‘If that’s true, there’s nothing we can do,’ said Gillard.
‘There is one thing,’ said Kamran. ‘We can give him what he wants.’
WANDSWORTH (3.55 p.m.)
Inspector Edwards wanted a cigarette but even though the shopping centre had been evacuated he figured the NO SMOKING signs still applied. He looked longingly at his cigarettes and lighter, sitting on the counter of the sports shop they had commandeered as a forward base.
‘I know how you feel,’ said Sergeant Clarke, catching his look.
‘I suppose we could pop out for a quick one,’ said Edwards. ‘It’s not as if there’s much happening. Mick and Paul can hold the fort.’ Mick Hecquet and Paul Savage were the other two members of the negotiating team, but they had done nothing except keep watch since they had arrived.
‘Just a quick one, then,’ said Clarke, picking up his pack of Rothmans.
‘Sir, there’s somebody coming out,’ said Hecquet.
The two armed officers had their rifles up at their shoulders.
Edwards and Clarke rushed over to the entrance and peered cautiously out. There was a woman walking purposefully towards them, pushing a double buggy with two toddlers in it. One was munching a slice of pizza.
‘Armed police, hands in the air,’ shouted one of the armed officers.
‘Fuck off, I’m coming through!’ yelled the woman, increasing her pace.
Edwards stepped out of the shop.
‘Stop where you are and raise your hands!’ roared the second armed officer, a woman with short blonde hair. Both officers were dressed in black with Kevlar vests and helmets.
‘What – are you shooting fucking housewives now?’ shouted the woman.
Edwards knew it was standard operating procedure to stop and search everyone leaving a hostage situation, but even a quick glance showed him that the woman wasn’t carrying any explosives. ‘It’s okay, guys, let her through,’ he said.
The two armed officers lowered their weapons.
Edwards ushered the woman into the sports shop. ‘Are you okay?’ he asked her.
‘Of course I’m not fucking okay. I’ve been held hostage by a fucking suicide bomber! Would you be okay?’
‘Why did he let you go?’
‘He didn’t say. He got a phone call and then he said me and the kids could go.’
‘A phone call? On the shop phone?’
The woman shook her head. ‘He had a mobile in his bumbag. That thing around his waist. He answered the call and then he said we could go.’
‘And, just to confirm, how many hostages are still in there?’
‘The poor girl he’s handcuffed to. Another shop assistant. And three customers. He’s keeping them in the changing rooms.’
‘What’s your name, madam?’
‘Stella. Stella Duffy.’
‘What we’re going to do, Stella, is get you to a safe place and have a chat with you about what’s happened.’ He waved over a female officer. ‘Can you take Mrs Duffy out to the Joint Emergency Services Control Centre, please?’
‘Will do, sir.’
‘He says you’re not to talk to him,’ said Mrs Duffy.
‘Who? Sami?’
‘He just said that if you try to talk to him again, everyone will die. He says you’re not to go anywhere near him. He said I was to tell you that and to make sure you understand.’
‘How does he seem?’ asked Sergeant Clarke.
‘What do you mean, how does he seem? He’s threatening to blow himself up, how do you think that seems? He’s a fucking nutter, that’s what he is. Now who do I see about compensation? Criminal Injuries and all that. I need compensating for what me and the little ones have been through.’
‘This lady will deal with all that,’ said Edwards.
The officer took the woman and her children away. ‘What do you think, Chris?’ asked Edwards.
‘It’s not usually how it works, is it? We offer them something and ask for something in return. He sent out the kids for no good reason – he already had the food and the bucket.’ The sergeant grinned. ‘Maybe he just got fed up with her. You saw how mouthy she was.’
‘Or maybe he didn’t want the kids in the firing line. But when we spoke to him, he didn’t seem to care much.’ Edwards took out his mobile. ‘I’ll give GT Ops a call and let them know what’s happening.’
‘And what do we do?’ asked the sergeant.
‘You heard what she said. He doesn’t want to talk so we just wait and see if he changes his mind. At least we got three of the hostages out.’
LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (3.56 p.m.)
Superintendent Kamran’s stomach growled and he realised it had been almost four hours since he had eaten anything. He glanced at Sergeant Lumley, but he was busy on the phone, so he took the lift up to the third floor, visited the toilet then headed to the canteen. As soon as he pushed the door open he saw Captain Murray out on the terrace, smoking. Kamran went to join him.
The terrace ran almost the full length of the building and looked north towards the river. Off to the left was Lambeth Palace, the home of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and beyond it the Houses of Parliament. Directly in front of them was the top of the London Eye. Off to the right was the eighty-seven-storey glass skyscraper known as the Shard. It was one of the best views in London and a prime location for watching the riverside fireworks on New Year’s Eve, as Kamran knew from experience. He had been on duty the two previous years and both times had managed to catch the displays.
‘Not a smoker are you, Mo?’ asked the captain.
‘Gave up years ago,’ said Kamran. ‘You okay?’
‘All good,’ said Murray. ‘Just getting my thoughts together. That basement gets bloody claustrophobic at times.’
‘It’s because it’s underground, no natural light,’ said Kamran.
Murray nodded. ‘Hell of a day.’
‘Yeah, you can say that again.’
‘You’ve never seen suicide bombers up close and personal, have you?’ asked the captain.
‘Thankfully, no,’ said Kamran. ‘You?’
‘Once in Iraq and three times in Afghanistan. They’re difficult to figure out.’ He blew smoke up into the air and the wind whipped it away. ‘It’s like they want to die. No fear at all. Their sole aim is to blow themselves up and take as many people as they can with them.’
‘How did you deal with them?’
‘You kill them. That’s the only way. You can’t talk to them, you can’t reason with them. All you can do is slot them before they blow themselves up.’
‘I think we have a different situation today,’ said Kamran. ‘I don’t think it’s about killing people.’
‘You can’t be sure of that,’ said Murray. He blew more smoke up into the air. ‘My second tour in Afghanistan, there was a young kid who hung around our base. We called him Wrigley because he was always asking for chewing-gum. His dad was a metalworker and he made these pens out of machine-gun casings. Sold them as souvenirs at a dollar apiece. I bought a couple. We let him wander around the base, do odd jobs, practise his English, that sort of thing. Then one day he turned up wearing a different jacket. Bigger than his usual one. He got to within about fifty feet of our main command tent before we realised what he was up to.’ Murray shuddered and his hand shook as he took another pull on his cigarette.
‘A suicide vest?’ said Kamran, quietly.
Murray nodded. ‘The wind lifted the jacket. There were tubes of explosive wrapped around his body, studded with dozens of his father’s pens. My mate Bunny Warren saw it first and shouted a warning. We both fired but I’m not sure who got the killing shot in. Either way we blew his head off and the bomb didn’t detonate. If it had done,’ he shrugged, ‘well, I probably wouldn’t be here telling you the story.’
‘I can’t imagine how horrific that must have been,’ said Kamran.
‘Yeah, it’s certainly up there in my top ten,’ said Murray. ‘The kid was,
what, twelve years old? Not even a teenager. We liked him. And we thought he liked us. But at the end, when he thought he was about to kill us, he was smiling. Can you explain that to me? The little bastard was smiling. And he was still fucking grinning when we blew his head off.’
‘He might have been drugged. Brainwashed, maybe.’
‘Or maybe he hated us so much he was happy to die if it meant we would die too. That’s what we’re up against with these people. They’re not like you or me. It’s a completely different mindset.’
Kamran nodded. ‘I hear what you’re saying, but the men in London, they’re British. They were born here.’
‘It’s not about where they were born. It’s about the mindset. And until you know their frame of mind, you can’t assume anything. It could be they’re getting ready to detonate come what may. And if they do, I don’t see there’s anything we can do to stop them.’
‘So what do you suggest, Captain?’
Murray flicked what was left of his cigarette over the side of the building. ‘Get your retaliation in first, as my old rugby coach used to tell me. Take them out before they get the chance to do it themselves.’
‘Even if it means hostages will die?’
‘Face facts, Mo. They’re probably going to die anyway.’
Murray’s mobile rang and he walked along the terrace as he took the call. Kamran went back into the canteen and paid for a tray of coffees, teas, sandwiches and fruit and took it down in the lift to the basement.
Gillard grinned when he saw Kamran walk into the Gold Command suite. ‘Excellent,’ he said, helping himself to coffee and a cheese sandwich. Kamran put the tray down on his desk.
Thatcher grabbed a cup of camomile tea. ‘You’re a lifesaver,’ he said.
Gillard took his coffee and sandwich over to the doorway of the suite where he looked at the large map of London and the red lights marking the positions of the nine suicide bombers. Kamran helped himself to coffee and an apple and joined him. ‘You know, getting them to the airport might not be a bad idea,’ he said to the chief superintendent.
Gillard wrinkled his nose. ‘We can’t let them on a plane,’ he said.
‘We don’t let them get on a plane. We don’t let them anywhere near a plane. We take them to a hangar where we can isolate them.’
‘How does that help us?’ asked the chief superintendent.
‘Numbers,’ said Kamran. He gestured at the map. ‘Between them they’ve got, what, a hundred hostages? Maybe more. But if we pick them up in a coach, they won’t get all of them on. In fact they’re more likely to go on board with just the ones they’re handcuffed to, right?’
‘That’s an assumption,’ said Gillard. He took a bite of his sandwich.
‘But a realistic one,’ said Kamran. ‘And if there were just nine bombers and nine hostages, well, we’ve improved the situation quite a bit.’
‘What if they insist on taking on all the hostages?’
Kamran shrugged. ‘We use a small coach. Coaches can run from, what, twenty-eight seats up to fifty plus? So we come along with a twenty-eight-seater. Even if they fill the thing, we’ve still vastly reduced the hostage situation.’
‘What about the ISIS prisoners?’ asked Gillard.
‘We’re not going to release the ISIS guys, that’s a given. And as soon as they realise that, it’s all over and everyone dies.’ Kamran took a sip of coffee. ‘This way at least we can save some lives, and make sure if anything happens it happens well away from the TV cameras. We can take them to Biggin Hill and we can make sure the airport is secure. But instead of taking them to a plane, we drive them into a hangar. Then we tell them it’s over.’
‘And if they kill everyone?’
‘They’re going to do that anyway,’ said Kamran. ‘At least this way we limit the number of casualties and the damage.’ He drank some more of his coffee. ‘Remember Operation Kratos?’
‘That was discontinued in 2008,’ said Gillard.
‘The name, maybe. But the tactics still hold good.’
Operation Kratos had been developed soon after the Al-Qaeda suicide attacks on 11 September 2001, when suicide bombers seized commercial jets and killed almost three thousand people by flying them into the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon. For the first time police agencies around the world realised they were vulnerable to suicide attacks and the Metropolitan Police sought advice from the three countries with the most experience of fanatics who were prepared to die for their cause – Israel, Sri Lanka and Russia. They concluded that shooting suicide bombers in the chest was almost certain to detonate the explosives and suicide bombers were likely to blow themselves up when discovered. By 2002 the police had decided that the best way of dealing with them was covertly and that the bombers had to be incapacitated immediately so that they had no opportunity to self-detonate. They released their new operating procedures under the banner Operation Kratos and it quickly became national policy.
‘Any confrontation should be in a secluded location to avoid risk to police officers and members of the public,’ said Gillard, frowning as he tried to remember the official wording.
‘Can’t get much more secluded than an airport hangar,’ said Kamran.
‘What else did Kratos say? Covert police officers should fire on suicide bombers without warning, aiming at the head?’
‘Exactly,’ said Kamran. ‘Multiple shots at the brainstem to minimise the risk of detonation. This would be textbook Kratos, except we’ll be using the SAS. Who, thankfully, are not governed by the Police and Criminal Evidence Act.’ He took another sip of his coffee. ‘And, just as importantly, we deny the terrorists the PR coup of having nine simultaneous bombings in London on TV.’
Gillard knew that Kamran was talking sense. Terrorism in the twenty-first century had become as much about social media and YouTube as it had about the acts themselves. ‘What about the driver? Assuming we do this, who’s going to drive the coach?’
‘I can ask my men for volunteers,’ said Murray.
Kamran looked incredulously at the SAS captain. ‘For a suicide mission?’
‘We’ll see what we can do to protect the cab, and he can bail as soon as the coach is in the hangar.’
‘Do you think Shahid will go for it?’ Gillard asked Kamran.
‘If he thinks he’s won, why not?’ said Kamran. ‘We’ll be telling him that he’s getting what he wants. How can he not take that as a victory?’
Gillard peered at the clock. It wasn’t a decision he could take on his own. It would have to come from the top. Number 10. But they were rapidly running out of time. The phone rang and Lumley answered it, then waved at Kamran. ‘Inspector Edwards for you,’ he said.
Kamran went over to his desk and took the call. ‘Hi, Ross,’ he said.
‘Have you been watching the CCTV footage?’ asked Edwards. ‘From the shop?’
‘Sorry, no, we’ve a lot of feeds coming in just now.’
‘Sami has released a hostage. A woman with a couple of kids.’
‘Did you promise him anything?’
‘He didn’t even talk to us. Still won’t.’
‘Do you have any idea what triggered the release?’
‘None, sir. Since our last conversation, we’ve had zero contact.’
Kamran ended the call and asked Sergeant Lumley to pull up the Wandsworth CCTV. ‘Three hostages have just been released from Wandsworth,’ he called over to Gillard. ‘A woman and her two children.’
Lumley had the CCTV feed up from the store but all they could see was the suicide bomber and the salesgirl he was handcuffed to standing at the edge of the picture. Gillard walked over to stand by Kamran. ‘Why would that have happened, do you think?’
‘It must have been Shahid. I told Edwards to minimise contact.’
‘It’s Shahid moving to maintain control,’ said Thatcher, coming up behind them. ‘He tells his man to release hostages, and you have to acknowledge that he’s in charge. And the fact he did it
before hearing whether or not his demands have been agreed to is significant. It’s an ego thing. And that could be a weakness. I think Shahid has something to prove and he didn’t like it when you took the initiative.’
‘You think we should make contact with the other bombers?’ asked Kamran.
‘I think that might be unproductive,’ said Thatcher. ‘He might see it as a challenge to his authority. The first time it worked and hostages were released. He might not be so accommodating next time.’
‘So that leaves us with Mo’s plan,’ said Gillard. ‘Get the bombers isolated with the minimum number of hostages. Where’s Tony Drury? We need an EOD expert on this.’
‘He’s over at the SCO19 desk,’ said Sergeant Lumley. ‘I’ll get him.’
Gillard turned to Murray. ‘What do you think, Alex? If we can get the go-ahead to isolate them at the airport, could your men handle it? I don’t see it being resolved peacefully so it might be best if your men were there.’
‘To do the dirty work, you mean?’ The SAS captain grimaced and waved an apology. ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. Yes, of course, if this turns into a shoot-out then our guys are better equipped to deal with it. Your armed cops bend over backwards not to fire their weapons whereas we’re trained to keep shooting until the problem is neutralised. There’s another Chinook en route from Hereford as we speak. It could easily be diverted to Biggin Hill.’
‘Do that now so we’re ahead of the game,’ said Gillard. ‘I don’t want to be chasing up resources closer to the deadline. We’ve only got two hours as it is.’
Murray took out his radio and moved to the far end of the suite as Lumley returned with Drury. ‘Tony, we need to pick your brains,’ said the chief superintendent.
Drury leant against a desk and folded his arms. ‘Pick away.’
‘We’re thinking of isolating the bombers on a coach, driving them to Biggin Hill airport and placing them in an isolated building, like a hangar. It’ll minimise the number of hostages and confine any damage. It also means that whatever happens will happen away from the public eye. So my first question would be, what if just one of the bombs detonates. Will they all go off?’
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