The Shaddad Conspiracy

Chapter 6: A dreaded duty

PENTONVILLE PRISON

D WING – HIGH SECURITY

Sir William and the police officers followed the Prison Security Chief into the control room for the High Security section.

"We don't know yet how he died, sir. However, we suspect the cause might have been the vaccine administered by Dr. Greenfield," the officer explained as they approached the cell.

"What vaccine? What are you blithering about?"

"We had an inmate infected with meningitis, sir. We were ordered to commence an immediate vaccination program by H.M. Prison Services. It's standard protocol."

Sir William gripped the warden's elbow forcing him to stop. "If the vaccine killed al-Abbadi then every one of the prisoners receiving the vaccine should be dead." He pointed to the cells. "Yet the other six are alive. Which one of these men was infected? Why wasn't he quarantined?"

"It wasn't a high security prisoner, sir it was one of the prisoners who prepared their meals. We haven't had all the tests back so we couldn't be sure if it was bacterial meningitis. This next cell is where al-Abbadi was held." The warden opened the cell door. "Nothing has been touched as per your instructions.

"Ronan, Inspector, your assistance please." Sir William stepped aside to allow the two police officers to enter with their team. "Warden Smythe, you still haven't explained to me why the other six prisoners are alive if they received the same vaccine."

The warden shook his head. "It wasn't the same vaccine, Sir William. al-Abbadi received the halal version—the version that doesn't use pig products. The normal meningitis vaccine contains pig products and we wouldn't administer it to Muslim prisoners."

"And I assume that he was the only Muslim prisoner in this high security area?"

The unhappy warden nodded.

**

"Ronan, get a forensic team working on al-Abbadi's remains and screw the religious prohibitions. I want answers." Sir William marched towards the control room. "Smythe, I want to see the tapes of the last three hours."

**

An hour later, Sir William found what he was looking for. "Go back," he instructed the officer replaying the CCTV tapes. "Stop. Right there. Turn up the volume." He listened carefully to al-Abbadi's prayers. "Damn!"

Ronan, a few paces away, turned from his discussion with Alexandra. "What is it William?"

"al-Abbadi knew that he was going to die. This meningitis outbreak was a clever ploy to poison him with his approval. Damn!"

APPROACH TO RAF LYNEHAM AIRBASE

JANUARY 13, 2012

0803 HOURS

Christopher turned in his seat. "We're almost there. I never get accustomed to this seating configuration. I feel like I'm flying commercial," he shouted above the increased roar of the four jet engines. "I'm more accustomed to seats that face each other. Have you thought through what you're going to say, lad?"

Corporal Findlay stared at his small notebook. "I think so, sir. Thank you."

"Give me your notebook for a second."

"Prepare for descent. Secure all gear!" The announcement from the loadmaster warned the military personnel as the C-17 began its approach. "This is a repatriation flight. Therefore, we will be performing a fly over in honor of the fallen. When we land at the airbase, you will not be allowed to disembark until the repatriation ceremonies are completed."

Both men lurched as the aircraft started the sharp left hand turn that preceded its flyby over the airport. The whining of the engines increased as the aircraft shuddered as its flaps extended and bit into the cold January air.

Bracing himself for the second turn that would complete the flyby, Christopher scribbled in the corporal's notebook. "If you ever need to talk about, the first is Chaplain Murphy's mobile, the second is mine. Use them if you need to."

"Thank you, sir. I don't want to bother ..." He buttoned the notebook into his battledress pocket.

"Lad, I am a Lieutenant Colonel. I do not give my private numbers without due consideration. When I give it, I expect it to be used if and when required. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

"When we arrive, I'll give you a once over to ensure you are presentable for your mate's mom. Understood?" Christopher used the tried and true method that all senior officers use to calm young soldiers – regimentation and orders.

"Yes, sir." The corporal nodded.

**

The aircraft shuddered as its landing gear extended.

Simultaneously, the four engines increased their tempo to a higher pitch.

The voice of the loadmaster boomed in the compartment again. "When we land, the flight crew will taxi the aircraft to the main building. We will make a sharp right turn and the rear ramp will commence its decline. Brace yourselves for it. The escorting Warrant Officers will greet the pall bearers and their commanding officer. After the chaplain has received and blessed the casket and it has dismounted, the Warrant Officers and Escort will slow march behind the casket."

The aircraft shuddered.

"Stand by."

The engine roar increased and was interrupted by the whine of the undercarriage wheels kissing the tarmac.

Three minutes later, the whine of the hydraulics announced the descent of the rear ramp.

"Warrant officers and escort to me," the loadmaster announced as he strode down the corridor. "Rest of you gentlemen, on your feet! Show your respect! We're bringing one of our lads home."

"Stand fast." Christopher inspected the back and front of Corporal Findlay's uniform and made minor adjustments to the battledress. Finally, he adjusted the corporal's Tam O'Shanter with its white hackle symbolizing that the wearer was a serving member of the 2nd Battalion of the Royal Regiment of Scotland. "You look damned good. Do your battalion proud, lad."

He stepped aside to allow the young corporal to perform the ceremonial duty that all British servicemen dread.

**

At precisely 0830 hours GMT, the repatriation ceremony for Pvt. Norman Iain Graham, Royal Regiment of Scotland, commenced with the chaplain's blessing.