TTF OFFICE
Tank, Chen and Faz stepped out of the elevator in to the TTF nerve centre. The room was buzzing with excitement but not the positive kind. The faces in the room showed real concern; some were almost white with fear. Major Stanley Timms waved a hand in the air. He was standing across the room signalling them into his office.
“What’s the score, Major? What do you know that we don’t?” Asked Chen; his Liverpool accent had always made Tank smile. Chen was born in the city centre in the sixties. Like most of the large cities in Britain, Liverpool had a large `China Town` area. The Chinese restaurants and bars were always busy, acting as a magnet to those who enjoyed the oriental cuisine. It was in ghetto like areas that Chen was most at home. His scouse accent enabled him to blend into the crowds and talk to the indigenous inhabitants without raising suspicion. His ability to speak Cantonese as though he had lived in China all his life meant that he could draw information from within the Chinese communities countrywide. His father had been a restaurant owner and Wing-Chun Kung-fu teacher. He had passed on his art to Chen beginning at an early age. Many a bigger man had made the mistake of thinking that Chen`s small frame was a physical weakness.
“We have DNA results back from the lab. The suitcases left at Manchester airport were tagged and bar-coded as belonging to Yasmine Ahmed. The credit card used in Orlando was linked to the bank accounts frozen after the attacks there. Now we have the CCTV of an Asian woman fitting Yasmine Ahmed`s description checking in her bags at Orlando. Now watch this.”
Major Stanley Timms was AN ex-Royal Marine. He had a war record that Hollywood couldn’t write. He had been involved in the famous Yomp across the Falkland Islands that the Royal Marines had achieved on their way to recapture Port Stanley. The Royal Marines had been sent to the islands to spearhead the attack when they were invaded by Argentina. The Marines had been air lifted to a point so remote on the islands that the Argies never thought that anyone could launch an attack across such harsh terrain on foot. They had underestimated the capability of a pissed off platoon of Royal Marines and the Argentine army was defeated in days.
The Major`s shoes were always like liquid black glass, the type of shine only an ex-squaddie can achieve. He sat back on the edge of his desk, keeping his back rigid, and pointed to the screen with his pointer. Tank would have laughed at any other time; it always reminded him of old black and white war films when Major Timms got out his pointer. However, today it wasn’t funny.
The picture on the screen was poor quality but it showed passengers walking down a wide corridor following visible signs to passport control. Timms pressed the pause button and slowed the film down. He pointed to the right hand side of the screen. A female with long black hair, in a casual pastel coloured tracksuit, opened the door that led into the disabled toilets that were situated between the air bridges and passport control, next to the ladies toilets. In what seemed like just a matter of minutes, what appeared to be a male baggage handler who was wearing a baseball cap and a high viz jacket, emerged from the disabled bathroom.
“The DNA on the bags that were checked in was male. Let me introduce Mr. Yasser Ahmed. Not only is he on the loose in Britain but he is also here right under our bloody noses.” Major Timms started to redden as he spoke. The implication of this mad man operating on their turf did not need to be spelled out.
“We know that he tried to use the marked credit card to get out of the long stay car park. The yanks had already frozen the accounts while he was up in the air. If he had tried to pass through passport control we would have had him. Someone had to park a car there ready and waiting for him to use when he landed. We know that he has been into this country recently therefore, he already has supporters and contacts here. We have to assume that he is either stopping here on his way back to the Middle East, or he`s here to carry out further attacks on British soil.” Timms turned and walked around the desk and picked up a small manila file. He ejected the DVD that he had just played and inserted another.
“This is a copy of a statement sent to the New York Times, CNN and the BBC,” he handed around copies of the transcript and pressed play on the remote. The screen came to life with images of the men involved in the recent attacks that had been carried out in American tourist centres. They were dressed in their Islamic Warriors’ costumes in their suicide videos. The film showed the terrorists carrying machine guns, wearing headbands and talking of their imminent death and glory. The scenes changed only briefly as one after the other, of the now dead terrorists acted out their swan songs, their legacy.
“Home of the brave, and land of the free, you shall be no more. Our glorious brothers will strike fear into the heart of your people. Your people will know the pain of death and destruction in their homes. You bring your crusades once again to our lands, now we return the favour and bring ours to you,” a now dead terrorist boasted from the screen.
“The fact that this bastard is here spells trouble. I want everything we have focused on this man. I want every mosque in the country visited and Ahmed`s picture circulated. We must get the help of the Muslim communities if we are going to catch him. They`re as worried as we are about the extremists. Order the uniform police divisions to help us. Let`s circulate the pictures out there today. We need to contact all our undercover people that are working in those communities and get them asking questions. Someone is hiding this man and his cronies. Whoever is hiding Ahmed it is not going to be a white middle-aged couple in Devon. It will not be Chen’s uncle Woo in Brighton! There`ll be no politically correct bullshit on this! I don’t care who we upset, or who gets offended. We can pat them on the head and say sorry once this man is either in jail or dead.” Political correctness had hampered many investigations in recent years both in the civilian judicial systems and the military ones. The Major continued.
“Faz I want you personally to speak to every district commander in the country, starting with the obvious ones that have concentrated populations of Asian immigrants. Tell them TTF expects every armed response unit to be up to scratch about Yasser Ahmed. If they see him they have the authorization to shoot on sight.” Faz sprang into action and headed into a side office where she could make her calls to the country`s police chiefs.
“Tank I want you to organize your people into teams and send them out there shaking every tree we can find. You know what needs to be done. Check report in this office at 7.00 pm this evening. I`m going to make a press statement to get the public`s help finding this man without trying to cause panic. I just hope nobody asks me how he got into the country.”