First Response (24 page)

‘What’s your name? I’m Kenny.’

‘Faisal.’

‘You’re Al-Qaeda, right?’

‘I’m a Muslim.’

Kenny nodded. ‘My girlfriend’s a Muslim.’

‘Like fuck she is,’ spat Faisal.

‘Her name’s Nura. It means “light”.’

‘I know what Nura means.’

‘She was born here, mind, but her parents were born in India.’

‘And they’re Muslim? You sure? Not Hindu? They’re not the same.’

‘I know they’re not the same. I’m not stupid,’ said Kenny. ‘Muslims don’t eat pork but they’ll eat beef and stuff. Hindus won’t touch beef because of their cow thing. Nura’s family are Muslims. They pray to Allah and all that. I’ve been to their mosque and everything. Might even convert, you know.’

‘You work in a bar. You can’t be a Muslim and serve alcohol.’

‘Nura’s parents drink wine. They’re good people.’

‘And they’re okay with a
kafir
going out with their daughter?’

‘Why not?’

‘Then they’re not true Muslims.’ Chaudhry scowled. ‘No true Muslim would let their daughter associate with an unbeliever.’

‘Like I said, they’re cool.’

Chaudhry saw movement outside the windows and he pulled Kenny with him as he went to see what was happening. It had been almost four hours since any traffic had gone by. There had been shouted commands through a loudspeaker, telling everyone to clear the area, but after another hour it had been quiet outside.

He bent double as he approached the leaded windows. ‘What is it?’ whispered Kenny.

‘Shut the fuck up,’ said Chaudhry. He peered through the glass. Two policemen dressed in black were crouched behind a car, their rifles trained on the pub. To the right, another two armed police were looking down on the pub from an office window opposite. Chaudhry backed away, almost bumping into Kenny.

‘Why don’t you let a few hostages go, like that guy did at Southside?’ said Kenny.

‘No one’s being released until the ISIS soldiers are free,’ said Chaudhry. He sat down at a table in the middle of the pub. Kenny pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.

One of the waitresses, a young blonde girl, raised her hand. ‘Sir?’ she said.

‘What?’ barked Chaudhry.

‘Everyone’s getting thirsty. Can I hand out some bottles of water and soft drinks?’

Chaudhry’s first instinct was to say no, but then he realised how dry his mouth was. ‘Okay, but move slowly. And, remember, if anyone tries anything we’ll all die.’

The girl stood up and went behind the bar.

‘I could do with a beer,’ said Kenny.

‘What?’ said Chaudhry.

‘A beer. This is a pub – don’t sound so surprised.’

Chaudhry laughed. ‘You’re fucking mad,’ he said.

Kenny shrugged. ‘It was worth a try.’

Chaudhry waved at the waitress. ‘Bring me a water, and a beer for this idiot.’ He shook his head. ‘Some Muslim you’re going to be.’

Lynne Waterman was as good as her word. She phoned her boss and he phoned the director-general, and at exactly ten minutes past four the prime minister was on the line to her. She explained that Chief Superintendent Gillard was now Gold Commander and put the call through to him. Gillard put it on speakerphone so that everyone in the suite could hear what was said.

‘Sir, before we start, I just want to let you know that with me here in the Gold Command suite are Lynne Waterman from MI5, Superintendent Kamran, whom you spoke to earlier, Captain Alex Murray from the SAS, Tony Drury from the Bomb Squad and Sergeant Lumley,’ said Gillard.

‘And can I just thank you for all your excellent work at a most trying time, gentlemen – and lady,’ said the prime minister. ‘I understand your need for a decision, Chief Superintendent. The problem is that all the outcomes we have before us are just too awful to consider. I’m sure you’ve realised that even if we release the ISIS prisoners there is no guarantee that any lives will be saved. And that if we allow the bombers onto a plane, even more lives will be lost.’

‘We have a possible way forward,’ said Gillard, ‘but it does involve letting the prisoners out of Belmarsh. If we do that, the bombers will also be moved to the airport. That will reduce the number of potential casualties and allow us to deal with the terrorists away from the public eye.’

‘Deal in what way, Chief Superintendent?’

‘The idea is to confine them to a secure area at the airport and tell them that the only option is surrender. The SAS will be there and it will be made clear that there is no alternative.’

The prime minister was clearly worried and they heard constant whispering around him over the speakerphone.

‘We can’t be seen to be negotiating with terrorists, obviously,’ said the prime minister, eventually. ‘Or, at least, not giving in to their demands.’

Murray frowned and shook his head.

‘We’re not giving in to their demands. We’re using the negotiation as a way of getting the bombers into a safer environment,’ said Gillard.

‘But it could be seen that we’re giving in to their demands,’ said the prime minister. ‘We would all much prefer it if that wasn’t part of our strategy. Captain Murray, what are our options in terms of ending this in situ?’

‘Limited, sir,’ said Murray. ‘We can storm any of the locations but they would see and hear us coming. We’d never be able to guarantee that they wouldn’t detonate. Plus we’d have to hit all nine locations at exactly the same time. I’m sorry, but I don’t see armed assaults taking place without casualties.’

They heard more whispers on the speakerphone.

‘Chief Superintendent, what about continuing to negotiate? Is that a possibility?’

‘The problem is that there is no negotiation,’ said Gillard. ‘We have their demands and they haven’t deviated from them. One of the problems is that the man I’m talking to isn’t himself in any danger. He isn’t one of the bombers so he has nothing to lose personally. And the bombers have no way of escalating the situation.’

‘I don’t follow you.’

‘In a negotiation like this, you’d expect them to raise the stakes. To increase the pressure. We don’t give them what they want so they kill a hostage, then threaten to kill more. But that isn’t happening in this case. They don’t appear to have guns or knives, or any way of hurting the hostages other than blowing them up. We either do what they want or we don’t. They either detonate or they don’t. There isn’t any room for negotiation that I can see.’

‘You mean it’s all or nothing? There is no middle ground?’

‘I’m afraid it might be worse than that, Prime Minister. They might have gone into this planning to detonate the bombs but to put the blame on you. They can tell the world that they gave you the opportunity to save the hostages, but your refusal left them with no choice. Whereas in fact they knew from the start that they wouldn’t get what they wanted. The plan all along might have been to get the world’s media watching so that the explosions all go out live. ISIS are masters at using video and social media to promote their cause.’

They heard more whispering on the speakerphone.

‘Prime Minister, I have to warn you that we’re running out of time,’ said Gillard. ‘They’ve set a deadline of six p.m. and they haven’t deviated from that. If we don’t get the ISIS prisoners to Biggin Hill by that time, I fear the worst.’

‘Is that your advice, Chief Superintendent?’

‘I’m not offering advice, sir, I’m simply explaining the situation as I see it. We have a deadline of six p.m. We can wait and see what happens if we don’t meet that deadline but there is a possibility, and I would say it’s a strong one, that all nine bombers will detonate. For all we know, the bombs could be detonated remotely. And again we come back to the fact that the man we’re talking to is in no immediate danger himself.’

‘And we don’t know who or where this man is?’

‘He calls in on a different phone each time and he’s never on long enough for us to trace him. We’ve managed to locate the nearest mobile-phone antenna each time but all that shows us is that he’s moving around.’

‘This is an absolute nightmare,’ said the prime minister. ‘Awful business. Truly awful.’

Gillard said nothing, but it was clear from the look on his face that he was in full agreement. It was a nightmare. But not one that they would be waking up from anytime soon.

‘Do you have any sense of how likely it is that they’ll detonate at six p.m. if we don’t do what they want?’

‘I don’t, sir. I really don’t. The one saving grace is that they do have demands. They didn’t just blow themselves up. If this had been a repeat of Seven/Seven we’d be looking at dozens of dead, possibly hundreds. The fact that they gave us demands does suggest there is a possibility that this can be resolved without casualties.’

‘Unless you’re right and this is a set-up to make it look like it was our fault,’ said the prime minister. ‘They ask for something they know we can’t give so that when we refuse they can kill the hostages and blame us.’

‘On a more positive note, from the conversations we’ve had with their man, it does at least appear that he wants to achieve his objectives,’ said Gillard. ‘He isn’t shifting the goalposts. He made his demands clear at the start and hasn’t wavered.’

‘He has released some hostages, though.’

‘Children, Prime Minister. And I think that was always part of their plan. Why send a bomber into a childcare centre if you were concerned about putting children at risk? I think they deliberately targeted the nursery in Kensington so that they could then appear to gain the moral high ground by letting the children go.’

‘Moral high ground?’ snapped the prime minister. ‘I hardly think so.’

‘An unfortunate choice of words, my apologies,’ said Gillard. ‘What I meant was that by offering to release the children they appeared to be doing the humanitarian thing, even though it was their actions that put the children at risk. I have to say he was less happy about the idea of releasing the children from the bus.’

‘Is there anything else we can do to get more of the hostages released?’ asked the prime minister.

‘He has said that once he’s assured the ISIS prisoners are being transferred to Biggin Hill, he will release the children on the bus.’

‘How many?’

‘So far as we can see, two schoolkids and a babe-in-arms.’

‘That’s not much of a concession, is it?’

‘He’s not making concessions, Prime Minister. I think he just appreciates that killing children is bad PR. Look, sir. If we can isolate the bombers on a coach and then at the airport, we can drastically reduce the number of hostages at risk. From close to a hundred to hopefully nine or so.’

‘And at no point will the ISIS prisoners be set free?’

‘They will remain on the prison transport van at all times under armed guard,’ said Gillard. ‘They will still be in our custody and that won’t change.’

‘Is there any way of doing this without the media being aware of what’s happening?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Gillard. ‘The man we’re talking to has already said he wants to see the prisoners on TV. Once he sees that the prisoners are on the way to the airport, he’ll arrange for the bombers to follow them.’

The prime minister sighed. He was clearly frustrated at the way he’d been backed into a corner, but Gillard sensed he had already decided what he had to do. ‘So far as the world is concerned, the terrorists will have won,’ said the prime minister.

‘Once we have the bombers in a controlled environment, the prisoners will be taken straight back to Belmarsh,’ said Gillard.

‘And this is the best way forward?’ asked the prime minister. ‘There’s no alternative?’

‘I don’t see one,’ said Gillard. ‘Worst possible scenario, we drastically reduce the number of casualties. Best possible scenario, they realise there’s no way forward and they surrender.’

‘Do you think the latter is at all likely?’

Gillard could hear the hope in the man’s voice and he didn’t want to dash it by being too honest. ‘It’s a possibility,’ was the best he could do.

‘Please God,’ said the prime minister. ‘Well, Chief Superintendent, it looks as if we have no choice. Go ahead and pick up the prisoners from Belmarsh. I shall speak to the home secretary now. I’ll leave it to you to make the announcement. Obviously keep me informed.’

The line went dead. Gillard sat down and sighed.

‘That we-never-negotiate-with-terrorists line annoys the hell out of me,’ said Murray. ‘Not only did they negotiate with the IRA, they let the bastards get away with murder.’

Gillard ignored him. ‘At least now we have a plan,’ he said. ‘Alex, you need to get a secure environment ready at Biggin Hill. Tony, do what you can with a coach in the time available. Sergeant Lumley, track down Lisa Elphick from the press office. Oh, Alex, did you find a driver for the coach?’

‘We had a dozen volunteers.’

Gillard shuddered. ‘Rather them than me.’

‘Just a thought,’ said Kamran. ‘What about getting a similar coach to Biggin Hill now? It’d give your guys something to rehearse with.’

‘Excellent idea,’ said the SAS captain.

‘I’ll arrange that,’ said Kamran, reaching for his phone.

Inspector Adams popped his head around the door, but before he could speak Gillard waved at him. ‘Ian, the prisoners are being moved to Biggin Hill airport as soon as possible. Make contact with Belmarsh. We need a high-security van to transfer them, and make sure it’s real prison officers and not GS4 muppets.’

Biggin Hill airport was fourteen miles south east of London, a six-minute helicopter ride from the city centre that made it the airport of choice for the tycoons and oligarchs who called the capital home. As the unmarked grey Chinook helicopter came in to land, three large private jets were lined up ready to take off.

The helicopter touched down on a helipad some distance away from the main aviation terminal, where a white minibus and a black saloon car were parked. The back ramp came down as the twin rotors continued to turn. Eight men walked out, all casually dressed and carrying black nylon kitbags. They were led by a fifteen-year veteran of the SAS, Sergeant Pete Hawkins. He waited until all the men were off before jogging over to the vehicles. A pretty brunette in a beige jacket over a dark blue dress climbed out of the car to meet him as the Chinook lifted into the air and headed back to Hereford.