Terror Illusion

by James R Conway

Karen had been keeping an eye on the image of Sean’s street all afternoon, but had not seen anything worth noting, certainly not anything worth disturbing Mac or Jonathan from their much needed rest. It was now early evening and she had just put the kettle on to make them cups of tea when she saw Sean walking down the driveway to his car, carrying what looked like a sports bag. He loaded it into the car and walked back into the house. Karen switched the computer over to tracking mode and went down the hall to the bedroom area of the flat, knocking loudly on the doors of Jonathan’s bedroom and Mac’s bedroom before going back to the kitchen counter to keep an eye on the tracking screen and finish making the tea. Mac and Jonathan emerged a few minutes later, still drowsy from their afternoon’s sleep.

  Karen looked at the tracking screen, and saw that Sean’s car was still parked in his driveway. Jonathan and Mac sat at the kitchen counter and sipped their tea.

  “He came out a few minutes ago with a sports bag and put it in the car, but the car hasn’t moved,” said Karen.

  “I think we ought to head off in the general direction of Willesden, so we can follow him when he makes a move,” said Mac.

  “I’ve packed you some sandwiches and a thermos flask of coffee so you could get off right away,” said Karen.

  “Are we expecting another all-nighter?” said Jonathan.

  “I really don’t know what to expect,” said Mac.

  “We will need to refuel the BMW, so perhaps we better get started,” said Jonathan as he picked up the carrier bag in which Karen had packed the refreshments.

  “I’m ready,” said Mac, and he walked over to the lift and pressed the button. “Thanks for all you are doing, Karen. Are you going over to the control centre tonight?”

  “Yes, I’ll be heading out in a few minutes. Roger has been there all day, and he could probably use a break. I’ll call him in a minute and let him know you are back on the road.”

  The lift doors opened, and Mac and Jonathan stepped in.

  “Good luck!” shouted Karen as the doors closed.

  “You know,” said Mac as they settled into the car, “I’m not going to struggle through that central London traffic. Its evening rush hour now. I’m going to head east and go out to the North Circular Road. Then if he gets moving we can quickly get out to the M25.”

  “I’ll rely on your judgment for that,” said Jonathan, who had started the laptop computer again. The tracking software was still showing Sean’s car in his driveway in Willesden.

  Mac drove the car out of the St. Katharines Way complex and he drove east, past the great News International building and paralleling the north bank of the River Thames. He drove on through the old docklands of London, now gentrified with luxury flats or covered with huge office blocks. He stopped to refuel the car in the east London community of Poplar.

  “Has he moved yet?” said Mac, after he had pulled up alongside the petrol pumps.

  “No, still there,” said Jonathan.

  Mac filled up the BMW’s petrol tank and paid at the pump with his debit card. He climbed back into the driver’s seat and drove out of the forecourt and onto the road. A couple of minutes later he turned left and started to head north, away from the river on a dual carriageway.

  “OK, he’s on the move,” said Jonathan.

  “Which way’s he going?”

  “It looks like he’s heading north.”

  “Keep an eye on him.”

  Jonathan kept watch on the white dot that represented Sean’s car.

  “He’s heading out north on the Edgware Road now.”

  Mac accelerated the BMW and in a couple of minutes, they reached the start of the M11, which would carry them out to the M25 London Orbital Road in less than ten minutes.

  “Now he’s turning east on the M25.”

  “Yes,” said Mac, punching the air. “Now we can get him. In a few minutes, we’ll be heading straight at him. Keep an eye on him in case he turns off.”

  Jonathan zoomed out the tracking map until he could see both Sean’s car and the BMW on the same screen, on the right and left edges of the map. Mac steered the car onto the M25 west. Jonathan did a rough estimate of the distance between the cars.

  “You are about forty miles from him at the moment, closing at about two miles per minute.”

  “What I am going to do is pull off at the next exit and stop and watch what he does. There’s any number of places he could turn off. Let’s just keep watching for now.”

  Mac slowed for the exit and pulled off the motorway. He drove a few yards along a country road, then he turned the car in the road to face back towards the motorway.

  Jonathan was concentrating on the white dot as it slowly moved around the north of London in a clockwise direction. Junction after junction, Sean kept going on the M25, getting closer and closer to where Mac and Jonathan were waiting.

  “Are we going to follow him once he passes this exit?”

  “Yes,” said Mac, “keep up your position reports.”

  “He’s about fifteen miles away, still on the M25. Estimate he’ll be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Mac and Jonathan sat in silence in the dark car, illumination coming from the laptop screen. After about ten minutes, Jonathan gave another report.

  “He’s at the last exit before this one, four miles, estimate four minutes.”

  Mac started the car and pulled it up to just near the ramp leading back onto the motorway.

  “Let me know when he crosses this exit,” said Mac, leaving the BMW engine idling.

  After a couple of minutes, Jonathan said, “There he goes!”

  Mac accelerated up the on ramp to the eastbound side of the motorway.

  “What’s his speed?” said Mac.

  “About sixty. He’s about a mile in front of us.”

  Mac dropped his speed back to sixty miles an hour to stay behind Sean’s car. “I think he’s going into Epping Forest to do his bomb making”.

  In the short time that he had been working with Mac, Jonathan had learned that Mac had almost a sixth sense for predicting peoples’ movements. Jonathan did not know this area very well and he had certainly never been to Epping Forest.

  “He’s turned north on the M11,” said Jonathan.

  “If I’m not mistaken, he’ll turn off at the next exit,” said Mac. “I’m going to close up on him a bit because we might have trouble following him when he turns into the forest.” With that, Mac accelerated up to eighty miles an hour.

  Jonathan took the tracking map to maximum zoom, which showed him the tracks in Epping Forest. “He’s leaving the motorway now at junction seven.”

  “I think we might have a problem,” said Mac. “If we follow him too closely into the forest with our headlights on he will know he’s being followed.”

  “Why not wait outside the forest and see where he goes,” said Jonathan, “and then we could go in on side lights.”

  “I’ve got some night vision goggles in that bag back there,” said Mac. “Pull them out, will you?”

  Jonathan reached over to the back seat and rummaged around in Mac’s bag until he found some heavy goggles. He pulled them out of the bag. “You’ve got all the toys, haven’t you Mac?”

  “Toys that I know how to get hold of. I also liberated a few useful items when I left MI5.”

  Jonathan looked down at the tracking screen. “He’s pulled off the road and he’s entering the forest now.”

  Mac turned off the motorway and into the road that ran alongside the north edge of the forest. It was an unlit country road. Thick cloud was obscuring the moon and darkness enveloped them as Mac pulled up at the side of the road and turned off the car’s headlights.

  “OK, navigator. Where’s he going?” said Mac.

  On maximum zoom, Jonathan could see the white dot representing Sean’s car moving slowly along the forest roads and into the heart of the forest. Eventually the white dot stopped.

  “Let’s give him five minutes,” said Mac, “he might just be c
hecking his map.”

  After five long minutes, the dot had not moved. Mac put on his night vision goggles and started the car engine.

  “Here goes,” said Mac. “Give me directions left and right to get me close to where he stopped.”

  “Turn right here.”

  Mac turned right, off the road and onto a dirt road into the forest. He did not need his car lights with his night vision goggles but Jonathan could not see anything through the gloom. He hoped that Mac’s night vision goggles were doing their job.

  “In a hundred yards take the right fork.”

  Mac continued on at walking pace, the dirt road crunching beneath his tyres. As Mac took the right fork, Jonathan said, “In two hundred yards, turn right.” Mac grunted an acknowledgement but his attention was focussed on the road ahead.

  Mac turned right, as instructed, and Jonathan said, “He’s about two hundred yards ahead, off to the left of this track.” Mac crawled forward until Jonathan said, “OK, he’s in the woods about a hundred yards to the left of us.”

  Mac stopped the car and shut off the engine.

  “We’ll have to go on foot from here,” said Mac. “I think we ought to get the car off this track and hide it because he will probably come out this way when he leaves.”

  Mac pulled the car forward a few feet then reversed off the road and he stopped the car behind some bushes. He pulled off his night vision goggles and put them on the back seat.

  “Are you ready,” said Mac.

  “I’m ready,” said Jonathan.

  They got out of the car, pulled their overcoats off the back seat, and put them on. They walked out of the bushes and across the dirt road and stood facing into the trees on the other side. As their eyes got used to the dark, they saw a gated entrance to what appeared to be a driveway to a house. Sean’s Peugeot was parked outside, facing away from the house and there were lights on in the house.

  Mac signalled Jonathan to stop. As they watched, they saw signs of movement inside the house.

  “My guess is he’s in there assembling his bomb,” whispered Mac.

  “What’s our plan?” whispered Jonathan.

  “We’ll wait for the moment. It’s not likely us two could stop him. I want to keep an eye on him and see what he leads us to.

  “Do you think he’s killed the owners of this place?”

  “I doubt it. Sean is not much into close quarters murder. He’s a bomb man. It’s much more likely he’s been keeping an eye on this place for a few weeks and knew that it would be empty tonight. Sean is meticulous with his research.”

  The few moments that Mac had planned to wait turned into two hours. There was no sign of Sean. After the first twenty minutes, Mac and Jonathan had found a fallen tree on which to sit and watch the house. Now they were both feeling cold and stiff. Jonathan checked his watch. “It’s eleven o’clock. What the hell is he doing in there?”

  “Trying to avoid blowing himself up, probably,” said Mac.

  As Mac spoke, the front door of the house opened, throwing a beam of light into the darkness of the front garden. Sean stepped out carrying a cardboard box, which he placed in his car. He then returned to the house and closed the front door.

  Mac signalled Jonathan to follow him and they moved closer in, using the cover of the forest to make sure they couldn’t be seen from the house or the driveway. Sean came out of the house again, this time empty handed, and got into his car. He started it up and drove away from the house and down the driveway. He turned left onto the road and disappeared from view. The lights were still on in the house and the front door was still wide open.

  “Let’s go in and see what he’s left behind,” said Mac. “Don’t touch anything – we don’t want to leave any fingerprints.”

  They walked up to the open front door and went inside. To their right was a sitting room with a brick fireplace and a luxurious patterned carpet. Ahead was the kitchen and Mac led the way there. The oven door was open and inside was a package consisting of four cardboard tubes, bound together with tape and on top of the tubes was bound a mobile phone.

  “That’s Sean’s style,” said Mac.

  “I can smell gas!” said Jonathan.

  “Run for it! He’s probably going to blow that thing any moment.”

  They ran out through the front door and were about fifty yards from the house when they were both thrown to the ground by a huge explosion behind them.

  Mac picked himself up after a few moments. He was stunned but otherwise unhurt. Jonathan slowly sat up.

  “Are you OK?” said Mac.

  “ I suppose this is what they mean by a ‘baptism of fire!’”

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  What was left of the cottage was engulfed in flames. There was enough of a clearing around the house that the flames were not reaching the trees.

  “We need to get out of here,” said Mac as he helped Jonathan to his feet. “We need to catch up with Sean and get away from this place before we have to start answering some awkward questions.”

  They both trotted down the driveway across, the road and into the bushes to where the BMW was parked. They quickly pulled off their overcoats and threw them in the back seat and jumped into the front of the car. Mac got the engine started, put on the headlights and drove off the way that they had come.

  As they reached the road at the edge of the forest, Mac stopped the car and said, “All right, which way did he go?”

  “He’s back on the M11, southbound, heading in towards London.”

  “Call Karen and tell her what’s happening. Keep me up to date on Sean’s position.”

  Jonathan called Karen and told her about the explosion.

  “Are you both all right?” said Karen.

  “Yes, we’re fine, shaken but not broken,” said Mac.

  “You boys take care,” said Karen.

  “We will. We’ll call you later,” said Jonathan and he ended the call and turned his attention back to the laptop and the tracking screen. He zoomed out from street level until he could see all of north London on the screen.

  Mac started the car again and turned left. “He’s still on the M11, headed south, inside the M25,” said Jonathan. Mac rounded a curve in the road and his heart missed a beat. There was a police car half blocking the road, its blue lights flashing, almost blinding Mac as he slowed down.

  “Don’t say anything, Jonathan. I’ll do the talking.”

  Mac lowered his window.

  “Good evening, officer.”

  “Good evening sir. May I ask why you are on this road tonight?”

  “We’ve just been called out.”

  “Called out, sir?”

  “Yes, didn’t you hear about the bomb that’s been found at Kings Cross?”

  “No sir, we’re checking cars because there was an explosion in the forest a while back.”

  Mac pulled out his expired MI5 identification card, carefully placed a finger over the date and showed it to the police officer.

  “Very well, sir, I understand. Do you need a police escort, sir?”

  “I don’t think so, officer. We really don’t want to attract too much attention to ourselves.”

  “I completely understand, sir.” The police officer stood to attention and saluted. “Have a good evening sir and good luck.”

  He indicated to another officer who pulled a traffic cone out of the way and Mac waved and drove on.

  “I gotta get me one of those cards,” said Jonathan.

  Mac laughed. “That can probably be arranged. It won’t get you into MI5 headquarters, but it is useful when you’re dealing with a country bobby!”

  “Let’s get back to the business at hand,” said Mac. “Where is he now?”

  Jonathan turned his attention back to the screen. “He is still on the M11, but getting very close to the southern end.”

  Mac steered the BMW onto the M11.

  “So he’s about ten or fifteen minutes ahead of us,” said Mac. “I
would like to close up a bit.”

  “He’s on the North Circular, heading west.”

  The North Circular was the old ring road around north London, before the M25 was built. The old road was mostly dual carriageway but it had traffic lights and roundabouts. With luck, Mac and Jonathan could close the gap between Sean and themselves.

  “I know he’s going for Kings Cross,” said Mac, “but I’m not quite sure about where he’s going to place the bomb. I’m not so familiar with Kings Cross. When I come down to London on the train, I usually come into Euston. He’s going to hit the tunnel just north of the Kings Cross station, isn’t he?”

  “If that tunnel was damaged, it would cause mayhem with the trains on the East Coast Main Line for weeks.”

  “What’s above those tunnels?”

  “Houses and roads, I think.”

  “Where is he now?”

  Jonathan studied the screen. “He’s turning off at Edmonton, now going south towards Tottenham.”

  Mac steered the car through the complex flyover at the southern end of the M11 and turned onto the North Circular Road heading west. It was getting late in the evening and there was fairly light traffic.

  “I know a short cut to Tottenham,” said Mac. We can save some time.” He turned off the North Circular and wound his way through the back streets of Walthamstow until he reached Tottenham.

  “Where is he now, Jonathan?”

  “About a mile ahead of us.”

  “Keep the reports coming,”

  Jonathan zoomed in the map to show the city streets.

  “Still going south, passing Stamford Hill.”

  A couple of minutes later, “Still going south, a mile ahead, passing Stoke Newington.”

  Mac increased his speed slightly and closed the gap a little more. They were now about half a mile behind Sean’s car.

  “He’s turning off!” said Jonathan, and he increased the zoom level. “Now heading west, no, southwest. He’s heading straight for the tunnels, going southwest on Seven Sisters Road, still heading southwest.”

  “Now he’s on Camden Road, still going southwest. Still on Camden Road.”

  “Now turning left on York Way.”

  Less than a minute later, Mac made the same left turn onto York Way, which ran parallel to the tracks into Kings Cross.

  “Keep a close eye on him, Jonathan, let me know as soon as he stops.”

  “Heading south on York Way, now turning right on Goods Way and turning right again into a dead end road. And he stopped.”

  Mac pulled up on Goods Way opposite the road that Sean had entered. It was an unnamed road that ran for about a quarter of a mile beside some industrial and warehouse units. It ended at some derelict land.

  “We are now parked right above the Kings Cross tunnels,” said Jonathan.

  “Let’s get out and walk up a bit closer to see what he’s up to,” said Mac. He grabbed his overcoat and night vision goggles. Jonathan got his overcoat and Mac locked the car.

  They walked a few yards up the road and saw Sean’s Peugeot parked ahead. Mac drew Jonathan into the shadows of an industrial unit. There was a large cylindrical structure on waste land a few yards further up the road, right next to where Sean’s car was.

  “What is that structure?” said Mac.

  “It’s a ventilation shaft from the tunnels, originally built to clear steam and smoke from the steam locomotives, but they left it there to clear diesel fumes.”

  Mac looked out again, up the road. Sean was climbing a set of iron rungs that were attached to the outside of the structure. He was wearing a rucksack on his back. He reached the top, climbed over the rim, and disappeared inside the structure.

  Mac and Jonathan waited in the shadows.

  “Can he get right down to the tracks?” said Mac.

  “I don’t think so,” said Jonathan. “He’ll have to drop the package from the bottom of the ladder inside the ventilation shaft.”

  While they had been talking, Sean had climbed out of the ventilation shaft and returned to his car. They watched as Sean turned his car around in the road and headed back down the road to Goods Way. He turned left and disappeared from sight.

  “We’d better get back to our car and keep an eye on him,” said Mac.

  “I’ll give Karen a call and update her,” said Jonathan as they walked back down the road. He pulled out his mobile phone and called Karen’s number.

  “Hi Karen. Sean has planted his bomb.”

  “Well, I’m tracking him here, and it looks like he’s heading back north.”

  “Mac and I will walk back to the car and see if we can put a plan together. Is Roger around?”

  “He’s just stepped out for a break. I expect he’ll be back within half an hour. Do you want me to try and contact him?”

  “No need, we’ll call you again shortly.”

  Jonathan ended the call.

  “Wouldn’t a simple timer be easier and more reliable than a mobile phone for detonating the bomb?” said Jonathan. “After all, mobile phones can be traced.”

  “No, timers are very outdated with bomb makers these days. They are into mobile phone detonators now. Usually they text a code to the phone on the bomb, and the phone software reads the code. If it’s the right one, the software closes a relay and sets off the detonator which then sets off the bomb. The phone on the bomb is blown to smithereens and the bomber destroys the mobile that he used to set off the bomb. They always use pay-as-you-go phones so it is impossible to trace them.”

  “Surely bomb disposal could just pull the phone off the bomb, or just switch the phone off?”

  “You’d think so, but they sometimes have a booby trap so that if the phone power goes off it will close the relay and detonate the bomb.”

  They reached the car and got in.

  Chapter 31