“Sir,” she said, “I was just wondering if I should take these down now.”
Going to stand alongside her, Crane also mused over the boards. “No, I don’t think so,” he said slowly. “Not just yet anyway.”
“Any particular reason?” Kim blushed and quickly said, “If you don’t mind me asking, sir?”
Smiling Crane answered, “No I don’t mind you asking, Kim.” Setting down his coffee mug and the piece of paper he was holding, he perched on the side of a desk. “It’s just that I don’t think it’s over yet.”
“What isn’t, sir?”
“The threat I suppose. I can’t seem to draw a line under it. At least not until the Paralympians have left the garrison.”
“In another two days?”
“Yes, Kim, so keep the boards up a while longer would you?”
“Of course, sir.”
Crane and Kim were still looking at the boards, both deep in thought, when Billy crashed through the door.
“Boss,” he calls. “I’ve got it!”
“Got it?” Crane looked at Billy, who was dishevelled, with tousled hair, his face shiny with sweat.
“The smell, boss. The one I smelled under the swimming pool the night I was knocked out.” Billy was jiggling up and down.
“Alright, Billy, calm down and sit down. Kim, go and get me some coffee would you and a cold drink for Sergeant Williams here.”
Once everyone was settled with drinks, Billy explained. “I was passing by New Mons Barracks. The landscapers were working there, laying new turf and stuff. For some reason I stopped the car to see what they were doing. And that’s when I smelled it, that strange smell. So I wandered over to one of the contractors to ask what they were doing.”
“Which was?”
“Turning fertiliser into the soil to help the grass grow.” Billy sat back looking very pleased with himself.
“But why would you have smelled fertilizer in a concrete structure?” Kim wanted to know. “And where would it have come from?”
“Oh shit!” The involuntary exclamation came from Crane. “I think I know” and he reached for the piece of paper he had carried into the office.
A quick skim of the contents confirmed his fears.
“The break in at Aspire Defence stores. This was the report from Ms Stone. Fertilizer was stolen from the landscape contractors who were keeping it there.”
He passed the paper to Kim. Luckily neither Sergeant had the courage to ask how he got the piece of paper, nor how long he had had it. Crane remembered the time when Ms Stone arrived at his office unannounced. He was so flustered by her sexual overtures that he had completely forgotten about the paper she’d handed him.
“But there’s more, sir,” Billy dragged Crane’s attention back to the present.
“I was walking through the RMP office after that, when I smelled paint. The barracks is being revamped and there were painters in some of the corridors. It made me realise that what I smelled was a mixture of paint and fertilizer.”
“Paint and fertilizer? Are you sure?” It was Kim asking the question, turning round from updating the Aspire Defence theft board.
“Positive, Kim. The only thing I don’t know is what it means.”
“I think I might.”
The voice at the door caused everyone to swivel round. Crane found himself staring at Dudley-Jones.
“What have you got for us?” Crane beckoned the young Lance Corporal into the office. He was holding a piece of paper in his hand.
“An intelligence report, sir. This was a transcript of a mobile phone conversation intercepted last night. I’ve just received it and thought it was worth bringing straight over.” Dudley-Jones held out a single sheet of paper to Crane.
“Right, Lance Corporal. You know the drill.” Crane handed Dudley-Jones his empty coffee mug as he moved around and sat at the nearest desk.
INTELLIGENCE REPORT
DATE: 7.08.2012
TIME: 23.30 hours
PREPARED BY: Sgt P Smith
CIRCULATION: Aldershot Intelligence Operative
Below is a transcript of a mobile telephone conversation recorded at 23:00 hours on the 6th August 2012.
PERSON 1: How is our friend?
PERSON 2: Fully recovered now, thank you.
PERSON 1: Good. I was getting concerned as I hadn’t heard from you. When will he be able to leave?
PERSON 2: Tomorrow night.
PERSON 1: Excellent, I’m sure it will mean a great deal to him. Thank you for your efforts.
PERSON 2: It has been an honour, sir.
The connection was then broken. The call lasted less than 60 seconds and originated from a mobile phone in Helmand Province, Afghanistan. The receiving mobile phone was in the Aldershot/Farnborough area. At this stage no information is available on either mobile phone number, with regards to the registered user or network provider, although enquiries are ongoing.
The report did make interesting reading, Dudley-Jones wasn’t wrong there. Crane passed it to Billy, who after scanning through it passed it to Kim. Dudley-Jones returned with the coffee and was immediately quizzed by Crane.
“Right, Lance Corporal, take me through this.”
“Yes, sir. Well the first thing to note is that the phone call and conversation was between the same two parties as the one a couple of weeks ago. Our voice analysts have confirmed that they are identical. In fact, some of the actual words are identical, but I’ll get to that in a minute.”
Dudley-Jones retrieved the report from Kim and put it side by side with the previous one, with the air of someone about to perform a magic trick. Trying hard to keep his face straight, Crane waited while Dudley-Jones paused theatrically.
“The second thing to note, sir, is that the first question was the same – ‘how is our friend?’ That’s how we realised the two conversations were related. The answer – ‘fully recovered now’, makes us think they mean everything is ready. The phrase – ‘when will he be able to leave’ we believe is code for the question, when will the incident occur. But the reply is the worrying thing, sir, - ‘tomorrow night’.”
Growing impatient after yet another dramatic pause by the young Intelligence Operative, Crane said, “Anything else?”
“Yes, sir, the penultimate line – ‘I’m sure it will mean a great deal to him’, is again a verbatim quote from the first conversation and signifies that the organisers are very pleased. The final line – ‘it is an honour’ we believe has religious connotations, as though the person talking seems to realise they couldn’t openly use religious rhetoric.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes, sir. If there are any further conversations, I’ve arranged to be notified immediately.”
“Well, I doubt there’ll be any others, at least not until this is over. I think we’re all agreed on what we’re dealing with aren’t we? A bomb, more than likely under the swimming pool.”
Crane’s gaze swept along his team. Kim looked as calm as ever, but her knuckles were white where she was still clenching the white board pen she’d been writing with. Billy had gone pale under his freckles and picked up his cold drink to take a large gulp. Dudley-Jones was swaying on his feet and his hand groped blindly for a chair as he sat down.
“Right, it’s now 18:00 hours, this is what we’ll do. Kim, find out what’s happening at the swimming pool this evening, phone it through to me and also alert the Adjutant, DI Anderson and Bomb Disposal. Billy alert Staff Sergeant Jones, arrange for the RMP to lock down the garrison and then meet us at the swimming pool. Dudley-Jones, you’re with me, we’re off to see Captain Edwards.”
***
Edwards was just leaving for the Officers’ Mess and seemed none too pleased by the disruption to his plans.
“This better be good, Crane,” he grumbled as he waved them into his office.
“Well, that depends on your point of view, sir.”
“What does?”
“Well, sir, I had a very good rea
son for interrupting you, but I’m afraid you’re not going to like it.”
And Edwards didn’t.
“Let me get this right, Sergeant Major. You believe there is a fertilizer bomb located in the area beneath the swimming pool.”
“Yes, sir. Made from the stolen fertilizer and ammunition from Corporal McInnes’ weapon.”
“Which is going to be detonated tonight?”
“Yes, sir. According to the intelligence report.”
“So what’s the smell of paint all about?” Edwards rose to pace the small space behind his desk.
“Well, sir, as we’ve never found the bomb, it must be disguised somehow. Placed there and then somehow painted over. I can’t dismiss the fact that Billy smelled both paint and fertilizer.”
“And what have you done so far?”
Crane explained his earlier instructions to Kim and Billy.
“Very well, Crane, get over there and sort it out. Try and find this bloody bomb. Dismissed.”
Crane and Dudley-Jones rose to leave. They were nearly out of the door when Edwards called, “Oh and, Crane?”
“Sir?”
“You’d better go via the armoury.”
Night 38
The temperature under the swimming pool was decidedly chilly, but Crane felt cold sweat sticking his shirt to his back. The large grey space echoed with noises. Water grumbled along pipes as pumps churned it round and round, trapping it in an everlasting cycle; sucked from the pool, along a pipe, through a filter, heated and then back into the swimming pool. The voices of the disabled athletes upstairs in the pool, who were being evacuated, echoed strangely. Warped and distorted, fading in and out, with the occasional scream piercing through the melee. Footsteps scraped and scuffled, as though a swarm of rats were down there with him, all wearing hobnailed boots.
Crane’s hands were sore; his fingertips close to bleeding from countless passes over the gritty concrete walls of the massive structure. A fingertip search was necessary. They couldn’t risk poking the walls, resulting in an unplanned explosion.
Crane was convinced the bomb was in here somewhere. Hidden. Possibly painted over. He wondered if the rest of the team thought him mad - as Captain Edwards had done on many occasions. But still, here they all were, carrying out his instructions, the brave lads from Bomb Disposal and the Royal Military Police. He daren’t think that the bomb might explode before they found it. That thought was pushed far back in his mind. Along with his guilty pin and worries about Tina. Will she have the baby while he’s entombed down here? Will he make it out alive to see her and his son? Please God let that be the case he silently pleaded. Crane could only hope that the evacuation of the Paralympians was going well and that everyone would get out before the bomb exploded. He was stunned when Kim told him there was a full scale night practice in the swimming pool. In preparation for the real event. So not only were all the swimmers there, but all the other disabled athletes as well, making up the audience.
“Fuck!” Billy’s shout could be heard over the clatter of his torch as it hit the floor.
“Billy!” Crane called, “Are you alright?”
“Yes, sir. Over here, sir.”
Following the direction of the voice, Crane arrived at Billy’s side to find him cradling his right hand, which was bleeding profusely.
“Caught my hand on a nail or something, sir.”
“Where?”
“Just here on the palm.”
“For God’s sake, Billy, I meant where on the wall?”
“Oh sorry, sir. Quite high up, about here I think.”
Billy passed his torch beam over the offending piece of wall. That no longer seemed to look like a wall, as it was sagging and bagging and threatening to fall down. An undulating grey landscape.
“Well done, Billy, I think you’ve found it.” Crane reached for the wall at the point where Billy cut his hand, his fingertips scrabbling against the wall, finally curling around paper. Taking a deep breath, he pulled. The paper came away easily, ripping through, as though he was pulling away old wallpaper. The tear revealed the top of a sack, with wire visible from a small opening in it. The wire then disappeared back underneath the rest of the paper wall.
“That’ll do for now, Billy. Round up the others and get Bomb Disposal. Give them directions to the bomb. Then go outside. I’ll wait here for them. Oh, and get that hand seen to.”
The speed at which Billy retreated showed how frightened he must have been. Crane took several deep breaths, wiping his sore hands along his trousers, trying to dislodge some of the grit embedded in them. He played his torch beam over the paper wall. No wonder they hadn’t seen it. Someone had done a good job of hiding the bomb in plain sight. Right under their noses. Probably stacking the sacks flat against the wall all connected together to whatever trigger they were using. Finally, covering it all in grey painted paper. All the equipment the terrorists needed stolen from the stores on the garrison.
The clatter behind him heralded the arrival of Bomb Disposal and Crane dutifully followed their shouted order, to get the hell out of there.
***
As he emerged from the underground hell hole, Crane squinted as the bright lights hurt his eyes. He was in the main foyer of the sports centre, now crammed with athletes, helpers, wheelchairs, frames and walking sticks. RMP lads were gently urging everyone forwards through the wide glass doors that were fully open. All the flood lights had been turned on outside and vehicles were circling the car park, stopping in front of the steps to load passengers, before gliding forwards towards the safety of the wider garrison. As one vehicle slid away, it was immediately replaced by another. And so the evacuation continued. Those who could walk were being shepherded away in a different direction, to keep the narrow access roadway clear for vehicles. A fleet of ambulances waited at a safe distance, to help with any casualties. Alongside them were several fire tenders. Despite his worry, Crane couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride at the well-organised military operation.
Looking across the car park from his position on the steps, he saw Derek Anderson having a conversation with Billy. After making a quick call on his mobile, Crane hurried over to them.
“Glad you could make it, Derek,” Crane said as he stopped in front of Anderson.
“Never one to miss a good party,” grinned Anderson. “Billy here tells me you found the bomb.”
“Not me, Derek, it was Billy catching his hand on the wall that nailed it.”
“Very funny, sir,” smiled Billy ruefully, cradling his bad hand as if to protect it.
“Is your hand sorted?”
“Yes, sir, I’ve had it cleaned and bandaged. They want me to go to hospital for stitches and a tetanus jab, but I said I’d go later. When it’s all over.”
“Fair play, Billy. So, Derek, everything organised from your end.”
“Of course, Crane. The local police are with your RMP on the barriers explaining about the lock down, keeping everyone out and of course, keeping the press at bay. The fire brigade are here and the ambulances. We’re all getting rather good at this aren’t we? What’s this, the second time in two weeks?”
Crane nodded in agreement and took his cigarettes out of his pocket. But his hands shook as he tried to light one, so Anderson gently took the lighter from him and held out the flame with a steady hand. Billy suddenly found the ground behind him very interesting. After taking a few deep drags and calming himself Crane asked, “Billy, have you spoken to Kim?”
“Yes, sir, she’s fine. Liaising with the BOA, the Commanding Officer and fielding press calls. Oh and by the way Bomb Disposal reported in. The trigger for the bomb is a mobile phone. They think they can defuse it, but it may take some time.”
“Right, it looks like everything’s under control, so I’m off.”
“Off?” Anderson had spoken, but both men looked equally astounded.
“Yes, I think I know how the bomber gained access underneath the pool, so I’m going to check it out.” Crane
ground out his cigarette and walked off. He tried to march, but it came out more as a stumble, so he slowed down, trying to settle his ragged breathing, the regular pacing helping to calm him.
Arriving at the side door that served as a maintenance access, Crane tried it and found it unlocked. Again. Guessing that the bomber wouldn’t be in the building anymore, but probably used the side door to gain access earlier when he armed the bomb, Crane placed his back against it, looking outwards across the wide swathe of grass. He caught sight of a small thicket, from which a weak light briefly glowed and then dissolved. Wanting another cigarette, but not daring to give away his position, Crane pushed the nicotine craving away and struck out for the thicket.
Day 39
“Good morning, Sergeant Major.” The man who owned the voice stepped out of the thicket.
“Is it?” Crane replied. The identity of the man no surprise to Crane, who hadn’t been able to get those trigger phrases out of his head, ‘keep your eye on the bigger picture, remember the higher goals’; ever since the fake suicide bomb.
“What?”
“Is it good or is it morning, or both, Captain?”
“Very droll, Crane.” Captain Popal pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and started to turn it over in his hand. In his other hand, he held a gun. Aimed at Crane. “Both, actually. Things are going very well at the moment although somewhat delayed because of your frustrating lock down. But no matter, I managed to get out of New Mons Barracks in the end. Also according to my watch, it’s just after midnight, so it must be morning.”
“So, what exactly is going well at the moment, sir?” Crane tried not to stumble over the word ‘sir’. Not wanting to use the address, but needing to show the Afghan respect. Also, not mentioning the fact that Crane himself engineered the opportunity for Captain Popal to leave New Mons Barracks, despite the lock down. A quick call made to Staff Sergeant Jones after Crane found the bomb and stumbled into the foyer, had set it up. A fake message to the Afghan officers, giving them permission to leave the barracks.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 41
