Rip Tide

‘Your spies have let you down again,’ said Dave with a huge grin. ‘They moved me after I came out of hospital. I can’t say I was sorry to leave beautiful Belfast.’

‘I don’t expect you were.’

Liz and Dave had last worked together on an investigation into a renegade group of Republican terrorists who were trying to kill police and intelligence officers in Northern Ireland. They had had some hair-raising experiences during the operation, and Dave had ended up badly hurt.

He looked at his watch. ‘I’m coming to the briefing for your meet,’ he said, following Liz out into the corridor and nodding at Kanaan Shah, who was waiting for her.

The briefing room had once been the auditorium of the cinema and not a great deal had changed. A few of the rows of red plush seats had been removed, but most were still in place. Now they were occupied by twenty or so casually dressed men and women, some white, some Asian, some young, some middle-aged. Most of them were new faces to Liz, but she recognised a few from Thames House and gave them a wave before sitting down at the end of a row near the back with Dave and Kanaan Shah.

The briefing was for the A4 surveillance operation that was going to cover their meeting that evening with Kanaan Shah’s agent, Boatman. Liz wanted to meet Boatman herself; it was crucial to find out if he knew anything about Amir Shah and how he came to be involved in hijacking an UCSO ship off Somalia.

The room fell silent as the A4 controller, Larry Lincoln, climbed on to the stage. Behind him was the screen on which the faces of Errol Flynn and Clark Gable had once appeared, to the delight of Birmingham audiences. Now it showed a collage of photographs of a young, thin, lightly bearded Asian man. In some he was wearing skullcap and robes, in others a suit or jeans. Liz looked with interest at the images of Boatman.

Lincoln, known to his teams as ‘Lamb’, began by welcoming Liz, then he turned to the A4 teams. ‘Tonight it’s the usual routine for Boatman meetings. The only difference is that Liz Carlyle will be with us. The meeting will be held in “Pie Crust”.’ A picture of a red-brick Victorian villa came up on the screen. It had a green-painted wooden gate that led to a small overgrown garden; the villa’s front door was obscured by a tall, unkempt privet hedge.

‘Most of you know that there’s a primary school along the road from Pie Crust and it gets very parked up from fifteen hundred. Then when the Mums leave, the commuters start coming back into the area. So we need to get all cars in place considerably before then. That includes comms and photographers. Comms will be tested as soon as teams are in situ. After receiving the all clear by bleep, Liz Carlyle and K will each go, but separately, to Pie Crust. K to enter at sixteen hundred; Liz at sixteen thirty.

‘Two foot teams with drivers in cars will be in Boatman’s street from seventeen hundred to carry out anti-surveillance. Foot teams will follow Boatman when he leaves his house at seventeen-thirty. Can you confirm, K, that Boatman knows what to do?’

Kanaan nodded. Lincoln went on: ‘Boatman will walk with anti-surveillance cover, by the route he’s been given -’ he cocked an eye at Shah, who nodded again ‘- to Pie Crust, where he’ll knock and enter at about eighteen hundred hours. We’ll give a heads up to you in Pie Crust when he’s a couple of minutes away. If any surveillance is detected, he’ll be approached by an officer standing outside the primary school and asked the time. He will then abort the meeting. All OK with you, K?’

‘Yes. He has his instructions.’

‘While the meeting takes place any untoward activity in the surrounding streets will be assessed in the Control Room by Dave Armstrong, who will decide on any further action. OK Dave?’ A nod from Dave Armstrong.

‘When the meeting is over, Liz or K will ring to alert Control who will check round and confirm all clear. Anti-surveillance will follow him home. All A4 please stay behind now to get your positions. Any questions from anybody?’

A few hands shot up and some details were thrashed out, then Liz, Dave and Kanaan Shah left the auditorium.

‘That’s pretty thorough,’ Liz said to Dave. ‘I see Birmingham is now hostile territory.’

‘Hostile enough,’ he replied. ‘I wouldn’t give a lot for Boatman’s chances if his pals at the New Springfield Mosque knew he was talking to MI5.’

At 4.30 that afternoon Liz rang the doorbell at Pie Crust; it was opened straight away by Kanaan, who must have been standing behind the door waiting for her.