itchie, Kevin, Walid, and Winston had done their job that night
R .
Gordon had 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 as Ritchie talked to Colin on a laptop he’d connected to the computer.
“Has Willie shown you this hacking trick?” he asked Winston once he’d got a connection.
“Willie used a different way,” Winston replied.
Around 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 a thing,” he told Winston.
They then returned to the garage where the others were waiting. “It’ll probably take a day or two to analyse everything and follow leads,” he said. “So just carry on as normal today. Go to work as usual. Colin and I will deal with what we’ve got.
Ritchie then spent what was left of the night in Roger’s truck.
Next morning, Kevin went to work at Bashir’s, Walid went to Gordon’s, Winston went to the bakery, and Willie went to school.
Around midday, 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 but I want to ask you one thing first, Greg,” Ritchie said. “When did you start printing the fake signs in the passports you made for Khan?”
“From the very first one,” Greg said. “That 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. Everything I ever made has my signature. Is there a problem?”
Ritchie shook his head. “I hope not. 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 why you did it is obvious.”
Greg tucked the towel beneath Dalia’s chin. “You see, Herach? I am clever, no?”
Ritchie nodded. “Clever but, just like Cass and Kevin, you are an innocent but exploited part of a criminal network. And it’s not just passports, Greg. 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 an international network of hundreds of businesses not just around Park Road.
It’s a significant source of funding for Islamic terrorism, and we reckon it’ll help solve one of our other cases.
“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 who is, almost certainly, Kevin’s father. Colin is now talking to the counter-terrorism 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 worked. Ritchie merely touched his nose and smiled.
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 sitting around the kitchen table with Dalia in the wheelchair.
When Greg opened the front door, Kevin was standing there with his duffel bag at his feet just as he had done for the last two years. Greg was about to invite him inside but Kevin just
looked at him, shook his head and put a finger to his lips waving it a little to the left and right.
“Is something wrong?” Greg asked.
Kevin gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Are Roger and Ritchie here?” he asked.
“Yes. What’s wrong?”
“I have a parcel but today Kooky Akram brought me here in his car,” he said quietly. “He has never done that before. He’s waiting for me on the corner but the parcel I have is bigger and heavier than usual. He said I should hurry, hand it over and return to the car. It is not normal, Mr. Greg. I’m worried. I don’t know what to do.”
Greg produced his handkerchief, wiped his nose, and raised his eyes to the roadway. “Is that his car parked behind Roger’s?”
Kevin didn’t turn to look. “Yes.”
“Is he watching us?”
“Yes. He told me I should give you the parcel and then go.”
Greg stuffed the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Do you think he knows there are two others here today? Ritchie and Roger?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Is the parcel in your bag?”
“Yes.”
Greg frowned and Kevin bit his lip. “What shall I do, Mr.
Greg? I am worried it might…”
“Wait a minute, Kevin. If he’s watching, I will go and fetch a package for you to return. Stay here. Do not move.”
“What about the parcel in my bag?”
“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, put it in your bag and walk back to Akram’s car.”
Just as he always did, Greg retreated inside and Kevin, just as he always did, stared at the half-closed door and waited.
Kooky, watching from the roadside, would have seen nothing unusual.
A minute later, Greg returned and handed Kevin a small, brown package. Kevin put it in his bag, walked back down the path, shut the gate and crossed the road. Kooky’s car, though, was nowhere to be seen.
Leaving the parcel on the ground, Greg had just closed the door when there was a huge explosion outside. The door was blown inwards off its hinges in a cloud of grey smoke, splintered wood and glass that knocked Greg off his feet. He staggered onto his hands and knees towards the kitchen where Roger was picking himself off the floor and Ritchie was peering through the dust at Greg crawling towards Dalia.
Dalia looked startled but, with her chairback to the door, was unharmed. Greg, though, had a cut to his forehead so Ritchie helped him to his feet and fought his way through the dust and smoke to the front door that now lay in shattered pieces in the blackened hallway. The front sitting room window had also blown in, the curtains lying in shreds amongst ceiling debris that covered the carpet. Outside, Greg’s rose bushes were standing like leafless twigs, the clay plant pot was shattered and blackened soil covered the path all the way to the gate.
Across the road, Akram’s car was gone but Roger’s still stood and, from behind it, Kevin appeared. Ritchie ran to him. “Are you OK?”
Kevin nodded. “A bomb,” he said. “It was in the package I delivered. Kooky Akram said he’d wait for me, but as soon as Greg opened the door he drove away.”
“So, it will appear that it was you who planted the bomb, Kevin.”
Kevin nodded. “Is Greg OK?”
“He’s OK. You probably saved his life, Kevin.”
“And Roger.”
“Embarrassed. He fell off his chair.”
“The police will get involved now, won’t they?”
Ritchie looked at a small group of people already gathering by Greg’s gate, nodded. “No way of stopping it I’m afraid. Come inside.”