by Bill Ward
Jenkins and Brian were sat inside the restaurant, several tables away from where Powell had chosen to sit for his second visit of the day. He had decided he would arrive early and choose where they sat. He selected a table for four and told the waitress his friends would be arriving shortly. He occupied a seat facing the entrance, ordered another pint of San Miguel and awaited their arrival.
At five minutes past six Barnes and the American entered the restaurant. Powell caught their attention and they strode to his table. No handshakes were offered as the two men sat down opposite Powell.
A waitress immediately appeared. “Can I get you a drink,” she asked.
“Gin and tonic,” Barnes answered.
“Just fizzy water for me,” Crawford requested.
“Where’s Lara?” Powell asked. His plan was to leave with Lara by the rear exit but that required Lara’s presence in the restaurant.
“Close by,” Crawford answered. “So you’re the man been causing all this trouble?”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble. I just want to take my friend back to Brighton and forget any of this ever happened.”
“I looked you up,” Crawford continued. “Seems you’ve got a habit of poking your nose in where it isn’t wanted. And you’re daughter was much the same.”
Powell gripped tightly to the edge of the table. He was close to pulling the American from his seat and beating him to a pulp.
“Say one more thing about my daughter,” Powell warned. “And you won’t be able to walk out of this restaurant. She was a police officer doing her duty. Doing it better than you two I suspect.”
“Don’t be touchy. We all serve in different ways,” Crawford responded.
The waitress returned with their drinks, which gave Powell a chance to compose himself. He concluded that as the American was doing all the talking, he must be the senior partner in the relationship with Barnes.
“So when do I get to see Lara?” Powell asked, once the waitress had left.
“Shortly,” Crawford responded. “First, I want to make something very clear. If, after tonight, you or the woman do anything to put at risk my work, you will both be removed.”
“I love the way you use euphemisms to describe murder. That is what it would be and in our country it is still illegal, last I checked.”
“War is not illegal if it’s sanctioned by the government,” Barnes spoke for the first time.
“No one has declared war,” Powell replied.
“The terrorists declared war when they hijacked the planes and flew them into the towers,” Crawford said. “They asked for a war and we’re giving it to them.”
“I think you’re missing the point,” Powell said. “Lara was also fighting terrorism and I certainly haven’t done anything to support it, yet you sent men to kill us. I don’t see how that is part of your so called war against terror.”
“Don’t be naïve. Sometimes there’s a bigger picture. In this case a massively bigger one...” Crawford started to explain.
“I don’t give a dam about your bigger picture,” Powell interrupted angrily. “I just want to take Lara home. You go play your games somewhere else.”
Crawford sat back in his chair. “I can see we aren’t going to agree but I think it is safe to let Lara go. I suspect you have feelings for her that go beyond normal friendship. And I’m not surprised, she’s a fine looking woman.”
The waitress appeared again. “Are you ready to order food?” she asked.
“Come back in five minutes,” Crawford replied dismissively.
“Lara is at best a friend,” Powell stated. “And to be honest, it’s a stretch to even call her that. I’d help anyone in her predicament. Unlike you two, I believe in the rule of law.”
“Very noble sentiments,” Crawford said scornfully. “I’ve heard enough sanctimonious twaddle. Go stand outside the restaurant. My men are holding Lara on the other side of the Square. They’ll send her over to you when they see you. Then go get on the next train back to Brighton.”
“Aren’t you coming?” Powell asked.
“We have other things to discuss,” Crawford replied. “So we’ll stay and order some food.”
Powell stood up with a degree of uncertainty. He suspected the moment he left the restaurant, he would become the target for Crawford’s men but he had little choice. He had to check to see if Lara was outside.
“I warn you,” Powell threatened. “If you’re playing games and I’m walking into some sort of trap outside, you better be sure they finish the job because otherwise I’m going to come back in here and kill you both.”
“Don’t be paranoid,” Crawford replied. “She’s out there. Just remember to keep your mouth shut once you return to Brighton. You won’t get a second chance.”
A young couple were just about to leave the restaurant and he sped up so that he followed them through the door. He felt a little guilty he was using them as a human shield. He hoped he had managed to block the view of anyone intending him harm but once out on the pavement, he quickly ducked to the side, crouched low to tie his shoe lace and at the same time tried to spot danger.
There was a white van parked on the south side of the Square with its door open. A couple of men stood in front of the van peering in his direction. Powell finished with his shoe lace and stood back up. He looked straight at the two men and they immediately recognised him and reacted by turning back towards the open van door.
Powell saw the men pull Lara from within the van and hold her under each arm. She looked weak and they seemed to be supporting her body not just keeping her from running away. Powell had realised there was every possibility she had been hurt, possibly seriously, by interrogation. At a distance of fifty metres he thought she looked unsteady on her legs and he could detect bruising on her face.
He started to walk slowly towards Lara and the men hurriedly jumped back inside the van and drove away. Powell was surprised that Lara seemed disorientated and uncertain what to do. She stood on the pavement looking around until she spotted him walking in her direction. There was no sign of a smile or urgency to walk towards him. Powell wondered if she had been given drugs to make her compliant.
CHAPTER FORTY
Lara was in a daze. She realised she was outside for the first time in what seemed a long time but she didn’t understand where she was or why. She didn’t recognise her surroundings but she was happy to see the men who had been holding her prisoner, drive away in the van. She felt unsteady on her feet and hungover but she hadn’t been drinking. She was decidedly disorientated.
She looked to her right and saw a cinema. There was another cinema off to the left across the green. It was the Odeon and seemed vaguely familiar. She felt sure she had been there to watch films. She took a couple of tentative steps forward but she was having to force one foot in front of the other. She felt weighed down and every step was hard work.
Her brain wasn’t functioning properly. Then she remembered the men holding her down and inserting a needle in her arm. The next thing she knew she was being pulled out of the van. She must have been drugged.
She looked ahead and could see someone she recognised. It was Powell walking towards her. She took a couple of steps in his direction but it was ridiculously hard work. Her head was clearing a little but her breathing was laboured.
Suddenly she realised why she was having trouble breathing. There was something tight around her body. She felt like she was wrapped in cling film. She pulled down the zip on the jacket she was wearing. The shock of what she saw made her freeze on the spot. She had no doubt it was a bomb fitted tightly like a vest over her shoulders and around her middle. She shook her head trying to be sure she was awake. Surely she must be dreaming?
She pinched herself on the arm and for the first time knew with absolute certainty she was very much awake and a walking bomb. She was surrounded with people and if the bomb was to detonate there would be massive casualties.
Her first instinct was to tear t
he vest from her body but she suspected if she touched anything it would immediately detonate. She had no expertise in disarming bombs. She needed help urgently.
Powell was coming closer. She needed help but she didn’t want him to get close. She didn’t want anyone to get close. To her left the grass Square had only a few people walking through, rather than the large crowds thronging the pavements. The weather was cool enough to ensure people didn’t stop to sit on the benches.
She instinctively knew what she had to do. She ran through the small metal gate in to the central square, shouting that she had a bomb and holding open her jacket. People were slow to react at first but then noticed the evidence of a bomb around her body and started screaming and running away in all directions.
She was terrified yet calm. Her senses seemed heightened. She felt the cold breath of the wind on her cheek. She heard the screams of the young child being unceremoniously dragged away by its mother above the louder screams of the many adults.
She felt a deep sadness that her life was unfulfilled. She would never experience motherhood and so many other things. How would her father cope with the news? Certainly not well. She looked to the sky and then back to Powell. He was a good man. He was a strong man and she knew he would find those responsible.
Powell didn’t understand why Lara had ignored him and ran on to the grass square. She had definitely recognised him. Then he heard the screams of terror and saw the people running away from Lara.
He started running towards her, not quite understanding what was happening but knowing she needed help. At the gate he was forced to come to a stop by the number of people running through the gate in the opposite direction, all seemingly desperate to get away from Lara.
He looked at Lara and she was nodding her head vigorously from side to side and shouting at him to stay away. She was pointing at her body and he realised at last why everyone was terrified and running away. He could see the suicide vest under her coat.
An instinct made Powell look back towards the restaurant and he saw the American standing at the entrance looking in his direction. He had a phone to his ear and everything became crystal clear.
The entrance to the square was now free. He wanted to go to Lara but realised that would be signing her death warrant. The American was waiting for the moment when they were close together so he could kill them both. He had only to hit the connect button on his phone and the bomb would detonate.
Powell took a few steps backwards and looked again towards the American. He nodded his head, begging him not to go ahead. He looked back at Lara and saw her lie herself down on the ground. She was a brave woman and doing everything possible to minimise casualties. There was chaos but Lara’s running to the centre of the square had undoubtedly saved many lives.
Powell felt helpless. He felt a desperate sadness for Lara’s plight and also a burning anger towards the American. He was still trying to decide what to do when the decision was taken out of his hands. Lara exploded with a deafening noise and he was knocked backwards onto the ground.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Powell awoke to find himself staring at a plain white ceiling. He turned his head slowly to the side and received proof he was in a hospital room as he’d first suspected.
“How are you feeling?” Jenkins asked, sat in a chair at the side of the bed.
“Head hurts like hell.”
“You cracked it on the pavement when you were thrown back by the blast. It was lucky you didn’t get any closer.”
“I can’t believe those bastards just blew her up like that.”
“What happened exactly?”
“They strapped a bomb to her and dumped her on the street. The American wanted her and me to get close and then he was going to detonate the bomb but she ruined his plans. She knew she was a walking bomb so she ran away from everyone and threw herself to the ground.”
“They’re saying she was a suicide bomber.”
“She was a bloody hero… What was the casualty toll?”
“No fatalities,” Jenkins answered. “Some broken bones. A few cuts and bruises.”
“Thank God. That’s thanks to Lara’s quick thinking.”
“What are we going to do about it?” Jenkins asked. “Lara wasn’t my favourite woman but we can’t stand by and let them get away with this.”
“I agree but we need to tread carefully. They were willing to kill an enormous number of people just to get at me and Lara. They will obviously stop at nothing. I don’t want anyone else getting killed because of me.”
“Don’t go blaming yourself for Lara’s death. It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know but if I don’t back off and someone else gets killed, it will be my fault.”
“So who is responsible for Lara’s death?” Jenkins asked.
“Not sure but the Americans are current favourites. The American in the restaurant was definitely in charge. Barnes was just his lapdog. And it was the American who detonated Lara’s bomb.”
“Brian thinks he may know the American. He’s not certain but thinks he may work for the CIA or at least has done in the past. He went back to the office to check.”
“It doesn’t seem possible the CIA could be detonating bombs in central London. It doesn’t make sense… What time is it?”
“Eight thirty.” Jenkins pointed at a clock on the wall.
“So I’ve been out for over two hours.
“They want to keep you in here overnight. They are worried you have a concussion. Obviously don’t know how hard headed you are.”
“I’m not staying here. I’ll discharge myself. I can’t be confined to a bed. I suspect the American isn’t going to give up and just let me live out my days quietly. He has too much to lose and I make an easy target in here. Talking of him, what happened after the bomb went off?”
“In the panic, the American and Barnes simply walked away. We stayed because we were worried about you.”
“Thanks.”
“There must be more at stake than just Lara seeing them break the rules about how a prisoner is interrogated.”
“I agree. It’s almost as if they want to promote terrorism,” Powell suggested. Then he realised the significance of his casual observation. “That must be it. They want to increase the perceived threat from terrorism. If we’re all running scared, we’re more likely to agree to anything the war mongers suggest. It’s a bit like telling everyone Saddam Hussain had weapons of mass destruction. It made the public happy for us to invade Iraq.”
“But I don’t get why they captured Al-Hashimi? If they want acts of terrorism to go ahead then surely they should have left him alone.”
“Perhaps they have their own agenda. They want to control what acts of terrorism occur and where. If they had managed to kill Lara when they first tried, then they would have been able to blow up whatever or whomever they wanted and then blame Al-Hashimi for everything, when they were finished.”
“You do realise what you’re suggesting?” Jenkins queried. “Maybe that bang on your head was harder than we first realised.”
“I know it sounds mad but do you have a better explanation?”
“Not right now. Why are the Americans involved?”
“We’re turning soft as partners. After what happened in Iraq and Afghanistan, the government is running scared of getting too involved in further Middle East operations. Hell, we even have an opposition leader committed to cutting back on defence spending. That can’t be making the Americans happy.”
“If you’re right then we could be talking about very senior people in government being involved,” Jenkins surmised. “I don’t like the odds.”
“All the more reason to get out of this hospital asap,” Powell said, pulling back his bed cover and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He felt a little groggy but it was no worse than a hangover. “Go find a nurse and tell them I’m leaving.”
CHAPTER FORTY TWO
/
Powell had ignored all the
protestations from the doctor. Jenkins stood by smiling at the doctor’s initial refusal to let him leave. He was wasting his breath. When eventually the doctor realised nothing would change Powell’s mind, he had made him sign a form abdicating the hospital of all responsibility.
They were at Victoria station in time to catch the nine thirty two train to Brighton. Powell had some strong pain killers prescribed by the doctor, who had told him under no circumstances to drink or drive while taking the pills. Jenkins didn’t bother reminding Powell of the doctor’s instructions when they arrived at the station and Powell headed straight to buy miniature whiskies and cans of ginger ales.
“Hey, I’m adding a mixer to the whisky,” Powell said, noticing the look on Jenkins face once they were sat on the train.
“And I thought you’d bought the whisky just for me,” Jenkins joked. “But I’d do the same in your place. It’s been that kind of day.”
Powell took a large drink and then took out his phone and called Brian, who immediately revealed he did know the American. His name was Crawford and they had met at some meeting in the distant past about joint cooperation against drug trafficking. That had been in the days when the CIA was more worried about drug cartels than ISIS. Brian had looked Crawford up and he’d been easy to find. He was now a Deputy Director at the CIA.
“Deputy Director! That’s seriously important,” Powell reacted.
“It is,” Brian agreed. “It means we have to tread carefully. He’s a very powerful man.”
“My brain is too fuddled to deal with this right now. Let’s talk in the morning.”
“I’ll see what else I can find out about Crawford,” Brian promised.
“Brian, can you please get me the number for Lara’s father. He deserves to know the truth about his daughter.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If you tell him the truth, you risk putting his life in danger. He’s likely to cause a stink and you don’t get to Crawford’s position without being ruthless. He isn’t the sort of man to let anyone get in the way of his plans.”
