by Ted Tayler
“Let’s get the bodies out of here,” he said. “We can study that in the van. The carpet will be in the hallway by now.”
Rusty helped Hugh carry Omar Harrack to the van. The burner phone rang. Phoenix picked it up and read the message,
“Jackpot,” he said.
“Don’t worry, we’ll manage,” said Rusty, when they came back.
Phoenix ignored him and held up the phone.
“They missed the call,” he said, “we were just in time.”
When Mansouri was inside the van with Harrack, Hugh made sure the Filton agents had covered their tracks. The women didn’t query the reason for a visit and had appeared satisfied with their excuse over the wrong piece of equipment. If luck was on their side, their husbands would never learn a thing.
The conservatory was a mess, but it blended in with the rest of the house and garden. Mansouri and Harrack had arrived without warning. The fact they left the same way was no big deal.
While the Filton crew headed home. Rusty looked at Phoenix.
“Don’t keep us in suspense,” he said, “what did the message say?”
“Two bombs will be delivered here in forty-five minutes. It tells them where to plant them.”
“Who’s bringing them?” asked Rusty.
“The bomb maker,” replied Phoenix.
“Are you sure?” asked Hugh.
“There’s a third bomb. Each bomb was designed to be carried inside knapsacks. I guess it made no sense for one of these guys to carry two. The Syrian visited the bomb maker and took the third bomb. He will place that himself.”
“We need to get to Temple Meads to stop al-Hamady delivering that final device,” said Hugh.
“How many Irregulars do you have on-site?” asked Phoenix.
“Three,” replied Hugh, “one outside, one on the concourse, and Protheroe in the subway.”
“There are drawings of the station layout among the things Mansouri had in his bag,” said Phoenix. “If they’ve marked potential sites on either drawing, you can eliminate two from the details in this message.”
“That leaves us with only one place to protect,” said Hugh. He grabbed the sheets of paper. Phoenix handed him the phone to note the locations.
“I’d rather tackle al-Hamady in that house in Bradley Stoke,” said Phoenix, “but we’ve never traced it. If we three join the Irregulars at Temple Meads, there’s a risk al-Hamady will spot one of us. He could detonate his device before we killed him.”
“What bombs do you think they’re using?” asked Rusty.
“A pressure cooker bomb would be my choice,” said Hugh. “The knapsacks are easy to carry, keeping their hands free. They are then dropped off at the optimum place and detonated when they get clear. I suspect they’re timed to explode at different times.”
“The same as in Edinburgh, yes, that makes sense,” said Phoenix.
“I’ll call Protheroe,” said Hugh, “I hope the message gets through. These drawings pinpoint the subway as the missing location.”
“Rusty, can you tell me how to handle the two bombs being delivered here?” asked Phoenix.
“I trained you how to do that back in 2010 when you first joined Olympus,” said Rusty. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
“You were always there in case something went wrong.”
“I’m here now.”
“Not for long. I want you to go to Temple Meads with Hugh. I trust you to intercept al-Hamady before he gets close to the platforms. Stop him and disable his bomb.”
“This is about Grace, isn’t it?” asked Rusty.
“Get going,” said Phoenix, “or the delivery boy will be here. He’ll take one look at the smart meter installation van outside and disappear. We don’t want to be chasing a car loaded with explosive material driving around the centre of Bristol.”
Rusty knew there was no point arguing with his friend. The bomb maker was due in less than half an hour. They would be at Temple Meads in fifteen minutes. The Irregulars might have missed the crafty beggar. It was time to move.
“Good luck,” said Rusty. He and Hugh Fraser left Phoenix in the conservatory.
Phoenix heard the van pull away from the kerb. Noises in the hallway and upstairs told him the women and children had returned to their usual rooms. Everything had returned to normal. Nothing outside or inside the house should alert the bomb maker now, he could sit and wait for him to arrive.
Forty-five minutes after the text message had pinged on the burner phone, the front doorbell rang. Phoenix heard a woman’s voice. A deeper, male voice grew louder as someone approached the conservatory door. Phoenix moved position in his chair. His gun was free of any obstruction, ready for whatever came next.
The door opened and a swarthy-looking elderly individual entered. He smiled.
Phoenix thought the language he spoke was Pashto. What he asked the woman in the burka facing him he didn’t know.
The Afghani bomb maker placed the two knapsacks on the floor with care. He continued to talk, and Phoenix watched his eyes darting around the room. Hugh and Rusty had done their best to clean up, but some blood spatter remained. It was time to end this pantomime.
Phoenix raised the gun and shot the bomb maker dead. Two bullets to the heart. Even in death, the look on the Afghani’s face was one of surprise. Phoenix removed the burka and threw it into the kit bag along with the rest of Harrack’s clothes.
The deaths of Grace Fox and the others in London and Edinburgh had been avenged.
Phoenix looked at his watch. It was two-forty. Rusty and Hugh would be at Temple Meads. The time al-Hamady told the bomb maker to text Mansouri had to be significant. So, did the forty-five minutes before the delivery. He opened the first knapsack with care.
One hurdle cleared. There were no booby traps on the knapsack itself. He thought back to the lessons he’d received from Rusty. A pressure cooker bomb is often filled with an air-fuelled highly sensitive peroxide explosive. The container in the knapsack did not carry a strong smell of bleach. That was a plus because if this bomb was fitted with an anti-lift device that triggered secondary circuits he’d already be dead.
Phoenix considered the options. This device could be detonated in various ways, but it wasn’t as volatile as it might have been. The pressure cooker would contain shrapnel. That might be odd scraps of metal, marbles, nails, and razor blades. The dead man on the floor in front of him had handled the knapsacks as if they were heavy carrier bags.
His bombs might make a big bang, but somewhere on the outside, he must have placed a timing device or a phone. Phoenix inched his fingers around the outside of the container. There it was, a mobile phone. The screen showed the trigger set for three-thirty.
Phoenix checked the second knapsack. A phone was fitted in the same spot. He soon learned the timer for this one was set at three-twenty. Terrific. Time was running short. Rusty had always reminded him of the lesson on this make of bomb. It was one thing learning how long before it exploded; it was something else to open and dismantle it.
There was only one thing for it. He must remove it to a place of safety. Phoenix retrieved the car keys from the bomb maker’s clothing, closed the conservatory door, and carried the knapsacks outside. When the body was discovered, the blame would fall on the missing house guests.
Phoenix reckoned the men of the house would call the landlord first before the police. If things were dealt with without checks being carried out, so much the better. Many occupants of the property were probably illegal immigrants.
A small white van parked outside responded to the key fob. It was brand new. It appeared there was good money in the demolition business.
Phoenix drove away from Hanover Street. His first call was to the ice-house. Artemis was on duty.
“Direct me to the nearest spot where I can ditch a van. Somewhere with no houses or people within a mile.”
“How long have you got?” she asked.
“Thirty-four minutes,” said Phoen
ix. “I won’t need to worry about the second bomb.”
“Pray the traffic isn’t heavy and take the A369 to Portishead. Make for Beach Road and then take to the grass. Remember to jump before the van goes over the cliff.”
“How long will it take to get there?” asked Phoenix, dreading the answer.
“Thirty minutes tops unless you get stuck behind a tractor,” said Artemis. “Stay calm. You’ll be fine.”
“Stay calm, she says,” said Phoenix, “how did you guess what I was carrying?”
“I was up close and personal with a car bomb that would have demolished half a street the day I met Rusty,” she replied. “Your voice gave you away.”
“Have you heard from Rusty?” he asked.
“They haven’t intercepted al-Hamady yet. He’s not inside Temple Meads. Giles and I know there’s a third bomb. It must be set to explode later than those you have with you. It’s still cutting things fine if al-Hamady wants to get it to the subway and then make his escape.”
“Warn Hugh and Rusty these containers are too well constructed to get inside without unacceptable risk. They must move them to as safe a spot as possible.”
“I’ll ask Giles to pass on the message. He’s watching for al-Hamady on CCTV cameras at Temple Meads. When is the second device set to explode?”
“Half-past three.”
“The third one is likely to show another ten-minute gap. They’re targeting the emergency services and the public just as they did at Waverley station. If our team grab al-Hamady in the next five minutes they should have fifty minutes to reach a haven. I’ll start the search for the best site.”
“Does Athena know what’s happening?” asked Phoenix.
“She knows where you were going, but she won’t know about this latest development. Do you want me to call her?”
“I’m not planning on this being my last conversation with you, or anyone else. There won’t be any need for tearful farewells today. Don’t alarm her. If traffic’s bad, we’ll need another option though.”
“I’ll stay on the line and assess the local terrain as you get closer to the coast. I think you need the company,” said Artemis.
“Thanks, what can we talk about for thirty-one minutes?”
“Do you have time to tell me who you really are?” she asked.
“Things aren’t that serious,” he replied. “Anyway, when you look back over the year we’ve worked together at Larcombe, does it matter?”
“I guess not. I’ve had a thought. How do we know for sure the third bomb is the same make and model?”
“The three bombs were designed to be carried in a knapsack, according to the message sent by the bomb maker. The third bomb was collected by al-Hamady. Does it make sense for it to be different?”
“It makes life simpler for Rusty and Fraser if they simply had to disarm it rather than destroy it,” said Artemis. “They then have options on how to tackle al-Hamady. He could come here for interrogation. We don’t want to kill him in the subway. It would be hard to explain away to the authorities and the media.”
“The sooner they spot him and neutralise the threat the better,” said Phoenix, “why is it taking so long?”
“Giles is talking to Hugh Fraser now, hang on,” said Artemis.
“Great, let me know what’s happening. By the way, I’ll be on the Portbury Hundred soon. Are there any large open spaces there?”
“As a last resort, yes, but you will still have twenty-two minutes to cover a little over eight miles. There’s not much to choose between the options you have, Phoenix. Whether you blow up several fields or ditch the van into the Bristol Channel, there will be questions asked.”
“I’ll leave that for you and Giles to handle,” said Phoenix, “you’re the experts in misinformation. Deep in the water is the best bet. If nobody sees me send it over the cliff, you could spread a rumour of a WWII bomb.”
“Fake news, do you mean?” said Artemis.
“Ask Giles for an update, please,” said Phoenix.
“I’ll hand you over to him, here he is,”
“Phoenix? I understand you have a pressing problem?”
“Don’t worry about me, Giles. What’s happened at Temple Meads.?”
“There’s no sign of Bakar al-Hamady. I feel as if I’ve searched every camera in the city.”
“It makes no sense,” said Phoenix, “surely, the third device must be intended for Bristol?”
“Hang on, Artemis has heard something. Dylan Griffiths, the Irregular who notified us where Harrack was living, has reported in. A car cruised past him by the taxi rank outside the station two minutes ago. He is positive the driver was al-Hamady. The car left, without stopping. He may be running.”
“Follow up on that, Giles. Put Artemis back on, please.”
“Phoenix, how’s traffic?” asked Artemis.
“Not too busy, I’ve been able to hit forty-five on a few stretches. I’m keeping an eye open for speed cameras.”
“You’re close to my old HQ there. The Hundred is fifty miles per hour limit, so you’re okay until you get to the roundabout. There’s always a car stationed on it with a speed gun because the limit drops to thirty. The fines they rack up are legendary.”
“I’ll watch myself, don’t worry,”
“Let’s discuss this third bomb again,” said Artemis. “If al-Hamady has got enough time to cut away from Temple Meads, it can’t be the same device.”
Phoenix smacked his hand on the steering wheel.
“Stupid,” he exclaimed, “it is still Bristol. He’s got enough time to reach Parkway. If he spotted something suspicious at Temple Meads, such as Griffiths, then he could divert to Parkway. How far is it?”
“Seven miles,” said Artemis, “he will be there by twenty-past three.”
“Send Rusty and Hugh after him. We can’t let him reach Parkway. Let’s hope you’re right and that bomb differs from the rest.”
“How are you coping?” she asked.
“I’ll be fine. I’m trying to understand what the plan was. We assumed the drawings we found at the house represented the final plan. That made us accept the third bomb was destined for the subway while the two I have on board were to for different platforms overhead. There must have been a verbal agreement to change tack. Something not to be communicated to Mansouri and Harrack until the last minute. Only al-Hamady and the bomb maker were parties to it beforehand. The bomb maker was to tell them where to place the two bombs when he made the delivery.”
“Our original timings might still be correct,” said Artemis. “If his device is set for three-forty he’s got ample time to hide it and get well away.”
“What should we do in this scenario?” asked Phoenix. “We’re convinced a bomb is being delivered. Hundreds of passengers will be at the station. An anonymous phone call to evacuate the station would save lives. The IRA made those calls now and then. Damage to property remained, and the message was received loud and clear, but lives were spared.”
“Has Olympus faced this dilemma before?” asked Artemis.
“Not with time running out, no,” he muttered, “and it’s thirteen minutes until this van goes boom.”
“I’ll call Athena for a decision on Parkway,” said Artemis.
“She will need to get it sanctioned by Zeus, there won’t be enough time.”
“Giles says Rusty is stuck at roadworks. The car Dylan Griffiths described isn’t in front at the traffic lights. They’re losing any ground they may have made.”
“Rusty has to prevent al-Hamady delivering that bomb,” said Phoenix.
It was so frustrating for him not being at what he considered the sharp end. Whatever was in the knapsacks behind him was an inconvenience. He wanted to take out al-Hamady himself.
“Are you okay?” asked Artemis. “I hate it when you stop talking. You’re too near the town now to use any of the other options. The cliffs are your only hope. You are ahead of the clock, not by much, but you have enough time to di
tch the van and get away. I ordered a car to come to collect you when you were joining the Portbury Hundred. He’ll be there ten minutes after you say goodbye to the van.”
“You’re a star, Artemis,” Phoenix replied. “All I have to do is look inconspicuous near Beach Road while hell breaks loose.”
“There are plenty of fields, hedges and trees in the vicinity. I’m checking the satellite view. The area is quiet. The summer is over, and it’s rained throughout the week. I doubt you’ll see any more than a man and his dog.”
Phoenix checked his watch once more. Artemis was right. He would arrive at sixteen minutes past three. Thoughts of what Rusty and Hugh Fraser were doing had to be put out of his head, so he could concentrate. He trusted them to make the right decisions.
Phoenix prayed they stopped al-Hamady so that whether they should have phoned a warning never arose.
“I’m on Wyndham Way now,” he said, “talk me through these streets,”
“It’s right, and then left, at the end of Wyndham Way. Take Nore Road until you reach a right turn up Beach Hill. Then it’s left at the top towards the cliffs. A car park for the coastal path is on the left. It’s empty today.”
“Thanks, I owe you a drink after this,” said Phoenix. “If we survive today the four of us will spend the weekend on ‘Elizabeth’ at Lymington.”
“She’s a beautiful yacht,” said Artemis. “I saw her when I was checking on Hermes last year with the harbour master.”
“I’m climbing Beach Hill now,” he said, “I’ll sign off until later.”
“Before you go, when you ditch the car, don’t head back to town. Carry on walking across the golf course to the Windmill pub. I’ll call the driver to meet you in the car park.”
“Artemis, after the drive I’ve had this afternoon, I’ll be in the bar having a drink.”
Phoenix turned onto Beach Road, and then into the small car park. Artemis had been right. The place looked deserted. Strong winds buffeted the van, and the rain hammered against the windscreen. What mug would be outside on a day such as this?
There were four minutes left. Should he accelerate towards the cliff and jump out at the last second? It was risky, he wasn’t getting any younger. He decided to use the tools he had available. Phoenix brought a knapsack from the back of the van, placed it on the accelerator, released the handbrake and slammed the door shut as the van surged forwards.
