The Becket Approval

by Falconer, Duncan

  ‘I’m not bluffing, I assure you, mate.’

  Gunnymede knelt beside her, keeping the gun on Saleem. She was twisted slightly and turned her foot a little to straighten up.

  ‘Easy,’ Gunnymede warned.

  Saleem slowly got to his feet.

  ‘Give me the slightest excuse to kill you and I will,’ Gunnymede said.

  ‘You know how fond we are of boobytraps. There’s a pound of plastic underneath her. I’m a little nervous myself. It’s a Russian device and a bit sensitive.’

  ‘Stay exactly where you are,’ Gunnymede said threateningly. He inspected the floorboards either side of the one she was on. One of them was loose. He dug a finger under an edge and eased it up.

  He checked to ensure Saleem was still then used the light on his phone to see under the floorboard. The mechanism was clear. An igniferous device with the detonator fixed directly to it and wrapped in what looked like a large slab of plasticine.

  ‘Very deceitful,’ Gunnymede said as he inspected it.

  A sudden loud crash and Gunnymede rolled to his side and aimed his gun towards Saleem who was no longer there. Saleem was halfway through the window. Gunnymede fired but Saleem was already through. Gunnymede scrambled up and went to the broken window frame hanging off its hinges to see Saleem drop over the side of the flat roof.

  He pulled himself through the window, onto the roof, aiming his gun as he hurried to the edge in time to see Saleem leap from a small balcony back into the house through another window. Gunnymede hurried back into the room, out the door as Bethan watched anxiously, and down the stairs several at a time. On reaching the bottom he sprinted out the back but Saleem had already made it across the yard and was in the alleyway. Gunnymede ran into the alleyway and spun in both directions, gun outstretched, but Saleem was gone.

  ‘Shit!’

  Moments later Gunnymede came running back into the room where Bethan was standing. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  ‘I take it he got away.’

  ‘He’s a swift little bastard.’

  ‘You should be after him.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. What if something happened to me. It could take hours before someone found you here.’

  ‘I have my phone.’

  ‘I didn’t think about that.’

  ‘I’m touched.’

  ‘Attention seeking.’

  ‘I was kind of joking.’

  ‘I do care.’

  ‘Yes, but I meant in a more personal way.’

  ‘For God’s sake.’

  ‘Let’s not have a row,’ she said, still trying to be amusing.

  Gunnymede considered her position. ‘This is what we’re going to do. I’ll put my foot beside yours and keep the weight down and you step off.’

  ‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind.’

  ‘It will work.’

  ‘I don’t care to try. It sounds dodgy’

  ‘It’s only a little dodgy.’

  ‘You have called someone I take it.’

  ‘Of course. They’ll be here soon. I’ll wait right here with you.’

  She moved slightly.

  ‘Easy.’

  ‘I’ve got cramp in my foot.’

  ‘Ignore it. Try and relax. Breathe. What would your father say if he could see you now?’

  ‘He’d probably be quite philosophical about it. Part of the job and all that. My mother on the other hand would be hysterical.’

  She moved again, grimacing as she dealt with the cramp.

  He grew anxious. ‘Please don’t move.’

  ‘At least we’ll go together.’

  ‘What?’

  She chuckled. ‘Sorry. I have a wicked sense of humour at times. Keep talking. It does take my mind off it. I saw something in your eyes when you came into the operations room and saw Neve. When’s the last time you saw her?’

  ‘Eight years ago.’

  ‘That’s right. A long time. Were you in a relationship?’

  ‘No. It was a very brief encounter.’

  ‘A one night stand sort of thing?’

  ‘We were on a task together. We ended up kissing.’

  ‘You were on a brief job together and kissed. I see.’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘We were on a stake-out. In a car. It was late. We were playing the role of a couple parked up after the pubs closed. The bad guy came along and saw us and, well, we had to kiss.’

  ‘Nice work if you can get it.’

  ‘Someone’s got to do it.’

  ‘That does sound romantic though. Did you have sex?’

  ‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘It was really nothing.’

  ‘I’m jealous, obviously. But I’m not going to commit suicide over it, don’t worry. You’re not that wonderful.’

  ‘I really am not.’

  Gunnymede hit a key on his phone. ‘This is Gunnymede. Where’s ATO? What’s taking so long?!’

  He listened for a moment before putting the phone down. ‘They’re a few minutes away. The bomb disposal officer said try not to move.’

  It served to amuse them.

  ‘Have you seen your aunt yet?’ she asked.

  ‘Aunt Grace?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It was an unexpected question. He shrugged. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you ask her about your father?’

  ‘My father?’

  ‘For God’s sake I’m trying to make small talk here,’ she said frustratedly.

  ‘Sorry – yes, I did in fact.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Nothing really.’

  ‘She doesn’t know anything?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you’re not sure?’

  He sighed, tired of the subject.

  ‘Sorry, but I just can’t believe you’re not interested in your own father’s mysterious death.’

  ‘It’s not that I’m not interested.’

  She became distracted by something at her feet.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘It feels like it’s getting warm down there.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My foot. It’s getting warm. Perhaps you should leave.’

  ‘It’s your imagination,’ he said, dropping to his knees to feel the plank beneath her foot. ‘It’s not warm,’ he said with some relief. He stood up and looked into her eyes. ‘You’re very brave.’

  ‘Why? I don’t have much of a choice.’

  ‘I know you’re brave.’

  ‘What do you think’s in the safe?’ she asked.

  ‘Probably nothing.’

  ‘I hope this wasn’t all for nothing.’ She stared into his eyes. ‘Devon – would you kiss me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Kiss me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I don’t want you getting all wobbly kneed. You know how weak you get when I kiss you.’

  ‘Please.’

  He moved close to her. Smiled. And kissed her softly on the lips.

  ‘You can do better than that,’ she said.

  They kissed again, a lingering, gentle kiss.

  When they separated she inhaled with deep satisfaction. ‘There was something very special about that.’

  ‘Snogging on a bomb does lend a certain je ne sais quoi,’ he said.

  They smiled, inches apart.

  ‘That beats ours by a mile,’ Neve said from the doorway.

  She surprised them both. Gunnymede had to steady Bethan.

  Footsteps on the stairs grew louder as several men hurried up them. One of them came in carrying a bag of tools.

  ‘Which one is it?’ he asked with urgency.

  Gunnymede stepped back to allow the man access to Bethan.

  ‘I don’t need to tell you to keep perfectly still,’ the man said as he dropped to his knees.

  ‘Can we talk,’ Neve said to Gunnymede as she left the room.

  Gunnymede followed her onto the landi
ng.

  ‘Tell me you didn’t let Saleem escape in order to save her.’

  ‘I pursued Saleem until I lost him.’

  ‘For God’s sake. A couple thousand people versus one cute girl?’

  ‘Don’t even go there.’

  ‘How did he escape you?’

  ‘The bomb was a distraction. He took his chance and legged it. Where the fuck were you lot anyway? Some back up.’

  ‘The drone lost sight and neither of you called in your location.’

  ‘Once we got here we couldn’t talk. Why didn’t you track us?’

  ‘The house shadowed your signal. They showed you across the road. Okay, let’s not turn this into a slanging match. Do we have anything?’

  ‘Nothing obvious. An invoice for ten tons of quick dry cement. There might be other stuff.’

  ‘Jervis thinks the attack will happen in the next twenty-four hours.’

  ‘How does he know that?’

  ‘He’s looking at it from their point of view. They either call it off or do it now.’

  ‘Saleem won’t want to delay it or let anyone else do it another time,’ he said. ‘I agree. If he had a choice he’d push for hitting it now.’

  ‘We’re running out of time,’ she said.

  ‘Did you ever do one of those post-traumatic stress courses?’

  ‘Everyone does,’ she said. ‘Why?’

  ‘I missed mine. Take care of Beth’s repatriation, would you?’ He walked down the stairs.

  Neve looked as if she’d been left holding the baby. She leaned into the room.

  The bomb disposal officer was on his knees and reaching under the floorboards. ‘I’d appreciate it if you left the room please, miss,’ he said as he fiddled with something.

  Bethan looked at Neve who returned her gaze for a moment and stepped back into the hallway.

  Ten minutes later Bethan stepped out of the room and rested against a wall somewhat exhausted as several MI6 analysts went into the room.

  ‘Stressful?’ Neve asked.

  Bethan smiled politely.

  ‘You’re going to need therapy,’ Neve said.

  ‘I agree. My bartender or do you have one I can use?’

  Neve looked into the room as the bomb disposal expert placed the components of the device into plastic bags. One of the analysts opened the safe and searched inside it.

  ‘Empty?’ Neve asked him.

  The man nodded.

  Neve headed down the stairs. ‘Come on,’ she said to Bethan. ‘We keep a bottle in the office for such occasions.’

  Bethan followed.

  Chapter 28

  The 194 ton aggregate carrier, the Polo Harrow, was moored alongside a floating pontoon adjacent to the Port of London Authority utility offices on the south side of the Thames, 300 metres from the Thames Barrier. It was dark when a minibus drove into the industrial estate and along the poorly lit road to the Authority centre. Following the minibus was a lorry carrying a dozen pallets topped with cement bags. The minibus reached the end of the road turnabout and came to a stop. The lorry parked behind it and engines and lights were turned off. The area was well lit but devoid of life.

  A dozen men climbed out of the mini bus and three more from the lorry. They were all British Arabs. Four of those who had arrived on the ship with Saleem set off through the Authority yard and up a zig-zag ramp to a long, covered walkway suspended above the water. They paused at the end to observe the Polo Harrow the other side of the floating pontoon. Lights were on inside the superstructure at the back of the boat.

  The leader drew a long knife from a sheath under his jacket. The others did the same and they crossed the pontoon and stealthily climbed on board. They went directly to the back of the superstructure and after a brief pause to ensure all were ready, they opened the door into a small crew room. A young man in grubby overalls was making a cup of tea for himself. Two of the ISIL fighters quickly set upon him with their knives, stabbing his body and slitting his throat while the other pair headed through a door and up a narrow flight of stairs.

  They paused at a door to look at each other and synchronise their thoughts. A second later they pushed open the door to find an engineer leaning against the wheel watching the river. The killers made swift work of him and left his body on the floor oozing blood from the slice across his throat.

  The one in charge shouted for the others to return to the vehicles while he made his way along the narrow side of the aggregate storage compartments to the front of the boat. He hauled open the bosun’s locker hatch and shone a torch inside. It would do nicely.

  Within an hour a timber framework had been constructed inside the bosun’s locker and a large number of the cement bags had been carried on board and dumped by the hatch. The chain of bag carriers made their way between the boat and the lorry well into the night as the bags were emptied into the wooden framework followed by buckets of river water.

  Bethan sat in the dimly lit operations room reading her emails on her phone. Two analysts were at computer terminals.

  The door opened and Neve walked in with a bottle of Scotch. ‘Harlow’s office,’ she announced. ‘He always has the good stuff.’ She cracked open the top. ‘He won’t miss it. He seems to prefer his Temple office these days anyway.’

  She poured two glasses and handed one to Bethan. ‘Welcome to the madhouse,’ she said, taking a sip.

  ‘Is this a normal day in the life of a secret squirrel?’

  ‘Most of the time it’s boring as hell. You’ve been lucky.’

  Bethan held up her glass. ‘Lucky in something at last. Can’t wait for tomorrow.’

  ‘I was serious about a therapist.’

  Bethan raised her glass to her, took a good sip and sat back to enjoy it.

  ‘Are you and Devon an item?’ Neve asked.

  ‘I don’t know. I was hoping we might be. You weren’t expecting me, were you?’

  Neve shrugged.

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I have no interest in Devon.’

  Bethan looked at her, unsure about her. ‘Did you know Megan?’

  ‘Megan?’

  ‘His fiancée.’

  ‘He had a fiancée?’

  Bethan decided not to get into it. ‘I never met her.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  Bethan was reluctant but answered anyway. ‘She died.’

  ‘Oh,’ Neve said, looking genuinely sorry.

  They sipped their drinks in silence for half a minute.

  ‘I was curious to see him again,’ Neve said.

  ‘You knew each other for just a moment.’

  ‘A couple of hours, max. We barely exchanged a word.’

  ‘But something happened.’

  ‘Yes. Something happened.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Who knows? I likened it to a holiday romance.’

  ‘Aren’t you supposed to never try and recreate those?’

  ‘It’s good advice.’

  The door opened and Gunnymede walked in. ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ he said, walking over to the Scotch and pouring himself a glass.

  ‘Who?’ Neve asked. ‘Us or the scotch?’

  He smiled at them as he took a drink. ‘Right. Let’s get down to this. How do you kill a couple thousand people in London?’

  ‘We could be asking Saleem that right now,’ Neve said.

  ‘But we’re not, are we,’ he replied.

  ‘Go over your conversation with him,’ Bethan said. ‘The one in Syria.’

  ‘It was short and sweet. He was going to kill thousands of people in London without explosives or weapons of mass destruction.’

  ‘You’re absolutely certain of that?’ Neve asked.

  ‘I can’t remember the exact words. I had a rope around my neck while balancing on a log at the time. But that’s the thing. He spoke to me softly so that no one else could hear and he was expecting me to be dead minutes after. So there was no reason for him to misinform me.’

&
nbsp; ‘He could’ve been exaggerating,’ Neve suggested. ‘Bragging.’

  ‘Yes, he was bragging but he was excited about it.’

  ‘It might’ve been the truth that day,’ Bethan offered. ‘But is it the truth today?’

  ‘Does anyone mind if I smoke?’ he asked. ‘I think better with a cigarette.’

  The girls shrugged. He lit one up and took a long drag. ‘Want one?’

  ‘No thanks,’ Bethan said.

  Neve shook her head.

  ‘That’s a good point though,’ he said.

  ‘What is?’ Neve asked.

  ‘Is it true today? He was excited about the pure simplicity of it. That’s why I’m stuck on no explosives or WMD. I mean, that’s how we always find these people. They make or acquire weapons and explosives and leave trails for us to follow. No ordnance makes it very difficult for us. It’s almost impossible to stop them from hiring vans and driving into people, or buying knives and stabbing them. He’s found a weapon that we won’t notice until it’s too late.’

  ‘Why thousands of people?’ Neve asked. ‘Why not a specific number?’

  ‘That’s another clue,’ he said. ‘The number is dictated by the method. Maybe he can’t kill more or less than that number. He has no control over numbers. It’s at an event or location where there could be or will be thousands of people. Maybe they’ll all die or only a portion of them.’

  ‘How can you kill a thousand people without a bomb or chemicals?’ Neve asked.

  ‘They would have to be confined,’ Gunnymede said. ‘In one location. Just for a moment, take away bombs and anything else. What kills thousands of people and is natural, for instance?’

  ‘Earthquake,’ Bethan said.

  ‘Tsunami,’ Neve offered. ‘Fire?’

  ‘Two hundred thousand people were killed in the 2004 tsunami,’ Bethan offered.

  ‘How do you make a tsunami?’ Neve asked.

  ‘In London?’ Gunnymede added.

  ‘What’s the capacity of Wembley?’ Bethan asked, tapping the questions into her phone. ‘Ninety thousand.’

  Gunnymede emptied his glass and sat on the couch. ‘There’s a clue staring at us. I’m sure of it.’

  Bethan and Neve sipped their drinks in silence.

  Gunnymede stretched himself out on the couch and put a cushion under his head.

  A few minutes later Neve stood up and looked in Gunnymede’s direction. His eyes were closed and he looked asleep.