The sound of gunfire stopped the armed jihadists in their tracks. They turned, saw the troopers and began firing but their shots went wide. The troopers dropped to lower their profiles and began to return fire. As they did, a hail of bullets ripped into the jihadists from the ridge to the side as the second SAS team opened fire.
Two days’ practice on a firing range counted for nothing against highly trained SAS troopers who between them had more than a hundred years of special-forces experience including firefights in Iraq and Afghanistan. The jihadists were screaming, ‘Allahu Akbar!’ as they fired, as if somehow that would help their aim. It didn’t, and one by one their guns fell silent as the troopers picked them off. It was over in less than thirty seconds.
CHAPTER 53
Harper and Maggie followed McGovan down the platform, arm in arm. They slowed as McGovan got into a carriage midway down the train. ‘What do you think? Sit together or split up?’ asked Maggie.
Harper knew that usually two sets of eyes were better than one and it would have made more sense to follow him separately, but the train was only going to make one stop and that was at London Euston. And a couple travelling together always looked less like a tail. ‘You grab us a seat in the next carriage, I’ll wait until the train pulls out.’
She climbed on while Harper took out a mobile phone. He used a new Sim card to call the third number on the list that Charlotte Button had given him. He quickly brought her up to speed. ‘Can you carry out the contract?’ she asked.
‘I’m about to get on a train. Give me a break.’
‘What about when he gets to London?’
‘I’m working on it. What happened at Menwith Hill?’
‘Let’s just say it was a very satisfactory conclusion.’
‘So we won you some Brownie points at least?’
Button chuckled. ‘It would seem so, yes.’
‘We might be able to add to that,’ he said. He explained about the growing number of jihadists who were gathering at the industrial unit.
‘What do you think’s happening?’
‘I’m not sure. But they have a hell of a lot of explosives there. What happened at Menwith Hill was a diversion, to get attention focused up north. I think that’s why he’s heading south.’
‘Your people are on top of it?’
‘Well, yes. In terms of surveillance. But they’re not armed.’
‘I’ve already explained that I don’t want McGovan arrested. He has to be cancelled.’
‘I hear that. But he’s on a train. Too many witnesses.’
‘Then wait until he’s in London. As soon as he’s cancelled, I’ll send in the cavalry.’
‘You’re playing with fire. So long as you know.’
‘It has to be done this way.’
The train was about to leave. Harper ended the call and climbed aboard, watching through the window to make sure McGovan didn’t jump off at the last second. He didn’t. Harper found Maggie sitting in a window seat and dropped down next to her. ‘All good,’ he said. ‘Hansfree will have someone at Euston so we can relax. Catch some sleep if you want.’ He held up his backpack. ‘I’m going to pop into the bathroom and have a quick shave.’
‘Maybe spray a bit of deodorant around, too.’
‘Bit ripe?’
She grinned. ‘Just a bit. And when you’re done, pop along to the buffet car and get me some breakfast, will you?’
He saluted her. ‘Yes, your ladyship.’
‘Thank you so much,’ she said, closing her eyes and settling back in her seat.
CHAPTER 54
Harper and Maggie took out their earpieces while they were on the train. He used his mobile phone to keep in contact with Hansfree, making regular calls well away from the carriage where McGovan was sitting. An hour before the train was due to get in, one of the jihadists had left the industrial unit in Gravesend in a grey Volvo. Two of Hansfree’s men had followed, one in a car and one on a bike. Fifteen minutes before the train arrived, Hansfree confirmed that the car had gone to Euston station.
When the train arrived, McGovan was one of the first off. Harper and Maggie followed him along the platform and onto the station concourse. Hansfree told them that a watcher called Will would be waiting for them. ‘Black, bald, glasses and wearing a suit,’ was the description he had given, and they spotted him at once, leaning against a shop window and studying a copy of the Evening Standard. Harper and Maggie closed the gap with McGovan in case their quarry headed for the Underground but there was no need to worry because he was walking slowly and looking around. An Asian man in a denim jacket and jeans nodded at him and they embraced. Laughing at nothing, Harper and Maggie walked past the two men, then waited at the exit to see what they would do.
Will had clocked McGovan and was circling, pretending to make a call on his mobile. McGovan and the man headed for another exit and Harper and Maggie followed.
‘Hansfree, Tango One is heading out with an Asian in a blue denim jacket and jeans.’
‘That’s the driver of the grey Volvo,’ said Hansfree. ‘I’ve a bike outside watching it. We’re good to go.’
‘Roger that,’ said Harper. ‘Will, where’s your car?’
‘East exit,’ said Will, in Harper’s ear.
‘Get the car ready. Hansfree, who do you have outside?’
‘His name’s Sammy. On a courier motorbike. He’s good. He’ll go ahead of the Volvo, though I think it’s pretty obvious where they’re headed.’
‘Tell him Tango One is on the move with your man.’
‘I’m on it,’ said Hansfree.
Will led Harper and Maggie outside to his car. They climbed in, Harper in the front passenger seat and Maggie behind him. ‘Sammy has eyeball,’ said Hansfree in Harper’s ear. ‘They’re getting into the car now. It’s a grey Volvo.’
Will started the engine. He had a sat-nav on the dashboard and it booted up within seconds.
‘He’s on the A501, heading east,’ said Hansfree.
‘Probably going back to Gravesend,’ said Will, pulling away from the kerb.
‘Probably, but let’s not go counting chickens,’ said Harper.
CHAPTER 55
McGovan did go straight to the industrial site where Hansfree had a team of five keeping the unit under surveillance and one had a drone in the air. With Hansfree’s motorbike tail keeping ahead of the Volvo, Will was able to stay well back. Having a tail ahead of a target was by far the best way of running surveillance. People rarely concerned themselves with what was happening ahead of them. The biker could keep an eye on the target in his mirrors, and if the target did turn off it wouldn’t take him long to double back and catch up.
Hansfree relayed through the radio that McGovan had arrived at the industrial unit. He was inside with the other seven jihadists plus the one who had driven him from the station. ‘Hansfree, I’d like to have a look at the drone feed,’ said Harper.
Hansfree gave him the location of the watcher who was piloting the drone and Will drove him over. The drone operator was a small man in his sixties, sitting in the front seat of a van with the name of a tropical-fish company on the side. Harper climbed in and sat next to him while Maggie squatted in the back and looked over his shoulder. A laptop open on the dashboard gave them an overhead view of the industrial unit, the two containers and the land around it.
‘What’s been happening?’ asked Harper.
‘Not much,’ said the man. ‘They come, they park, they go inside.’
‘What about the gear in the containers?’
‘They carried most of the stuff inside this morning.’
Harper sat back and spoke to Hansfree on the radio. ‘Do we have registration numbers on the vehicles?’
‘All of them,’ said Hansfree. ‘They were all sold to private buyers within the last two weeks. All taxed and insured and seem legit, but I have my suspicions.’
‘Because?’
‘Because they’re all showing owners in Birmingham with n
ames like Khan and Patel.’
‘Do me a favour and text me each car’s details. Just the registration number, model and colour. Don’t bother about the owners.’
‘Will do,’ said Hansfree.
‘I’ve a question for you,’ Harper said, to the man operating the drone. ‘If we had to, could you follow a car with one of those?’
‘I’d like to say yes but, hand on heart, they’re not fast enough plus you’d be playing catch-up trying to keep it in range. They’re great for static surveillance or getting into difficult-to-reach places, but you need the military stuff to follow a moving vehicle.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ said Harper. He climbed out of the van and called up the next number on Button’s list of throwaway mobiles. ‘Tango One is back in Gravesend,’ he said. ‘He’s got eight jihadists with him and we haven’t managed to identify most of them. He hasn’t met them before, that’s for sure, or we would have seen them.’
‘What’s he up to?’ asked Button.
‘Fucked if I know. They’re all inside. But they’re up to something, obviously. They’re not here for a prayer meeting.’
‘How close are you to cancelling Tango One?’
‘A lot depends on his next move. If they pile into two cars and head out mob-handed, I won’t be able to get near him. But if they move out separately, maybe. The problem is, what do we do then? They’ve got explosives, remember.’
‘You’re thinking suicide bombers?’
‘I don’t know. Like I said, they’re inside. But we’re not that far from central London.’
The man in the van wound down his window and shouted across at Harper, ‘They’re on the move.’
‘I’ll call you back,’ said Harper, and jogged to the van. As he climbed into the passenger seat, his phone beeped to let him know he had received a text message. He looked at the laptop. One of the cars was driving away from the industrial unit. A blue Mondeo. ‘Hansfree, do we have a tail for the vehicle?’ Harper said into his mic.
‘Affirmative,’ said Hansfree.
‘How many on board the Mondeo?’
‘Two,’ said Hansfree.
‘Is it Tango One?’
‘Negative.’
‘Let me know if anyone else moves out. And keep me updated on that vehicle.’
‘I’m on it.’
Harper looked at the drone operator. ‘What did you see?’
‘Two men came out. Asians. They got into the car and left.’
‘Anything unusual? Were they carrying anything?’
The man shook his head. ‘One thing. The passenger was wearing a coat and he wasn’t wearing one before.’
Harper cursed.
‘Is that significant?’ asked the man, frowning.
‘It is when they’ve got all that explosive,’ said Harper. ‘It could be they’ve spent the day building suicide vests and Tango One is now sending them on their way.’
He got out of the van and checked the text Hansfree had sent him before forwarding it to Button’s mobile. He gave her two minutes to review the message, then phoned her. ‘Did you get that?’
‘I got it.’
‘The two that have left are in the blue Mondeo. We have a tail and I can update you with texts. But you need to take care of it. The tail isn’t armed. The passenger is wearing a coat that he wasn’t wearing before so the suicide-bomber option is looking more likely. I think he’s setting them up as suicide-bombers. Menwith Hill was a distraction to get everyone’s attention focused up north. Meanwhile the real attack will be on - London.’
‘But are you sure?’
‘Let’s see what happens next. As things stand there’s a car driving into London with two Asians on board, one wearing a long coat he didn’t have on before. There are eight of them and four vehicles. Do the maths.’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘I’ve got a surveillance guy tailing the Mondeo but you need to get them picked up. Armed cops, SAS, whoever’s available. I’m guessing they won’t be primed but I wouldn’t put money on it. If I were you, I’d get the Mondeo pulled over and you’ll have a better idea of what’s going on. But if it was really up to me I’d just shoot them in the head, to be on the safe side.’
‘And there’s just the one vehicle so far?’
‘Just the blue Mondeo. If that changes, I’ll let you know.’
Button ended the call and Harper went back to the van. He climbed in and stared at the laptop.
‘Anything wrong?’ asked Maggie, from the back of the van.
‘We’ll know in the next few minutes,’ said Harper.
CHAPTER 56
‘Are you okay, brother?’ the driver asked his companion. The driver’s name was Omar but he didn’t know the passenger’s. The first time they had met was when they had arrived at the industrial unit and McGovan had insisted they did not identify themselves. Omar was the driver, and the man in the passenger seat was the shahid. The martyr. Under his coat he wore a canvas vest and in the vest were several pounds of explosives. He sat with his hands in his lap, staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes.
Now he nodded. ‘I’m okay,’ he said.
‘It’s a great thing you are doing,’ said Omar.
‘We are not to talk. We were told not to talk.’
‘I know, brother. But I just wanted you to know. Respect.’
Omar looked at the sat-nav. They were north of the river, between Dagenham and Barking, just over twelve miles from their destination. Downing Street, home of the prime minister. They wouldn’t be able to get close to the man, or to the house: McGovan had made that clear. The road was one of the most secure in the country, as secure as the area around the American Embassy, which would be the second target. The shahid was to get as close to the target as possible. There were always tourists standing at the black steel gates that blocked off the road, along with armed police from the Diplomatic Protection Group. It didn’t matter who died, what mattered was that ISIS was seen to be able to strike at the heart of government.
Omar looked back at the road. He frowned. There was a black SUV ahead, just a few car lengths, that he hadn’t noticed before. He braked, and as he did so he looked in his rear-view mirror. There was a second black SUV behind him.
‘Watch out!’ shouted the shahid.
Omar looked ahead again. The SUV in front was slowing sharply. Omar stamped on the brake and swore.
The shahid wasn’t wearing his seatbelt because he didn’t want any pressure on the vest, and as the car braked he was slammed against the window. He fell back into his seat as the vehicle stopped. ‘What the fuck, man?’ he shouted. He put a hand to his head and felt blood .
Men in black overalls were piling out of the SUV. Men with guns. ‘It’s the fucking cops!’ screamed Omar. His eyes flashed to the rear-view mirror. More armed police. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’
‘What do we do?’ asked the shahid.
The cops were screaming now. ‘Armed police! Raise your hands! Armed police!’
‘I don’t know,’ said Omar.
‘Do I go now? Do I do it now?’
‘ARMED POLICE! PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!’
‘I don’t know,’ said Omar, again.
‘I think I should. If they get closer, they’ll kill us anyway, and if they kill us they win.’
Two armed cops were standing at the front of the car, their carbines at their shoulders. Both were screaming, ‘Put your hands up! Put your fucking hands up now!’
‘I don’t know, brother. I just don’t know.’
The shahid fumbled for the trigger. His fingers caught hold of it and he held it up. ‘Allahu Akbar!’ he shouted.
He looked across at Omar and their eyes met. Omar took the shahid’s left hand and smiled. Together they shouted, ‘Allahu Akbar!’
The shahid closed his eyes and pressed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
‘The switch!’ screamed Omar. ‘The fucking on-off switch!’
The windshiel
d exploded and Omar saw the shahid’s head fold in on itself and blood sprayed across the back seat. Then he felt a punch in the face and everything went black.
CHAPTER 57
‘One of them isn’t Asian,’ said Harper, as he looked at the laptop screen. Two men were walking from the industrial unit towards a white Honda.
The man operating the drone nodded. ‘Yeah, he went in a few hours ago. That’s his car.’
The Asian was wearing a long coat. He got into the front passenger seat while the other man sat behind the steering wheel.
Harper’s phone rang. It was Button. ‘You were right,’ she said. ‘Suicide-bombers. We got them on the A13.’
‘Anyone hurt?’
‘No collateral damage, as they say, just the two in the car. They were shot before they could detonate.’
‘There’s another vehicle leaving now,’ said Harper. ‘The white Honda. You’ve got the details.’
‘I’ll get it targeted. How many left?’
‘There are three cars still parked there. Four jihadists inside, plus McGovan. If they keep operating in pairs, we have two more. But that’s supposition. They could just as easily leave alone.’
‘Call me as and when they leave.’
‘You could take them all out here. There’d be less risk of civilians getting hurt.’
‘Just do as you’re told. It’s going to work out just fine.’ Button ended the call.
The white Honda drove through the gates and headed towards London. ‘Hansfree, make sure you have a tail on the white Honda,’ Harper said into the radio.
Hansfree chuckled. ‘No need to teach this grandmother to suck eggs,’ he said.
CHAPTER 58
McGovan examined the suicide vest and nodded his approval. ‘You’re good to go,’ he said. The vest was a standard design that required next to no skill to assemble. Anyone could do it, even a child, and the design had remained the same since the concept had been developed by the Tamil Tigers in the 1980s. There were four plates of PE-4A plastic explosive sitting in four pockets evenly spaced around the vest, with a detonator in each plate, all wired to the control unit in a pocket at the back of the vest. Two wires ran from the control unit to a metal trigger. An on-off switch on the front of the belt ensured that the vest could not be detonated prematurely.
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