'I'll do what I can, Andrea,' said Denham. 'But the best chance we've got of finding her is if you can persuade them to let you speak to her. Do you think you can do that?'
Andy walked over to the television. The remote control for the video recorder was on top of the TV set, and she picked it up with her free hand. She stroked it against her cheek, a faraway look in her eyes. 'I think so,' she said.
'Good girl,' said Denham. 'Now, who else is there, Andrea? How many of them are there?'
'Three. Two men, one woman. They keep their faces covered all the time they're around me. One of them's called Don. He's got a tattoo on his left forearm. A cross of St George. And I think the woman's name started with "McC". Or "'McK".'
'Irish?'
'God, Liam, I don't know. Her brother was killed by the SAS, so she's got Irish family, I'm sure, but the more I hear her speak, the more I think she's Scottish.' She tucked the video remote control into the back pocket of her jeans.
'Have they said why they're doing it?'
'No.'
'Do you get the feeling it's political?'
Before Andy could answer, she heard a noise behind her. Two figures wearing ski masks were standing at the open door. One was Green-eyes. The other man was a newcomer, short and stocky, wearing a black leather jacket and black jeans. Andy took a step back, her mouth working soundlessly. The man walked quickly towards her. His hand went inside his jacket and pulled out a gun.
Andy took another step back. She held the cellular phone in front of her in a futile attempt to keep him away, but he swept her arm away with his left hand and brought the gun crashing down against her temple. She barely felt any pain. Her vision blurred and then everything went black.
– «»-«»-«»Liam Denham frowned as he looked at the phone. 'What's wrong?' asked Martin. 'Let me speak to her.'
Denham replaced the receiver. 'She's gone.'
'Gone? Just like that? Didn't she ask to speak to me?'
Denham continued to stare at the phone, a look of concern on his face. 'Maybe she was interrupted. I don't know.'
'Did you hear anything?'
Denham shrugged. 'It just went dead.' He lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply.
'Now what's going to happen?' asked Martin.
Carter took off her headset and put it down next to the tape recorder. Fanning popped the cassette out of the recorder and slotted in a fresh one.
'We'll put the building under surveillance, I suppose,' said Denham. 'It's out of my hands, though, Martin. It's Patsy's game from here on in. Patsy and the SAS.'
'The SAS?'
'They'll have to go in. There's a time element, Martin. We can't allow the bomb to go off.'
'But Katie…'
'Katie's one little girl. We're going to do what we can, but a four-thousand-pound bomb could destroy the centre of the city. Hundreds could die. Thousands.'
Martin's lip curled back in a snarl and he pointed an accusing finger at Denham. 'If anything happens to Katie, I'm going to hold you responsible.'
Denham looked pained. 'Martin, this is nothing to do with me. I'm retired. I'm…'
'You're the one who got her into this. If it wasn't for you using her as an informer, none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have built bombs for the IRA, the kids wouldn't have died, and Katie wouldn't have been kidnapped and had a fucking gun pointed at her head.'
Denham looked away, embarrassed by Martin's outburst. Embarrassed and guilty, because deep down he knew that the man was right.
The office door opened. It was Patsy Ellis. She sensed the tension immediately and motioned with her head for Carter and Fanning to leave. On the way out, Fanning handed the cassette tape to her.
'What's going on?' She asked Denham. He nodded at Martin but said nothing. Patsy turned to face Martin. 'Well?'
'He said you're going to send in the SAS,' said Martin.
'That's a possibility, Martin. I'm not going to stand here and lie to you.'
'But we don't know where Katie is. If the SAS go in, we might never find her.'
'Martin, our best hope is for the SAS to get in there and secure the building so that the explosive officers can disable the bomb. Then we can get them to tell us where they're holding Katie.'
'And what if all the kidnappers are killed? What then?'
'That won't happen. The SAS are experts at this sort of thing.'
'The SAS will do what they have to do to neutralise the threat. If the people with Andy are armed, they'll be shot. I know what the SAS have done in Ireland. They kill people. They don't shoot guns out of people's hands, they shoot to kill. Look what they did in Gibraltar. Remember that?'
Patsy nodded. 'I remember.' An SAS team had shot and killed an IRA active service unit in Gibraltar. The terrorists were planning to explode a car bomb but they were some distance from it and unarmed when the SAS moved in. They were all shot dead. She put up a hand, trying to calm Martin, but he brushed her away. 'This is a different situation, Martin,' she said.
'No it's not!' Martin shouted. 'It's the same. It's exactly the same, only this time the bomb's ten times the size so they've even more of an incentive to shoot to kill.'
Denham walked away and stood by the window with his back to the two of them. He blew a plume of smoke through tight lips.
'No one's going to shoot to kill,' said Patsy. 'We're going to monitor the situation, see what they're doing, see exactly where they are.'
'Then they'll go in?'
'Maybe. Maybe not. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. It could be that they'll simply set the bomb and leave, in which case we could move in without a shot being fired.'
Martin put both his hands up to his face and rubbed the palms into his eyes. He sat down at the table and sighed mournfully.
Patsy put a hand on his shoulder. 'We're going to do everything we can to get your daughter back, Martin.'
'I should never have called you. I should just have let Andy do what they wanted.'
'And then what?'
Martin looked up. 'What do you mean?'
'Do you think they'd just let her walk away afterwards? You seriously believe they'd let her go?'
'That was the deal.'
Patsy looked at him with barely concealed contempt. 'You don't make deals with terrorists, Martin.'
Denham snorted softly behind her, but Patsy ignored him.
'They'll get her to do what they want, then when she's no more use to them
'You don't know that.'
'I know how terrorists operate.' She looked at her Cartier wristwatch. 'Anyway, we're wasting time arguing about this. We have to go.'
'Go where?'
'We're setting up an observation base close to the target building.' She turned to Denham. 'Liam, you'd better come with us.'
Martin stood up. 'I'm coming too.'
Patsy shook her head firmly. 'No. You'd be in the way. You'll have to stay here. I'll have Tim Fanning stay with you.'
'I don't need a fucking baby-sitter, and I'm not staying here. If you're going to send in the SAS, I want to be there when you do it.'
'Absolutely not,' said Patsy. 'Liam, let's go.'
She made to walk by Martin, but he grabbed her by the upper arm, his fingers digging into the flesh. 'I have the right to be there,' he hissed. 'It's my wife's life on the line here. My wife and my daughter.'
'You're hurting me, Mr Hayes.'
Martin let go of her. 'I'm sorry,' he said.
Patsy rubbed her arm as she looked regretfully at Martin. 'It's okay. I do understand how you feel, honestly I do.'
'Then let me come with you. I won't get in the way, I just want to be there.' He gestured around the office. 'I can't sit here, not knowing what's going on.'
Denham walked over to join them. He stubbed out his cigarette in a crystal ashtray on the table that was already overflowing with butts. 'I'll stick with him, Patsy,' he said. 'And we might need an insight into the way she thinks, the way she'll react. It's been ten years
since I worked with her. Martin here could be a help to us.'
Patsy looked at the two men, then nodded curtly. Denham and Martin followed her out of the office. Martin patted Denham on the back, unable to find the words to thank him.
They walked quickly along the corridor and down two flights of stairs to the gymnasium. It was a long room with high ceilings and views of the river along one side. Treadmills, stairmasters and exercise machines had been moved to the side to give the SAS troopers space to spread out their gear. There were fifteen of them, all dressed in bomber jackets of various colours, jeans and training shoes. Several of the men had opened long, thin metal cases, revealing rifles with telescopic sights attached.
Captain Payne was bent over a map with two of his men. He looked up as Patsy came over with Denham and Martin close behind. Patsy introduced Denham and Martin and they both shook hands with the SAS captain. Payne tapped the map. 'Cathay Tower,' he said.
'That's right,' said Patsy. 'Ninth floor.'
'Evacuation?'
'I don't see we have the time,' said Patsy.
'We're going to need the tenth floor. Minimum.'
Patsy nodded. 'I'll send my people in to clear the offices on the tenth. Will your men be going in?'
Payne shook his head. 'The troop at Regent's Park is already on its way. I'm to liaise with you and we'll use my men for surveillance and long-range sniping.'
Jonathan Clare walked across the gym towards them. Patsy turned her head and he gave her a thumbs-up. 'We have an observation point,' he said. 'Solicitor's office. Hetherington knows him, apparently. The office is being cleared now. Hetherington's gone straight over there.'
More agents were filing into the gym, forming a group in front of a wall lined with climbing bars. 'Is it okay if I address your men along with my people?' Patsy asked the SAS officer, not wanting to cut across his line of command.
'Go ahead,' he said with a grin.
Patsy strode into the middle of the gym. The forty or so people gathered there fell silent.
'Okay, we're going to have to move quickly, so this is the one and only group briefing we're going to have. From here on we're going to be thinking on our feet, so the one thing we all have to keep at the forefront of our minds is that we're dealing with a four-thousand-pound fertiliser bomb. Bigger than any bomb ever used by the IRA in Britain. Bigger than any non-commercial bomb used by any terrorist group anywhere in the world. Captain Payne and I will be based in an office overlooking the tower. Jonathan has the address and numbers. We'll have radios, but no one uses a radio in the vicinity of the building.'
She looked over at the SAS captain. 'Captain Payne, that goes for your men, too. Any radio transmission could set off the bomb.'
Payne gave her a curt nod.
David Bingham slipped into the gym, a notepad in his hand
'An SAS troop will be moving into the floor above where the bomb is located. Gordon, your team and Lisa's are to clear that floor. Subtly. It mustn't look like an evacuation. Lifts two-thirds full, a mixed group in each lift. Men and women – chivalry goes out of the window on this. No hanging around outside, but no coaches, either. Everyone out moves well away from the scene. You'll be working with SAS troopers, armed and in plainclothes.' Gordon Harris and Lisa Davies nodded. Patsy looked across at Payne again. 'We can lend your men suits.'
Payne grinned and several of his troopers laughed out loud. 'Think of it as camouflage gear,' he said to them, and they laughed again.
'We'll have snipers covering the area, and we're going to want long-distance surveillance mikes and thermal imaging equipment, with all feeds sent to our surveillance HQ. Jonathan, can you take charge of that? Get as many of our technical people on board as you need. Right, let's get to it.'
Patsy went over to Captain Payne as her agents rushed out of the gymnasium. 'Do you want to come with us, Stuart?'
Payne nodded. 'Do I need a suit?' he asked with a sly grin.
– «»-«»-«»Egan grabbed Andy by the hair and dragged her out of the office and along the corridor. McCracken followed him, holding the cellular phone which Andy had dropped. 'Find out who the fuck she was calling!' Egan shouted. He hauled her into the main office area, where O'Keefe was watching open-mouthed.
McCracken called up last number dialled and peered at it. 'Ireland,' she said. 'Dublin. She was calling her husband.'
Egan pulled Andy to the middle of the office and then let go of her hair. She flopped on to her side, snoring softly as if she were in a deep sleep. Egan drew back his foot and kicked her hard in the stomach. There was no reaction.
'What's happening?' asked O'Keefe.
'The bitch was on the phone,' said Egan. He turned to McCracken. 'Did she call anyone else?'
McCracken checked the mobile and shook her head. 'No. Just her husband.'
'Small mercies,' said Egan. 'What the hell was she doing with a phone anyway?'
'I don't know. It was in the briefcase. Locked.'
'Oh, that's all right, then,' said Egan, his voice loaded with sarcasm. 'I told you to watch her. I told you not to trust her.'
'I wasn't the only one here,' said McCracken. She flashed O'Keefe an angry look and he turned away, not wanting to be drawn into an argument.
'You were in charge, Lydia.' He knelt down by Andy's side and began slapping her face, trying to bring her round.
– «»-«»-«»David Bingham almost had to jog to keep up with Patsy as she walked through the reception area of Thames House. Directly behind her was the SAS captain and two of his troopers carrying kit-bags, and bringing up the rear were Denham and Martin.
There've only been three that come anywhere close to a four-thousand-pound device,' panted Bingham. 'The Baltic Exchange, Bishopsgate, and Canary Wharf. The Baltic Exchange bomb caused a third of a billion pounds of damage, Bishopsgate half a billion, and Canary Wharf a billion. The Canary Wharf bomb was one thousand pounds. All were detonated outside, so there was shrapnel damage over a wide area. If the bomb is detonated inside a building, it's confined to a smaller area but the damage will be greater. The building could come down. Depending on the direction of the blast, the building could fall vertically, which is what professional demolition firms try to do, or it could topple.'
They walked out of the building. Lined up in front of Thames House were a dozen large saloons, each with a driver. Patsy pointed to a black Rover. 'Liam, you and Martin take this one. Wait for Barbara and Tim – they'll be right down. Barbara knows where we'll be.'
Denham nodded, and he and Martin climbed into the Rover. Patsy, Bingham, the SAS captain and one of the troopers got into another Rover. The second trooper went over to Denham's Rover.
Patsy took the front seat. Bingham sat in the middle of the rear seat between the captain and the trooper and continued his briefing as the car accelerated eastwards, towards the financial district.
'Initial damage will be the blast and ancillary shrapnel created in the explosion. The extent of that is going to depend on what's in the bomb and what's in the office. Wood, metal, glass – it'll all get thrown through the air at hundreds of miles an hour. Every building within half a mile could be affected. Then there's the damage caused by the destruction of the building itself. The people I spoke to said it will probably be damaged beyond repair. The roads around would be wrecked, and we've got the Central Line running underground fairly close. If the Underground is damaged, God alone knows how much it would cost to repair. Then we've got damage to basic services – water and sewage pipes, gas supplies, electricity, telecoms. The cost is incalculable. Billions. Plus the loss of business to the City. If a bomb that size goes off, the City will effectively close down.'
Patsy fingered her crucifix as she stared straight ahead. 'Casualties?' she said.
'The building is twenty-four storeys high. If we estimate a hundred and fifty people working on each floor, that's three and a half thousand or so. And if the building comes down, that's not a survivable scenario. Add to that anyone walking aroun
d the vicinity, anyone standing next to a window within half a mile of the bomb. Commuters on the Underground. Thousands dead. As many again injured.'
He paused for breath. He was sweating profusely, and he loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt.
'Of course, if it goes off at night, there'll be far fewer casualties, but we're still talking about property damage on a scale we haven't seen since the Second World War.'
Patsy twisted around in her seat to look at Bingham. 'As soon as we've arrived, you contact the Met's Explosives Office and liaise with them. We'll need a team of explosives officers ready to go in as soon as the area's secured.'
'Do I tell them why?'
'No. That'll have to be done at a higher level. Just put them on alert and refer any queries to Jason Hetherington's office.'
Patsy turned back and took her mobile phone from her bag. She tapped out Hetherington's number.
– «»-«»-«»Egan stood up and sighed in exasperation. Andy lay unconscious at his feet, breathing heavily. Her blond hair was matted with blood where he'd hit her with his gun.
'Why don't we just shoot her now?' said McCracken. 'The bomb's ready. We could set the timers and she'll go up with it.' She was holding her gun at her side, her finger inside the trigger guard.
Egan nodded at the pistol. 'Be careful with that, Lydia. Let's not be hasty, yeah?' He looked at his watch. Andy had been unconscious for more than fifteen minutes. 'I want to know what she said to her husband. She might have told him to call the cops.'
'All the more reason to kill her now,' said O'Keefe.
Egan studied him with unblinking pale blue eyes. 'Who died and left you in charge, Don?'
O'Keefe stared back at Egan, unfazed. 'Security's been breached. We don't know who she spoke to or what she said. For all we know her husband could be on the phone to the police right now. We have to go.'
Egan shook his head. 'She made one call. To her husband in Dublin. We've still got her daughter – she's not going to endanger the kid.'
'She saw the videos,' said McCracken. 'Maybe she thinks her daughter's dead.'
The Bombmaker Page 31
