by Bill Ward
And who had telephoned claiming credit for the attack? The news was saying it was ISIS and it could be someone back home taking advantage of the opportunity but normally he would be the one making such a call. It had been his operation and it was highly secret. It wasn’t possible to believe Al-Hashimi could have contacted anyone else in the organisation, if he was on the run. Phoenix’s instinct told him something wasn’t right but equally last night’s attack had been more successful than the London bombing. He would accept the positives and not be too concerned about the truth. Any blow against the enemy was a reason to celebrate.
In any other circumstances, Phoenix would have been proud of what Al-Hashimi had achieved. Phoenix would not let this deter him from his own plan. His attack would still go ahead tomorrow even if it was more risky. Following on so quickly from the London pub bombing, the English would surely soon be crippled with fear.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Barnes met with his CIA co-conspirator in a small café in Queensway, which served in his opinion, the best breakfast in London. It was a little out of the way, which made it perfect for a clandestine meeting. There was no likelihood of bumping into any of their respective colleagues. It was the same café where they had first met and Crawford had sounded Barnes out with his radical and dangerous idea.
Barnes didn’t like Crawford on a personal level, he was too brash and frankly, just too American for Barnes’s taste. He also had learned never to trust anyone in the CIA. They would ruthlessly pursue their own agenda and trample all over anyone, including supposed allies, in order to achieve their goals. However, he couldn’t fault Crawford’s current objectives. They shared the same view about where Britain was headed and what was required to alter course. The only issue for Barnes was whether they could get away with such deception. When Crawford explained there was support for the idea at senior levels in both their governments, the decision to proceed became much easier.
“We’ve had a hiccup,” Crawford admitted. “One of my men was badly injured and Brown was taken prisoner last night.”
“Rather more than a hiccup, more a bloody case of pneumonia,” Barnes replied. “And the woman is still alive. From what you told me, I thought Brown was better than he’s shown.”
“He’s never let me down before and he did a good job at the club last night.”
“That was his work?”
“It certainly was.”
“Well he’s certainly let you down this time and put both our plan and us personally at risk. On the positive side, he’s now in our custody. That damned Powell fellow who captured him, had him picked up by a friend who works for us.”
“Well that’s a stroke of luck. Can you make the problem go away… permanently?” Crawford asked.
“That won’t be easy. They are keeping him somewhere off the grid. The DG knows he can’t trust his own organisation. I might be able to find out where they are keeping him but then it will be up to you to sort out your mess.”
“Okay, I’ll give it some serious thought,” Crawford said. “Fortunately, Brown doesn’t know very much and you guys tend to be too constrained by your rules, to forcefully extract the little he does know. He certainly isn’t going to admit to bombing the gay pub and spend the rest of his life in a British jail.”
“He’s met me and could identify me. I don’t call that not much.”
“You and your team don’t officially exist. If they get close, won’t they be told to stop poking their noses where they don’t belong?”
“They will but it doesn’t mean I like the idea of them trying to find me. Brown needs to be silenced before someone discovers they already have last night’s bomber in custody. If that happens the gloves will be off and he will want to make a deal.”
“I’ll get on the case as soon as I leave here,” Crawford promised.
“And the woman?”
“I’ve replaced Brown with someone who will get the job done today so relax a bit.”
“Please don’t tell me to relax but I am pleased to hear you have already taken steps to put matters right.”
“On another positive note,” Crawford continued. “The recent bombings have put terrorism very much back at the top of the agenda for your government. When the next bomb goes off, I don’t think there will be any further talk about a reduction in your defence spending or any dissenting voices about what should be your number one priority.”
“Yes, I must say the marathon bombing alone has had an excellent impact on the public’s thinking. Last night’s bombing will have everyone running scared. The public don’t want to hear any more talk about cutbacks in defence or scrapping Trident. The PM is even doing better in the polls.”
“I know our government is unofficially very happy with the outcome. They were getting very worried about your increasing lack of willpower to be an equal partner in fighting terrorism. That seems to have all changed over the last few days.”
“Indeed. No one could have foreseen the result of the Labour party election and the public response to his madcap ideas but that juggernaut seems to have come to a sudden halt. In a time of crisis like this, the public aren’t going to vote for someone who says we shouldn’t shoot terrorists on sight.”
“All the public needed was a reminder of how serious the threat is from the likes of ISIS and we plan to give them further reminders.”
“I hope you’re right. The Russians have seized the initiative by bombing ISIS in Syria. It’s madness we can bomb them in Iraq but not Syria, which is their headquarters.”
“By the time we’ve finished, your public will be clamouring for you to attack ISIS on the ground.”
“The majority of people are also demanding stricter controls on our borders. The Prime Minister’s plan to help refugees in the camps but not flood the country with them is definitely looking the right policy. He’s hand has really been strengthened for his negotiations with the EU about border controls. Even the French and Germans are coming around to his way of thinking. All in all it’s looking positive.”
“One more terrorist attack and our job should be done.”
“I don’t want to see too many lives lost,” Barnes stressed.
“Can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.”
“The DG will be asking the Prime Minister to raise the matter of Al-Hashimi with your President. ”
“Relax. There is no record of Al-Hashimi in any of our systems, he simply doesn’t exist. We’ll just say you’ve got your wires crossed.”
“Is he still providing useful information?” Barnes asked.
“Very useful. A long list of contacts for us to pursue. One particularly interesting name keeps cropping up. Someone called Phoenix, who we would very much like to get our hands on.”
“What do you plan to do with him when you’ve finished?”
“He will be disposed of but that’s still some time away.”
“I would feel a lot happier knowing he wasn’t still alive. It’s a risk we don’t need to take. He’s served his purpose.”
“He’s too valuable to dispose of yet. Anyway, we plan on him taking the blame for what we’re about to do so he needs to remain alive until then.”
“That was all well and good before your recent cockups. Having denied his existence we can hardly do a Lazarus with him.”
“Don’t start getting cold feet now,” Crawford warned. “There’s no turning back. I said the man we have in custody can take responsibility. We can give him a new name and back story. It won’t be Al-Hashimi but another Arab with a history of terrorism. Al-Hashimi only exists as a figment of Lara Saliba’s imagination.”
“I just don’t like all the loose ends. The woman and Brown both need silencing as soon as possible.” Barnes found the American very gung-ho in his attitude. He was willing to take far too many risks. When Barnes ran an operation he kept things tight.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Phoenix had spent every waking moment training the other two jihadists.
They were young and lacked experience but their devotion was not in doubt. Phoenix would be proud to die alongside such men. If the cancer was not so far advanced, it would be different. He had spent his life fighting in the name of Allah and soon it would be his time to die. It would be a good death, much better than slowly rotting away as the cancer spread throughout his body. It was fitting that his death would help destroy the cancer that pervaded Western countries.
Phoenix’s accomplices were young and becoming more impatient with the passing of each day. He had seen their kind many times before, eager to secure their place in Heaven through martyrdom. They would deserve their seventy two virgins when they reached Paradise.
Phoenix was no less excited. If their attack was a success, the shock would reverberate around the world. He was confident the young jihadists would not let him down but there was an element of luck involved, he could not control. Their target was due to be in the conference centre for a particular debate this morning but if he awoke feeling ill and didn’t turn up, there was nothing they could do. The attack must go ahead whether he was present or not. There could be no turning back once they entered the centre. The results could still be spectacular even if their number one target escaped.
The young Englishmen had made videos explaining the reasons for their actions and condemning the West in general and Britain in particular, for waging illegal wars. The videos would appear all over the internet within a short time of carrying out their mission. Phoenix had not made a video. The impact of two local Englishmen committing the attack would have far more impact on the British psyche than any video by a known terrorist from the Middle East. Anyway, today was not to be the day he met his maker. When his time came he would be remembered by his actions not by his words in a video.
The young Englishmen were from the north of England and had spent a year in Pakistan training for this moment. They would both be wearing the suicide vests packed full of ball bearings to cause the most damage. Phoenix was travelling with them to ensure everything went smoothly. He was not wearing a vest as he was planning to conduct further attacks over the next month. He wasn’t armed but he had told the Englishmen he could help by creating a diversion if the need arose. In truth, he was there to ensure the Englishmen didn’t lose their nerve and change their minds about going through with the attack.
Phoenix was glad the day had finally arrived. They had all gone to bed excited both by what lay ahead and the news of the pub bombing. It had further stiffened the resolve of the jihadists to complete their mission successfully. They needed to emulate the success of the person responsible for the pub bombing, who they assumed was part of a coordinated campaign of attacks against the English. Phoenix let them believe that was the plan and hid his misgivings.
They were all awake early and said prayers together. Not much was said as the men worked to prepare their vests. The mood was solemn in the house. The robes they wore concealed any signs of the bombs and Phoenix inspected both men to ensure nothing was visible. They would not be comfortable due to the extra weight but to a passerby there was no evidence of their intentions.
At eleven they left the house for the final time and took the tube to Victoria. It was Wednesday morning and a bright, sunny day. A good day to do God’s work. The train was almost empty and the three men were easily able to find seats together at a table. Phoenix made no attempt at conversation during the one hour journey. There was nothing more needed to be said. Each of them knew their roles and Phoenix was confident the men would not falter at the last moment.
The train pulled into Brighton station and they exited through the barriers. Phoenix led the way out of the front of the station and they walked downhill towards the seafront. They passed the clock tower and kept walking, barely bothering to notice their surroundings. All that mattered was their destination. They quickly reached the bottom of the road and turned right by the Odeon cinema. They immediately crossed the road so they were by the seafront.
Phoenix looked out to sea and thought of his homeland. As a small child he enjoyed visits to the sea. He was a good swimmer but those days were long gone. At least he had been lucky enough to live a full life. Too many of his country’s children were now dead. Soon he would join them in Heaven.
They stood like tourists, taking in the view of the pier and the beach. As they walked slowly along the front they all caught their first glimpse of the Brighton Centre on the other side of the road. It was time for Phoenix to say goodbye.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Afina and Mara had breakfast at Costa’s in the Churchill shopping centre. Afterwards, they were planning to go shopping and then in the afternoon maybe see a film.
“Are you sure you don’t mind not working today?” Afina asked.
“I’ve been working hard lately so I deserve some time off. Anyway, the daytime isn’t often very busy. My customers are a bit like vampires. They only come out at night.”
“What time do you want to go back to work tonight?”
“When we have finished having fun.”
“That will be very late then.” If their previous nights out together was anything to go by, the evening would almost certainly end in the early hours of the next morning, having drunk a combination of too many cocktails, wine and shots.
“I’m not really bothered about working tonight. I had an overnight last night.”
“How was it?”
“He wouldn’t let me sleep,” Mara smiled. “Not that I am complaining, he paid me eight hundred pounds and it was fun.”
“Eight hundred pounds! He must be rich?”
“He has a company that designs web sites. He’s become quite a regular.”
“I used to have to fuck more than twenty men to make that type of money.”
“I’m sure he’d like a threesum if you’re interested,” Mara teased.
“Very funny,” Afina answered.
As manager of Powell’s bar, Afina had to work hard for a whole week to earn eight hundred pounds and then, unlike Mara, she would have to pay taxes. She was a little jealous of Mara’s income but she would never go back to selling her body.
“You need some excitement,” Mara said. “Your life is too boring. Have you fucked that nice waiter yet?”
“I don’t like Neill that much,” Afina stressed. Mara had tried to persuade her last time they met that she should have pity on him as he so obviously fancied her. “Anyway, I actually have plenty of excitement in my life at the moment. That is why I am with you today.”
“What do you mean? What excitement? Have you met someone,” Mara probed.
“Excitement doesn’t have to involve being with a man.”
“Of course not but you will break my heart if you tell me you are in love with some other woman.”
“There is no woman or man in my life. At least not in the way you mean.”
“Good so there is still hope for me then,” Mara teased.
“I am very happy being single.”
“I am also happy and single. When you are single is when you are supposed to have fun.”
“I have fun.”
“Fun includes sex. You still haven’t fucked anyone since you stopped working. When you are old and married you will only have sex with one man. Now is the time to enjoy yourself.”
“Do you want to know about my excitement or not?” Afina asked, becoming slightly exasperated with Mara.
“Okay so what is this new excitement in your life?”.
Afina had always planned to tell Mara about the previous night’s events but just been waiting for the right moment. She took five minutes to explain about Lara coming to the bar and everything leading up to shooting the man in the street.
Mara was visibly shocked. “You should have told me first thing, not let me ramble on speaking rubbish.”
“So now I have told you.”
“I’m so sorry. I have such a big mouth sometimes.”
Afina purposefully said nothing. She just smiled.
“About which bit exactly?”
“Very funny.”
“I think you must agree my night was more exciting than your overnight sex with a punter.”
“You shouldn’t joke about it. You could have been killed.”
“Well I wasn’t.”
“You must come and live with me,” Mara quickly offered. “I have the spare bedroom.”
“I am happy at the bar. And I can’t imagine being in the next bedroom while you are working. I’d never get any sleep.”
“But it is dangerous at the bar. What if the men come back?”
“Powell doesn’t think they will.”
“Powell would want you to stay with me. He wants you to be safe.”
“I will be safe,” Afina replied.
“You mean you want to be wherever he is but in case you haven’t noticed, being near Powell is often dangerous.”
“Perhaps you are right but I feel safe when I am with Powell. He has saved my life on more than one occasion. And it is this Lara woman who has caused the trouble not Powell.”
“And now you have saved his life. You are even.”
“Mara, do you forget, his daughter is dead because of me. We can never be even. Now, enough of this talk. I am supposed to be having fun today.”
Mara smiled. “Sorry, it’s just that I care for you and worry about you. I am going to buy you a present today.”
“You don’t have to. I have my own money.”
“Yes but I want to buy my best friend a present so drink up and let’s go shopping. And afterwards, I think we should do something mad. Let’s go on the pier and sit on that terrible ride, which will scare us to death. At least, it will scare me to death.”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Phoenix watched as the two men crossed the road and walked towards the conference centre. It was a moment he had dreamed about for many years. A long journey was reaching its conclusion. There would be strict security checks but both men had the correct passes. Fortunately, obtaining security clearance had been quite easy, especially as the Labour party was welcoming many new members since the election of their new leader. It would have been impossible for Phoenix to get a pass but for two working class young men, from the north of England, with no criminal history, it was quite easy.
