It was eleven o’clock and Technical Ted and his colleague, Sammy de Silva, were strolling down the street where Boatman’s uncle had his hardware shop. Ted, the Service’s electronic wizard, had abandoned his favourite working clothes (biker boots and leather jacket), had removed his gold earring, and had tied back his long black dyed hair in a pony tail. He was dressed now, as was Sammy, in unremarkable shirt and jeans. Carrying their leather bags in their hands, they might have been tradesmen of any kind.
They stopped outside a café and seemed to be discussing whether they should go in. It was a café run by a Muslim family, which during the day was frequented by all and sundry from the flats, shops and offices along the street. In the evening, though, when the offices were closed, rather like Tahira’s shop its customers were mainly Asian youths.
Ted and Sammy went in and sat down at a table by the window, putting their bags on the floor beside them. They ordered coffee, which they drank slowly. By the time they paid the bill and left the café, any conversation that took place at that particular table could have been heard in the Odeon cinema some distance away, which now served as MI5’s Birmingham office. But until it got to 6 p.m. no one was listening.
The familiar voice shattered the silence like an explosion. In the back of the van, freshly resprayed and with new number plates, Dave Armstrong almost jumped out of his plastic chair.
‘So how are you, brother?’ Boatman’s words boomed over the speaker in the van. Dave watched Sammy turn down the volume on the amplifier control. Next to Dave, perched on the edge of another plastic chair, sat Kanaan Shah, looking excited.
‘I’m well,’ said another voice. This must be Malik, Boatman’s friend from the mosque. Boatman had arranged to meet him at the café after work. Under direction from Shah, Boatman had arrived at the café early, when it was still quiet, and had sat down at the table in the window. He probably thought it had been chosen because it was visible from the street. He didn’t know that their conversation was being overheard.
The van was parked in a cul-de-sac less than five hundred yards from the café. In addition, one pair of A4 officers sat in a parked car a short distance from the café; another pair, an Asian couple, were in the café itself, sitting at a table near Boatman and Malik. Dave had an uneasy feeling about Malik, particularly since he’d heard that it was he and a pal who’d attacked Liz. He didn’t think it was likely that there would be any trouble that evening, but he had laid plans to create a diversion, just in case.
‘And how is my married friend?’
It took Dave a moment to realise that Malik was referring to Boatman himself.
Boatman said, ‘It’s going very well.’ He hesitated. ‘She is being very devout.’
‘Ha,’ said Malik with a throaty laugh. His voice was deep, with a Birmingham accent. ‘That’s not how a new wife’s meant to behave – with her mind always on Allah and never on you. She’s a very pretty girl, Salim. I hope you are making the most of it.’
Boatman didn’t respond. Knowing him, Dave thought he was probably uncomfortable with the sexual overtones of Malik’s banter. But Malik didn’t seem to notice as he shifted the conversation on to football. He was a keen Aston Villa fan and spent several minutes discussing their manager and whether he would survive another season, and bemoaning the unwillingness of the owner to invest on the same scale as the moguls of the Premier League. There was an Asian boy in the youth team, but Malik didn’t rate his chances of graduating to the first eleven. ‘Too slow,’ he said dismissively.
‘You’ll miss the football, won’t you?’ said Boatman.
‘Yeah,’ said Malik casually, and Dave could visualise his shrug.
Then Boatman asked, ‘Are you ready for your trip?’
Beside him, Dave saw Kanaan nod intently, happy the conversation was getting down to business. Too soon, thought Dave, worried that the sudden shift of subject was too clumsy. Boatman had no subtlety and that put him at risk.
A waiter must have arrived at the table, for Malik said, ‘Orange squash,’ and Boatman asked for apple juice. There was a pause, then Boatman asked, ‘How soon will it be then?’
Dave waited tensely for the reply; a date would help Pakistani liaison keep tabs on the group from the mosque when it arrived. But Malik only said vaguely, ‘It won’t be long now.’
Next to Dave, Kanaan sighed with disappointment. Then Boatman pressed on. ‘Will you go before the football starts?’
Dave gritted his teeth.
‘I’ll go when they tell me to.’ Malik’s voice had lost some of its nonchalance. Leave it now, thought Dave, frustrated that he couldn’t warn Boatman off.
‘Of course, but do you know where you’re going?’
Silence, an ominous sign. Finally Malik said, ‘Salim, you know where I am going, so why do you ask?’
Fortunately Boatman didn’t hesitate. ‘I suppose it’s because I’m jealous that you’re going now, and I’m not.’
‘You will have your own chance in time. Remember – this is not about either of us, OK? We are nothing. This is just our temporary life, after all. If you were never to see me again in this world, it wouldn’t matter. Never forget that. Nothing else matters – not your friends, not your family. Not even your new bride.’
‘You said you were briefed in London?’
‘I was. It was very strange. To have a Westerner teaching you how to conduct jihad – it’s like having a Jew telling you how to attack Israel.’
‘Was the Westerner a Muslim?’
‘Of course. Our faith is spreading around the world, you know. For you and me it is natural to think all white people are Infidels, but more and more of them are seeing the true path to Allah. They have the advantage of access to places and people you and I could not approach without people becoming suspicious.’
‘That won’t help you in Pakistan,’ said Boatman.
Go easy, thought Dave.
But Malik replied conversationally, ‘No, it won’t. But from what we have been told, we won’t be in Pakistan that long.’
‘Really? Will you be back here for the New Year?’
‘Who said I will be back?’ There was a long pause before Malik continued, ‘Our enemies are everywhere. They offer targets everywhere. Just look at what is going on.’
‘Where?’
Malik sighed impatiently. ‘Must I spell everything out for you, my friend? The brothers have dispersed across the world. The Middle East, North Africa – these are areas where we can regroup while the Americans and the British remain fixated on Afghanistan. Eventually we will be acting at will in places where the Infidels still think they’re safe.’
‘You’d think they would have learned that when the Twin Towers came down.’
‘They’ve learned nothing. The Towers will prove to be just the tip of the iceberg.’
‘So would you be sent to America?’
Malik laughed. ‘Not likely! I would stick out there like a sore thumb. There are plenty of more suitable volunteers – most of them white.’
‘Then where will you go to after Pakistan?’
Dave groaned. Boatman was starting to sound like an interrogator. And sure enough, Malik seemed to sense this too, for he said sharply, ‘Why are you asking me so many questions, Salim? You know it is forbidden to discuss orders from our leaders.’
‘I’m sorry; it’s just that we are friends, and I am concerned about you.’
There was the sound of a glass being put down sharply on a table top. ‘I’d like to think that’s why you are grilling me. I would hate to think there could be any other explanation. Anyway, I have to go.’
‘Will I see you before you depart? It would mean a lot to me.’
Malik said icily, ‘The cause is what matters, Salim. I have said that already. May we meet when Allah intends. Goodbye.’
The noise of a chair scraping back over the floor came through the amplifier, then there was silence. The technician looked at Dave, who nodded, and the man reached over and switched off the speaker.
A voice from the A4 car in the street reported Malik leaving the café and turning left. Should they follow?
‘No,’ said Dave. ‘Let him go.’ He didn’t want anything else to happen that might spook Malik.
‘Stand down, all teams,’ came the instruction from Larry Lincoln in the control room.
Kanaan turned to Dave, beaming. ‘Our man did very well.’
‘Do you think so?’
Kanaan looked puzzled. ‘Don’t you? He’s confirmed what we suspected – that they’re being trained in Pakistan, but sent elsewhere. That’s important.’
‘Yes, but it could be Timbuktu for all we know.’ Dave saw the crestfallen look on Kanaan’s face and tried to reassure him. ‘You’re right, though – we know now he won’t be coming back. That’s a start anyway.’
‘If Boatman can meet up with Malik again before he goes, perhaps he can find out more.’
‘No,’ said Dave quickly. ‘Not a good idea. Please don’t encourage him.’ And though Kanaan looked puzzled, Dave didn’t explain. He was thinking solely of Boatman now, wondering if he’d blown his cover. Malik’s hasty departure had alarmed Dave. It was clear to him that Malik was a good deal cleverer than their agent.