‘Thanks, Ms Berkeley. I have to agree. Bureaucratic systems often work against operational realities.’
‘Indeed, yes. Well, our teams have arrived in record time and we’ve made some progress. The good news is the detonating cell was recovered and the forensics folks have extracted the
SIM
card and identified the number.’
‘In three days? That is unbelievable.’
‘We come into our own at times like this. We have guys who were born for these situations with really smart minds and stateoftheart equipment. That’s why we get answers quickly. I won’t show you the technical mumbo jumbo, but what the investigators found was that a call was made to that detonating cellphone at exactly 20:30 from Sheikh U-Haq’s phone.’
Masondo leaned forward, felt a pain in his leg, and leaned back again. ‘You sure? He activated the bomb?’
‘The activation came from his phone. Whether it was him or not we can’t say yet.’
Masondo looked down at the table and nodded. ‘I saw the sheikh receive a call at around that time and then make a call.’
‘Yeah, we also got a report like that. One of our security fellows saw the sheikh take a call and then write down a number, which he then dialled. So that confirms it.’
‘If it was him, how did he get the bomb onto the ship?’
‘We’re still working up some theories on that. The
ATF
team arrived from Kenya yesterday and they’ve made good progress. The initial blast was not more than one kilogram of Powergel. On its own, this explosion wouldn’t have caused as much damage – just localised damage. Unfortunately it was placed, either deliberately or accidentally, in a highly critical part of the ship where the secondary explosion caused the bulk of the damage. The
ATF
investigators are looking at a theory which suggests the bomb was placed in a vent in the helicopter hangar and it slid one deck down in the ventilation trunking to an area adjacent to the magazine store. Someone obviously studied the layout of the ship very carefully. Perhaps someone with marine engineering knowledge.’
A waitress brought menus and there was a moment’s silence. ‘How did it get past the screening?’ Masondo asked in a hushed tone.
‘We’re not sure yet. We’re thinking maybe one of the crew brought it on board. That would explain the clever placement. Also we had the reception area checked for explosives two hours before the event started and the dogs found nothing substantive.’
‘So they did find something?’
‘It’s a warship, Mr Masondo. The problem was the dogs kept finding trace elements, and the Helo Hangar would obviously have traces of explosives because of the armaments. They would have found the bomb if it had been there, because that was a big quantity, but they didn’t because the bomb was already one deck down. They didn’t bother taking the dogs down there because the area’s full of explosives ordnance. The dogs would have given false alarms.’
The waitress returned. Masondo ordered a double whisky and told a smiling Berkeley it was part of his pain-relief regime. She ordered a cider and the waitress left. ‘So are we saying one person put the bomb on board and a second person detonated it?’ he asked. ‘It wasn’t possible for the sheikh to take the bomb on board?’
‘Definitely not. But it seems his phone definitely detonated it.’
Masondo’s voice was a near-whisper. The smoke inhalation had made talking loudly painful. ‘We mustn’t let the press get hold of this yet.’
‘I agree. We’ll have to say something soon though. People want answers. They need someone to blame.’
‘I know. But as soon as we say “Islamic extremism” we open something up that has major implications and consequences. We need to be sure.’ Masondo’s words had become raspy. Even the whisper was becoming painful. The whisky arrived and he took a large swig.
Berkeley had lowered her voice too. The restaurant wasn’t busy but there was a couple at a far table that looked across at them periodically. ‘Remember we did get a threat. The threat was from an Islamist and it was possibly from someone at the
IAC
. Then you identify someone at the centre with Powergel wrappings in his room and messages of jihad on his laptop. Now we have the sheikh detonating the explosion. I’m sorry to sound like a fool, but all fingers are pointing towards Islamic extremism. It’s got the
AQ
signature.’
‘My guys need some time to investigate these things. We have assets that can help.’ The whisky was a third done.
‘Within the next twenty-four hours, our president is going to have to make a statement on who’s responsible if no one claims responsibility.’
‘Thank you, twenty-four hours is good.’
Durant shook his head and tossed the newspaper onto the passenger seat. He drove to the office angry and met an equally irate Shabalala in the parking garage.
‘Somebody’s leaking,’ he said. ‘This idiot journalist Julian Dos Santos is reporting that Islamic extremists were responsible for the blast. Did you read the paper?’
‘I saw the poster. The headline said it all.’
‘I know. He’s implying the sheikh’s involved without saying it in so many words. Listen to this: “Impeccable sources report that the authorities have confirmed that Sheikh U-Haq of the Islamic Africa Centre made a call from his cellphone at the exact time of the blast which subsequently killed him and twenty-two other people in the worst . . .” blah blah blah. “Jihadists are known to detonate improvised explosive devices using remote cellphone detonators.” Just fill in the missing pieces and you have the sheikh taking the blame. This is exactly what terrorism thrives on – now we’ll see some poor Muslim shop owner in London having his shop burnt down.’
‘I know. And it won’t end there. Where did Dos Santos get that info?’
‘From an “impeccable source”. That can only mean one thing. Someone close to the investigation, us or the Americans. This is sabotage and it’s going to slow us down.’
‘So what now? What do you think really happened?’
‘This is my theory, Ced. Somebody finds out the American diplomat, Khalid, is having an affair with Mariam. Khalid’s responsible for security at the
US
Mission, so he’s got brilliant access. He would’ve been the perfect person to blackmail so that these people could have got information on the visit by the Assistant Secretary and the ship.’
Shabalala nodded. ‘Then who killed Mariam? If he was being blackmailed, with her dead, that would have been the end of the blackmail.’
Durant paused and pursed his lips. ‘Unless he killed her.’
‘Or someone else killed her and made him look guilty.’
‘Which might have led him to kill himself, or, perhaps he was killed,’ Durant said.
‘What if Mariam was involved? What if she was dangled, like a honeypot?’
‘It’s possible, but unlikely. I mean, she’s a mother and Amina said she’s a decent person. Perhaps she was unwittingly dangled, set up. And the more I think about it, the more I’m thinking Arshad Tanveer.’
‘What?’ Shabalala narrowed his eyes. ‘Would he set up his own wife?’
‘It wasn’t much of a marriage, we know that. Something’s always bothered me about that guy. He walked in, remember? We never found him, he found us.’
‘So we’re part of this whole thing? We’ve protected him and maybe given him information which he could use?’
‘I’m thinking out loud here. I might be way off, but Tanveer would have been in the perfect place to blackmail Khalid. All he had to do was follow Mariam and take some photos. He had ample opportunities. We knew Mariam was being abused, it would have been easy to blame everything on Khalid, force him to cooperate.’
‘It’s plausible. But he was the first one to point us to the
IAC
and identify the sheikh. Why would he have done that?’
‘Maybe to take attention off himself, I don’t know.’
‘This is all speculation, Kev, we need to prove it.’
‘Global Research. I mean, it all makes sense now. Mariam wasn’t working, she was with Khalid. Amina could never find out where she worked. Then there’s the
FBI
guy, Fulham. Perhaps the
FBI
were also onto him. He also knew about Mariam. Pity the guy’s dead.’
‘Do you think Khalid carried the bomb onto the ship?’
Durant sighed. ‘It’s quite a serious allegation and he can’t defend himself. But it’s conceivable. He would have done whatever the blackmailer demanded. He was in charge of security – he must have had full access to the ship long before the security measures were put in. He could have.’
‘We need to write a report. We need to put all this down on paper.’
‘I need to see Tanveer, ask him some questions.’
‘Let’s run it by the chief first.’
‘I saw Tanveer yesterday. He seemed fine. He doesn’t know we’re on to him.’
‘I’ll back you up then, in case you need some muscle.’
‘Thanks. Backup would be good; let’s surprise him at his flat.’
‘What about Mohammed? Still think he’s innocent?’
‘I don’t know any more. Everybody seems guilty. Even the Indians; the sheikh was their asset. So, indirectly, the Indian government is responsible if the sheikh blew up the ship.’
‘This whole thing’s one big “if”. But you’re right; Tanveer has a lot of questions to answer.’ Shabalala walked towards the door. ‘Let’s go. I’ll follow you to his flat.’
Durant picked up his phone. ‘Damn. Cellphone battery’s on one bar, so if we lose comms, that’s why. If you need to break away, flash your lights and go. Otherwise, I’ll see you there.’
Durant swung the Land Rover out of the underground parking and headed for the main road. His cellphone rang before he reached the robots and he clicked his tongue. He doubted he had more than a few minutes of battery time left on the phone and he really needed to stay in touch.
‘I was thinking,’ Stephanie said. ‘What if Mom’s medical aid—’
‘You know, Steph, let’s chat tonight, I’m low on battery.’
‘What time will you be home?’ The low battery tone sounded and just like that, the phone went dead.
The Americans weren’t messing around. They had practically commandeered the Hilton Hotel and there were whole floors dedicated to specialist agencies. The
ATF
had the third floor, the
FBI
the fourth, the Department of the Navy had the seventh. The conference halls of the Hilton were turned into command posts and operational centres. Earlier, a
C
17 Globemaster cargo plane had brought in fifty tons of palletised cargo, which had been transferred to trucks and brought in during the course of the morning. The newspaper mentioned that a pilotless drone had been spotted taking off from Virginia Airport and was flying over Durban, sending images to the operational centre. In the hotel lobby, police and soldiers patrolled, automatic rifles in their hands. Outside the hotel, concrete blocks prevented vehicles from entering the area. The only way in was through a tightly controlled corridor which the army had secured. Berkeley met Masondo at the boom gate and helped him into an embassy vehicle. Two armed soldiers accompanied them to the lobby area.
‘We’ve been invaded,’ Masondo said to Berkeley as she helped him into the wheelchair. ‘Not by terrorists, but by the Americans.’
Berkeley smiled and waved off the officers. ‘It feels a bit like we’ve locked the stable door after the horse has bolted, I’m afraid. We’re all here to help you.’
Masondo shook his head. ‘You guys never learn,’ he said. ‘We need before-the-bang intelligence, not after-the-bang show of force. This is exactly what the terrorists want to see.’
‘I’m sure you know I don’t make these types of decisions, Mr Masondo. This decision was made at presidential level.’ They were silent as the lift ascended to the fifteenth floor. As the doors opened, Masondo heard radios crackle and two men in suits stepped in and wheeled the chair out. One held a device to the chair, scanned it quickly and nodded without saying a word. Masondo was tempted to say something, but refrained. They were led to a room and allowed in.
‘Sorry about all that,’ Berkeley said. ‘But we’re alone now and can talk.’ She clicked the briefcase open and handed Masondo a thin folder.
‘These are the cellphone records of the sheikh’s mobile.’
Masondo shook his head. ‘How did you get that right? We applied for a warrant two days ago and we’re still waiting for a response.’
Berkeley smiled. ‘American Express gave the
FBI
terrorist squad a plastic card with no limit. Off the record, Mr Masondo, we don’t always have the luxury of time on our side. Look around you. The budget for this operation runs into tens of millions of dollars. We can get whatever we need to make progress fast.’
Masondo raised his eyebrows. ‘I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled.’
‘Be impressed. The first forty-eight hours are crucial. We can’t be bogged down with bureaucracy. New rules apply when you’re at war.’
‘We are a very unwitting participant in this war, ma’am, I assure you.’
‘I hear you. But look at this. The sheikh received a call just prior to the explosion from one of his employees – his driver in fact – Ruslan Vakhayev.’
Masondo nodded. ‘We know about Ruslan.’
‘So we looked at Ruslan’s cell records and found he received a call just prior to phoning the sheikh from – this number,’ and Berkeley handed Masondo a piece of paper.
It was Shabalala’s number. Masondo didn’t react immediately but folded the paper and put it in his pocket. ‘The proverbial plot thickens,’ he said. ‘I know you’re a diplomat, so let me be diplomatic, ma’am. Under normal circumstances, I’d be communicating with one of my counterparts, an intelligence officer. We’d be speaking operationally and we’d understand concepts like “need to know” and “operational security”.’
‘I know it’s awkward, Mr Masondo, but I can’t interfere in any processes, I’m merely communicating information to you as I receive it, as a courtesy. I don’t expect anything in return.’
‘I appreciate that. So, confidentially, let me tell you that this number belongs to one of my people, and that’s all you can know at this point.’
Berkeley leaned forward, frowning. ‘One of your people? An asset?’