From petty criminality to sabotage – the frightening reality of homegrown terror cells

Shortly before midnight on March 20, 2024, fire tore through two unassuming industrial units in east London. The blaze didn’t spread much further but it took around 60 firefighters to bring it under control and the damage was estimated at £1.3million. So far so ordinary. Fires happen with depressing regularity for all sorts of reasons and some are deliberate. And this one, it soon emerged, was no accident. It was clearly arson. But why this particular warehouse? Was it run-of-the-mill vandalism or possibly insurance fraud?

As a former police officer, I can tell you that the first thing the authorities do in a case like this is try to determine who is to gain and who is the loser. A similar multi-million pound arson incident I investigated many years ago was eventually traced back to two 10-year-olds. In this case, the motive behind the blaze was far more sinister than kids playing with fire. And it soon became clear to those involved that it heralded a dangerous new tendency – overseas conflicts fought out on the streets of Britain.

As crime scene and police got to work, it became apparent the two industrial units in Leyton were providing assistance to Ukraine – most crucially StarLink satellite equipment and logistics kit bound for the embattled country – and the plot to destroy them, detectives discovered, had originated in Russia. Then something happened that moved the whole inquiry up several more notches – a serious fire in Madrid at a warehouse owned by the very same Ukrainian company. It was now undeniable. This wasn’t low-grade arson, the London fire was reframed as a foreign power threat, and almost certainly part of coordinated sabotage rather than a one-off.

With these developments, 10 days after firefighters had stamped out the last embers, the Counter Terrorism Command was called in. By now a live line of inquiry was beginning to build up evidence the old-fashioned way – seizing CCTV, trawling doorbell cameras, traffic cameras and automatic number plate recognition (ANPR). They soon had a break. A red Kia Picanto was caught on camera arriving in the area shortly before the fire then leaving immediately afterwards, together with clear CCTV images of suspects entering and exiting the warehouse yard.

The vehicle was traced to one of the men later charged – giving police their first named suspect. Astonishingly, one of the suspects had also left a large zombie-style knife behind at the scene with his DNA on it. The police had their arsonists.

They were identified as Nii Mensah, and Jakeem Rose – two small-time drug dealers and arsonists for hire. Unbelievably, Mensah had filmed the attack on his mobile phone, and had live-streamed it to two other known subjects, Dylan Earl, and Jake Reeves. The footage was there for all to see as the warehouse was set alight with petrol.

Shortly after the fire, Mensah messaged Earl saying: “Bro, there was bare smoke… You saw it on FaceTime.” This was a major breakthrough, but it was clear that there was still a great deal of work. Cell-site investigations matched clothing to CCTV footage and digital forensics. The contents of Mensah and Rose’s phones were downloaded and poured over by investigators, leading to a wealth of new evidence, including talk of payment for the criminal act on secure messaging app, Telegram.

The download also revealed something even more worrying – communications between Earl and the others that discussed Russian mercenary organisation, The Wagner group. The arson attack was now officially designated as part of an orchestrated sabotage campaign by the Russian state. Six suspects were now under arrest, and their devices continued to provide crucial evidence. The ringleader, Dylan Earl, had joined a Telegram broadcast channel associated with Wagner. He communicated with accounts using the handles “Privet Bot” and “Lucky Strike”. According to prosecutors, he agreed to carry out “missions” for money.

The warehouse fire was the first task. His associate, Jake Reeves, helped recruit others to the plot. Evidence presented in court also revealed discussions about the potential kidnapping of a Russian dissident in London. That plan never materialised, but the conversations were there for all to see in the Telegram chat logs.

After a painstaking investigation, Dylan Earl, Jake Reeves, Mii Mensah, Jakeem Rose, Ugnius Asmena, and Ashton Evans were all charged with serious offences. All later either pleaded, or were found guilty and were sentenced to prison terms ranging between nine and 23 years. So, what motivated the group of petty criminals to commit such a serious crime on behalf of a foreign state? Was it just money? Or was it something more? Maybe a little excitement at what they were doing, or perhaps they fancied delving into the world of espionage?

And here is the part that struck me hardest. None of the group had travelled to Russia. None had received any training. They were not sleeper agents. They were not ideologues. They were petty criminals who saw a chance to earn money, and more intriguingly, willing to be used by Russia. A development police refer to as a “Criminal Proxy model”.

The whole operation was arranged remotely through encrypted messaging apps with their Russian handlers. No dead drops. No brush passes. No Aston Martins. No need for Q. They had everything they needed – smartphones, petrol and matches. This was espionage conducted from a street corner via App.

Commander Dominic Murphy, head of the Met's Counter Terrorism Policing, told the BBC Earl was "somebody working absolutely as an agent of a foreign state to sow unrest and commit crimes in this country". He added Russia presents "a very real threat to our national security" and it was not unusual now to see Russia contacting people online and then using them to conduct criminal activity on their behalf.

But what prompted this shift from Russian operations carried out by GRU operatives using cover identities to using low level, petty criminals?

The answer was simple, really. In 2018, ex-Russian military intelligence officer Sergei Skripal and his daughter Yulia barely survived after being poisoned in Salisbury with the deadly nerve agent Novichok. Passer-by Dawn Sturgess later died after coming into contact with the substance, while police officer Nick Bailey was seriously injured.

The government attributed the attack to Russian military intelligence and expelled many Russian diplomats. Allies followed suit. At the time, it was a shocking escalation in what was already being termed the New Cold War. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, intelligence chiefs have repeatedly warned of hostile activity across Europe. MI6 chief Richard Moore has spoken about sabotage. MI5 Director General Ken McCallum has warned of attempts to cause disruption and “mayhem” in the UK. Whether that activity is carried out by trained intelligence officers or through intermediaries is often unclear.

What is clear is that the methods are evolving. The world has changed. Russia’s ability to propagate espionage operational activity was severely compromised by the expulsion of agents from embassies, and the fact we all have a digital footprint. Travel histories, financial records, social media trails. Operating under deep cover for years is harder than it once was. Surveillance technology is better. Data is persistent. You cannot simply invent a life and disappear into it without leaving traces.

So, if you were looking to cause disruption, to send a message, to test a response, why take the risk of deploying trained spies when you could recruit locally? From a purely practical perspective, it is cheaper. It is lower risk. It creates distance between those giving instructions and those carrying them out. And that is what makes it unsettling.

The men in the east London case were not masterminds. They were not political theorists. They were not even particularly sophisticated criminals. They were, in the bluntest possible terms, “useful idiots”. That phrase carries weight.

As a former detective, I have dealt with countless individuals who drift into crime because it is there. Because someone offers them money. Because the risk seems abstract and the reward immediate. Add encrypted messaging apps to that mix and you have something new.

You no longer need to meet your contact. You do not need to know their real name. You just need a handle, a chat window, and a bank transfer.

It’s espionage for the social media generation.

There is also a psychological element. When an act of sabotage takes place, uncertainty follows. Was it state-directed? Was it domestic extremism? Was it random? The ambiguity itself becomes part of the impact.

We have seen fires at infrastructure sites in recent years. We have endured drone incursions over sensitive locations. Often there is no immediate, proven link to a foreign power. But speculation fills the vacuum, governments panic, committee rooms buzz with rumours – and all this can be achieved by a lone “useful idiot” with a petrol bomb or a drone.

That uncertainty is powerful. For a crime writer, it is a gift. In this case, reality was more curious than fiction. Because it reflects something very real about the present moment. Espionage is no longer confined to shadowy figures in dinner jackets speaking in code over vodka martinis. It can look like the bloke who sells weed at the pub. It could be your son. Your nephew, or your neighbours’ kid.

So, when I sat down to begin my seventh DS Max Craigie novel, I had my angle – what if a terrorist incident in the UK was not what it first appeared to be? What if the apparent motive was a smokescreen? What if the people carrying out the act weren’t necessarily doing it for the reasons you might expect?

The Dark Heart opens with a devastating car bomb in York. The immediate assumption is Islamist extremism. It is a narrative we are, sadly, accustomed to hearing. But as the investigation unfolds, the edges start to fray. The evidence does not quite align. The motives feel off. The players seem too small for the scale of the event. It will take Craigie and his crack team off on an alarming tangent that leads to bloodshed and heartbreak.

But sometimes the most compelling stories are not about master spies orchestrating global events from secret bunkers. They are about ordinary, flawed, greedy, reckless individuals who become cogs in something far bigger than they understand.

That feels closer to the truth of our time, and it’s worrying. It’s why I had to write about it. Not to solve any of the issues, but hopefully to prompt discussion. It’s the privilege of being a writer.

• The Dark Heart by Neil Lancaster (Harper HQ, £16.99) is out now