CHAPTER 58
Ritchie, Kevin, Walid, and Winston had done their job that night.
Gordon unlocked Khan’s room around midnight, and they’d spent around four hours inside.
While Kevin and Walid searched and photographed the place once again, Ritchie and Winston took a look inside Khan’s computer with Colin giving live instructions from London and Ritchie on a laptop connected to the computer.
At 2:00 a.m., Kevin and Walid left, leaving Winston and Ritchie still busy on the computer. They then left around 4:00 a.m. after what Ritchie called a forensic clean up. “Khan won’t notice anything at all,” he told Winston.
They returned to the garage where the others were waiting, and Ritchie gave a brief explanation of what they’d found.
“It’ll probably take a day or two to analyse everything we’ve got and follow leads,” he said. “So just appear normal today,” he said. “Go to work as usual. Colin and I will deal with what we’ve found.”
Ritchie then spent what was left of the night in Roger’s truck.
The next morning, Kevin went to work at Bashir’s, Walid went to Gordon’s, Winston went to the bakery, and Willie went to school.
Roger and Ritchie went to see Greg. As Dalia watched from her chair, they sat in the kitchen, and Ritchie explained to Greg what they’d uncovered.
“We now know a lot,” Ritchie began. “But I want to ask you one question first, Greg. When did you start printing the fake signs into the passports you made for Khan?”
Greg looked worried. “From the very first one,” he said. “That same microscopic dot with the word Ziyuf inside the star of David appears on everything I’ve ever made. I first made it for my own passport so that I could prove it was a fake for test purposes if I ever needed to. I then tested the technology on plastic and used it on my fake driving licence. It is my signature. Everything I ever made has my signature. Is there a problem?”
“I hope not, Greg,” Ritchie said. “I think questions will be asked, but I think you can relax. As far as the law is concerned, things were labelled as fake and should never have been used. Whether they were marked clearly is another matter, but the reasons you did it are obvious.”
Greg smiled, went to Dalia, and leaned over her, tucking the towel beneath her chin. “You see, Herach? You see? I am clever, no?”
Ritchie nodded. “Clever but used, Greg. Just like Cass and Kevin, you are an innocent but exploited part of a criminal network. Just like them, you were useful because you were local and part of an operation made deliberately complicated to avoid detection. And it’s not just passports, Greg.
“We’re still tracking things back, and every piece of information takes us in a different direction—to money laundering, trafficking, illegal immigration, and financial fraud. That cellar beneath Faisal World Travel is the epicentre of a network of hundreds of small businesses, not just around Park Road but in Pakistan, the Philippines, Indonesia, and Malaysia. It’s a significant source of funding for Islamic terrorism, and it looks like we’ve solved one of our other cases already.
“We had a client in Jakarta,” Ritchie said. “A fruit and timber merchant called Bambang, who was being forced to pay protection money into a charity variously called Friends of Aceh or Moslem Hospices or Islamic Defenders. But it’s a cover for a terror group with splinter groups all across Southeast Asia and run from Faisal World Travel using 14 Shipley Street off Park Road as a trading address. 14 Shipley Street was where Kevin was born, and it’s owned by someone called Mohamed Jagrawan. And Mohamed Jagrawan is, we are almost certain, Kevin’s father. Colin is double-checking other things right now. But that computer was a mine of information once we’d hacked into it.”
Ritchie continued to explain to Greg that Colin was now talking to the counter-terrorism police, the immigration police, and the national crime agency.
“What he hasn’t yet told them is the precise location. They know it’s in the Park Road area, but they won’t know it’s a cellar beneath Faisal World Travel until Colin tells them.”
“How can he withhold such information?” Roger asked, fascinated by the way Asher & Asher seemed to work.
Ritchie merely touched his nose and smiled. “The only people who know are those of us who sat in Gordon’s garage last night.”
Just at that moment, there was a ring on the front door. Greg jumped, and even Dalia heard something because her eyes turned towards Greg. Greg went to the window and peered through the curtain. “It’s Kevin,” he said and headed for the door, leaving Roger and Ritchie together in the kitchen.
When Greg opened the door, Kevin was standing there, just as he had always done for two years. As usual, his duffel bag was at his feet, but he didn’t say good morning. Greg was about to invite him inside, but Kevin just looked at him, bit his lip, and shook his head. Then he put a finger to his lips and waved it a little to the left and right.
“Is something wrong, Kevin?” Greg asked.
Kevin gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Is Roger here? Is Ritchie here?”
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“I have a parcel, but . . . but Kooky Akram brought me here in his car,” he said quietly. “He has never done that before. He is waiting on the corner, and the parcel I have is bigger than usual. He said I should hurry. Hand it over and return to the car. It is not normal, Mr. Greg. I am worried. I don’t know what to do.”
Greg stared at Kevin but did what he always did. He produced his handkerchief, wiped his nose, and raised his eyes to the roadway. “Is that his car parked behind the one Roger used?”
Kevin didn’t turn to look. “Yes.”
“Is he watching us now?”
“Yes. He told me I should give you the parcel and then go.”
Greg wiped his face again, then he stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. Should he call Roger and Ritchie who were in the kitchen? No. Then what?
“Do you think he knows there are two others here today? Ritchie and Roger?”
“I don’t know, Greg. Maybe not.”
“And the parcel is in your bag?”
“Yes. It is much bigger and heavier than normal,” he repeated.
Greg frowned. Kevin bit his lip and screwed his face up. “What shall I do, Mr. Greg? I am worried it might—”
“Just wait one minute, Kevin. If he is watching, I will go and fetch a package for you to return. Just like in the past. OK? Stay here. Do not move.”
“Should I take the big parcel out, Mr. Greg?”
“Yes. Put it on the ground by the plant pot so he can’t see it from the road. Understand? When I return with the other package, take it from me and put it in your bag. Leave the big parcel on the ground behind the plant pot and walk calmly back to Akram’s car.”
“Yes, but what will you do with the parcel on the ground?”
“I will probably leave it there, Kevin, but wait here while I return with a package for you.”
Greg, just as he often did, closed the door a little and retreated inside. And Kevin, just as he often did, stared at the half-closed door and waited.
Greg returned with a small brown package. He handed it to Kevin. Kevin put it in his bag, and then he walked down the path. He shut the gate and cross the road towards Roger’s blue Fiat and the other tiny car parked behind. For a moment, Greg stood and watched from the doorway, but then, leaving the parcel on the ground, he closed the door and walked back to the kitchen.
Before he’d arrived, there was a huge explosion, a shattering of glass, and the front door was blown inwards. Dust and smoke poured into the hallway to the kitchen door. Greg tumbled through it and fell onto the floor behind Dalia’s chair. Roger and Ritchie were still sitting at the kitchen table when the door flew open, and Greg collapsed onto the floor. Both of them jumped up; Roger was wincing and holding his ears. Greg groaned but struggled to sit up and then crawled to check Dalia, who looked startled but, with her chairback to the door, was unharmed. Roger went to Greg’s aid. Ritchie went into the hallway and fought his way through dust, broken glass, and smoke to the front door that was lying inwards. The door frame was splintered, and the paintwork and wall were blackened. The front sitting room window had also blown in, the curtains were in shreds, and ceiling debris lay on the carpet. However, there was no fire, just a cloud of fine dust that was slowly settling on the floor. Outside the front door, Greg’s old rose bushes were standing like leafless twigs, the clay plant pot was shattered, and soil lay on the path all the way to the gate.
Across the road, Roger’s borrowed blue Fiat was still there, but Akram’s Ford Kia that had been parked behind it was gone. Behind Roger’s Fiat stood Kevin.
Ritchie ran to him. “Are you OK?”
Kevin nodded.
“What happened?”
“It was a bomb in the package I delivered. Kooky Akram was supposed to wait for me here, but as soon as I crossed the road, he drove off.”
“So it will appear that it was you who planted the bomb, Kevin.”
Kevin nodded. “Is Greg OK?”
“He’s OK but lucky. You probably saved his life, Kevin.”
“The police are now going to get involved, aren’t they?”
Ritchie nodded. “No way of stopping it I’m afraid. Come inside.”
As Ritchie led a still shocked Kevin back up the path of 18 Lansdowne Road, a small crowd of neighbours from the other houses appeared. Cars stopped on the main road, and people got out to watch the cloud of dust still settling around Greg’s shattered front door.