Guy Fawkes Day
Page 94
Chapter 44: House of Commons, 2:00 p.m.
Al-Ajnabi opened the door of the Commons Tea Room. In front of him Khalid Chentouf's body lay stretched out on cushions and makeshift bedding, and his heavy snoring interfered with the animated pitch of the TV presenter's voice coming from a set around which Maria Vasquez, Amy Weatherington and Magdalena Ortiz were grouped.
Magdalena looked up at him, her excited grin stretching the scar around her mouth.
‘Listen,’ she cried. ‘They have closed Wall Street, London, Paris and Frankfurt stock markets. And most of the world’s air traffic control is still down. It's complete chaos. We are going to pull this off!’
Al-Ajnabi smiled back at Magdalena, and listened attentively to the television.
‘The situation here at the London Stock Exchange is completely confusing. Traders are talking of a massive computer virus that has completely devastated systems on both sides of the Atlantic, and we are receiving reports that the virus is also affecting the mainframes of major banks, clearing banks and possibly even national banks. And all this comes on top of the cyber attacks that have paralysed the global aviation industry.’
Al-Ajnabi looked away from the television screen and back at the three women. It was good to hear about the chaos developing in the outside world he might never see again and he knew that Dave Cohen had done more to deliver the message than any of his televised appeals had achieved. But right now it was the situation inside the Commons that was on his mind.
Fear and exhaustion were more apparent on Amy Weatherington's face than any sign of rejoicing in the mayhem they were now inflicting on the world's IT networks. She was chain-smoking robotically, her eyes fixed on the TV screen, her mind elsewhere. And as for Maria, the poor Peruvian girl was just sitting sad, withdrawn and inconsolable, showing no signs of having come to terms with Oscar's death.
Half his fighting force was resting there before his eyes and a fine army they made. As soon as Dinsdale, MacSween, Clayton and the SAS worked that one out, Al-Ajnabi knew his control of the Commons was very likely to be tested. Even without the loss of Joel Connor and Oscar Salazar, he had known all along they would be up against it.
He left the three women watching the television in the Tea Room and headed back towards the Commons. The corridors were washed with light from the chandeliers but his footsteps rang out uncannily loud in the near-total silence. If the assault came, the SAS would cut the lights immediately and they would be fighting in the dark using infrared gear.
He took the long way towards the Chamber of the Commons, passing through the Lower Waiting Hall and into the Central Lobby, where he paused by Russell's statue and gazed along the Peers' Corridor. The rose-latticed brass gates were firmly shut, barring access from the chamber of the Lords, but even with Abu Fawaz's maze of booby traps and tripwires, the whole of the southern end of the Palace lay bare and open. The SAS were bound to send at least one team in that way, rappelling across the rooftops, no doubt. And if they did, Al-Ajnabi knew he would have a matter of seconds to decide whether to blow the cluster of bombs that would send the Central Tower shattering down around them, obliterating their lives and the thousand-year-old Palace under hundreds of tons of masonry.