Ken McClure - The Gulf Conspiracy

‘The 8th of September,’ replied Macmillan as if his mind was already working on something else.

‘But that’s tomorrow!’ exclaimed Steven.

‘Yes, it is,’ said Macmillan. ‘I thought we should talk in private. ’Let’s not panic. Let’s keep our nerve and establish priorities. First and foremost we must ensure that the agent doesn’t get into the water supply. We could do that through sheer weight of numbers but what else do we have to consider?’

‘We want to get our hands on the agent,’ said Steven. ‘I know Rees is working on an early version of it and it looks as if he’s going to come up with the goods but it would be better to know just how sophisticated the finished article is. If we draft hundreds of police and troops into the area we’ll scare off the opposition and end up back at square one.’

‘Right,’ said Macmillan, mentally ticking off a list. ‘We want the agent.’

‘It would also be in our interests to take the three ‘terrorists’ alive so we can question them and establish the connection with Crowe and Mowbray,’ said Steven.

‘I don’t think the Territorials will be planning on shooting them,’ said Macmillan.

‘You’re leaving it up to weekend soldiers?’

‘If the hares see us change the hounds to the Marines they’re going to smell a rat,’ said Macmillan. ‘I thought we could mount a professional guard on the aqueduct itself — I’ll call on Hereford — and let the Territorials go through the motions of the man-hunt in the forest as planned.’

‘Good idea,’ agreed Steven. ‘Maybe it would be as well to have some kind of a stop put on the water downstream of the aqueduct, just in case things go wrong. I think we have to assume that these three will be good.’

‘Probably ex-Hereford themselves,’ agreed Macmillan, referring again to the home of the SAS. ‘Mind you, that might not be possible if the water goes back into underground pipes again,’ said Macmillan. ‘But we can certainly make enquiries. Anything else?’

‘I’d like to be there,’ said Steven.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised but are you sure that’s wise?’

‘I’d like to see this through to the end,’ said Steven.

‘Your decision,’ conceded Macmillan. ‘But you badly need some rest. Go home now and come back this afternoon. We’ll talk further then.’

‘You’ve been up all night too,’ said Steven.

‘I’ll set some wheels in motion then I’ll grab a couple of hours too.’

Steven showered and set his alarm for three in the afternoon before drifting off into a fitful sleep. His limbs felt heavy and he wanted to sleep for a week, but there were so many questions going round in his head that he couldn’t manage to escape the grey margins dividing true sleep from wakefulness for more than a few minutes at a time before being plagued by thoughts of the exercise to come. He couldn’t see why they had organised it in the first place. Surely a straightforward assault on civilian security at the aqueduct would have been simpler. After all, three Special Forces men were not going to have too much trouble evading Territorial troops or overcoming a guard mounted by weekend soldiers so it would come to the same thing in the end. Unless of course... they wanted to keep the contamination a secret!

It was so obvious that Steven shook his head slightly on the pillow without opening his eyes and told himself he really should have seen it earlier. Going through the pantomime of the military exercise would allow the opposition to taint the water without anyone realising what had really happened. He must really be tired not to have seen that.

When Steven got back to the Home Office he noticed that Macmillan was wearing the same clothes and deduced that he hadn’t left the building.

‘You haven’t had any sleep at all, have you?’

Macmillan responded by taking out a packet of pills from his desk and showing Steven the label. ‘Benzedrine,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t spare the time. They’ll see me through.’

Steven nodded. He knew the stimulants would keep Macmillan awake and alert as long as he kept taking them but sleep deficit would build up and the price would have to be paid when he stopped. ‘What’s new?’ he asked.

Macmillan turned the map on his desk towards Steven and said, ‘There are a number of breather ducts above the pipeline south of the aqueduct. I’ve arranged for a team from 45 Commando at Arbroath to gain access at one and interrupt the water supply for the duration of the exercise.

‘Good,’ said Steven.

‘Six men from the SAS regiment have been detailed to support you in mounting the guard on the aqueduct if you’re still intent on being there?’

Steven said that he was.

‘In that case I’ve to let them know. They’re going up by helicopter. They’ve made a special arrangement to pick you up at City Airport at 6p.m. Don’t be late. They don’t want people asking questions.’

‘I won’t,’ said Steven.

‘Best be off then,’ said Macmillan with a look that wished him well.

Steven had a not unpleasant feeling of deja vu as he sprinted across the tarmac in a crouching run to get into the helicopter.

‘Just like old times,’ he said as the door was closed behind him and he barely had time to sit down before the whirling blades had plucked them up and away.

‘We heard you were regiment,’ said one of the six men sitting there in combat gear but with no badges or indications of rank. ‘I’m Mick.’

‘A long time ago,’ said Steven.

Mick turned to the others and pointed as he said, ‘Terry, Jonesey, Popeye, Cluedo and Walsh.’

Steven nodded and said, ‘You’ve been briefed?’

‘Three hours ago,’ said Mick. ‘They said you would fill in the missing bits.’

Steven nodded, screwing up his face with the effort of trying to converse above the noise of the engines. ‘Where are we headed?’

‘We plan to keep well away from the area in question,’ said Mick. ‘We’ll land on the west side of Loch’ — he pronounced it, Lock — ‘Lomond and boat it across south of Inversnaid. We’ll tab it cross country from there to the Loch Ard Forest and skirt round the bottom of Loch Chon, staying in the forest all the way along the south shore of Loch Ard before approaching the aqueduct. Think you’re up to it?’

‘I hadn’t anticipated this,’ said Steven.

‘Just a walk in the park,’ smiled Mick.

Steven’s answering smile was a bit more fragile.

The engine noise made unnecessary conversation difficult so the remainder of the journey was largely completed without it.

Steven felt a slight hollow feeing in his stomach as he watched the helicopter take off into the night sky, leaving them a couple of hundred metres inland from the west bank of Loch Lomond. He busied himself getting into the kit that had been brought along for him while the others prepared the inflatable boat for the crossing. Luckily it was a calm night with stars visible in a clear sky, although it had been raining earlier and the ground was wet and the air full of the smell of wet pine needles.

‘Ready?’ asked Mick as Steven secured his Bergen rucksack after having packed away his own clothes in it.

‘As I’ll ever be.’

The loch crossing was bumpy but not as uncomfortable as Steven had anticipated. By the time they were pulling the boat up on to the east shore and finding a suitable place to hide it away, he had actually started to feel exhilarated. It was certainly a change from what he would normally be doing on a Monday night and he felt very much alive. He felt even better when Mick said, ‘There’s a forestry track leading inland from here. We’ll use that.’