‘Eleven times a year on average. And there’s another hour to go,’ he said, stepping back to look around.
‘You’ve got paint on your jacket,’ she said.
He looked at the front of his jacket to see a large red smudge and realised he had some on his hands too. It was on the parapet.
He leaned over the parapet to see red paint had been coarsely brushed in a circle on the water side of it. Gunnymede assessed the position of the red blotch. ‘It’s directly in line with the bench,’ he said. ‘It’s a marker.’
She leaned over the parapet to look for herself. ‘It’s happening today!’
He scanned the river. There were a handful of boats in transit, none of them big enough to be a threat.
He took a hold of Bethan’s shoulders while looking her square in the eyes. ‘You have to get to Blackfriars station and get them to shut it down! I’ll tell Neve. You have to close the station and get everyone up from the tunnels. Go!’
Bethan hurried to the car.
Gunnymede pulled out his phone and hit a number.
Neve was in Charing Cross Station reading a newspaper when she answered her phone.
‘It’s happening today!’ he shouted. ‘There’s an aiming point on the parapet right in front of the bore hole.’ He went to the parapet to search the near side bank in both directions and saw a jetty a hundred metres away with couple of men loading canoes onto the back of a rubber inflatable. ‘I’m heading onto the river. Bethan’s gone to close down Blackfriars station. We need help!’
He pocketed the phone as he ran along the embankment, clambered over a set of steps, down the other side onto a landing and towards the boat where the two young men were loading canoes.
Gunnymede held out his ID as he approached out of breath. ‘I’m with the security services. I need your boat. This is a national emergency.’
They practically ignored him. ‘Yeah, right,’ one of them said.
Gunnymede took out his pistol and fired a round into the planking between the men, both of whom leapt back in complete shock.
‘I’m sorry. I don’t have time to fuck about. I’m security services. This is a life and death emergency! Get your boat started! Now!’
One of the men dived into the water and swam away.
Gunnymede addressed the other. ‘I’m not going to shoot you! I just want your boat. And I need you to drive it. Please.’
The man nodded quickly.
‘Let’s go!’
The man obeyed and jumped into the boat. Gunnymede untied the lines and climbed in as the engine started.
‘Main channel,’ Gunnymede shouted. ‘Quickly!’
The young man turned the throttle to full power as he deftly spun the nose around towards the centre of the river.
The MoD car came to a halt outside Blackfriars underground station. Bethan leapt out and ran inside. She paused in the cavernous hall to get her bearings. A member of staff directed her to the station manager’s office. By the time she got there, he was on the phone talking with the security services who had called him. She showed her ID as she explained who she was and he informed her police and anti-terrorist units were on their way. He agreed the first thing they had to do was evacuate the station, get everyone up from the tunnels and shut the watertight doors.
She followed him as he hurried along a landing to the control room.
Gunnymede squatted at the front of the inflatable searching in every direction for any boat that might look big enough to ram a hole through a couple of metres of embankment. There weren’t any such vessels motoring along the river within view but after a couple of minutes going east at full speed a large work boat appeared heading towards them. Gunnymede indicated to his driver to head for it.
His phone chirped and vibrated in his pocket. It was Neve.
‘The big red button has been pushed,’ she said, still in the Charing Cross control centre.
‘I’m on the water.’
‘I can see you.’ She was looking at his marker on a tracking app.
‘When can I expect assistance?’ he asked.
‘Police boats are on their way. Helicopters have gone up. I have no ETA yet.’
‘We need to block the embankment at the marker. A boat. Anything.’
‘It’s all in motion.’
The inflatable closed on the approaching work boat. ‘Go around the front!’ he shouted.
‘What?!’ Neve asked.
‘I’m talking to my driver.’
The inflatable cut across the front of the work boat and down its starboard side while Gunnymede inspected it. It didn’t look big enough to be a threat and he signalled the driver to continue east.
‘That’s a negative!’ Gunnymede said into the phone.
‘There’s a police boat five minutes from you.’
Gunnymede saw another workboat heading his way. An aggregate carrier. This one was longer, broader and heavier in the water, particularly the bows.
‘Did you hear me, Devon?!’
‘I’ll get back to you,’ he said and pocketed the phone.
‘Excuse me,’ the coxswain called out.
Gunnymede looked back at him.
‘We’ve only got about half an hour of fuel,’ he said.
‘Keep going,’ Gunnymede shouted and signalled him to go down the port side of the oncoming boat.
As the boats closed on each other Gunnymede got to his feet to get a better look, keeping his balance by holding onto a bow line. He couldn’t see any crew. It certainly looked big enough to make a good dent in the embankment.
As they passed each other a guff of wind whipped up some trash at the back of the boat, some of which blew into the water. Gunnymede signalled the driver to turn about, vectoring him onto the trash. He leaned over the side and grabbed it
