Nick Oldham - Critical Threat

‘Thanks.’ Henry took a sip of the coffee, then put his briefcase on the table and delved into it. He extracted the A4 document wallet which contained the statement taken from Dr Khan the previous evening, together with all the notes he’d scribbled. He glanced through the statement, frowning because he could not see what he wanted. He knew it was there somewhere.

‘I’m sure I wrote it,’ he said absently.

Bill watched him intently.

‘Nah, not there.’ He put the statement down and browsed through the notes he had taken whilst interviewing the doctor. Not everything in the notes had gone into the statement. ‘Ah ha! This is it … um, um, um … here we are … this girl Sabera leaves her husband. Big thing for anyone to do, let alone a Muslim girl … seems they’re expected to hang in there whatever shit’s thrown at them, which I find total bollocks … Anyway, she obviously misses her family and therefore succumbs to the occasional chats with them … natural thing to do — I’m OK, don’t worry, sort of thing … Ow!’ Henry touched his cheek, which was throbbing again. ‘God, that’s sore … Then she makes the mistake of contacting her sister and arranges to meet her on a motorway service area — but the sister turns up with the husband!’ Henry said excitedly.

‘Shit — bitch!’ Bill said.

‘Exactly … anyway, Sabera gets away unscathed, but that’s basically the end of her relationship with sis … but what I’m getting at here is that if the sister was in cahoots with Rashid she must know an awful lot about him — and maybe if we can get hold of her now, she might be able to tell us something. Like where he is.’

‘I suppose it’s better then just bumming about hoping for the best,’ Bill admitted.

‘In the very near future, we are going to have to speak to Sabera’s family anyway just because she’s dead. What do you think?’ he asked Bill, screwing his face up.

‘Can’t hurt. Any addresses?’

‘No.’ The word came out with a sigh. ‘Just somewhere in Blackburn. This Khan guy couldn’t remember it and he’s actually destroyed her employment records which had it on, as well as anything else which related to her, he was so scared and intimidated.’

‘Needle in a haystack, then?’

‘Mm.’ Henry tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. ‘She’s called Najma Ismat.’

‘Voters list?’ Bill suggested.

‘Does it have a search facility?’

‘No.’

‘Do you want to go through every name? Two hundred odd thousand in Blackburn?’

‘Not specially. How about PNC?’

‘Worth a try, but only useful if she has a conviction, which I doubt.’

‘Intel check?’

‘Same applies … although Special Branch files might have something … they collect stuff just for the hell of it,’ Henry said, thinking back to the entry concerning Mansur Rashid. Henry then recalled how Eddie Daley had been able to trace Sabera without too much trouble and expressed his thoughts out loud. ‘Bill, we are two experienced cops and if we can’t locate this girl within the next half hour, then I’m calling it quits and going home. And I have a bloody good idea how we can do it.’

Minutes later they were back in the Galaxy. ‘Now then, Bill, I want you to drive me somewhere — somewhere that is very secret and, of course, you’ll have to be blindfolded, and if you blab to anyone, even your missus in your sleep, I’ll have to come and murder you, then kill myself.’

‘What the hell are you on about?’

Henry realized he’d rambled a bit. He put it down to the pain. And the drugs. ‘Just drive out of here, turn left up the arterial road, then right on to Whitebirk Industrial Estate, then I’ll direct you from there.’

Bill shrugged.

Henry fished out his mobile and made a call.

‘Sorry to interrupt your torture session, but I need to come and see you, Karl … a favour, yeah. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m asking … I need a name putting through your super-duper computer.’ Henry listened, then ended the call. He stared straight ahead through the windscreen, his heart thumping at the prospect of seeing Donaldson again so soon.

Henry directed Bill to the front gates of the unit now leased by the American security services, although he doubted whether that fact was actually revealed in the rental agreement. The gates were closed and did not open on their arrival.

‘What goes on here?’ Bill asked.

‘It’s been rented by the Yanks to house some of their vehicles whilst the Rice visit takes place,’ he answered blandly.

Bill looked at him disbelievingly.

‘OK, all right,’ Henry answered with a shrug. ‘Can’t tell you, OK?’

‘Fair enough. I know my place.’

The gates opened wide enough to allow a very tired, harassed Karl Donaldson to contort out of the gap. He approached Henry suspiciously, eyeing Bill. Henry dropped out of the Galaxy.

‘So now you need us?’ Donaldson said bitterly.

‘I don’t have a problem with you hacking into other people’s computers. It’s hacking into people’s heads that bothers me.’

Donaldson nodded at Bill. ‘You shouldn’t have brought him.’

‘He’s OK, won’t blab.’

‘He stays here, then.’

‘So be it.’

Donaldson inclined his head for Henry to follow. Henry mouthed and gestured for Bill to stay put and followed the American through the gate, who then ensured it was locked. He walked ahead of Henry through a normal door adjacent to the main shutter door into the unit where the array of vehicles was parked up.

As he walked, Donaldson said, ‘Don’t know why the hell I’m doing this,’ without turning.

‘Cos deep down you’re an old softie?’ Henry speculated, trying to lighten the atmosphere between them.

‘I misjudged you, Henry.’

‘No, Karl, I misjudged you,’ Henry said, realizing the atmosphere was not likely to rise much.

The rest of the short walk was made in silence, through the door leading to the ground-floor corridor, then into the communications centre. Donaldson approached the same man who had done the earlier check on Mansur Rashid.

‘Give him the name, tell him which database to interrogate.’ Donaldson pushed out past Henry, saying, ‘I trust you to make your own way out … and by the way, hacking into other agencies’ databases is not ethical.’ Then he was gone.

Henry gave the man the name and suggested some databases to interrogate. After a few moments, he leaned back. ‘There you go, pal.’

Henry squinted at the screen, memorized what he saw and rushed back out to Bill who waited patiently in the Galaxy. He gave him the address.

‘I’m not even going to bother to ask how you got this.’

‘What you don’t know, don’t get you killed,’ Henry said.

It was fortunate that the liveried Ford Galaxy with a uniformed police officer lounging by the side of it was parked behind Henry in the driveway, otherwise he would have had the front door slammed in his face. Even then, it was a close-run thing. He could tell from the look of horror on the Asian woman’s face when she answered the door and found herself confronted by a man who looked like he’d been dragged under a bus for a hundred metres.

He quickly presented his warrant card and the woman hesitated, still considered closing the door, then relented because of the police vehicle.

It was probably unusual to have anyone knocking at the door in this neck of the woods anyway. Henry guessed the most regular visitors would be the postman and the Sainsbury’s home delivery driver.

The house was in one of the better parts of Blackburn, on Meins Road, right on the edge of town. A big detached property in its own grounds, with sweeping views behind it towards Preston and beyond to the faint shimmer of the Lancashire coast. The huge British Aerospace complex in the middle distance slightly marred the vista. It was the house of a wealthy family.