The moment they stepped through the pods of the MI-5 counter terrorism section, Siobhan Brady transformed from a mild-mannered, well-dressed woman into a pit-bull. She wasn´t the chief of MI-6´s Middle-Eastern Desk for nothing. Harry tried not to flinch when she shook his hand. That woman had a grip like a jaw vice. He only knew her from the last Christmas party of the Joint Intelligence Committee, where they had spent the whole night at the free bar. Apart from some small talk, they had just stared silently into their drinks. Harry had been too preoccupied thinking about Ruth and that… that… that man she had started dating. Siobhan had snuck glances at her mobile phone for the whole night, obviously waiting for a call that never came. She had a reputation of being tough as nails, no-nonsense and highly intelligent. Still, he was more interested in the second woman. Rashida Ahmadi was pretty enough, but not the type of woman Zaf usually went for. She wore a simple, black suit with a white blouse, her hair was tied back into a strict ponytail. No make-up. Harry led them into the briefing room, where his team was already assembled. Ruth was looking especially pretty today. She wore a necklace he hadn´t seen before. A gift from Bernhard? Harry snapped out of his funk just in time to see Zaf smile at Rashida. The last person was a pale, blond guy in Zaf´s age, Gerard Blake. He looked like he´d get along well with Colin and Malcolm. Harry didn´t waste any time with small talk.
"Let´s get to it, then."
Ruth projected a couple of photos on the wall. Group shots of the Ten Bells Comedy night. Harry noticed how Gerry and Rashida exchanged an uncomfortable glance. Siobhan looked straight at the pictures. She picked up a laser pointer. The tiny, red dot found its way to a haggard, stern face in the background. "Fadil Ibn Altair." Jo shot Ruth a brief look. Ruth nodded. "He is one of Saif al-Islam´s men, isn´t he?" She blushed, when all eyes were turned on her. Siobhan nodded. "We have come across him before. To be precise, Rashida has." Rashida swallowed. That was her cue, but everything inside her screamed Shut up. Nobody needs to know that. But Siobhan kept looking at her, so she took a sip from her water. "I spent the last three years in Riyadh. There was… We… We had a stroke of luck and found a way into Saif al-Islam´s group. His power base is in the Mecca area, but he has contacts with Jihadist networks in Europe. Mainly the Balkans, but during the last months he started to work his way into the UK. Our aim was to turn a member of his cell and use him as informer. It took a bit of time, but we started to get valuable intel. But…" Harry could see how much effort it took the young woman to keep her face straight and her voice calm. "Ibn Altair found out. He killed our asset." When it was clear that Rashida would say no more, Siobhan took over. "He very nearly killed our people, too. But he wouldn´t come to England simply to tie up loose ends. He is one of Saif al-Islam´s most trusted followers and his attack dog." Harry put two and two together. "They are planning something here. Right. We seem to have to objectives here: first, find out what Saif al-Islam´s cell is planning here, and stop them. Second: keep him from killing your people." He looked very pointedly at Rashida. Rashida held his gaze without blinking. "Finding and stopping them must be our priority." Harry opened his mouth but Zaf beat him to it. "We will. But you will not put yourself in harm´s way. No use to dance around it: you are at the top of his list, aren´t you?" Adam shot him a surprised glance but didn´t say anything. Zaf liked to test boundaries, but it was unusual for him to do it in front of non-Section D – members. Adam expected Harry to admonish him, but he remained silent. Instead, Siobhan gave him a stern look. "Young man, it is hardly your place to give orders to my case officers. Rashida will be part of the task force. She is the only one who knows Saif al Islam and Fadil Ibn Altair in person. Harry, any problems with that?" Harry shook his head. The question had been only a formality. Siobhan might be a hardass, but she knew how to get her way without the other parties losing their faces.
Rashida was just drying her hands when Siobhan came into the toilet. Siobhan raised an eyebrow. "The people at 5 have nicer lady´s rooms than we do. We have some redecorating to do." "Might be time to get rid of the urinals." Rashida shot her a lopsided grin. She had crossed her arms to cover how much her hands were shaking. In an instant, Siobhan turned from the steely head of department into the mum of the Middle Eastern desk. "I know how badly you want to go after al-Islam and Ibn Altair. But there is no shame in changing your mind. You are no use to anyone dead." "No. No, they are mine." Siobhan noticed Rashida´s ferocious expression. "You aren´t responsible for Shahid´s death, either. He wouldn´t want you to risk your life revenging him." Rashida snorted. "Shahid´s death was always a possibility. I knew that I would risk his life by involving him." Rashida was an accomplished liar, but not good enough. The pain in her voice was clear. For Siobhan as well as for Jo Portman on the other side of the door.
Siobhan and Harry handled the rest of the talking. The plan was hatched comparatively quickly: before MI-6 had lost Rashida´s asset, it had gathered enough intel on Saif al-Islam´s plans to identify a mosque in London he was in contact with. Malcolm and Colin had been on the phone for the last hour, trying to get the necessary permits to bug the mosque, Siobhan and Harry were discussing the surveillance arrangements. Rashida had asked to be part of the surveillance teams, but Siobhan had refused. The danger of being recognized was too big. Rashida turned down Gerry´s offer of a lift home. She was in a weird mood and needed to be alone for a while. She pulled her coat tightly around herself and braved the cold February night. The bank of the Thames was lovely at this time of the year. In the dark of the night, the illuminated windows made the river glimmer in an otherworldly light. Rashida stopped to take it in. The laughter of the crowds in the pubs was far enough away to ignore. Shahid´s eager face appeared in her mind. You know, in the village I grew up… There was this story about a water spirit who lured in unsuspecting men. It scared the living daylight out of me. Water… and beautiful women. When she had edged closer, he had smelt faintly of sweat and dust. Are you scared of me? She had never been a femme fatale. Somehow, playing that role for Shahid had been… Rashida couldn´t exactly say what. Sweet, unsuspecting Shahid. Rashida had allowed herself to get caught up in her own lies. We all have a story like that Siobhan had told her afterwards, when she had found Rashida sobbing in the toilet.
"Hey." Rashida flinched when she heard the male voice. Zaf. She shot him a quick smile. "Hey." She didn´t know what else to say. The nice guy her mother had set up her with, the guy she had actually grown to like, was part of her world. What was he thinking of her? What would he think of her if he learned the whole truth? Both looked at the river in silence. Zaf was the one to break it. "How are you?" She turned to face him. All the flirtyness from the previous nights was gone, replaced by genuine concern. She shrugged. "Fine. I will be fine. Just a bit tired." Zaf stayed silent, a gentle push to go on. "I was trying so hard to keep my life in Riyadh separate from my life here. Not just the people. I… was a different person over there. And now…" Her voice trailed off. Zaf moved closer. "We do what we have to. And no matter how hard we try, sometimes the people around us get hurt." His death is on you, traitorous bitch. She remembered the knife, slick with blood. She should have remembered Shahid´s lifeless body in greater detail. She owed him that much. But she hadn´t looked. Rashida shivered. Ibn Altair was out there with his knife.
Zaf touched her shoulder. "He won´t hurt you. I am not going to let him."