‘So what’s the game plan?’ asked Gannon.
‘We’ve got sympathetic Muslims in most of the country’s mosques,’ said Mulhern. ‘We’ll put out feelers. That’s about all we can do. Martin can tell us what GCHQ is doing. I’m sure the National Security Agency has already been on to them.’
A harsh beeping came from the metal case at the side of the sofa. It was Gannon’s satellite phone. He stood up and went to it. As he reached for it, the pager on Mulhern’s belt went off. As Mulhern checked the message, one of the phones on Roberts’s desk rang.
The three men exchanged a worried look. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they were being contacted at the same time. Something had happened. Something big.
Rose sat deep in thought as Sutherland drove the ARV away from the traffic-lights. It was a cold day but the heater was on too high and he could feel sweat running down his back. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and ran his hand over his shaved head.
‘You okay, Sarge?’ asked Sutherland.
‘Huh?’
‘You’re a million miles away. Something wrong?’
Rose forced a smile. ‘Just bored. I hate these days when nothing happens.’
Dave Bamber was sitting in the back by the MP5s. He was a ten-year veteran of SO19, a Welshman with a shock of freckles across his nose and cheeks. ‘I like a quiet day, myself,’ said Bamber.
‘It’s because we haven’t got Jonah on board,’ said Sutherland.
‘Jonah?’
‘Stu Marsden. Every time we have him in the back, shit happens. First day on the job we get the call to Big Ben. Then the shoot-up at the pizza place.’
‘Yeah, bugger about Kev, right?’
‘He’ll be okay,’ said Rose. ‘The other guy let loose with a shotgun first. Kev was lucky he didn’t get a face full of shot.’
‘He and Stu are up for commendations,’ said Sutherland.
Rose stared out of the window, tight-lipped. If only he hadn’t driven down the road at the moment Marsden had been attacked, he would never have told him about the Harlesden job or taken him to see Swift. They’d have recruited someone else and done the second job, Kelly would have flown to Chicago and everything would have been all right. Now it was turning to shit. Unless he did something fast he was going to prison and his daughter would die.
Rose had replayed his conversation with Swift and Marsden over and over in his head as he sat in the front seat of the ARV. He and Swift had confessed to everything – the robbery, disposing of Ormsby’s body, the Dublin drugs deal. They’d told him about their guns. It was open and shut.
‘Commendations don’t mean shit,’ said Bamber.
‘Yeah, that’s what Stu said.’ Sutherland laughed.
Rose and Swift had spent fifteen minutes before their shift working out their options. That they hadn’t already been busted by IIC meant that the powers-that-be were waiting for something. Marsden’s evidence plus the gun would be all that was needed to file charges against them both, so the fact that they hadn’t already been arrested meant that IIC wanted more. Marsden hadn’t been wearing a wire, so maybe that was what they wanted: he would try to get them to confess on tape. Maybe he’d even get them to talk about the next job. If that was so they had a few days’ grace, a few days in which to dig themselves out of the shit they were in. They could get rid of the guns. Rose could dismantle them, screw up the barrels so that they’d get no usable forensics, then throw away the pieces where hopefully they’d never be found. They’d have to make sure they weren’t being followed. It had been a big mistake telling Marsden where Ormsby was buried. The alarm bells should have rung when he’d asked where they’d put the body, but he’d seemed so bloody reasonable. He was a cop, for God’s sake, an undercover cop, and they hadn’t spotted what he was up to. Rose gritted his teeth.
They’d have to dig up the body and move it. Rose wasn’t looking forward to that. He wasn’t looking forward to any of it. The money would have to go, too. There was no way he could pay for Kelly’s operation now, not without showing out. The best he could do was sit on the money until after he’d retired, and by then Kelly would be dead. Rose stamped on the thought. No way was he going to let his daughter die.
He took a deep breath. Sutherland flashed him a sideways look. ‘This vest is killing me today,’ Rose said. ‘Must be putting on weight.’
‘Take the plate out,’ suggested Sutherland.
‘Yeah, maybe,’ said Rose, but he left it where it was.
So, they got rid of the guns, moved the body and took care of the money. What then? They already had cast- iron alibis for the night of the Harlesden robbery. Without a recording of the conversation that had taken place on Swift’s balcony, it would be Marsden’s word against theirs. Two cops against one. They could try to pass it off as a joke, claim they were just pulling the new guy’s leg. That would leave Swift in the clear, but Rose’s situation was more complicated. There had been the drugs deal in Dublin. He’d used his own car to cross the water. And the biggest problem was what had happened on Thursday night: the shoot-out. One man dead and two in hospital. That was the part that made no sense to Rose. If Marsden, or whoever he really was, was an undercover cop, then why had those three guys driven down from Manchester to kill him? And if Marsden’s bosses had heard about the shoot-out, why hadn’t he been pulled out? The big question, the one that Swift and he still had to deal with, was what to do with Stuart Marsden.
Major Gannon strode into the Management Information and Communications Centre. He was carrying his grey metal sat-phone case. Two uniformed officers were behind him and Commander Roberts brought up the rear. ‘Who’s in command here?’ shouted Gannon.
A uniformed inspector in shirtsleeves stood up at a workstation. ‘Who are you?’ asked the inspector.
‘I’m the guy with a direct line to the prime minister, and as of now I’m in charge,’ said Gannon. ‘Major Gannon, SAS. I need you to do exactly as I say over the next few minutes.’ He looked up at a large clock on the wall behind the inspector’s desk. It was four thirty-one.
Commander Roberts flashed his warrant card at the BTP inspector. ‘Roberts, Anti-terrorist Squad,’ he said. ‘Just follow Major Gannon’s instructions.’
Gannon swung his sat phone on to the BTP inspector’s desk and held up his hands. There were some twenty men and women in the control room, all wearing headsets and each facing three flat computer screens. Most were talking into their microphones but all were looking at Gannon.
‘Would you all please stop what you are doing, right now?’ Gannon shouted. ‘No matter who you’re talking to, cut them off.’
Most of the officers did as Gannon said but some continued to talk. Gannon waved at the uniformed officers who had arrived with him. They walked over to those who were talking and unplugged their headsets.
‘As of now we are dealing with a category-one emergency,’ said Gannon. ‘This has priority over everything else until I tell you otherwise. You will not answer the phones, you will not deal with any other enquiries. I can tell you that a man wearing a vest full of high explosive has been found on the pavement in Brixton with a map of the tube, and we believe that King’s Cross station was the intended target.’
The inspector’s jaw dropped. ‘What?’
‘It’s unlikely that King’s Cross would have been the only target, which means we have to assume that there are other person-borne explosive devices heading towards others.’ Gannon smiled grimly. ‘That’s what we call suicide bombers these days – person-borne explosive devices. I want every CCTV camera on the tube system checked now. We are looking for Arabs wearing bulky clothing, or anyone who looks suspicious.’
‘You can’t—’ began the inspector.
Gannon silenced him by pointing a finger at his face. ‘If you say “can’t”, “won’t” or “shouldn’t” to me again, one of the men with me will throw you through that window over there, and I don’t care what floor we’re on. You will listen to me, you will answer my questions and you will carry out my orders, because if you don’t a lot of people will die. Are we clear?’
The blood had drained from the inspector’s face. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good man. I need you to contact the manager of every station on the Underground system and tell them to send their staff to the platforms. If they spot anyone suspicious they are to radio in here and notify you. We will then view the person on your CCTV screens. Got that?’
