“I think that’s everything you need for this morning’s session.” Greg Lyons had spent twenty minutes updating his boss for the weekly progress meeting. There wasn’t much. His contacts in the groups he was monitoring had been unforthcoming. As usual.
“I think you’ve given me enough.” She was paying for coffees in the Starbucks on Ludgate Hill downstairs from the office. “But tell your man from Liverpool to give you a bit more notice next time. I don’t want you to make a habit of missing these meetings.”
“I know. But the text from Jackman does say he’s onto something big.” The meetings were the only opportunity to meet anyone important but nothing ever happened in them so he wasn’t going to lose sleep. Eileen could present his boring portfolio and leave him to some real fieldwork. In her late thirties, with short, dark hair, low key make-up and conservative suit, she could have been on her way to a meeting in any of a hundred local office buildings.
“Shouldn’t he be here by now?” she asked.
“I can’t imagine that he’ll be early. The train gets into Euston on the hour and it’ll take a good twenty minutes to get through the Underground.”
“All the same, get into the office as soon as you can. I’ll get them to put you to the back of the agenda just in case. And remember this is just an initial assessment. You’ve a lot on your plate already so be careful not to commit us to anything.”
“True, we’re busy.” He conceded. “But it’s all so much dross. Observation here, a hint there. We’ve nothing we can get our teeth into. This sounds as if it could at least be something definite.”
“Possibly, even probably, criminal. But not definitely anything. Least of all anything that should concern us. It’s not our job to catch criminals. If it’s not keeping the banking sector in the City of London secure from terrorists it isn’t our patch. And how reliable is this Jackman, anyway?”
“He’s solid. I came across him a couple of years ago on the 7/11 investigation. He has a nose for things. A lot of the leads came through him. He’s high energy. It was a real loss when they posted him to Liverpool. But who knows, having someone out there in the sticks may work out well after all.”
“OK. Well I’ll be off. The boss won’t wait.” She picked up her briefcase. “And remember what I said. No adventures. Let’s stick to our knitting.”
As he watched her retreating figure, Greg wrinkled his nose and picked up his newspaper. Ten minutes passed and the crowd was beginning to thin slightly when the door opened to admit John Jackman. He made his way over to the table.
“Hello Greg,” he said, “Sorry I’m a bit late. The traffic gets worse and worse and the cabs always seem to pick the busiest roads.”
“No problem, John. Long time no see!” Greg smiled and held out his hand. “Shall we take a walk? This place is a bit crowded for conversation.”
The two men left the café and, crossing the road set off up Old Bailey towards Smithfield. They walked in silence past the courts and then turned left into Newgate Street.
“So? You say you have something promising?”
“Indeed, Greg. Indeed.” Jackman paused, then continued. “Looks like a case of cyber-terrorism. University lecturer with contacts in Libya, unleashes a virus attack at the University.”
“Interesting, John. But I can’t see my boss being prepared to put any resource into something as flimsy as that. Do you have any evidence of terrorism?”
“Well, there is the Arab connection. It’s in the file.” He handed over a Manilla folder. “And he also attacked a colleague. And he’s threatened the University.”
“Still not enough. What was the virus?”
“That’s the worrying thing. So far we haven’t been able to isolate it. It’s not one that the anti-virus shops have come across. It appears to have been an original, and clever enough to destroy the evidence of infection. Bloody clever, in fact.”
“Hmmm. And where’s the culprit now?”
“On the loose. We took him in but we couldn’t get a peep out of him and the CPS got cold feet. Then it turns out that he had some sort of agreement to let him make backups to the network so they’ve refused to charge. Which is why I need your help. I think this is a classic case where prevention is better than cure. We can’t deliver the proof to charge him so we need to find some other way to stop him from doing it again – or worse.”
“Look John, I’d love to take a piece of this, but I don’t think I can do anything. My hands are tied. My boss has us stretched to the limit watching every Arab language book shop in London and monitoring mosques and madrasas and loons of every description. Anything definite that we could move on would have been progress but she won’t let us do anything unless there is a more definite connection. You need to link him to the Islamist terror networks or with something else that’s a definite a security threat.”
“Come on, Greg.” Jackman turned to face him. “You know that I put my arse on the line for you and ended up being booted out into the cold. This is important to me. I need to get a result that can get me back to London. The least you can do is give me a hand.”
“Don’t you have anything more concrete to tie him in as a security problem?”
“Well there’s his lawyer. He’s done a lot of work getting dodgy immigrants into the country. At least one of the people he defended has absconded when his refugee status was refused. He could be a link.”
“Any of his clients with an Islamist background?”
“Very probably. Almost certainly, in fact, given the types he takes on.” Jackman thought a moment. “But that wouldn’t be easy for us to find out. We don’t have access to that sort of stuff.”
“That might be an angle. I know my boss wouldn’t want me to spend any time on this but I don’t see why I shouldn’t run a quick check on your man’s client list. You’d better let me have his details.”
“Lawyer’s in the file. Meanwhile, I’ve managed to get my chief to let me put surveillance on him. Let him know they’re about and see if he makes a move.” Jackman smiled slyly. “Almost like old times, hey?”
“Yes, John. Almost like old times.”
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