suggested Kate.
‘Good idea,’ agreed Rafi.
They walked over to speak to Kate’s parents. They were sitting with their backs to the wall, taking in all that was going on in the room. Kate sat down next to her mother and gave her a hug, then got up and did the same to her father.
‘I’m so pleased that you could come.’
‘We almost didn’t. But Rafi’s sister sounded so very charming on the phone and said how much it would mean to you,’ said her father.
‘We’ve been chumps haven’t we?’ said her mother. ‘I’m sorry we didn’t understand how important your job was to you and what you’d make of it. The commissioner tells us you’re one of the – if not the – youngest chief inspector in Europe and are doing more good work in Luxembourg.’
‘I think he’s exaggerating a bit!’ said Kate.
‘He’s not the only one who says that we should be very proud of you,’ said her father. ‘We are proud – very proud.’ He paused then went on, ‘With Marcus’s help we have done up the attic studio in the main house. Do please use it as your home whenever you have time.’
Kate gave a beaming smile to her parents. ‘That would be lovely, thank you.’
Out of the corner of his eye, Rafi noticed Saara talking with her grandfather. He smiled; they looked very happy together.
The conversation between Kate and her parents turned to small talk.
‘Have I told you,’ began Kate’s mother, ‘that we’ve got your postcards stuck all round our kitchen cupboards? It was so nice of you to start up that family tradition again.’
Kate gave Rafi’s hand a squeeze.
‘You do seem to get around a bit these days,’ continued her mother. ‘Some weeks we seem to get a card every other day!’
Rafi sensed that the hurts and wounds of previous years were forgotten.
The sound of a wine glass being tapped echoed across the room and was followed by the raised voice of Rafi’s little sister. She was standing at the side of the restaurant next to the Prime Minister, the Air Chief Marshal and Commissioner Giles Meynell. She had a champagne glass in her hand and was tapping it with a spoon. Silence fell over the room.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I am so pleased you could all make it to Rafi’s surprise party. I should like to thank the Chancellor, my boss, whose idea it was to convene such a gathering and I would ask you to raise your glasses, please, in a toast: To Rafi and determination!’
The Prime Minister moved to Saara’s side. With a beaming face he looked around the room. ‘For once I shall be brief.’ He paused as he noticed a wry smile on many of the faces in front of him. ‘If I were to pay my thanks to each of you here, who selflessly gave so much, it would take a very long time. I am tempted… But not tonight!’
The PM reached for his glass. ‘I would ask you all to raise your glasses and toast: To all those who lost their lives or their good health.’
The PM waited for his audience to finish sipping their champagne and for their attention to focus back on him. ‘I would especially like to thank two people who have travelled a long distance to be with us this evening. Generaal Wilm Van Dijk and Colonel Hendrik Matlik: thank you for your help in our hour of need. I would ask you to raise your glasses and toast: To our distinguished foreign guests.’
Silence returned. The PM raised his glass and looked around the room making eye contact with as many people as possible: ‘ To you all! You are a very special group of people and I praise you for all you have done.’
He moved to one side during the applause that followed. His place was taken by the Air Chief Marshal. ‘I, too, will follow the precedent set by the Prime Minister and keep my speech brief. I should like to convey my personal thanks to the team I had with me on that fateful night. Their response and clear headedness was beyond anything I could have reasonably expected. I would ask you to raise your glasses and toast: To all those who risked everything in countering the recent terrorist attacks and to the Prime Minister, the Defence Secretary, Ewan Thorn, Brigadier Sparkman and Colonels Turner and Gray for their leadership.’
There was further clapping and a shuffling around, as glasses were sipped and recharged. The Air Chief Marshal’s place was taken by Commissioner Giles Meynell. He looked across at Kate and John. ‘During the investigation leading up to the snaring of the terrorists, we were truly fortunate to have the unerring resolve and meticulous help of a large number of people. I should like to pay my sincere thanks to all of you who made it possible for us to latch on to the terrorists’ plot. In particular: Steve and Roger from the Immigration team, Jeremy and Neil from MI5 and Rick and Phil from Manchester; they all deserve special mention. We salute you.’
Giles paused and turned to David. ‘Your team did you proud. Thank you.’ He paused and added, with a glint in his eye, ‘But another time perhaps we shouldn’t have to rely on someone locked up in a police cell and then get him to provide us with the services of his friends! Aidan, Bob, Alex, Donald, Matthew, Saara and, of course, Rafi – thank you. We owe you all a great debt of gratitude. I should like to ask you all to raise your glasses and toast: To tenacity and all those who helped in our time of need.’
Rafi caught sight of Kate’s parents sitting holding hands. Beside them were Marcus and Susannah. He wished he could have captured their expressions and given the picture as a present to Kate. He looked round and saw Kate smiling at him; she too had spotted her family’s proud faces.
Saara waited for silence to return. ‘That is the end of the formalities; there’s no closing time and Mr Cheung assures me that he has more than enough food and drink to satisfy your appetites and quench your thirst. Thank you all for making this the most memorable and enjoyable of evenings.’
Saara seemed taken aback by the spontaneous applause and for the first time in ages looked a little self-conscious.
She came over and gave Rafi a hug. ‘So how’s the party boy?’
‘Very contented, it’s been a wonderful evening. Thank you for everything.’
They were joined by Kate and made their way across to her parents, who looked extremely happy.
Her mother started the conversation. ‘Kate, dear, this has been such fun, what an evening to remember! But now that we’ve had a chance to talk with you and have seen your friends perhaps we should be getting off; it’s well past our bedtime.’
‘Pardon?’ interjected Kate’s father. ‘But we’re having fun! Our hotel is not far, so why don’t we stay for another drink or two and then head off?’
Kate’s mother smiled. ‘As you say, dear.’
‘Rafi, might there be any Scotch on the premises?’ asked Kate’s father.
‘I’ll see what I can find,’ replied Rafi. ‘And then there is someone I’d like you to meet.’
Kate’s father raised his eyebrows as if to say, ‘Who could be more important than the PM?’
Rafi found Mr Cheung and asked for a bottle of his very best Scotch.
‘Blended or single malt?’
‘Would you bring both, please?’
Then Rafi went over and extracted his grandfather from the conversation he was having.
‘Grandfather, do you like Scotch?’
He beamed. ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’
‘There are a couple of people I’d like you to meet.’
As they walked across to the table where Kate’s parents were sitting, Rafi added Marcus, Susannah, Saara and Steve to his entourage.
Rafi approached the table. Kate’s father was trying to decide which Scotch he preferred. He looked up and smiled.
‘Major Sir Percy and Lady Yvonne,’ Rafi said. ‘It is my pleasure to introduce to you my long lost grandfather, Major Charlie Staveley, my little sister, Saara, and her partner Dr Steve Morris.’
Introductions complete, their conversation started slowly, then the two majors found that they had several interests in common.
Rafi noticed Kate standing hand in hand with her brother, Marcus, who caught his eye and beckoned him over. ‘Rafi, you’re so elusive. I’ve been meaning to thank you all evening; I’ve never seen Kate look this happy. You’re a real tonic for her.’
Rafi smiled. ‘I think it is I who should be thanking her. Without her I’d be languishing in some grubby cell, whilst the country had next to no electricity!’
Marcus looked carefully at Rafi. ‘I’m glad you’re looking after each other. Make the most of the time when happiness is in abundance. It’s such a precious gift, which few people ever get to fully appreciate. Please, for me, don’t lose it.’ The conversation changed as Saara, Steve and Susannah, came across to join them.
In a short time it was agreed that they would all meet for a Sunday lunch at Leverthorne Hall and inspect Kate’s new studio flat in the attic.
To Rafi, the next forty-five minutes flew past as lots of people came over to say their hellos.
Roger from the Immigration team made Rafi smile. ‘I did as you said, plucked up courage, and went over and talked to the Home Secretary. I apologised before I started telling him the system was run by data junkies. You know what? He’s asked me to explain my concerns to one of his ministers next week!’
After saying goodbye to Roger, Rafi at last had a moment to himself. He took a step back to look around the room and see if he had missed someone he really should have talked to, and, in that moment, literally bumped into a stunning blonde. Rafi smiled weakly. His senses picked up her evocative perfume. Then it hit him: he knew this woman. What a transformation!
‘Great party! It was so kind of your sister to invite me.’
It was the first time that Rafi had seen SJ outside her office environment.
She looked up at him from under her lashes and then casually said to Kristina, who was standing next to her, ‘I’m sorry, have you been introduced to Rafi?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ replied Kristina. Then, smiling at Rafi, she added, ‘My father tells me that you and your friends are very remarkable.’
At that moment the little group was joined by Kate.
‘Hi, SJ,’ said Kate. ‘Hello again, Kristina. I’ve been talking to David and he tells me you’re at university. Is that right?’
‘Almost finished – I have my finals next month.’
‘What are you reading?’
‘Environmental sciences with biology.’
‘Excellent – have you meet Rafi’s sister, Saara?’ enquired Kate. ‘Her contacts are fantastic.’
Kristina shook her head.
‘Let’s find her, and I’ll introduce you. We’ll be back in a moment. Rafi you’ll be OK with SJ, won’t you?’
Kate and Kristina moved off. There was an embarrassed silence. ‘You look very different…’ stuttered Rafi, realising he’d been staring at her shapely body. He was starting to blush. ‘What with your hair down and in that amazing dress.’
‘You approve?’ SJ asked with her head tipped slightly to one side.
‘I’m surprised that all the red-blooded men in the room aren’t queuing up to get your phone number. I still can’t get over the transformation.’ Rafi cast his approving eyes from head to toe. ‘You look stunning.’
SJ felt the hairs on her bare arms stand up. The visit to her friend, who was a professional hairdresser and make-up artist, had been worth the hassle.
She hesitated. ‘Forgive me if it’s private, but is it true that you turned down a six or seven figure sum from the newspapers and gave it to charity?’
‘Sort of – yes,’ Rafi replied. He sensed she was hoping for more. ‘It seemed that the money would be better used helping those suffering from radiation exposure. Hospices survive thanks to donations and at the moment they desperately need money.’
‘Have you ever visited a hospice?’
Rafi shook his head.
‘If you and Kate have a spare moment sometime, perhaps you should visit one? I’m sure we could get you good press coverage, which would help boost their donations. I could even see if the PM had a spare slot in his diary so he could be there with you.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ agreed Rafi. ‘Unfortunately though,’ he quickly added, ‘Kate and I aren’t in the UK very much these days.’
‘No problem, I’m not going anywhere,’ said SJ casually, hoping that this wasn’t going to be the end of the conversation.
There was a pause. ‘I’m sure I should know, but is Sandy Jane your Christian name or your full name?’ enquired Rafi.
‘Jane is my surname. I know, it sounds silly.’
‘It’s a nice name, better than Smith or Khan; there are hundreds of thousands of us,’ said Rafi with a grin.
Kate returned to Rafi’s side. ‘Sorry, we had to wait a bit before I could introduce Kristina to Saara,’ she said with a smile. ‘What have you two been chatting about?’
‘I was suggesting to Rafi that the PM might be able to help you in your efforts to raise money for the hospices.’
‘That sounds like a great idea,’ replied Kate enthusiastically. ‘Rafi’s sister works next door to you; she tends to know when we’re over in London. If you come up with a plan perhaps you could liaise with Saara, so we can find a convenient time to meet up.’
SJ couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. Surely Kate must sense that she was attracted to her boyfriend? It wasn’t fair that the man she thought was gorgeous just happened to have a charming, self-assured girlfriend – who she even liked.
‘I’ll speak with Saara and line something up. Nice chatting to you both,’ said SJ. She turned and made eye contact with Kate. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask… Wherever did you find your dress? You look absolutely gorgeous. Rafi is very lucky.’ Before Kate could reply, SJ had left and was on her way to the bar.
‘SJ seemed particularly pleased to see you this evening,’ commented Kate. Then she added, while smiling to herself, ‘She’s taken a fancy to you! She’s stunning, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, but she isn’t you!’
Kate lent forward and kissed him.
Over in a corner, Emma and Aidan were deep in conversation.
Kate squeezed Rafi’s hand. He followed her look. ‘They enjoy each other’s company, don’t they? From all Emma tells me, she’s having a great time being wooed by Aidan.’
‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Emma would be a great catch for any man with a half-decent IQ,’ Rafi replied.
Kate was about to comment, when the last of the politicians came by to say thank you and goodnight. It was almost 1.30 a.m. Only a few guests remained.
A beaming Pete Lockyer came over to thank Kate and Rafi for the great party. ‘It’s been an exceptional evening. The boys at the office will never believe who I’ve met tonight!’
Kate grimaced.
‘Don’t worry! I know this was a social; the evening is all off the record. Thanks again. You know where to find me if there’s anything I can do to help.’ And with that Pete left with a broad grin.
Kate left Rafi’s side to chat to Emma, who was preparing to leave.
It had been the best party Rafi could remember. Standing thinking to himself, he felt the presence of someone behind him. A deep, quiet voice started talking to him from behind, so that no one else could hear. It was the unmistakable voice of Colonel Matlik. ‘Rafi, my friend, thank you for this evening; Kristina and I very much enjoyed ourselves. By the way, I’m keeping track of all the work you, Kate and Jorg’s unit are doing in Luxembourg. You have an impressive team around you. I know your colleague Bernhard Michalak – he is a good Pole.’
The colonel’s whisper became quieter. ‘Some shadowy figures are coming out of the woodwork. My sources inform me that a number of racketeers and other undesirables from Russia and Central Europe were caught up in Maryam Vynckt’s investments and suffered massive losses. Rafi, dear boy, a hornets’ nest has been stirred up. Several of the large criminal organisations are seriously short of cash. They are furious, and intent not only on replenishing their coffers but also on revenge. To complicate matters, their competitors have noticed this weakness. A new playing field is being created. Former allegiances have been shattered and a war of attrition has started.’
He paused. ‘Desperate people do desperate things. The stakes have been raised and they may have to think big to survive. Be careful not to cross their paths – they are in a dangerous mood.’
Rafi felt the colonel place his large hand on his shoulder. ‘I have more bad news. Just before I left I was informed that the FSB have reopened their investigation into the death of Pinja Koit. They now think that the charred body in the plane crash was not his after all. Perhaps you could tell your people at MI5?’
The colonel’s voice reverted to his normal deep growl. ‘Great party, thank you, Rafi. Kristina has had a ball. She’s very excited; it seems your sister has invited her over to shadow her for a couple of days’ work experience; even offered to put her up. Say a big thank you to Saara for me. And, Rafi, remember, let me know if I can be of any help. You know where to find me.’
Rafi hesitated before replying; he was still taking in what the colonel had just said. Jorg Emcke’s team were only in the preliminary stages of researching the financial grey areas and piecing together the web of cross-border crime syndicates. Colonel Matlik had given him another whole angle to consider.
Rafi turned around to ask him a question, but he had vanished into thin air.
Kate was standing nearby.
‘Have you seen Matlik?’ he enquired.
‘Yes, he left a moment ago, just after chatting to you,’ replied Kate. ‘You look as if you’ve seen another ghost.’
Rafi took a deep breath. A sense of foreboding came over him. If Matlik was right and the criminal classes were about to flex their muscles, Jorg’s team had two groups to worry about. On the one hand there were those whose finances had been crippled by their losses in the derivatives markets – they needed to make money fast. On the other hand, there were those champing at the bit to grab market share, intent on eliminating their weakened competitors. And on top of this, Kate and he possibly had two rogue bulls to contend with: Pinja Koit with his Chechen contacts, and Miti Lakhani about whom they still knew practically nothing. They would have to watch their backs. Unwanted memories of the Headland Hotel crept back into his mind. A cold shiver ran down his back.
Kate squeezed his hand. ‘Are you alright?’
Rafi pulled his overactive imagination back to the present. ‘Sorry, I was just mulling over something Colonel Matlik said. Oh, by the way, Saara has offered Kristina a couple of days’ work experience and invited her to stay after she has finished her finals. Your introduction seemed to do the trick!’
‘I’m pleased for her.’
‘Have you seen Jeremy?’
Kate pointed to the back of the restaurant.
‘I won’t be long – there is something I need to ask him.’
Jeremy was sitting at a corner table talking quietly with Ewan.
‘Am I interrupting you?’ Rafi asked them. ‘As it’s work-related, would you prefer we chat when we’re back in Luxembourg?’
‘Not at all,’ replied Jeremy. ‘We were just catching up on a few matters relating to Maryam and her bank.’
Rafi sat down with his back to the room.
‘We have managed to get into the bank accounts Maryam was using to fund the terrorist activities,’ added Ewan. ‘In some cases the payments go back over three years. She was using numbered accounts so at this stage we have not been able to put precise names to them. However, what has caught our attention is the series of large payments which first went to an Estonian bank account, but stopped and then started again a week or so later, but this time they went into bank accounts in Pakistan and Iran. We were speculating as to whether these accounts were linked to Pinja Koit.’
‘Could I add something?’ asked Rafi butting in. ‘I have just been chatting to Colonel Matlik and he was telling me that the Russians – the FSB – have been looking into Pinja Koit’s death. There seems to be considerable doubt as to whether he was on the plane that crashed.’
‘When was that?’ enquired Ewan.
‘About fourteen months ago,’ answered Jeremy. ‘He makes a good addition to our team, doesn’t he, sir?’ added a beaming Jeremy. ‘It seems Colonel Matlik trusts him more than you or me!’
Ewan nodded, deep in thought. ‘Fourteen months ago… That ties in with the switch in the bank payments. So we can assume Mr Koit is still out there.’
‘That makes sense,’ added Jeremy. ‘And when Radu Dranoff arrived to help Aslan Popovskaya, I bet it was Pinja Koit who arranged it. He must have been involved behind the scenes coordinating all the dirty work. As I see it, he was so incensed by you, Rafi, that he sent Dranoff to take you out. Unfortunately, I don’t see why he shouldn’t still be pissed off.’
Rafi looked shocked. He thought for a moment. ‘How do you think Jameel Furud and Basel Talal’s charity, the suicide bombers and Kaleem Shah fitted in?’
‘I am not sure,’ said Ewan. ‘The attack on the atomic weapons establishment at Aldermaston and the style of Kaleem Shah’s operation have had me thinking. I am wondering whether it was the terrorists’ insurance policy to get the Iranians on their side.’
‘Pardon?’ said Rafi.
‘Well, let us assume for one moment that the terrorists’ plans had been successful; Maryam, the sheikh, Jameel and Talal would have become pariahs in the Western world and would have needed somewhere to go to escape the reach of our laws.’
‘Hence Iran?’ asked Jeremy.
‘That is my thinking,’ said Ewan. ‘Especially as they are prevented from having any nuclear capabilities. Iran doesn’t like being excluded from the nuclear club and they can’t have been happy with the UK’s decision to upgrade Trident. One set of rules for us and another for them.’
‘So do you reckon Pinja Koit is in Pakistan or Iran regrouping?’ asked Rafi.
‘Yes; probably Pakistan,’ replied Ewan.
‘But they have one serious problem,’ interjected Rafi. ‘They will have lost their source of funding!’
‘Good point,’ said Ewan, ‘but we shouldn’t underestimate Koit’s capabilities. I will bring MI6 up to speed and make tracking him down a priority.’
‘In the meantime,’ added Jeremy, ‘if I was you, Rafi, I’d try and avoid dark alleyways – and that applies to Kate as well.’
‘On the bright side, after Newquay, we at MI5 and the SAS owe you one, so we will do our best to keep an eye on you,’ promised Ewan.
Rafi was about to reply, when Saara ambled over. ‘So this is where you have got to!’ She was beaming. ‘Steve is making a real night of it. I doubt whether I’ll get him home for hours. I’ve given Kate my set of keys, in case you want to leave before us. Last I saw of her she was looking for you.’.
Jeremy smiled at Rafi. ‘Let’s chat some more back in the office.’
Rafi spotted Kate in the distance. He got up and shook hands with Ewan. ‘Thank you for bringing me up to speed. If you will excuse me, I should go and see why Kate wanted me.’
‘It has been a pleasure talking to you… And Rafi, please, remember to keep Jeremy in the loop with all your thinking. I sense that these are still treacherous times,’ added Ewan.
Rafi, with Saara beside him, went off to find Kate.
Kate greeted him with a hug and a lingering kiss, and then jangled Saara’s keys in front of his nose. ‘How’s about we say our remaining few goodbyes and then try out the new bed in your flat?’ she asked.
‘Great idea,’ Rafi replied.
He looked at her smiling face and realised that she made him feel alive. He had traded the comfy and highly paid world of the City for the adrenaline-filled world of counterterrorism, and to his surprise he wondered what he had ever seen in his previous existence.
Then he saw in Kate’s eyes the same fire that had burned that first night they were in Luxembourg and with a flutter of her eyelashes, any worries he had about the jeopardy that lay ahead vanished.