her.
‘Will somebody please find out if Harveer Malik is still in hospital? If he is then we need to know who is wearing his parka.’ The words had barely left her mouth before she realised that there was only one person who could possibly have stepped in to take Malik’s place. ‘Has anyone managed to get through to Dan Shepherd?’ She was faced with a dozen or so shaking heads. ‘I think we now know why,’ she said.
Shepherd sneaked a look at his watch. They had been in the back of the van for just over half an hour and without windows he had no idea in which direction they were heading. When they first got into the van they had headed south but there had been a number of turns and a roundabout and now with no indication of the speed of the van he couldn’t even calculate how far they were from Stoke Newington, never mind in which direction they were going.
He was sitting on the floor at the rear of the van, facing the double doors. He was about the same height and build as Malik and provided he stayed in that position, with his hood up, the driver and front passenger couldn’t see his face. He’d found a pair of wool gloves in Chaudhry’s flat and he was wearing them to conceal his hands.
Chaudhry kept talking to Harith to keep his attention away from Shepherd, mainly asking questions about what was going to happen. Harith kept telling him to wait, that all would soon be explained.
During a lull in their conversation Afzal looked over his shoulder. ‘Harvey, brother, are you okay? You’re quiet.’
Shepherd grunted and shrugged.
‘He’ll be okay. He’s just got a tummy bug,’ said Chaudhry, leaning forward to get between the driver and Shepherd. ‘So where’s Khalid?’
‘The control room,’ said Afzal.
Harith held up a mobile. ‘He called me on this just half an hour ago,’ he said. ‘This time it’s for real, brothers. This time we change England for ever. From today onwards they will treat us Muslims with the respect that we deserve.’ He looked at his wristwatch. ‘It is time,’ he said.
‘Time?’ repeated Chaudhry.
‘Brothers, it’s time for you to learn what it is that you are to do,’ said Harith. ‘Today will be a glorious day. Today the British government will learn what it means to betray its Muslim population. Today is the day we strike back. Today we teach them to respect us. And to fear us.’ He reached into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘We are going to Westfield shopping mall. There will be more than a dozen brothers there. This is where you need to go.’
He handed the paper to Chaudhry. The sheet was folded in half and Chaudhry opened it, then leaned over and tapped Shepherd’s shoulder with it. Shepherd took it and stared at the hand-drawn map. It was marked ‘First Floor’. There were two crosses by doors that led to a car park.
‘We will drop you at the car park. In the crate next to you are two backpacks. They contain your weapons, ammunition, a chain and a lock. There are also ski masks so that you can cover your face. At exactly six o’clock you are to run the chain through the handles of the doors and use the lock to fasten it.’
Shepherd slowly pulled down the zip of his parka. Underneath he was wearing his leather jacket. The Glock was in his shoulder holster, snug under his left arm.
‘All the doors will be locked and there will be brothers on every level, at every entrance and exit. Then you are to begin shooting. In the backpacks are guns and pre-loaded clips. You are to shoot as many kaffirs as you can, avoiding brothers and sisters wherever possible. Do you understand?’
Chaudhry nodded. So did Shepherd.
‘You will be on the first floor. You are to go straight inside and chain the door shut. And then begin shooting. After ten minutes you are to make you way to Marks amp; Spencer. You can use the internal escalator to reach the ground floor. It has its own exit, separate from the mall. As you move through the store you can drop your weapons and remove your masks and disappear into the crowds. Once outside you can make your way to the tube. There are Oyster cards in the backpacks.’
Chaudhry smiled. ‘It is a good plan, brother.’
‘Are you all right, Harveer?’ asked Harith.
Shepherd waved his gloved hand and grunted.
‘You should look at the map.’
‘I told him not to order the prawn vindaloo,’ said Chaudhry. ‘Never a good idea to go with the prawns. Get a bad one and you’re as sick as a dog.’
‘But you can do this, brother? You’re not going to let us down, are you?’ Shepherd didn’t react. ‘Harvey?’ said Harith.
‘He’ll be fine,’ said Chaudhry.
Harith stared at the hood of the parka. ‘Harveer?’
Shepherd grunted again and waved his hand.
Harith’s eyes narrowed. He reached inside his coat and pulled out a gun.
‘Gun!’ shouted Chaudhry, and he lunged forward, trying to grab it.
Shepherd grabbed for his own Glock as Chaudhry seized Harith’s wrist. Afzal looked over at Harith, his mouth wide open. Harith lashed out with his left hand and smacked Chaudhry across the nose. Blood spurted down Chaudhry’s chin but he refused to let go of Harith’s wrist.
‘What are you doing?’ shouted Afzal. ‘What’s happening?’
Shepherd pulled the Glock from its holster and slipped his finger on to the trigger.
Harith pulled the gun towards himself and screamed at Chaudhry to let go even though they both knew that as soon as Chaudhry released his grip Harith would fire.
Chaudhry managed to get his left hand on the gun and he wrenched it up, but as it jerked it went off and a bullet ripped through the thin sheet-metal roof of the van. The shock made Chaudhry release his grip on the gun and Harith roared and brought the gun down, aiming it at Chaudhry’s face.
Shepherd leaned back and fired two quick shots that both hit Harith in the face. The bullets erupted out of the back of the man’s skull with enough force to smash the windshield. Blood and brain matter splattered across the dashboard.
Chaudhry sat back on his crate, gasping for breath.
Shepherd pointed the gun at Afzal’s head. ‘Pull over,’ he said. ‘Pull over now or I’ll put a bullet in your head. Your choice.’
‘Okay, okay,’ said Afzal, trembling. ‘I’m doing it.’
He indicated to the left, ignored the blare of a horn from behind them and stopped at the kerb. Shepherd handed the Glock to Chaudhry. ‘Keep that pointed at his head. If he moves, shoot him.’
Chaudhry nodded nervously as Shepherd pulled out his mobile phone.
‘What just happened?’ shouted Button, frowning at the LCD screen showing the view from the police helicopter. ‘Why did they stop?’
On screen they saw a motorcycle dispatch rider pass the van and a few seconds later Lesporis twisted round in his seat.
‘The front passenger has been shot. There’s blood all over the windscreen,’ he said.
‘I have an ARV thirty seconds away,’ said Commander Needham.
‘Hold off on that, Commander,’ said Button. Her mobile phone rang and she picked it up. It was Shepherd calling. She took the call and held the phone to her ear. ‘What the hell is going on, Spider?’
‘The target is Westfield shopping mall, the one in Stratford. They’re using guns, not explosives. The attack is due to happen at six p.m. They’ll seal all the exits and start shooting. The plan is for the attackers to escape through the department stores because they have exits leading to the outside.’
‘Give me a minute, Spider.’ Button stood up. ‘I need everybody’s attention, right now.’ She looked over at the clock on the wall. It was twelve minutes to six. ‘We are looking at multiple armed attackers at Westfield shopping mall, Stratford.’ She pointed at Commander Needham. ‘We need all your ARVs there now, and any others you can raise.’ She looked over at Lesporis. ‘Luke, maintain surveillance on the other vans. As soon as you can confirm that they are heading to the mall, we need them intercepted and neutralised.’ Button pointed at Zoe. ‘Get the Met helicopter over the mall, now.’ Zoe nodded and started talking into her headset.
A tall man in a black leather jacket looked over at Button, waiting for instructions. She only knew him as Terry and he was her SAS liaison. The SAS had a team outside the house where Khalid was holed up, ready to move
