Four Degrees More (3 page)

The Mirror: Oil refinery bombed

The Guardian: Death at green protest

Grinning to myself, I scrambled through the hole in the wire fence. Straightening up, I felt good. Really good. I’d done it! The Cooler had completed his most daring mission so far. With six minutes to spare.
Taking a deep breath, I made the call to Beth.

Even before she spoke, I could hear the background din of the protest. I didn’t wait for her to say anything.

‘It’s me,’ I almost shouted. ‘The Cooler. Mission complete!’

‘Brilliant. Well done. I’ll move everyone out.’

I was more than surprised. There was a sudden sickly feeling in my stomach. ‘What do you mean? Why? It’s just going to be a big firework.’

‘Very big. You’ve lit the blue touch paper. Now we all stand well back.’

I hesitated.

‘What are you saying? Where’s far enough back?’ I was beginning to panic. ‘What about the estate? Is that far enough away? Me and Keir live there.’

‘It’s too late, Leyton. You’ve done it. But just think how many lives you save down the line. A few casualties now, the planet saved for later. It’s a good deal.’

‘You conned me!’

‘It’s not like that, Leyton. Look, I’ll send Robin down. He’ll sort you out. But right now, I’ve got to pull everyone out.’

Stunned, I stood there with a dead phone in my hand. I was shivering, not with cold, but with horror at what I’d done. Beth’s words had convinced me that the fireball would roast the whole area, including the housing estate. Not even the green cause was worth that sort of sacrifice. There’d be deaths. There could be hundreds, for all I knew. And there’d be horrible injuries.

The Cooler had turned into a terrorist, after all.

Belonging to the environmental group
had given me a warm glow, but the feel-good factor had now gone. I didn’t want the same thing as the rest of the team any more. My strike against the oil refinery didn’t feel right. I felt nervous and cheated. And alone.

I glanced at my watch by torchlight. Four and a half minutes to go. Was that enough time to undo what I’d done? I’d got out of the oil refinery in four minutes. I had to give it a try. I dropped the phone, ditched the backpack and threw myself to the ground. As fast as I could, I crawled back into the grounds of the factory. There was no time to hide and creep. I dashed back to the overhead pipe and ran along the path. The narrow way was more like a racetrack now.

I still felt important – more important than ever – but everything had changed in
an instant. I had to save lives instead of the planet.

The noise of the protest at the main gates had faded, but all I could really hear were my own footsteps. And my heart hammering in my chest. Somewhere, a car engine revved up. I took no notice of it.

Panting, I arrived at the road that ringed the storage tanks. This time, there were two people in uniform standing a long way to my left. I realised that if I sprinted across the road, I’d look very suspicious. They would come after me. And if they stopped me, that would be the end of me, them, the whole factory and probably the estate. I glanced at my watch. Fifty-five seconds.

I didn’t know what to do.

Another guard appeared. This one was coming from the direction of the main entrance. He was returning from the
battlefront. And that told me what to do. Now that the protesters had gone, there were bound to be staff coming back. No one would be surprised to see workers wandering around the site. Maybe, if I looked confident … Maybe if I didn’t look suspicious …

I drew myself up to look as tall as possible and strolled across the road. I tried not to hurry, tried not to draw attention to myself. I tried to keep calm but my pulse was racing. Once I’d slipped between the parked lorry and van without being challenged, I felt better. I wasn’t so visible there. And the storage tank was in front of me.

Thirty-seven seconds. It was then that I realised. Robin had shown me how to set the timer. He’d never shown me how to stop it. I couldn’t hold myself back any
more. I darted to the nearest container and dropped to my knees. The dial on the top of the bomb was counting down the final twenty-five seconds. I grabbed hold of it and tried to stop it clicking round towards zero. Maybe my hand was slippery with sweat. I don’t know. But it just kept going. I couldn’t halt the countdown.

Turning the device over with trembling hands, there was nothing like an on/off switch. I’d set it going and there was no clear way to stop it.

I looked around in fear. A police officer had just pulled up and got out of her car. In her hurry, she’d left the door open. That was it. My only chance.

Thirteen seconds.

I grabbed the bomb and hurtled towards the car. Someone somewhere shouted, ‘Oi! You!’

I threw the device inside the police car, slammed the door shut and didn’t stop running.

I was a few metres down the track when it exploded. I thought my ears had burst. And the blast picked me off my feet and flung me forward. I guess I screamed. I can’t remember. I rolled over and over, like a footballer fouled at full speed. But I wasn’t pretending. Every muscle seemed to ache. I felt blood on my right cheek. But I got to my feet. I had to. I had to get away.

Behind me, the mangled wreck of the car was blazing and oil workers were running around and shouting madly. But the storage tanks were safe. The people were safe. The estate was safe.

Gasping for breath and swaying unsteadily, I raced back down the path towards my hole. In the total confusion of
the explosion behind me, I was getting away. My head, chest and legs were throbbing horribly, but I’d done it. No one had got hurt – apart from me, and I was just grazed and bruised. And confused.

I came out from under the pipeline, lurched to the right and made for that doorway in the netting. I was so relieved, so desperate to get out, that I didn’t notice the figure lurking in the shadow.

When I scrambled though the hole and staggered to my feet, Robin appeared in front of me.

‘What have you done?’ he yelled.

‘Er …’ I wasn’t sure I could make sense. ‘I couldn’t –’

‘You couldn’t what?’

My head felt heavy and my brain wasn’t up to much.

‘I couldn’t go through with it.’

Robin was not just angry. He was furious.

‘Maximum impact. That’s what we’d planned. And you’ve ruined it!’

‘I said I didn’t want to hurt anybody …’

He grabbed me by the shoulders. ‘You fool! I told Beth one of us should – But she wanted someone else to take the blame. Someone who didn’t matter.’

‘What? But I –’ I couldn’t speak any more.

‘Why else would she have got you to do it?’ Robin sneered at me for what seemed an age. Then he said, ‘You’ll pay for messing up.’ He drew back his arm, ready to thump me with all his strength.

I was drained. An easy target. I began to fall even before his fist landed on my battered face.

It’s all a bit of a blur now, but I guess he was off balance on that sloping verge. I
guess he wasn’t expecting me to crash into him. Maybe, in some desperate attempt at self-defence, I gave him a shove. I’m not sure. Anyway, we both collapsed. I grabbed hold of the bottom of the fence and stuck fast, but he tumbled down the bank. All arms and legs, he toppled towards the road.

I wonder if Robin heard the siren as a fire engine came into view and sped towards the scene of the blast. I wonder if he was dazzled by the headlamps and flashing lights. Out of control, he rolled on to the tarmac. The last thing I remember was the sound of screeching tyres and a stomach-churning thud.

I’d stopped the fireball. I’d saved myself from Robin’s fury. But I hadn’t saved the planet and I’d done nothing to save Robin. The failed protest had claimed his life.

And that was the end of the Cooler, as
well. I don’t mean I changed my views. Sprawled out on the verge, I realised I’d crossed a red line. On one side of it, people didn’t get hurt. On the other side, they did. On one side of it, you’re a protester. On the other, a terrorist. The tricky part is knowing where to draw the line.

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