by Ted Tayler
Therese felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.
Both bombs detonated.
It was carnage.
The police, the emergency services, the men in suits, the holidaymakers, and former Olympics’ spectators, plus the security staff on the gates at Weymouth stared at the big screens.
The only person not watching the scenes from Greenwich Park was Khadim Salah.
CHAPTER 23
Colin looked at his phone. It showed 12:02.
“Message still not delivered,” he said to no one in particular.
“With the mayhem going on around Stratford, it’s no big surprise if the mobile system goes into meltdown. Just think of New Year’s Eve,” said Brad.
“I sent a text to Greenwich Park,” said Colin.
“Hang on,” said Brad. “Giles has got something… fuck. Say again?”
Colin sat staring straight ahead as Brad listened to Giles.
“Two suicide bombers have hit Greenwich Park, several dead, dozens of seriously injured, a hundred walking-wounded. The only good news is that they got the bomber in Weymouth. They had to shoot him on the beach, in amongst ten thousand people, but at least, he didn’t get a chance to detonate his bomb.
“Each event at twelve o’clock and the ice-house still say they’re unconnected?”
Colin seethed. He wanted to reach Greenwich Park. He tried Therese again.
“Can we get over to Greenwich?” he asked Brad.
“We can try,” he replied, “but it will be chaos; like this place. I can’t see us getting near mate, sorry. I reckon I should head for home, drop my urchins in the back in a safe house in Chiswick with my lads. Larcombe can decide what to do with them after this mess. I can drop you at the nearest tube station.”
“We’ve only moved a half-mile in this traffic jam, Brad. I’ll run back to Stratford, take my chances that the trains are running. The DLR will take me via West Ham over to Cutty Sark from what I remember. I’ll be heading in the right direction. Drop me here. Cheers. It was almost good working with you again.”
“Cheers, Phoenix, I hope you find who or what you’re looking for safe at Greenwich, mate.”
Colin was already running along the pavement. Why did he feel so concerned about Therese? Was it guilt? She had been desperate to see him. He could not have left to meet up with her with the situation as it had been at the Westfield.
He thought of the young girl in the café too. Had she made it to the hospital in time? The trains were running. He had more time to be alone with his thoughts as the train journey began.
It was 12:20.
Shamila Javed had stopped screaming. Kelly Dexter negotiated the traffic jam around the docks and floored it on the relief road. They arrived in Yeovil in thirty-five minutes. The Bournemouth clean-up crew had left for home; they could do nothing now. Athena’s backup plan would have to come into play.
Kelly dropped Jack Mould off at his house. As she headed for the Frome turning off the College roundabout Jack cleaned his rifle. Soon he could put his kit away in the loft until the next occasion Olympus needed someone taken out. Jelly cracked open a can of lager and sat in his conservatory. He wasn’t particularly happy with his work today. Far too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel.
Hayden Vincent glanced at his watch. It was 13:00.
He gazed at Shamila Javed sat opposite him. The young girl was in shock.
Hayden spoke to her quietly. He explained to her about Khadim’s training in Pakistan. He said he had used her as a cover because the authorities would not suspect a young couple. Shamila listened and sobbed. She felt so ashamed. What would her family think of her? Those nights when she ached for Khadim to come to her bedroom and they slept alone. She had believed he stayed away because he loved and respected her. What a foolish young girl she had been.
Hayden knew after Frome, Kelly would go on to Bath to drop Shamila off with Henry Case at Larcombe. It would be a while before Shamila saw her family again.
Colin soon discovered that the train service had been caught up in the mayhem of Stratford and Greenwich. It was after one o’clock when Colin arrived at Cutty Sark. The scene as he walked across towards Romney Road was a mirror image of the Westfield. Emergency services and police darted in all directions. An army bomb disposal unit had arrived and helicopters circled overhead. A HEMS helicopter had landed in the Olympic dressage arena, to pick up another casualty.
No way could he get near the stands. They had been turned into a mangled heap of wood and metal.
He rang Therese again.
There was no reply.
A St John Ambulance man walked towards him; his face pale and drawn.
“How many died?” Colin asked.
“Seven confirmed deaths. A few looked bad when they put them in the ambulances. They have been working on one woman over there for a while now. It doesn’t look good. She’s a fighter, though.”
Colin ran in the direction that the man had pointed. Half a dozen people surrounded a body on the ground. A doctor, or a paramedic, tended her. Colin pushed through the protesting voices. He barely recognised Therese.
Another man in blood-stained scrubs caught Colin’s arm. Colin looked at him. The man shook his head solemnly.
Colin sank to his knees. Therese opened her eyes, her eyelids fluttered. She struggled to speak.
“Took your time,” she said hoarsely. Her eyelids fluttered once more, and she was gone.
“I’m sorry,” said the doctor, “I have no idea how your wife hung on this long with her injuries. It was obvious she didn’t want to leave without seeing you.”
“Not my wife,” said Colin, “a friend.”
He stood up and as he turned away, the doctor said to his colleagues,
“Time of death confirmed at 13.08.”
Colin somehow left the Park. Thousands of people still milled around, too shocked to move. Strangers comforted one another. Officials did their best to help the authorities, but a major incident such as this was way beyond anything their training programme had imagined.
Colin walked for what seemed ages. He spotted a station ahead. It was Deptford Bridge. He had to return to Larcombe. Colin needed the security blanket that Olympus, Erebus, and Athena provided him. He was devastated he hadn’t been able to help to save those people. Therese had died too.
He considered killing her himself so she could never reveal his true identity. He had never loved her and yet she had fought for an hour against impossible odds, to stay alive until he reached Greenwich.
She deserved better. He resolved to avenge her death. This episode of bomb attacks might have ended. Others would surely follow. The Phoenix would be ready.
The hour-long trip via Canary Wharf and Waterloo delivered Colin onto the platform at Paddington at last. There was a train due to leave in a few minutes. Bath Spa and home were only just over an hour away.
Although the concourse was busy, and the tannoy announcements still echoed around the old terminus, the mood was sombre. London was in mourning for the lives lost.
Colin slept fitfully on the train, dreamt nightmarish dreams, and Chippenham had been passed before he awoke, still lost and alone. He rang Larcombe for the transport section to rustle up a taxi. He stood outside the station at Bath Spa and waited for five minutes for his lift to arrive.
As people passed him, their conversation concerned the bombings. He caught snatches of what they said,
“Wasn’t it terrible? All those people dead.”
“Over thirty, they said just now on the news.”
“Where were the police? That’s what I want to know.”
“All that money they spent on security for the Olympics and that happens.”
“Who shot the Indian bloke on the beach then? Was that the SAS do you think?”
“He was a Pakistani.”
“Who, the bloke who shot him?”
“No, the man on the beach; his family came here from Pakistan.”
Colin saw the ta
xi with the Olympus logo arrive. He jumped in the back and they headed for Larcombe.
If what he had just heard was anything to go by, the next few weeks would be tough for many people. The families of those killed and injured. The Olympics organisers, who had to decide whether the Games could continue or not. The authorities, and last but not least, Olympus.
There would be questions for the authorities to answer on how the London bombers got through the screening process to become Games Makers. Questions too over the ease with which they got their pipe bombs into their targets. They would be grilled on the fact that Khadim Salah had been flagged as a person of interest. Yet he still managed to smuggle a jacket bomb onto Weymouth Beach.
As for Olympus, taking Salah out in such a public manner had been Athena’s call. Colin was not overly critical of her decision, without knowing the full facts of how things developed on the beach, but it did pose the question. Once the authorities had checked every potential section of their own forces to discover who had fired the shot, the spotlight would switch elsewhere. Would Olympus be caught full beam?
Back at Larcombe, everywhere was a hive of activity. Erebus and the others sat in a top-level meeting. Henry Case had a young girl from the Midlands in Hotel California, for a quiet chat. Giles and his crew in the surveillance section monitored the aftermath of the three incidents.
Colin logged the Glock into the armoury so that Brad had it returned in due course, then he went to his quarters to check for any messages. There was nothing for him. Colin checked to see if Rusty was in his room.
“You’re home safe and sound then Phoenix,” he said, “someone will be pleased.”
“Has someone been looking for me then?”
“Her Ladyship of course.”
“I looked into the manor house on my way in, but they’re in a meeting.”
“I think they are discussing damage limitations, mate. Athena took every precaution. We didn’t have eyes on those two before they reached Weymouth. There was a possible window in the car park, where they might have taken him out, but Kelly couldn’t get Jack in close enough, because of the traffic. The beach was cutting it fine. If this Salah fellow had been trigger-happy there would have been many more dead people reported in the papers tomorrow. Fortunately, he stuck to his noon deadline and Jelly took him out.”
“We are bound to see attention being given to which organisation carried out the kill though Rusty. The authorities will know it wasn’t one of theirs, and although the British public may never learn that, the authorities will still want to find the shooter.”
“That’s where her Ladyship was clever mate. Jack’s rifle is L115A3, and he is a wizard when it comes to fiddling around with the kit he uses. He got a few rollickings in the SAS from his superiors, but now he’s freelance, well, he does what he pleases. When they dig around and locate the bullet in the sand or wherever it ended up, everything on the type Athena suggested he used will scream CIA.”
“Bloody hell, that was clever.”
“Exactly, it should deflect the attention away from Olympus and silence the spooks too, because they used the CIA as advisers on London 2012 security. Why wouldn’t they have had agents on the ground at Weymouth? With luck, they will not query it with Langley, because they will look stupid. So that the public doesn't think our security services are complete tossers they will claim it as their own kill.”
“It sounds a masterstroke.”
“Your day out was buggered up though mate, wasn’t it?”
Colin could not tell Rusty everything, but he filled him in on what happened at Westfield Stratford. He told him he had gone to Greenwich Park to see if he could help. He didn’t mention Therese.
“Do you think the Games can continue?” asked Rusty.
“They carried on in 1972 at Munich, and again in 1996 at Atlanta. My guess is that the IOC and the government will put on a united front. They’ll issue a statement that the Games should carry on as planned to show that the world will not be cowed by acts of terrorism.”
The two friends chatted for a while and then Colin said he needed to shower and change.
“You whiff mate, but sometimes it’s good to talk,” Rusty said as Colin got up to leave.
“Thanks, Rusty, you’re a pal.”
An hour later Colin sat at his computer, flicking through the news updates. The St John Ambulance guy had it right. Eight people died at Greenwich and well over a hundred were taken to the hospital. Several of those suffered life-changing injuries.
The café had yielded the highest fatalities, with twenty-two dead. The only survivors an elderly man and a student. The student was critically injured.
“Ally didn’t make it,” Colin said, thumping the desk.
A knock came at the door. It was Athena.
“Thank goodness you’re okay,” she said, running to Colin and wrapping her arms around him, “I was so scared that something had happened to you.”
Colin rested his head on her shoulder. Athena felt the moisture on her skin. Colin was crying softly.
“Phoenix,” she said, “what is it?”
“The girl in the café, Ally, she didn’t make it. She served me a sandwich and a can of coke. I walked out of the door and up The Street. The next thing I know I’m on my knees. She had lost half an arm. She was in a bad way. Do you know what she asked me? She said, ‘Am I going to die?’ I told her not to worry; everything would be OK. Now she’s dead. She was so young.”
“Many people died Phoenix; we saved a heck of a lot more. We cannot be everywhere. You did everything you could.”
“You made a good call at Weymouth Athena; the ammo idea was pure genius.”
“Not just a pretty face, Phoenix. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?
Colin nodded. He knew that the night they had planned would have to be put on hold. But he couldn’t face the night alone. They lay on his bed and held one another until dawn. Sleep was a luxury for Colin. Most of the time he lay there, listening to Athena’s steady breathing and saw the faces of Therese, Ally and the other people from the café.
The morning papers and the TV news bulletins were full of the horrific details of the attacks. Names and faces were given to the people who had perished. Families visiting relatives in the hospital were photographed and filmed. Concerned, haggard faces filled newspaper pages and TV screens.
Erebus called Colin and asked him to come over to the main house.
“Bring Athena with you, old chap, if you please,” he said as he ended the call.
“He knew you were here,” Colin said.
Athena smiled. “I told him I was going to see you when I left the meeting yesterday.”
When the room had its full complement, Erebus began,
“The Prime Minister will address the nation at ten o’clock. He will say that the Games resumed as per the original schedule this morning. Terrorism must not be allowed to win. Everything you would expect him to say. There will be a memorial service in St Paul’s next Sunday morning. The IOC will reschedule events to allow the competitors to have the service relayed to them in the Olympic Stadium. No events will take place on that day.
The government has asked the whole of the UK population to be on the alert. Television adverts, full-page spreads in the news and posters the length and breadth of the country will carry the following message,
If you are walking or sitting and a suicide bomber strikes nearby:
At the first flash or blast, hit the ground and get as low as possible to avoid debris and smoke. Shelter behind something and expect another bomb. Get yourself and anyone you can to an exit and get outside. Once you have made it out of the area, keep away from any buildings or structures that might collapse because of the first blast, or any other bombings that could follow.
Take precautions to prevent radiation sickness. Be aware that an explosion may have been ‘dirty’ or a radiological dispersion device. If you are within one mile downwind, then you are in the radiation danger zone.
You should always presume that you have been exposed to radiation. Ensure officials are aware of the fact and follow their instructions. Do not eat anything. Drink water only from a sealed bottle.
Thanatos looked across at Colin. He said, “I suppose you can find something funny to say about that, Phoenix?”
“I believe that to be a very apt message Thanatos. Far better that people know what to expect. If our intelligence is correct, then this spate of bombings is over, for now.”
Rusty chipped in, “Far better these adverts than just printing a load of t-shirts with ‘Keep Calm and Radiate’ printed on the front.”
Erebus examined the file in front of him. How did Rusty know the Home Office was considering that?
Everyone needed time to heal. Olympus would lie low for a while and gather strength for the battles to come.
Erebus decided to close the file for now.
* * *
Book Three
Nothing Is Ever Forever
Table Of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Epilogue
CHAPTER 1
Monday, September 3rd, 2012
The Olympics were fading from the headlines. With every passing day, something else crept into the headlights of the media’s all-seeing eye. Memories for those involved faded a good deal slower. The athletes would keep their successes and failures for years to come. Spectators at the packed stadiums could always say, “I was there.”
