by Sam Blake
Then came another huge bang, this time from the opposite end of the station, and people began to run towards the exits. The students turned and tried to drag their cases, falling over each other and anyone in their way as they headed for the outside entrance to the Eurostar terminal. Cathy froze for a moment. The second bang sounded like it had come from the Underground. She’d seen images of the 7/7 bombings on the Underground. It was a terrifying place to get caught in any sort of incident.
Hope had gone so pale she looked like she was going to faint, Anna pulled her close but Cathy could see that she was physically shaking. Around them, noise began to build – emergency announcements on the tannoy, running feet, shouting, the sound of sirens coming from outside the station, getting louder as the emergency services responded to whatever was happening. Fire, police, ambulance – Cathy was sure they were all on the way. But if this was part of what O’Rourke had been talking about, there was more than one incident and the emergency services would be stretched across the city.
Her phone still pressed to her ear, Cathy found herself shouting over the noise.
‘Did you hear that?’
She could only just hear O’Rourke as he replied, ‘It’s all over the news. It looks like a series of simultaneous attacks. Euston as well.’
Cathy swung around, looking at Olivier Ayari and his friend sitting in the cafe, apparently oblivious to the increasing chaos. Too calm. Cathy’s mind was flying, processing what little information they had. Why weren’t they reacting? Everyone else was panicking, why not them?
Cathy spoke into the phone. ‘There’s a load of shit happening here, but there’s no way those are all terrorist suicide missions. There’s too many. How could you find that many people who wanted to die for Allah and could drive a fecking train? There’s something else happening.’
Chapter 54
Thursday, 6.20 p.m.
Londoners had been at the heart of terror attacks before. Now they moved fast.
Flipping her phone closed, Cathy grabbed Anna’s hand and weaved through the people streaming around them, hauling her and Hope further up the station into a side alley beside the plate glass windows of a shoe shop. They pressed their backs up against the glass wall to keep from being knocked over by exiting commuters.
Cathy turned to Anna. ‘You need to get Hope out. There’s some sort of terrorist attack going on, they are hitting the train network, major stations.’ Anna’s eyes filled with anger as Cathy continued, pointing down the corridor behind them, to the mass of people heading out of the station. ‘That must be a way out. Take Hope, I’ll stay here and stick with Ayari. We can’t lose him now.’
Cathy craned her head out of the alley to see if she could see what Olivier Ayari and his friend were doing. But they were too far down the station now, her view blocked by two banks of escalators. Cathy could feel all her senses kicking into high alert. She needed to get closer.
In just those few minutes the concourse had emptied. From where she was, Cathy could see dark-suited St Pancras staff manning the doors at the other end of the Eurostar section of the station, their pale blue vests bright against their uniforms, radios in their hands as they calmly ushered passengers outside to safety.
Cathy turned to Anna. ‘Go, take Hope. I’ll be fine. Keep your phone on.’ Anna hesitated but Cathy didn’t give her a chance to speak. ‘Go!’
Anna grabbed Hope’s hand and, dragging their cases, they ran down the broad corridor, disappearing around the corner. Cathy felt some of her tension lift. Anna and Hope had been mixed up in a horrific incident before, and Cathy knew she couldn’t keep them safe and watch Ayari at the same time. She flicked her own phone to silent and slipped out of the end of the corridor.
While she couldn’t see them, she could be pretty sure Ayari and his friend couldn’t see her. Leaving the shelter of the corridor, she moved swiftly to the bottom of the first escalator and then on towards the lift. It was made completely of glass but on the near side, a black upright piano had been pushed up against it. Crouching low as she ran silently across the grey marble to the piano, she dropped down behind it, praying the refraction of light through the glass lift shaft and the lift itself would hide her movement.
Peeping out from behind the piano, Cathy looked down the concourse towards where Olivier Ayari and his friend had been sitting in the cafe. They were still there, looking around them as if they’d suddenly realised something was happening. But it wasn’t distracting them from whatever they were doing. A moment later their eyes were back on their screens.
What was Ayari doing that was so important? Hacking someone else’s email or webcam? Why were they sitting so calmly when everyone around them was evacuating?
Cathy needed to get even closer. She was still a long way from them and she wanted to hear what they were saying. Crossing to the far side of the piano, keeping the lift shaft between herself and Ayari and his friend, she crept down the side wall of the lift furthest away from them. It was hard for her to see at this distance, but they seemed to be fully focused on whatever they were doing. Ahead of her, another escalator rose to the mezzanine level. If she could just get to the base of that escalator without them seeing her, she reckoned she’d be close enough to hear their conversation but, protected by the glass and steel of the moving staircase, would still be hidden. Keeping low down, she peeped out again, glancing across at the cafe, working out how fast she could get to the escalator.
As she watched, Olivier Ayari pulled out his iPhone.
And she was suddenly sure what was happening.
*
‘This way . . .’ The end of the corridor Anna and Hope were running through opened out into the glazed side entrance to the station. Crowds of people were gathered on the pavements outside, a constantly moving row of black cabs collecting passengers and peeling away into the already congested road.
Anna looked up and down the row of cabs, at the chaos of humanity trying to find their way out, and ducking left, headed past the top of the queue, her silver wheelie case bumping over the uneven paving stones. Hope followed her like a shadow. Pausing at the edge of the pavement, Anna waited a moment and threw her an encouraging smile.
‘We’ll head over there and regroup. I need to call your uncle Rob.’
Hope nodded, glancing anxiously behind her at the station, at the crowds milling around, further down the pavement.
Crossing the road, weaving through the slowly moving traffic, Anna pulled out her phone as she reached the other side. It was already starting to ring.
‘Where are you exactly? The DI in Dublin just emailed me.’
‘We’re outside the station now, beside the British Library. Cathy’s still inside, she’s sticking with Olivier. It was him following me, not Xavier, I’m sure of it.’
‘OK, honey, the guys in Dublin have found Xavier and they are bringing him in, but right now we need to get you somewhere safe. Stay right where you are. There’s a team on the way to pick you up. Black SUV, diplomatic plates. They’re going to take you to the embassy.’
How did he know where they were? Anna realised that he must be tracking her phone signal. She felt Hope tugging at her arm. A blacked out Mercedes had pulled up beside them. The driver got out, his head shaved, his crisp black suit and Ray-bans looking far too LA for downtown London. He opened the rear door for Hope and grabbing her case as the boot lid sprung open, threw it in the back.
‘They’re here. Thanks, Rob.’
‘Stay on the line, honey, I don’t want to lose you now.’
A moment later, her case in the back of the SUV, Anna was clipping on her safety belt and the driver was checking his mirrors and pulling out into the traffic. Insulated inside the bulletproof vehicle Anna began to relax; she turned to smile at Hope, the phone still to her ear. In the background she could hear the sounds of a busy office, Rob getting an update from one of his team.
‘We’re in the car. What’s going on?’
‘Some sort of attack. Ther
e are trains running into each other all over the goddamn place.’
Anna rubbed her hand across her forehead. She’d been involved in one terrorist incident – there wasn’t room in her life for another.
‘The embassy’s in lockdown. You’ll be safe there until we know what’s happening.’
‘I hope Cathy’s OK, it was chaos in the station and Olivier was sitting there with another guy like nothing was happening.’
‘What did he look like, the other guy?’ Rob paused. ‘Take a look at that photo of Hope you sent me. There are two dudes sitting down in a cafe in the background – is that them?’
‘Hang on.’ Anna turned to Hope. ‘How do I look at that photo I took of you in the station and keep Rob on the line?’
Hope rolled her eyes, flicking the screens on Anna’s phone, handing it back to her.
‘Here.’ Anna scanned the photograph. ‘Now how do I . . .’
‘Just talk, he’s still there.’ Hope tapped the phone impatiently.
‘Hey, Rob, that’s them, on the corner. Olivier Ayari is on the left.’
‘Lucky strike, honey. Let’s see if we can find out who this guy is and get the intel to the UK. Call me when you get to the embassy?’
‘Of course.’
Anna sat back in the seat and put her arm around Hope.
‘I’m sorry, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind for your first day in London.’
Chapter 55
Thursday, 6.30 p.m.
Inside St Pancras station, Cathy crouched down beside the glass wall of the lift, pulled out her phone and hit O’Rourke’s number.
He answered immediately but didn’t get a chance to speak as she whispered, ‘It’s not the drivers crashing the trains. It’s Olivier Ayari. I think he’s hacked the system. They need to shut everything down, switch off the Wi-Fi in here and jam the phone signals so he can’t set up a hotspot. Tell them to stop all the trains. I reckon he’s got one of those worms into the signalling system.’
O’Rourke’s voice was sharp. ‘Got it. Are you OK?’ In the background she could hear tannoy announcements. He must still be in Dublin Airport.
Her voice came out as a hiss. ‘I’m fine. Anna and Hope have got out of the station. I’m watching Ayari.’ Cathy fought to keep her voice low. ‘I can’t do anything on my own, I’m not armed, but we need to stop him.’
‘Christ, Cat, why are you always in the middle of this stuff?’ He sounded cross.
‘I’m fine. Tell the Met they need to get a tech team on to the computers that run the trains.’
‘On it. And, Cat? Don’t do anything stupid.’ He hung up.
As if she would.
Looking for the Met officers she’d seen earlier, or anyone from the British Transport Police, Cathy scanned the glazed mezzanine above her. The station was deserted. She was sure there were people somewhere but without a radio she had no way of finding out. Her phone vibrated in her hand with an incoming text message. She glanced quickly at the screen.
Karen Delaney: Can you call me? V worried about Orla. Cannot reach her.
Cathy mentally shook her head, puzzled. What exactly could she do about that right now?
Cathy stilled her irritation. Orla Quinn had been trying to contact her too. Cathy had called her back from the train but had got her voicemail. The messages Orla had left gave Cathy no clues as to why she needed to talk – she’d sounded under pressure, like she was rushing somewhere. She’d asked Cathy to call her back, but not said why. Why did people do that? It was one thing that really irked Cathy. She knew Orla was in a bad place but some idea of why she’d called would have been useful. Orla’s words from their previous conversation still rang in Cathy’s ears. You need to find out who did this. I won’t rest until whoever it is pays. She bet Orla’s call had something to do with her having a heart-to-heart with Karen Delaney yesterday about what had happened that night. When she’d heard Karen’s story, had a few things gelled for her? Was that what she needed to talk to Cathy about? Had she tried to call O’Rourke too? Cathy hoped so.
Right now Cathy couldn’t do anything else about Orla’s calls and responding to Karen was definitely going to have to wait. Peeping out from the edge of the lift, Cathy scanned the concourse again.
Around her, the shops that lined both sides of the station mall were brightly lit but empty. The only people Cathy could see now were Olivier Ayari and his friend. Two innocuous students sitting at a table on their own, intent on their screens.
She needed to get even closer and she needed to do it now.
Crouching down, Cathy peeped out around the edge of the lift. Both Ayari and his friend had their backs to her. She needed to move. She hesitated for a split second, glancing over at them again, then, keeping as low as she could, she ran for it. Thank God she was wearing runners. Neither man looked up. Her heart pounding in her ears, Cathy reached the far side of the escalator and landed on the marble floor, curling up to make herself as small as possible. She caught her breath and, crawling around, peeped out again. She was close enough to hear them now.
Cathy felt her phone vibrate again. What now? Pulling it out of her pocket she saw O’Rourke’s name beside a new text: Another crash. Manchester, at least 10 dead. Met know ur inside. Have sent photos of Ayari. Wi-Fi jammed. Phones next. Be careful x
He’d signed it with a kiss. But she didn’t have time to think about that right now either.
What were Ayari and his friend doing? Whatever way they had set this up, sitting right in the middle of it was really taking the piss. They must be very sure that they weren’t leaving a trail online, had so many layers of encryption and misdirection that the malicious programs they were using couldn’t be traced back to them.
But Rob Power had a team dedicated to the viruses that had infected the girls’ computers, and there was a whole operation working on Merchant’s Quay and Discovery Quay. In Cathy’s experience, when criminals got this cocky, they usually made a mistake somewhere. She sure hoped so.
As Cathy watched them, her thoughts flying, her phone vibrated yet again. Boy, she was popular today. She checked the screen, another text – Anna this time.
All safe. Heading 4 US Embassy. Guy with OA Karim Malik, known hacker, head of grp Unanimous. Rob onto UK cops.
Cathy did a double take. How the hell did Rob Power know who was sitting in St Pancras station right now? She knew the CIA were good, had read about the NSA monitoring communications, but really? Another text arrived.
Were in back of Hope photo. Facial recog conf.
Facial recog conf. Cathy wasn’t sure what that meant. Then she got it. The Americans used facial recognition systems. Very sophisticated ones. Anna had spotted Ayari in the photo she’d taken of Hope and alerted Rob. The CIA computers did the rest.
She peeped out around the edge of the escalator again. They were frowning now, pointing to something on Ayari’s laptop. Had they just realised the Wi-Fi was jammed?
Was she right about them hacking the train networks? Cathy was sure she was. If this Karim Malik character was a known hacker, the head of a group, he’d probably been working with Olivier Ayari, developing the worms he’d used to hack the girls’ webcams, maybe working with him on Discovery Quay. She knew in her gut a well-planned sophisticated cyberattack could cause these catastrophic crashes. And all the evidence they’d seen from Lauren O’Reilly’s and Anna’s computers suggested that the people they were dealing with were very capable.
What Cathy couldn’t work out was why they were here when they could attack the system remotely from anywhere?
Then Cathy felt a chill.
Anna was right, Olivier Ayari had been waiting for her; that’s why he was here.
He was a hacker who got his kicks watching women on their webcams. Did he get his kicks from killing too? Had he taken it a step further, in Long Island, Paris and then London? Was Anna next on his list?
In the chaos of a terrorist attack, people went missing. It was the perfect cover.
Cathy’s mind whirled. How was Xavier involved? His car had been circling Dalkey the night Tom was run down, and his fingerprints were on the boxes of drugs in Lauren’s room. Did they work as a team?
It made sense – they were brothers – but it didn’t feel right. Leaving your prints in a room that was bound to be searched; using your own car – it all felt a bit sloppy for a highly intelligent individual involved in this level of cybercrime. Wasn’t secrecy and anonymity key to the whole thing? There had to be something else going on, but whatever the story was, Olivier Ayari and his friend needed to be stopped.
Suddenly they began to move, pulling their earphones out, putting their phones away, closing the lids on their laptops. Ayari’s friend pulled out a backpack from under the table and slipped his laptop inside.
Where were they going next? She was sure these two knew their way around this station a lot better than she did, and that would make following them a challenge all of its own. But she wasn’t about to lose them now.
Cathy’s thoughts were cut off by the sound of a pair of heels crossing the marble, steps taken deliberately, echoing through the silent station like gunshots. Whoever it was knew exactly where they were going. Cathy peered down towards the Thameslink ticket barriers and the entrance they’d passed coming in.
What the . . .?
An elegant woman in a navy blue silk trouser suit was walking purposefully across the open concourse towards Olivier Ayari and his friend. Her blonde hair swept up in a chignon, a matching navy bag under her arm, she stood tall, in complete command of her space. And Cathy’s heart almost stopped. Orla Quinn.