Chapter 7
A Glimmer Awakens
Boston – December 20, 2010
A decade had passed since Elspeth had joined the CIA and, more than twenty years having passed since the Lockerbie bombing, she had by now come to understand what Gran had meant all those years ago when she’d claimed that life was short.
During her time with the CIA she had worked on so many different projects that it sometimes made her head spin. She hadn’t really contributed to the capture and conviction of Libyan National Abdelbaset al-Megrahi for the Lockerbie bombing, but then she had never really believed that he had been the sole person behind such an audacious attack.
Her first major role within the CIA had erupted quite unexpectedly with the attacks on September 11. Thereafter, she had been busy night and day helping to put together the pieces of the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center. Writing intricate mathematical search algorithms, she had begun to crack some of the most clandestine operations within Al Qaeda.
The flow of money to support the September 11 attacks had been both intricate and ingenious, thereby heightening her suspicions that there must be some brilliant business minds behind Al Qaeda. Elspeth’s sleuthing abilities during this period had rapidly elevated her to a position of high repute within the CIA.
Then came the invasion of Iraq by the U.S. led coalition, followed by Saddam Hussein’s capture and subsequent execution in 2006. But both Osama bin Laden and Muammar Gaddafi had somehow managed to evade capture, and Elspeth was by now the lead financial investigator on both bin Laden’s and Gaddafi’s terrorist activities.
Through it all a part of Elspeth continued to focus on anything and everything that led her back to the Lockerbie bombing, but in reality she felt herself no closer to solving the bombing than she had been during her days at the DIA. Nevertheless, over the course of the preceding decade Elspeth had begun to put together a series of seemingly disjoint clues that eventually began to converge into something truly terrifying.
Her first clue came when Elspeth decided to follow up on the information she had uncovered in Cairo before she’d been kidnapped way back in 1998. Checking records in both England and Scotland, she confirmed that no one by the names of Alexander James Morton or Alfred James Wharton had been born in the U.K. around 1920. Clearly, the person who had sired both Anna Morton and Farhan Rahman had been traveling under an alias, but who was this person in reality?
On a whim, Elspeth decided one day to search James Moorhead. Bingo! Customs records indicated that her grandfather had entered the U.K. in late 1968, and that he had departed from Heathrow on January 21, 1970. Thus, she began checking customs records of the destination countries for British Airways aircraft on that date. Unfortunately, that proved to be a dead end, as she was not able to access customs records for many of the destinations listed for that date.
But it gnawed at her – had her grandfather indeed gone to the Middle East in 1970, as her grandmother had implied? Until she knew the answer to that question, her evidence was little more than circumstantial. Realizing that there was only one way to find out the answer to this question, Elspeth set to writing a new algorithm and, hacking into British Airways’ flight records, she was eventually able to locate a flight record for January 21, 1970. Using his own passport, James Moorehead had flown direct from Heathrow to Cairo on that date!
There was now a clear chain of evidence linking her grandfather not only to Connor Stuart, but also to Anna Morton and Farhan Rahman. Their identical pale blue eyes seemed to confirm her suspicions, but exactly how and why he might have sired both Anna and Farhan was still unclear to her.
Given this astounding revelation, Elspeth now asked herself a question - how and why had the three apparent half-siblings all come together in Boston? Surely it wasn’t a coincidence, and if not, then to what end? When Elspeth thought about it, chills ran up and down her spine, for she understood that she herself was the fourth person in this as yet inexplicable charade.
Elspeth now turned her attention to Farhan Rahman, and within a short period of time she uncovered sufficient evidence to be relatively certain that he was a terrorist working for Al Qaeda. When and how had he been turned? Was it even a possibility that Farhan had already been working for Al Qaeda way back in 1991, when he had arrived in Boston? And if so, was it possible that one or both of his half-siblings might also be in some way involved? She shuddered at the thought.
Serendipitously, although she’d had no direct contact with him in more than a decade, she discovered within days that Connor Stuart had matriculated to MI6 in London around the same time she had joined the CIA. If Connor was indeed Farhan’s half-sibling, then he might also be in some way involved with Al Qaeda, in which case MI6 had surely been compromised. The entire situation shouted terrorism within her every pore, but she had not one iota of solid evidence to support it.
Under the circumstances, her only choice was to keep digging. She had to find something significant before she could report anything up the line at the CIA. Day after day she searched through any and all clandestine files she could locate. Focusing first on Farhan, then on Anna, and finally on Connor, she sifted and sifted, but to no avail.
Eventually she was called in by her boss, Tom Hardaway. “What in heaven’s name are you working on, Elspeth?” he inquired. “Our IT people are picking up all sorts of weird searches emanating from your computer.”
“I can’t say, Tom,” she responded forlornly, “I’m sorry. I just don’t have enough to go on yet. But trust me when I say this – If it’s true, it’s really big.”
“Humor me, Elspeth. Give me something…anything. A hint will do for the moment.”
“Alright, Tom, but it’s sketchy. It involves Farhan Rahman, the fellow I told you about.”
“Right, isn’t he the guy you mentioned that you went to school with at Harvard?”
“That’s the one, Tom. I’ve been able to determine that he is almost certainly working for Al Qaeda.”
At this revelation Tom arched one eyebrow in surprise and exclaimed, “Alright, Elspeth, I’ll take your word for it. But frankly, had you not turned up so much already, I’d have to cut off this line you’re taking. I’ll give you two weeks, but you’ll have to move on if nothing substantial turns up by then.”
“Yes, sir. Will do. And thank you for your confidence in me.”
“Sure,” he nodded, “Now get out of here and figure out where the heck this leads you.”
Once back at her desk, Elspeth suddenly realized that Tom might just be right – this whole mish mash of confusing information might in fact be leading her somewhere, and perhaps it was not accidental! The sudden realization knocked the wind out of her.
“Oh, my God,” she thought to herself, “Surely all of this is not merely a coincidence!” Staring at her computer screen, she realized for the first time that she might be more than involved – she just might be the target! Her mind now racing forward and, the pieces falling into place, she suddenly realized that she might indeed have most of the pieces of the puzzle already within her grasp. And if indeed she was correct, there were just two pieces remaining: why on earth was she the target; and how, when and where would Al Qaeda make their next move?
Two days later Elspeth happened onto something quite suspicious. Searching through the British Airways data base, she discovered that Farhan Rahman had flown to London Heathrow Airport three times within the last three months. She now checked for names of other potential terrorists that might have flown from the Middle East to Heathrow in recent months. Since there were far too many for her to make any sense of it, she decided to narrow it down. But, she asked herself, how to do that? On what basis could she possibly narrow down her search?
But then she noticed that in all three cases when Farhan had flown to London, he had not flown on to another destination. In fact, in each instance he had returned to Cairo within 48 hours. Why had he flown to London
so often if all he was doing was returning to Cairo?
Elspeth now suspected that she was finally onto something, something that might just be important. Accordingly, she searched for potential terrorists who had flown from Cairo to London on British Airways, only to return to Cairo a day or two later. As it turned out, there were quite a few occurrences, but six passengers had made the trip more than once, and five of them had made the flight three times within the last three months, only to return to Cairo within 48 hours. That totaled twenty flights in three months. She was now suspicious that something very untoward was going on.
Elspeth therefore widened her search to include nonstop flights from Israel, Libya, Saudi Arabia, and Turkey. Suddenly the list grew to fifteen suspicious travelers who had flown to Heathrow at least twice, and all had remained in London no more than 48 hours. There was now a total of 44 flights into London Heathrow by potential terrorists within the last three months, all of whom had returned straightaway to their points of departure. Elspeth now checked flights into Gatwick Airport from the same originating airports, but there were no passengers at all that fit her criteria.
Still perplexed, she next attempted to correlate the arrival dates of the passengers flying to London. There seemed to be no correlation between their arrival dates, so that it was unlikely they were flying to London for the purpose of meeting one another. That left only one horrifying possibility: they were all flying to London for the purpose of depositing something at Heathrow Airport!
The time had come to report her findings to Tom. Hastening to his office, Elspeth made her case as pointedly as possible and, sticking strictly to facts, she zeroed in on Heathrow as a possible target. Tom bought it, immediately authorizing Elspeth to catch the afternoon flight direct to London from Dulles.
On arrival the following morning, Connor Stuart was waiting for her at Heathrow. Seeing her clear passport control, Connor called, “Elspeth, over here! It’s Connor, Connor Stuart!”
Hearing his voice, she recognized him before she even saw him and, turning in his direction, she responded as she approached him, “Connor! I’d have recognized that voice anywhere. So, long time no see.”
Grinning incongruously at her serious demeanor, he posited, “It is so good to see you, too, Elspeth!”
Ignoring his good-natured humor, she responded distantly, “Sooo, why did they send you to meet me?”
“I should think that would be obvious, Elspeth. Everyone knows that I once had a thing with the star agent for the CIA. So here I am, a genuine MI6 agent at your service.”
At this she smiled half-heartedly at him and responded, “Well, I must say, I’m not certain that was a good idea, Connor.”
Cocking his head in confusion, he inquired, “Why ever for, if I may say?”
Getting to the point, she proffered, “Because I don’t trust you, Connor Stuart!”
Eyeing her disconsolately, he barked, “Why am I not surprised, Elspeth.”
At this she simply peered silently at him, expectation planted upon her features, thereby willing him to continue with, “What’s this all about, Elspeth? You always were a step ahead of everyone else.”
“Whatever are you talking about, Connor?”
“Why, the night we played strip poker, of course.”
“Whatever,” she blurted dismissively, but then, recalling past events, she added, “Anyway, I made sure the girls won, but not so as to check out your attributes. I was simply attempting to foil Farhan’s ploy, whatever it was.”
“Yeah, yeah, I was drunk as a skunk that night, Elspeth. And if truth be told, in my inebriated state, a part of me hoped to see beneath your clothes. And had the circumstances been different I just might have.”
“Not a chance, dear boy. It’s not in my nature, as you well know.”
“Yes, of course I do. And to tell you the truth, I was and still am relieved to know that you are not that sort. I’m so sorry to have destroyed your good impressions of me. I apologize.”
“Goodness, what brought that on? It was years ago. Let’s just move on – apology accepted! Phew!”
“Ah, thanks, Elspeth. Now, shall we get down to business?”
“Right. But I’m afraid we’re going to have to wait for a more secure location. You understand I’m sure.”
“Yes, of course. We should arrive at MI6 within the hour. And Elspeth, a sizable crowd shall be awaiting your arrival, so this had better be good!”
“Trust me, Connor it will be.”
MI6 Headquarters – December 23
Elspeth entered the conference room and, glancing about, she was reassured that the necessary individuals were all present. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she proffered and, taking a seat, she said, “Shall we begin?” She then presented her case, including documented evidence, all of which took no more than ten minutes. At the end, she posited, “These are the facts I’ve uncovered to date. Questions?”
Director Wilson immediately piped in with, “I take it you think something is going down at Heathrow Terminal 5 in the near future, Miss Moorehead?”
“That is correct, Director.”
At this the director responded derisively, “You make an excellent case, Miss Moorehead. However, given that Terminal 5 at Heathrow Airport is undoubtedly the single most secure airport terminal on Earth, I should think that we shall need more confirmation in order to move forward on your hypothesis.”
“Up to now, it’s not a hypothesis, sir,” Elspeth responded defensively.
“I understand, Miss Moorehead, and we in this room are quite aware of your recent exploits within the CIA. But surely you must know that we at MI6 are not croppers. Much of what you have intimated, we have already surmised.”
“And?” she shot back pointedly.
“And…well, we deem these flights to be unrelated, and as such, no cause for alarm.”
“And on what do you base that conclusion, may I ask?”
“Miss Moorehead, I am not at liberty to disclose that information to you at this time.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ve wasted your time and mine,” she blurted and, rising from her seat, she made for the door.
“Please, not so fast, Miss Moorehead,” he pled. “Please, will you just hold on for a few more moments?”
At this, Elspeth calmed down a bit and responded condescendingly, “Yes, of course, assuming you have something constructive to offer.”
“On the contrary,” the director chided, “It is you who should provide something constructive.
“Alright,” she muttered introspectively, “However farfetched, I have a theory, a theory that can be validated.”
“Proceed,” he challenged.
“Director Wilson, I’ve done my homework on this, so bear with me. As you have just heard, I have confirmed the arrival of at least 44 passengers of dubious character from the Middle East at Heathrow within the past three months, all of whom returned to the Middle East more or less straightaway.”
“Yes, Miss Moorehead,” he responded patronizingly, “We already know that.”
“So tell me, Director, what is the legal limit on liquids in carry-ons at Heathrow?”
“Why, two ounces, of course. Why?”
“That is for outbound flights, is it not, sir?”
“Yes, of course, but no one gets through Heathrow without first passing through security.”
“But what about before they pass through security, sir?”
“Uhm…I’m not quite sure I understand, Miss Moorehead.”
“Alright, then let me be clear. When a passenger arrives at Terminal 5, what transpires before the passenger goes through security?”
“Why, the passenger first exits their inbound aircraft, and then they are passed directly through security.”
“Director Wilson, have you in fact ever flown into Heathrow Terminal 5, and thereafter directly out of the selfsame terminal?’
“Why no, of course not. I live in London, Miss
Moorehead!”
“Precisely, sir. Now, has anyone within this room ever flown into Heathrow Terminal 5, and then directly out from the selfsame terminal?” Observing no confirming responses, Elspeth responded smugly, “I thought not. Well, gentlemen, I have! Not four months ago I did precisely that. Having flown in from Stockholm, I went directly through customs in Terminal 5 and caught a plane to New York from the same terminal.” At the stunned silence, Elspeth knew she had them in the palm of her hand.
Thus reassured, she continued, “Gentlemen, when passengers arrive at Terminal 5 they are routed from their flight along a secure corridor, oftentimes requiring them to go up a floor or two, and in the process allowing them access to toilets along the way. On arrival at the customs area on the third floor they are routed through one of several lines including ticket exchanges, ticket issuances, Fast Track, and the regular line. Once they have passed through customs, they are routed a further floor up, where they pass through security. As I have been subjected to this process, I can tell you – there are multiple opportunities for passengers to secrete items within Terminal 5 before they reach security.”
At this last revelation there was stunned silence. At length, Director Wilson inquired, “Just exactly what are you getting at, Miss Moorehead?”
She eyed him for a moment, then thrust home her final point, “Director, as I said, I’ve done my homework. It takes approximately 150 ounces of high energy plastic explosives to create a bomb sufficient to wreak havoc at Heathrow Terminal 5. To date there have been 44 confirmed entries to Terminal 5 by suspicious foreign nationals, each of whom could easily have transported two ounces or more of plastic explosives within their carry-on bags. Were those small amounts to be consolidated into a single charge, the consequences could be quite profound.
“Sir, I needn’t tell you that Terminal 5 is separated from the exterior by enormous panes of glass, not to mention additional sheets of glass used as room dividers within the terminal. Suppose for the moment that a rather large bomb went off in Terminal 5. I suspect that much of the glass within the terminal would be exploded, thereby creating millions of glass shards capable of ripping apart anyone nearby, and as you well know, there are literally thousands of passengers within Terminal 5 at any point in time.”
The entire room was now totally silent, every person in attendance by now understanding the enormity of Elspeth’s contention. If there was even the slightest possibility that she was correct, immediate precautions must be taken.
At this revelation, Director Wilson now replied solemnly, “Miss Moorehead, I apologize. I believe that we are entirely in your debt. This is indeed quite a serious matter. We shall undertake precautions immediately to ensure that your hypothesis is avoided.”
“Hold on,” Elspeth murmured, at which the room became silent yet again. “Hold on, sir,” she now repeated more forcefully, “I would like to be involved in these ‘precautions’, as you so aptly put them.”
“Why ever for?” he queried.
“There are two reasons. First of all, I know Mr. Rahman quite well. In fact, I would go so far as to say – I know him well enough that I might just be able to discern where the explosives might have been deposited within the terminal, perhaps better than someone who has never met him. Secondly, I believe that I know the exact date that the bomb is planned to be detonated within the Terminal.”
“Oh?” the director responded with arched eyebrow, “And when might that be?”
“Three weeks from tomorrow,” she responded.
“Now, this is just too much!” he blurted incredulously, “How do you come to that conclusion, Miss Moorehead?”
Seeing her chance to get even, Elspeth announced, “I’m not at liberty to tell you at this time, Director Wilson!”
A sudden frown creasing his features, he responded resentfully, “Oh, come now, Miss Moorehead. Surely you can do better than that!”
Eyeing him unflappably, she shot back, “Well then, call it a hunch, sir,” at which, the tension broken, the crowd launched into titters.
Director Wilson eyed her in frustration for a moment longer, then posited, “Well, who am I to doubt the ‘hunch’, as it were, of one so profoundly clairvoyant? I shall allow your participation in the process, but you shall be accompanied by Agent Stuart at all times, am I understood?”
At this Elspeth flashed her eyes at Connor momentarily and responded, “Yes, sir, I understand.”
The director now blurted in finality, “And frankly, I hope that you are quite in error about this entire situation, Miss Moorehead. And in the case that you are, I fear the consequences for you shall be dire in the least.”
“I am prepared to take that chance, sir,” she responded diffidently.
And with that the meeting was at an end.
Once out in the hallway, Connor sidled up to her and whispered, “My, my, Elspeth, you are a whirlwind if I ever saw one. On this day, a sprite of a woman from the colonies succeeded in turning MI6 directly on its ear!”
At his unexpected compliment Elspeth turned and glared at him, then spat between gritted teeth, “Listen, you little worm, I can’t stand the sight of you! I can handle this whole situation by myself, - so stay out of my way – you hear?”
Taken aback, Connor could only think to say, “Of course, Elspeth. I am at your service.”
At this she flashed her eyes at him and exclaimed, “Well, then, let’s get on with it.”
Heathrow Airport – After Midnight That Night
Elspeth and Connor observed as the security team searched throughout the area between Terminal 5 flight arrivals and security. After a six-hour search by nearly twenty security personnel, nothing even remotely suspicious had been uncovered. Connor was stumped, but Elspeth was furious.
When informed, Director Wilson was shrewd enough to be unfazed. “Try again tomorrow night,” he instructed.
Meanwhile, Elspeth, who was by then severely jet-lagged, caught whatever sleep she could in the morning hours and returned to MI6 after lunchtime, whereupon she found Connor awaiting her arrival.
Surprised at his attentiveness, she remarked nonchalantly, “What’s up, little worm? Any new developments?”
“Not really,” he replied defensively, “But I’ve made some inquiries – I’ve managed to get copies of the blueprints for Terminal 5. Perhaps we could take a gander at them. Maybe something will catch our eye.”
“Excellent!” she responded noncommittally, “This is exactly what we needed – a new perspective. Otherwise, tonight we shall repeat the same worthless process as last night. Shall we?” at which he led her to a small room where the papers were laid out.
“Sooo,” he mumbled in passing, “I’ve been thinking about what you said yesterday morning…”
“Yes?” she shot back, “What exactly did I say?”
“You implied that you might have a better shot at locating the supposed bomb materials because of your intimate knowledge of Farhan.”
“Right.”
“Well, then…”
“Well, then, what?” she queried impatiently.
“What did you mean by that, Elspeth?” he replied suspiciously.
“Actually, I didn’t mean a thing at all. I was simply attempting to bring MI6 around to my perspective. Besides, one more person searching can’t possibly hurt.”
“Oh…” he mumbled, “Well then…oh, my,” but then his eyes lit up, and he suggested, “But think about it, Elspeth – you may just be onto something. Farhan was and is quite the character, you know.”
“Right, I couldn’t agree more, Connor,” she posited and, deciding to test his allegiance, she suggested, “And since you mention it, I may as well tell you my other reason…”
“Oh…right,” he eyed her, “And what might that be?”
She now played her hole card, “I think that I may in fact be the target, Connor.”
“What!” he blurted incredulously, “Why, that’s ridiculou
s, Elspeth! These guys are international criminals. Why ever would you even consider the possibility that they are after you?”
Judging his response to be genuine, she softened a bit and responded, “I know, it sounds ridiculous on the surface, but every time I think over everything that’s happened, the trail leads directly back to me.”
“I don’t agree,” he reflected pensively, “For instance, the night we played strip poker, I thought Farhan was after you, to see if you’d strip. But for the longest time, I’ve thought it more likely that he was actually after Anna that night.”
“I know, I’ve thought the same thing,” she murmured cautiously, “But hear me out, Connor. Look at it this way, suppose Farhan was trying to get something on Anna. Suppose for the moment that he was really after me, but seeing that there was no way to get at me directly, he figured that, Anna being my close friend, she just might be the avenue he needed to get at me.”
“Hmmm, I think I see what you mean, Elspeth. So Farhan tried to get the girls to strip in the hope that Anna would follow suit. And if she did, he’d have something he could use against her.”
“Exactly. Think about this, Connor. Suppose an Islamic woman goes far away from her home and, thinking it safe to do otherwise acceptable things, she participates in some activity that is considered to be religious blasphemy in their culture. If someone who knew her family observed this activity firsthand, he or she could then use it to force the offending woman into perpetrating actions that she would feel powerless to refuse for fear of her life.”
“My goodness, this is awful, Elspeth! Do you really think Farhan capable of such things?”
“Oh, come on, Connor - wake up – there is a holy war going on across this planet. Anyone is capable of anything whatsoever!”
“I understand, and I suppose you’re right. So what does all of this imply with respect to the current circumstances?”
“Nothing, except that we may have evidence that Farhan has acted suspiciously in the past, so that he should be considered a prime suspect in the current situation.”
“Okay, I see your point,” he responded, “So let’s get back to my point, or maybe it was originally yours – we may know something about Farhan that others don’t, something that could help in the investigation at Terminal 5.”
“I agree, so let’s get out of here,” she suggested.
“What? Why?”
“I need a coffee shop, you idiot! My internal clock is all haywire from jetlag. I need caffeine, and I need a spot where we can talk unobserved about old times.”
Fifteen minutes later the pair were ensconced in a coffee shop just off Trafalgar Square, the obligatory coffees in hand.
“So,” Elspeth began, “what precisely do you know about Farhan, Connor?”
Eyeing her vacuously, he replied, “I don’t understand. What exactly do you mean, Elspeth?”
Eyeing him momentarily, she posited, “Haven’t you ever wondered about his eyes, the exact same eyes that are staring me down at this very moment?”
Frowning in confusion, he replied, “Of course I have! If you must know, Farhan and I mentioned it to one another the very first time we ever met.”
“Strange coincidence, eh?” she inquired pointedly.
Still frowning in confusion, he exclaimed, “Okay, I’ll bite, Elspeth. I’ve known you long enough to be certain that this is going somewhere, so please, just get on with it!”
Now satisfied that he had no clue whatsoever, she revealed, “Farhan is your half-brother, you idiot!”
“What!” he yelped, “You’re kidding!”
“Nope! I’ve been able to confirm it beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
He stared at her for a moment, then blurted, “But how? How could such a thing have happened?”
“Your father, who as we know was also my grandfather, flew from Heathrow to Cairo in January of 1970, shortly before you were born. While there he met up under the assumed name of Alexander James Morton with a woman named Sefira Yemeni, and within the year Anna Morton was born to the two of them. A few months later, he moved to Asyut where, under the assumed name of Alfred James Morgan he met up with one Tarraza Rahman, to whom Farhan Rahman was born nine months later.”
His eyes growing wide, Connor could only mutter in stupefaction, “My, my…so we’re all related!”
At this response Elspeth was by now certain that Connor was completely innocent of any complicity in this whole sordid affair, prompting her to say, “Alright, Connor, I think I’ll let you out of perdition.”
“What!” he exclaimed in shock, and then, comprehension suddenly flooding his features, he added, “Oh, I get it…you’ve been testing me again, haven’t you!”
“Yes, of course,” she posited, “But not to worry, you passed with flying colors,” and observing his hurt expression, she commanded, “Oh, grow up, Connor! Surely you understand that, under present circumstances, I had to make sure I could trust you!”
Still frowning at her, he mumbled doubtfully, “I suppose so…”
“Don’t look so hurt! It’s nothing personal!”
At this he responded defensively, “Right, well, you’ll forgive me if I take it that way, Elspeth.”
Shaking her head in disgust, she posited, “Whatever. Now, can we get on with it?”
“Yes, of course,” he replied disconsolately, “And your point is?”
Frowning in concentration, she recommenced, “Well, we know that Farhan was heterosexual…”
“We do?”
“Trust me, Connor, a woman knows when a man is heterosexual, okay?”
“Right. Okay, we also know that he had a thing for Anna.”
“Perhaps. No, you’re right, he most likely did have a thing for her.”
“What else, Elspeth?”
“What are you looking at me for? He was your friend, for God’s sake!”
“Okay, okay…the pressure, the pressure…,” he mumbled, “Let me see…Okay, I know one thing - he liked to go to the movies!”
“He did? I didn’t know that…why ever for?”
“He told me that, unlike us, he didn’t grow up with old movies on TV. So, according to him, he had a lot of catching up to do.”
“Okay,” she murmured to herself and then, glancing back at him, she blurted, “I fail to see how that has anything to do with anything, but it’s a start. What else?”
“Hmmm…he liked to drink. That’s for sure. He got drunk nearly every Friday night.”
At this she glanced doubtfully his way and said, “Really! Would you say he was an alcoholic?”
“Naw…no, not at all. He only drank one or two nights a week, and he always knew when to stop.”
“Well then, maybe he was simply drowning his sorrows.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps so.”
“Did he ever go to strip joints?”
“Hmmm…not that I’m aware of. Why?”
“I dunno, it’s just that, he put on that strip poker game that night.”
“So what? You yourself said he was after Anna that night.”
“Yeah, but where did he locate those four girls, Connor? They didn’t look like debutantes to me.”
“So? He himself said he found them at Boston College.”
Arching one eyebrow, she queried, “What - you think he just walked up to one of the girls’ dorms and said – Say, I’m looking for four girls of low virtue who would like to party naked?”
“Ha! I see your point,” he reflected, “He must’ve charmed them into it. After all, the guy clearly has a way with women, Elspeth.”
At this she suddenly yelped, “That’s it! I could kiss you, Connor Stuart! That’s the answer!”
“Please do,” he retorted in confusion.
“Alright, I think I shall,” she responded and, taking his face in her hands, she pecked him lightly on the lips, adding, “We’ve got it, Connor. Tonight we’re off to Terminal 5, and this time we’re going to locate wha
t was right in front of us all the time.”
Staring at her in abject puzzlement, he blubbered, “What on earth are you getting on about, Elspeth?”
“It’s simple – If I am right, Farhan has been arranging to fly adjacent to some unsuspecting woman on his trips to Heathrow, and during the flight he has been charming his prey into depositing something within the women’s restrooms on arrival at Terminal 5 each time he flew in.”
“Surely not! What if it didn’t work?”
“I’m sure he could afford to toss his plastic explosives on occasion rather than to risk arriving at security with them. But even if he couldn’t find a mark on the plane, the airport is sufficiently cacophonous that he could find a mark after arriving.
“What about the other carriers?”
“Surely he picked carriers with similar abilities, and then he simply gave them a shortcourse on what to do.”
“Alright, that part seems doable to me, but where within the women’s toilet could he persuade an unsuspecting female passenger to place a small object that could not be detected by the cleaning crew?”
“That’s a very good question, Connor. Hopefully, tonight we shall discover the answer to that question!”
Unable to contain himself any longer, Connor now queried, “By the way, why did you say to Director Wilson that you knew the planned date for the bombing?”
“Because I do.”
“Well, are you going to tell me or not, Elspeth?”
“I’m flying into Heathrow on that date, that’s why,” she blurted gravely.
“What!” he exclaimed, “What on earth are you talking about, Elspeth? Are you saying that the bomb is being planted for the purpose of killing you?”
“Exactly,” she revealed flatly, “I told you – I believe that I am the target.”
An enormous frown darkening his face, he inquired, “But why? Why, Elspeth?”
“All in good time, my friend,” was all that she replied and, rising from her seat, she commanded, “Come on. We’ve got work to do.”
Terminal 5 – That Night
Unfortunately for Elspeth, a thorough search of the women’s toilets turned up nothing whatsoever. By now Director Wilson was getting antsy – perhaps the famous CIA agent was way off base, or worse, there was no base at all.
The following morning Elspeth called Connor and instructed him to meet her at the coffee shop again, so off he went. By now even he was beginning to have doubts.
On arriving, he bought himself a cup and slid in across from her, saying, “Good morning!”
“Oh, shut up, damn it!” she retorted glumly, “Just shut the fuck up!”
Eyeing her in dismay, he decided her advice was sound, at least for the moment.
The seconds stretched out, but after a few sips he could no longer contain himself. With obvious concern, he inquired, “Are you alright, Elspeth?”
“No!” she blurted.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Damn it, my job is on the line, Connor! And even if you aren’t, I’m beginning to doubt my own self.”
“Aw crap, Elspeth, your reasoning was sound even if it wasn’t correct.”
At this she nearly shouted, “Screw you! I’m going to the toilet. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, and I’m O.D.’d on coffee this morning. I’ll be right back.”
Connor waited for what seemed far too long, but she finally came back, at which point the transformation was both instantaneous and incomprehensible. She fairly bounced into her seat and announced absurdly, “It’s such a lovely day outside, why don’t we go for a walk, just the two of us!”
“You’re kidding,” he mumbled doubtfully.
“No, I assure you, I’m absolutely serious. Come on, get your scrawny ass up, Connor. We’re going for a walk!”
Sensing something profound was in the offing, he could do naught but follow. Once out on the street, she immediately hailed a cab and hopped in, commanding, “Get in, you idiot!”
Following her order, he crawled within, but all he could think of to say was, “What the…”
But that was just before she blurted to the driver, “Heathrow Airport, on the double!”
“Certainly, madam, but it will cost you a hundred quid,” the driver shot back pleasantly.
“No problem, my colleague is rich,” she replied jovially.
“Which terminal?” the driver inquired.
“Terminal 5, I assume,” Connor interrupted.
Her mood suddenly beyond manic, she agreed, “Just so, just so.”
On arrival at Terminal 5 an hour later, Elspeth made straight for the interior but, halted by the security guards, she was forced to wait for Connor to catch up.
“She’s with me,” he announced as he flashed his identity card, whereupon the guards ushered them through security, at which point she raced off yet again.
Doing his very best to keep up, he inquired from a few steps behind, “I assume you know what you’re about?”
“Of course,” she blabbed over her shoulder, but then she suddenly halted and announced bluntly, “Okay, I suppose I should let you in on it.”
“That would be nice.”
“Okay, okay, I know I should’ve said something sooner, but I was in a hurry. Didn’t want to let it slip away, you know.”
“Just tell me what’s going on, Elspeth.”
“Right. Well, when I went to the restroom in the coffee shop, the toilet seat was up. In women’s public restrooms that almost never happens, you know, but it’s a small coffee shop, so there’s only one toilet, for both men and women. So the person who was in there before me must’ve been a man.”
“Brilliant!” he blurted in obvious ridicule, “I’d never have known had you not informed me.”
Her face clouding into a thunderous expression, she spat, “Hold on, damn it! I’m coming to it, I’m coming to it! So I looked down at the toilet seat, and I thought, I wonder what those little supports on the bottom of the seat are made of, and it suddenly came to me – plastic!”
Halting dead in his tracks, all he could think of to respond was, “Oh…my…God…”
Her sunny expression suddenly returning, she posited, “Right, so then I started counting in my head. There are three women’s restrooms in Terminal 5 before you get to security. Each one has eight toilets within. That’s twenty-four toilets!”
“But surely that isn’t enough,” he interrupted.
“Of course it is – there are four supports under each seat, and four times twenty-four makes 96. Each support is at least two ounces in weight, bringing the total to 192 ounces.”
Struck momentarily motionless in thought, a knowing look suddenly creased his features, prompting him to blurt, “Damn, that is ridiculously simple!” But then, a puzzled look coming over his face, he stammered, “But I don’t understand, Elspeth. There’s no way Farhan could have talked anyone into replacing the toilet seat supports!”
“Right,” she exclaimed sunnily, “That was a bit of a problem, which is why it took so long for me to return from the restroom in the coffee shop. You see, I was mistaken – I in fact threw us off the track. Farhan didn’t talk women into replacing the supports, he did it himself.”
“Huh? How’d he do that?”
“Bear with me here, Connor. I suspect he simply put on a badge of some sort and walked into the restroom, whereupon he announced ‘Excuse me ladies, toilet number three has a busted support. It’ll just be a few moments, and I’ll have it repaired’.”
Unbounded admiration suddenly coming over him, he posited, “Elspeth, that is outrageously brilliant, especially if it is indeed correct.”
“I know, I know,” she responded arrogantly, “But I’m pretty sure it is, Connor.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounds to me like exactly what Farhan would do.” And with that she disappeared into the awaiting women’s toilet. Within seconds she had returned, and she was carrying two handfuls o
f toilet supports.
Shaken at the potential danger arrayed before him, he queried in wide-eyed dismay, “Are those the real thing?”
“Dunno,” she responded nonchalantly, “We’ll have to check.”
But of course – they were the real thing – and within minutes Terminal 5 was completely locked down and evacuated. The bomb squad went to work shortly thereafter, managing to clear the building from danger within a few hours. Heathrow was back in business by late afternoon.
MI6 – The Following Day
Director Wilson rose from his seat and announced as the hero of the moment strode into the room, “Ladies and gentlemen, here she is now – Miss Elspeth Moorehead!”
At this the crowd rose as one and awarded her with a warm round of applause. Turning to her, the director said, “Well done, Miss Moorehead! I must say, you are the genuine article. Admittedly, I doubted your premise at first, but should a similar occasion arise, I assure you that I shall never ever make that mistake again!” at which the crowd broke into twitters of agreement.
“Thank you, Director Wilson,” Elspeth replied, “I’m glad to have been of service. And now, I believe that I am needed back home in Washington.”
“Not so fast, Miss Moorehead,” he responded, “I’m afraid I’ve put my foot in it, as it were. This morning I contacted the Director of the CIA and informed him that you are needed here until we can clear this whole mess up.”
Arching one eyebrow, she said, “Oh? And what was his reply, sir?”
“Oh, he was more than happy to place you on loan to MI6, Miss Moorehead.”
“My, my…” she responded, “And for how long is this to be?”
“Oh, indefinitely! For as long as we need your help to resolve this matter.”
“I thought we solved it,” she suggested doubtfully.
“Certainly not, Miss Moorehead. Consider for a moment - had our adversaries succeeded in setting off that charge, the damage would certainly have been catastrophic to Terminal 5, and the loss of life would surely have been in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands. It’s unfortunate that your accomplishment cannot be made public, but such is the nature of the business we are in.”
“Understood,” Elspeth responded matter-of-factly, “So how may I be of further service to the British Government, sir?”
“We still have quite a problem, Miss Moorehead. Not only is Mr. Farhan Rahman still at large, so too are his accomplices. Furthermore, we have yet to look into the possibility that similar ploys may have been undertaken at other airports across Britain, Europe, and the world. I should think that there is plenty to keep you busy for quite some time here in London. I am therefore straightaway assigning you to continue this effort, with MI6 agent Connor Stuart as your partner.”
Eyeing him suspiciously, Elspeth turned and frowned knowingly at Connor, who could only turn his eyes skyward in sheepish disavowal. Returning her gaze to Director Wilson, Elspeth proffered, “Well then, sir, I expect that we should get right to it.” And at this the crowd broke into applause yet again.