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  “These containers,” he replied, “I am only one of a few ships out there. The Iraqi’s had plenty of time to prepare.”

  “But why, if this all went wrong you could wipe out half the population of the world, including much of the Middle East.”

  “To some death is the beginning of their existence. To most in the West life is the only existence, but to some Muslims the belief is that when a suicide bomber pulls a cord or presses a button, he or she knows their pieces will go on to the next life but those they have killed will not. Many in the West see this as the end of a few peoples’ lives; however the bomber and their associates see it as martyrdom and the gate to a future for them all. It’s a different aspect, a different belief, that’s all. To these Muslims it’s paradise for themselves and their families, to others it’s death.”

  Onar knew this, but gave the captain his moment before requesting to get back to shore to debrief Alan, therefore preparations were made and the captain was asked to stay in the location for 48 hours if possible. The captain agreed he would sail into Limassol, Cyprus and return to be off the coast of Olu Deniz within 48 hours.

  July 29th, 19.30, Sun City.

  Alan stood at the pool bar, a pint of Tuborg in his hand, Jacky stood at his side drinking a local gin with tonic. He turned to her smiled and said, “Love, I’ll have to leave you again tonight, I have a meeting at ten in town.”

  “It seems you have quite a few problems here, are these meetings just about business?”

  “What do you mean, just about business?” he quizzed and turned to look at her, his eyes searching her face, watching her eyes and her hand holding the gin glass. She whispered nervously, “We made love a few days ago, since then I’ve hardly seen you, I don’t know if we’re an item or not, I just seem to hang around here all day waiting for you to turn up.”

  He looked at her and replied, “You don’t have to hang around waiting for me, you’re a free spirit; so do your own thing.”

  “So that night we made love meant nothing.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that, of course it meant something, it was bloody marvellous.”

  “But just sex.”

  “Yes, just sex.”

  “Nothing else,” she retorted.

  “I don’t know what you want,” he argued, “we had an agreement before we came that we’d just take a holiday together then go back home and we’d have lots of fun together, just good fun.”

  “OK,” she sighed, “let’s go in for dinner together, tonight at least.”

  Dinner was just another self service event for her, there was little conversation and at nine thirty Alan got up to leave the dinner table.

  “I must go now, don’t wait up, I don’t know how long I’ll be. Be good, see you soon,” he asserted and smiled at her as he left.

  He walked away from the noise of moving chairs on tile and the clatter of crockery on hard wooden tables passing people chattering over their day at Sun City. The quiet of the street was pleasant and the scent from the jasmine bushes which lined the route was a sharp contrast to the smell of cooking he had just left.

  “Don’t get bloody well sucked in, leave the emotions to the young and foolish; to those poor buggers who think they have a chance,” he thought as he walked from the quiet street into the Secret Garden Restaurant and bar.

  A large sign greeted him at the stone arched entrance which read, “Happy Hour 6pm until 9pm every night.”

  “Just my luck,” he thought as he walked towards the bar then grumbled, “why do the little things like the price of a pint bother you. You can afford to buy the damn place if you want. Why are you even thinking about the price of a pint. Why does your mind keep leading you down these different thought streets, concentrate, concentrate,” he argued to himself, “that’s why the army taught you to do so many things instinctively,” he remembered, “because if any poor sods in the front line had time to think, half the buggers would go home,” he concluded. Another pint of Elfe was ordered.

  “You’re still drinking too much,” he mused, then again argued with himself, “God, keep your mind on the subject.”

  He walked to a quiet table placed on a small terrace which was surrounded by olive trees and a large creeper that seemed to be taking control not only of the trees but the table and chairs on the terrace. It was a perfect spot though for his purposes because to three sides the garden fell away from the terrace and to the fourth side were three steps which provided the only access to the table, making privacy very good.

  Another beer was served by a girl who spoke perfect English, and more idle chit chat found that she had married a Turkish man and together they had leased the bar for two years. She was a pretty girl, a petite blond, her voice was soft and cultured and he thought she was the type a Turk would like to bring home.

  Onar arrived and ordered an apple tea. He sat down and tried to move a chair to be closer to Alan; but the vine tying itself to the legs made this difficult, then eventually the vine gave up the battle and the chair moved. Now both were facing the three steps and could observe the approach of others.

  Onar told his story, they had indeed some form of WMD, however to gain access to it they required 2 - 6 digit codes and he had no idea who would provide these. Certainly the captain had no detail and assumed we would know.

  “That’s a job for Shan,” replied Alan, “he’s our main contact with Iraq. We need those codes urgently, I have only 6 days left here and before I go I need to know what we have down there, whether it can be used and that the factory is in our hands,” he looked at Onar and continued, “will you go back to the hotel now, I know it is late, but ask Shan to despatch our runner immediately, it will take him many hours to return especially if the codes have to be passed personally in Syria. It would be safer for Shan to go with him and each to have a code but he’s crossed the border too often recently. We will have to trust the runner,” he leaned forward and continued to talk in a whisper, “tomorrow you must approach our Avukat and put him under pressure to sign the factory deal. I think if you offer him a £50,000 bonus for completion and also the owner a similar sum, we may have access to the place before I leave. Lawyers seem to be able to open doors more quickly as the money increases.”

  “That’s an awful lot of money, it might make locals suspicious, perhaps we should reduce the sum initially to £10,000.”

  “Yes, you know the people here so I agree we reduce the sum,” he paused then declared, “but be sure to secure the deal.”

  Their meeting over, Alan walked back to Sun City passing the many bars and restaurants which lined the main street. The noise was incredible as each bar tried to outplay its neighbour with the latest music and each establishment also seemed to employ an army of locals whose job it was to entice you into their place. Many “Hello’s; Where are you from; we serve English beer; English food; Happy Hour; Free cocktails!” were heard before he passed the security gate of Sun City and went to bed. Jacky was out.

  At the Karbel Hotel Shan was giving instructions to the runner; Varn would drive to Syria now, to a safe house in a specific street in a specific town; the house would be the only one with a pantiled gated entrance. He would take the bankers signet ring for evidence with regard to LOLTS which he would show to the owner. The ring would be taken from him for inspection and he may have to wait up to 4 hours. He would then be given two six digit codes. He must ensure he writes down the correct codes as a 12 digit number the first digit being the first digit code number to the second container, the second digit being the first digit code number to the inner container and so on. He was informed it was crude, but simple enough to remember. He was told to write the number down on two items which were a simple piece of paper with a name SEVIL on it and a Hertz rent-a-car sticker. Then he was told to put the first in his pocket, peel off the backing of the second and stick it to the windscreen of the car. Varn was despatched befo
re Alan was asleep.

  30th July, 14.00, Sun City Pool Bar.

  Alan was drinking, his fourth Tuborg of the day; worrying times always led him to booze, because now he had only four days left of the vacation. To stay any longer would create problems. People looking for clues would begin by searching for anything that was not normal behaviour. Staying longer would increase the risk of his name popping up on a computer screen somewhere in middle England. That might not be significant to anyone just yet but as circumstances unfolded it might place him in Olu Deniz at the same time as the purchase of a factory and the murder of a man.

  Shan entered the gates of Sun City and found Alan at the Pool Bar, they both walked to the back of the pentagon shaped bar where they could be alone because the waiters did not service this side.

  “We have the two codes and a message. The message is that we have access to as much WMD, money and munitions we need, indeed any resource is at our disposal.” Shan then passed him a piece of paper; on it was written, “On the 27th of July the two sons of Saddam Hussein were executed on their own soil by the invading American infidels. Revenge their deaths, execute the Americans and British on their own soil. Allah be with you.”

  Alan chewed the paper into a tight ball and dumped it in a waste bin. They walked to meet Onar at his hotel and together returned to the Secret Garden bar to meet Captain Amdarni.

  Onar had been busy in the past 48 hours. The Avukat had indeed responded to the extra money as had the factory owner and papers had been exchanged and signed. Onar had visited the factory and held meetings with the managers and foremen. They had been offered a 15% increase in salary and the workforce had been offered a 10% increase, if they were prepared to work the shifts necessary to complete the expected UK contract on time. Onar’s inspection of the factory laboratory had proven beneficial and he was sure that when given details of the WMD and access to it he would be able to prepare the products.

  On July 31st Onar would be taken to the ship by Amdarni, along with the 2 codes which Varn brought back from Syria, to assess the contents of the container and Onar would sleep aboard for the 3 hours it would take to send down divers and crane the container to the surface.

  Alan returned to his room at Sun City, Jacky was still out but a note had been left taped to the TV screen.

  “Alan I hope you don’t mind but I’ve met a Turkish man who owns a shop near the beach. You seem to be very much involved in your business here and I know you won’t mind, I’ll see you back at the airport if not sooner.”

  “Fuck,” he hissed, that’s all I need now, a nosey Turk, let’s hope he’s only interested in Jacky’s body. Fucking Turk,” he growled then lay down on the bed, squeezed his penis and thought, “fucking Turk, fucking Jacky. Lucky bastard.”

  July 31st, Afyon steam ship, 15 miles off the coast of Turkey.

  Onar was woken at 02.00. The container had been raised from the sea bed and placed in an airtight hold. He alone would enter the hold and be linked to the captain and crew by radio phone.

  He opened the three watertight envelopes and compared them all with the fourth, all said the same. He pulled back the four aluminium bolts which sealed the outer watertight skin, opened the door and entered. Immediately in front of him was a Gurteknik locking system with a numbered key pad and just 3 keys; which read Lock, Reset and Open; to his left was a large cupboard the size of a double wardrobe. He unlocked its water tight door and found within a microscope, two full body protective suits with face masks, respirators, gloves and boots, spatulas, test tubes and torches, plus an envelope containing further instructions written in English, German and Arabic. The instructions were simple, the inner container had within it WMD, it could only be accessed by the use of 2 – 6 digit codes which would open the bolting mechanism for the second and third container doors. No other access was available and any form of tampering or forced entry would result in the container exploding. Only 3 attempts at entering the correct code could be made before the unit would detonate.

  He now dressed in one of the protective suits, entered the first six digit code and pressed the open button. Three red lines appeared on the screen, followed by the four letters which read OPEN and three further red lines. He pulled at the handle and the second door opened to reveal the final Gurteknik code pad.

  He entered the final six digit code and the door opened as before then he walked in and shone the torch to reveal what appeared to be rows of four drawer filing cabinets. He opened a drawer and found rows of test tubes held firmly in place by rubber holders. The second drawer was similar, the third held rolls of aluminium foil and Ziplock airtight bags.

  Carefully he withdrew just one test tube and returned with it to the table in the hold. In the better light he could see the tube contained a fine powder, the colour of bleached bone. He sat down and looked closely at the tube, if it was what he thought it was he would have to treat it with the greatest respect. He also knew the equipment he had here was crude in comparison to that he had used years ago in the United States.

  He opened the test tube and noticed the powder moved into the air, remaining in the tube and clinging to its sides. He removed a small amount of the powder with a spatula and resealed the tube. He placed the powder on a glass slide and slipped it under the microscope, he zoomed it in to its highest magnification where he observed white spores, ovoid in shape rather like a rugby football with blunt ends. He was startled to see that the spores seemed to move even though held between the two glass sleeves. The last time he had seen this had been at Fort Detrick, an army air base in Frederick, Maryland, which many years ago was the centre of America’s germ warfare programme.

  “Jesus,” he hissed to himself, “this is weapons grade Anthrax.”

  He replaced the powder and ensured the test tube was sealed, took the spatula and glass slide and wrapped them in sheets of tinfoil and placed them in a Ziplock bag. He returned this, the test tube and the microscope to the filing cabinet and closed the airtight drawer. He sealed the inner container, entered the code and locked it shut and did the same for the second skin. He emerged from the container and closed the bolts of the outer skin. He walked to the radio phone, still wearing the protective clothing and pressed the single button.

  The captain answered and Onar spoke slowly, “I will need to be washed down at least three times in this clothing before I can replace it, can you do that remotely?” The captain affirmed it saying the Iraqis had equipped this hold with both sprinklers and a flooding system. Three scrub-downs later, he discarded the protective clothing, returned it to the cabinet, asked for the airlocks to be opened and was met by the captain beyond the second airlock.

  Onar had already decided he would play down the extent of the WMD with Amdarni, but state it would be useable and that he would supervise its transport from the ship to the factory. At the end of their brief conversation the captain understood he had low grade nerve gas which he needed to respect, but that was manageable. Onar instructed him to flood the hold, then remove the container and reposition it on the sea bed, and finally to be in position in the next 5 days in order to raise it again for the first transfer of materials.

  August 1st, Sun City.

  When Onar walked from the beach towards Sun City he was greeted by the morning sun which rose over Father Mountain, the backdrop to Olu Deniz, and the temperature was changed in an instant from cool bearable to 38 degrees C. The time was 08.40 and he believed Alan would be at breakfast in the holiday complex.

  The waiters laid out only half the tables for breakfast, but Alan having met Onar on his way down to the restaurant asked a waiter if he would kindly make up a table near the night club. He wanted them to be out of the sun, away from the smokers and out of earshot.

  He grabbed a cup of black tea, some bread and a cheese omelette and arrived back at the table to discuss Onar’s exploration of the container.

  He came straight to the point,
he was fairly certain the WMD was weapons grade Anthrax. He was also certain there was enough of it to kill half the population of the USA and Europe.

  Alan whistled, “Christ, can we use it as we hoped?”

  “Absolutely, it’s ideal, do you know anything about Anthrax.”

  “Not really, I know it’s bloody bad news,” he responded, “didn’t they practice with it years ago on an island off Scotland which is still uninhabitable?”

  “That’s the stuff,” he replied, “in its worst form it has its own energy which enables it to become airborne and form an undetectable cloud, which will travel wherever it is blown. In our case, mixed with explosives, it will be devastating. If it is weapons grade it is also virtually indestructible and will not be downgraded by explosion, temperature change, weather, water or anything I can imagine.”

  “What does it actually do?”

  “Anthrax is a seed, a spore, which in its natural state can lay doormat in the ground for years, and this is why that island you mentioned earlier is probably still uninhabitable. In its dry state it is harmless, but when it comes into contact with lymph fluid or blood, the seed cracks open and begins to grow. It turns itself into a rod shaped cell and then multiplies 2 -4 -8 -16 -32 -64, binary, it draws on the nutrients of the animal or person it has invaded, wanting to engulf them and kill its host. It actually wants you to die so that as your carcass rots the Anthrax cells sporulate, mix with your fluid and drain into the soil. Eventually it dries out and lies there, waiting as a seed for its next victim.”

  “You deliver airborne weapons grade Anthrax into a city, a tube station, office complex, anywhere, then God help those people and animals living there. You really would cause a major number of deaths and absolute panic.”

  Onar looked at Alan, smiled and continued, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  Alan nodded and smiled back, then thought to himself, “It’s not the what, it’s the why” and hoped the smile hid his doubt about this being a step too far. In comparison to this, flying aeroplanes into office blocks seemed petty,” he concluded.