on various meteorological and current events. The air was filled with suppressed radio conversations from countless sources.
A dozen men and women occupied the room, a few in civilian clothes but most of them in casual military uniform from all three forces. They sat in front of computer consoles, facing the large screen and typing or talking into wire headsets.
The command centre’s operations officer, wearing a Royal Navy uniform and standing in the centre of the room looking at the screen, turned grim-faced towards Nevins as he approached, acknowledging his superior with a slight stiffening of the back and a nod. ‘We’ll have a satellite view of the platform in fifteen minutes,’ he said while Nevins scanned the display. ‘A Nimrod will provide a view in less than five.’
‘Do we know who these damned people are yet?’ Nevins asked as though it were all a great personal inconvenience.
‘No. It still appears to be a purely economic event. The ransom demands remain focused on the oil company.’
‘Arcom,’ one of Nevins’s aides interjected. ‘They’re at the top of the ownership tree, sir. Head office in Abu Dhabi.’
‘Any previous?’ Nevins asked.
‘Nothing relative to this,’ the aide replied.
‘Shareholders?’
‘Still compiling that one, sir,’ the other aide said. He went to one of the consoles and with the briefest apology to the operator typed in some commands. ‘A couple of red flags have already come up, though. Al Qatare Jalab Natar. Sim Basar Negal.’ Faces matching the names appeared in the margins of the large screen. ‘Both notorious money launderers for heavy Russian Mafia players like Valery Moscov and Boris Kilszin. Moscov’s a political player but so far there’s no plausible tie-in to this type of crime.’
‘Winners and losers?’
‘Still hard to say right now. We’re waiting for the underwriters to get back to us with the details of the coverage. One of them did say, with unmasked pleasure, that the ransom was marginally within the first-level deductions, suggesting that the oil company will take the brunt of the hit.’
‘Sir, I have a call for you,’ the other aide interrupted. A Mr Kaan in Abu Dhabi. Says he’s Arcom’s crisis-team manager.’
Nevins frowned as he looked at his aide clutching the phone as if he was protecting his boss from it. ‘He specifically asked for me?’
‘Yes, sir.’
The operations officer looked at Nevins and raised an eyebrow. ‘He’s well informed.’
‘Clearly,’ Nevins muttered. ‘I only moved from South-East European operations last month.’
‘I can confirm that the call is from Arcom’s executive offices,’ said a young female technician operating one of the computer consoles.
‘Shall I tell him you’ll call back?’ the aide asked, putting the phone to his ear.
Nevins took a few seconds to decide before holding out his hand. The aide passed him the phone.
‘This is Nevins.’
‘Good day to you, sir.’ The accent was foreign but the words came across as well defined as any upper-class English that Nevins had heard spoken.
‘What can I do for you, Mr Kaan?’ Nevins asked.
A technician brought up something on her monitor and transferred it to the margin of the big screen: a photograph of a well-attired dark-skinned gentleman in his forties, with a finely groomed goatee. A biographical summary accompanied it.
‘I suppose the question to begin with has to be: what are you going to do about our oil platform?’
Nevins scrutinised the information on the man with disdain. Kaan had spent two years at Eton before moving to Harvard to complete a law degree. ‘Why, everything we possibly can, Mr Kaan.’
‘I don’t need to tell you that we have over a hundred and sixty people on board the Morpheus whose lives we are responsible for.’
‘Many of them British citizens who I am responsible for . . . not to mention that the hijacking has taken place in our sovereign waters.’
‘I fully appreciate that, Mr Nevins. Nevertheless, we will be the ones liable if harm comes to any of them. Can you give me an indication of your intentions?’
‘Have the hijackers made contact with you?’ Nevins asked, still reading the man’s bio.
‘Not yet. At the moment their dialogue appears to be directed towards your government.’
‘What’s your company policy with regard to the payment of ransoms?’
‘We don’t have one. We don’t enjoy the luxury that governments have when it comes to sacrificing our personnel for political purposes. We run a business. We will take the least expensive option. If that means paying a ransom it will be a strong consideration. We would appreciate you keeping us informed of your intentions since they will have an impact