22

THOROUGHGOOD AND Hardie left University Gardens, their moods darkened by the conversation with Professor Farouk but their resolve stiffened to apprehend Tariq before he unfolded any further carnage on the streets of Glasgow.

Their journey back to Thoroughgood’s flat was spent planning their next meeting with Sushi. He would be fully briefed over his new role as informer and trap-layer. But there were other pressing concerns to deal with, the first of which was bringing Tomachek into the picture with their plan and Sushi’s role in it, as well as his background.

When they arrived at Gardner Street, Sushi was leaning against a lamp post across the road from Thoroughgood’s flat, fag in mouth. Alighting from the Mondeo the DS signalled Sushi to follow them in.

As soon as they were inside the flat Thoroughgood opened proceedings. “Okay Sushi son I’m assuming you have been busy? Do we have a conduit for our ‘information’ for Tariq?”

The waiter’s face lit up with a grin that could only mean he had had a productive evening in that regard. “Yes boss. Tonight is the Half-Moon’s late opening, so I paid a visit while you were at the professor’s office.”

Sushi took a deep drag of his cigarette and continued. “It is owned by a man called Ahmed Omar, one of Tariq’s biggest supporters. He knows me from the Mosque, where we are on nodding terms. I told him that I have information for the Imam’s ears only, concerning the location of Saladin’s dagger.

“I could see straight away that I had his attention and although he was cautious he agreed that one of Tariq’s men will meet me later tonight. The location I suggested for that meeting was the outside the Conservatory at the Botanic Gardens.”

“He warned me that if this was a trick I would face expulsion from the Mosque and eternal damnation and that Saladin’s dagger was of massive importance to the nation of Islam; one of its greatest treasures. The bottom line is that we are meeting at 12 midnight tonight.”

“Well blow me,” gasped Hardie unable to contain himself, “Religious artefacts, a Jihadist death squad and a suicide bomb campaign. It’s like something out of the Da Vinci feckin’ Code, ain’t it? You don’t bloody well hang about Suleiman. The Botanics will be under lock and key by then but there are ways to get in. Ain’t that right gaffer?”

Thoroughgood took time to find his voice but eventually responded. “Sushi, there are a lot of implications regarding this meeting. This might be the time to make you aware of them.”

But Sushi held his hand up. “Listen boss, I know what they are; physical, mental and spiritual. But Glasgow is my home and if I can do anything to help you stop Tariq then how could I kip in me bed at night if I hadn’t bothered me arse?”

Hardie responded by jumping up and shaking the waiter by the hand enthusiastically.

“Don’t worry Sushi we will get your script sorted and remember you will have us watching your arse.”

As soon as Sushi left Hardie brought the other pressing matter to a head. “OK Gus, so we have a point of contact with these nutters and a plan of sorts. But, and it is one hell of a big bleedin’ but, what about the old man?”

Thoroughgood regarded his mate with a disdainful look designed to let him know full well he was aware Tomachek would take some convincing.

“Very good faither! How is it that for 90% of our time I feel like you are the boss man but every time there’s

an awkward phone call to make, a death message to be

delivered, or the need to run the gauntlet of

Tomachek . . .” Thoroughgood got no further.

“Privileges of rank mon gaffeur as I always say at these moments, when you are forced to earn your corn. Privileges of bleedin’ rank. But hey, I’m happy to give you my thoughts on the matter . . . if you have a need for ’em?”

“Fuck off faither why don’t you?” was the best Thoroughgood could come up with through gritted teeth.

“Drink?” asked Hardie.

“Aye, why not? After all if Tomachek doesn’t leave me with my head in my hands then the chances are it will be removed from my shoulders when the clock strikes midnight and we are poncing about in the bloody Botanics . . .”

Hardie went on, “Listen, I know you're going to take shite from the old man but what else does he have right now? The other thing that concerns me, gaffer, is what the fuck are the intelligence services doing about all of this? Don’t you find it strange we haven’t been called in to a joint meeting and a ‘thank you lads but no thank you – there’s a pair of good little plods now’?”

Thoroughgood’s eyebrows rose in an admission that the thought had crossed his mind. “Exactly. But time is short, so you pour the drinks and I’ll do the talking. Captain Morgan’s and coke will do the job.”

“Absolutement,” was the reply from Hardie.

“OK, here we go. We have kept the auld man in the dark about Sushi but he knows we've been workin’ on something. If he had anything better up his sleeve himself we would know about it by now surely? We’ll be offering him something that will strengthen his hand and I think after the usual verbal arse kickin’ he’ll be crackin’ open that bottle of Glengoyne he keeps in his desk.”

His Gettysburg address rehearsed, Thoroughgood sat down in his armchair and accepted the glass of frothing dark liquid Hardie had offered him.

“Get that down you gaffer and then bell the old buzzard. Personally speaking I think we have him by the balls. One thing I would suggest is that you push him on the intelligence services. I just cannae get my heid around the fact they haven’t had any intel’ on Tariq.”

After a final slug of his Morgan’s Thoroughgood picked up the phone and keyed in the digits of Tomachek’s home number. A thought crossed his mind.

“Feck me, it has just occurred to me that I know the auld man’s number better than my own bleedin’ number. How sad is that?”

The other end of the phone clicked into life and a voice boomed, “Valentino Tomachek. That you, Thoroughgood?”

“Yes gaffer. Sorry to bother you but I needed to talk with you urgently,” said Thoroughgood.

“Balls and bleedin’ buggery Thoroughgood! Get on with it then, I was almost in the land of nod,” barked the detective superintendent.

Thoroughgood gave his commanding officer the bottom line. “Okay, boss. We’ve established a point of contact with Tariq’s gang of Jihadists and we have a meet tonight, 12pm at the Botanic Gardens.”

A bout of coughing broke out at the other end of the phone. “Bally hell, you’ve done what? How by the rood’s name did you manage to do that?”

Thoroughgood felt somewhat disconcerted that he was going to have to admit to his earlier economies with the truth.

“I mentioned to you that we had someone in the pipeline who may be able to help us with translations. Well it turns out he has been able to do a good bit more than that. Are you ready for the full Monty, gaffer?”

“Blow me senseless, Thoroughgood, at this stage I wouldn’t want it any other way. Now get a bally move on man.”

“The Spear of Islam are being masterminded by the Imam Tariq who is the main man at the Glasgow Central Mosque. His preaching has become increasingly radicalised recently and he has sought to develop influence over the younger, more suggestible members of his congregation.” Thoroughgood halted for breath.

“Carry on,” came from the other end of the blower.

Thoroughgood did as he was bid. “We have intelligence that leads us to believe he has also recruited a group of terrorists fresh from the al-Qaeda training grounds in the south western frontier of Pakistan.

“Tariq has been holding meetings for his radicalised followers at the Half-Moon bookshop. Earlier this week, witnessed by an informer, he preached Jihad. After he had done so he was joined by five of his brothers from abroad brandishing AK-47s.

“Although the two males who committed the Dowanhill atrocities wore masks, the description of their gear that day fits with that worn at the meeting by Tariq’s Jihadist death squad. That is also the case with the terrorists who appear on the hostage film.”

Thoroughgood finished the second part of his command performance and waited for reaction.

“In the name of the wee man . . .”

The detective sergeant quickly forced his voice into the silence left after Tomachek’s reaction and proceeded. “We now have an informant who has made contact with the gang through The Half-Moon bookshop and used Saladin’s dagger as bait to arrange the meeting with a member of the Imam’s gang tonight.

“Our man will provide the location of the dagger in an effort, firstly, to lure Tariq – or at least some of his gang – out.

Secondly, we will try to ingratiate our man within Tariq’s inner circle. Our man has been warned that he must come alone and he knows the risk involved but it is one he is willing to take.”

“In the name of Mother Mary, tell me that is it?” pleaded Tomachek.

Thoroughgood could only disappoint his superior officer. “Nope. We have had the note attached to the Dowanhill corpse translated. We believe it suggests that the Braehead bombing was only the start of a concerted bombing campaign that is going to continue possibly at shopping centres all over Scotland and maybe even the UK. We do not have a bloody clue where or when the next atrocity will come.”

“Before we go into how to handle the Botanics meet I have a question for you . . .”

“Fire away,” Tomachek’s replied tersely.

“Just where the hell are the security services in all of this?”

Tomachek cleared his throat. Clearly discomfited by the question and the information that he had no other option but to provide, he blustered. Badly.

“Indeed, dear boy, a legitimate question if ever there was one. Also it must be said one that leads us into an absolute bally bloody minefield.”

Thoroughgood forced the issue. “Come on boss, I think you owe me, Hardie and the boy putting his life on the line tonight, the bottom line.”

“Without doubt, Thoroughgood, without doubt. Alright here it is. MI5 have been monitoring Tariq and his group from the inside. Until the Braehead bomb they thought he was a firebrand with a big mouth but no terror portfolio.

“Their man on the inside believed that there was no real hard and fast threat. Just ‘chatter’ as they like to call it. So they made the call that rather than expose an informant who had taken months to get in under deep cover they would let him lie a bit longer. A calculated risk but one that the boys had to make. With me so far, Thoroughgood? Hardie?”

“We are,” was the chorused reply.

“The problem is that their man on the inside has disappeared off the map since Braehead. M15 suspect he has turned double agent. So, from MI5/M16 believing they had everything under control up here they have discovered within the last few hours that they have likely been completely misinformed and we are, to put it politely, up shit creek without the proverbial paddle.”

Hardie’s voice came over the line. “Fuck me boss! Does that mean that we are the only show on the road?”

“Yes and no is the answer to that one Hardie. I am meeting Sir Willie Stratford at Stewart Street tomorrow morning; I want you two in attendance. Your man’s meeting is vital, and after tomorrow’s conference we’ll have the full backing of the London based intelligence services including surveillance, but until then we’re on our own. So you fellows take no chances tonight and likewise your man. Is there more?”

Thoroughgood’s voice burst into life. “Yes there is. Tariq appears to have sleepers in key positions all over the city. He must have learned through them, of the liaison between Jim Fraser and Vanessa Velvet. Can I confirm that every available security measure has been adopted round all possible targets - the airport, hospitals and the like?”

“What do you take me for Thoroughgood? A bally amateur? The chief has made sure that he has done everything to ensure that Glasgow sleeps safely tonight. We have the army out and their bomb disposal experts on 24 hour standby. Glasgow is in a ring of steel between the army and our own armed response units. All leave has been cancelled indefinitely with the rank and file. God willing we come through tonight with something we can build on bloody quick.

“As of tomorrow I’d expect the intelligence services to take control of the whole shooting match, pardon the pun, but if we can hand them over some key intelligence and a route to Tariq then I think, Detective Sergeant Thoroughgood, I may be able to guarantee you a couple of pips on your shoulder. As for you Hardie, instead of that bloody great big chip you carry on each of your shoulders how would a set of stripes go down?”

At the other end of the phone Tomachek took a gulp of something that was clearly not air and added, “As if all of that wasn’t enough Johnny Balfour and several of the city’s most notorious ‘businessmen’ were mown down at an exclusive rooftop restaurant this afternoon. CCTV footage has shown the killers to be dear old Tony Blair and George W.”

Thoroughgood could not help his incredulity. “How the hell does that all add up?”

“I have not the slightest clue, but I do know that I will see you in my office at 11am tomorrow morning for the meeting with Stratford. Don’t be trying to get yourself killed to avoid it now dear boy.”

“I’ll do my best,” replied Thoroughgood.