only been putting up fellow asylum-seekers, and that they had no idea where they had gone. However, further enquiries revealed that one of them had a sister who lived with a Dutch trucker. Under threat of the loss of his licence, he admitted that he had smuggled them across the North Sea on his lorry, sailing out of Zeebrugge to Rosyth, in Fife.'
'What was he carrying, apart from the Albanians?' asked Haggerty.
'Flowers. He's a regular traveller on that route, well known to the Customs people. They took a look at his truck, but not close enough, apparently. However…' Sewell paused, his great frog eyes sweeping round the table. '… he was also carrying four large rucksacks, which from his description were much bigger than anything an asylum-seeker would be likely to have. These were offloaded by the Albanians when they reached their destination in Edinburgh.'
'Oh, shit,' said Skinner, quietly.
'You guess what I'm going to tell you,' the MI5 operative exclaimed. 'Further interrogation of the Kosovars in Rotterdam revealed that, after the second robbery, the Albanians had a meeting in their hide-out with a man whose description matches that of a well-known Dutch arms-dealer. The dealer can't be traced, or hasn't been yet, but we would like very much to know what they were talking about.'
'You don't know for sure?'
'No, but when my Dutch opposite numbers raided his warehouse they found that while his inventory and his stock tallied some of the recorded buyers of items did not. For example, the police chief in Amsterdam did not buy silencers with the carbines he ordered, and he only received half the number of firearms that were shown on the order. Also, the small African nation which was shown to have purchased eighteen American anti-tank missiles for its defence force in fact only received fourteen.'
Skinner shook his head. 'I really do not like the sound of that,' he muttered.
'Neither did the Home Secretary; hence the pressure of his finger on the panic button.'
'Merry Christmas, Scotland. Where did the Dutch trucker drop his passengers and their load?'
'At a car park in a shopping mall to the east of the city.'
'Not in daylight, surely.'
'No. He made some deliveries during the day, with them hidden in the truck, then dropped them off at two in the morning. They were met by a fifth man, driving a Transit van.'
'When did this happen?'
'Just under four weeks ago.'
The big deputy chief constable gazed at Sewell for several long seconds. 'And you didn't think to tell us?' he asked quietly.
'We were ordered not to,' Amanda Dennis replied. 'When our sources gave us this information, we took it to the Home Secretary.'
'The English Home Secretary,' Skinner reminded her, acidly.
'I didn't take you for a rabid nationalist, Bob,' she retorted.
'I'm not, but we do have a devolved government here, although sometimes I wonder whether you people have noticed.'
'Be that as it may,' Sewell intervened, 'we were dealing with a perceived threat to the national security of the UK as whole, and when that happens the Home Secretary is the person we consult. He consulted the Defence Secretary, then gave us direct orders to carry out a covert operation to trace and detain these men, by whatever means we thought necessary. He stressed the word "covert", and said that no other agencies were to be advised or involved, unless it was absolutely necessary.'
'Given all that, how did Jingle Bell and your man here become involved?'
'Amanda and I decided between us that Mr Bell was the necessary means.'
'He's one of my assets,' said Dennis. 'Or he's an agent of ours, if you prefer that term. He has been since the National Crime Squad caught him in Birmingham on the wrong side of a drugs operation in which we were also involved. Bob, it's our experience of these Albanian gangsters that they're incapable of behaving quietly. Wherever they go, they display an irresistible urge to muscle in on the local action. The problem is that, thanks
'What was he carrying, apart from the Albanians?' asked Haggerty.
'Flowers. He's a regular traveller on that route, well known to the Customs people. They took a look at his truck, but not close enough, apparently. However…' Sewell paused, his great frog eyes sweeping round the table. '… he was also carrying four large rucksacks, which from his description were much bigger than anything an asylum-seeker would be likely to have. These were offloaded by the Albanians when they reached their destination in Edinburgh.'
'Oh, shit,' said Skinner, quietly.
'You guess what I'm going to tell you,' the MI5 operative exclaimed. 'Further interrogation of the Kosovars in Rotterdam revealed that, after the second robbery, the Albanians had a meeting in their hide-out with a man whose description matches that of a well-known Dutch arms-dealer. The dealer can't be traced, or hasn't been yet, but we would like very much to know what they were talking about.'
'You don't know for sure?'
'No, but when my Dutch opposite numbers raided his warehouse they found that while his inventory and his stock tallied some of the recorded buyers of items did not. For example, the police chief in Amsterdam did not buy silencers with the carbines he ordered, and he only received half the number of firearms that were shown on the order. Also, the small African nation which was shown to have purchased eighteen American anti-tank missiles for its defence force in fact only received fourteen.'
Skinner shook his head. 'I really do not like the sound of that,' he muttered.
'Neither did the Home Secretary; hence the pressure of his finger on the panic button.'
'Merry Christmas, Scotland. Where did the Dutch trucker drop his passengers and their load?'
'At a car park in a shopping mall to the east of the city.'
'Not in daylight, surely.'
'No. He made some deliveries during the day, with them hidden in the truck, then dropped them off at two in the morning. They were met by a fifth man, driving a Transit van.'
'When did this happen?'
'Just under four weeks ago.'
The big deputy chief constable gazed at Sewell for several long seconds. 'And you didn't think to tell us?' he asked quietly.
'We were ordered not to,' Amanda Dennis replied. 'When our sources gave us this information, we took it to the Home Secretary.'
'The English Home Secretary,' Skinner reminded her, acidly.
'I didn't take you for a rabid nationalist, Bob,' she retorted.
'I'm not, but we do have a devolved government here, although sometimes I wonder whether you people have noticed.'
'Be that as it may,' Sewell intervened, 'we were dealing with a perceived threat to the national security of the UK as whole, and when that happens the Home Secretary is the person we consult. He consulted the Defence Secretary, then gave us direct orders to carry out a covert operation to trace and detain these men, by whatever means we thought necessary. He stressed the word "covert", and said that no other agencies were to be advised or involved, unless it was absolutely necessary.'
'Given all that, how did Jingle Bell and your man here become involved?'
'Amanda and I decided between us that Mr Bell was the necessary means.'
'He's one of my assets,' said Dennis. 'Or he's an agent of ours, if you prefer that term. He has been since the National Crime Squad caught him in Birmingham on the wrong side of a drugs operation in which we were also involved. Bob, it's our experience of these Albanian gangsters that they're incapable of behaving quietly. Wherever they go, they display an irresistible urge to muscle in on the local action. The problem is that, thanks
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