Looks were exchanged around the room, everybody realising that this was about to become a moment that might go down in history.
‘We’re sending you guys to London and we’ll update you en route.’ After a flurry of activity the troop was under way. As the news came in it became apparent that London was under attack. There had been several explosions on the underground and a bus had also been hit.
The roads into London were busy and the commuters were all paying attention to the convoy of vehicles heading towards the nation’s capital. The words ‘Army Bomb Disposal’, printed on the side of the vans had the passengers of the cars waving at the men inside. It was the first time Cam had experienced the general population paying compliments to the military. It filled him with pride.
The streets of London were manic, as if mass confusion had taken over. The troop was directed via their radios to move to the Special Forces staging post at Stockwell Underground Station. From there, they moved to the Royal Mail underground line. This was where they would wait – it was a place familiar to Cam and the other members of the troop. They had used it for exercises before, as the line was no longer in use. The military could rehearse for an attack on the underground there, never imagining they would have to put into practice the techniques learned on the real tube system.
By the end of the day the full extent of the day’s events had come to light. Four blast sites in all, three on the underground and one on a bus. The death-toll was rising towards fifty and the number of injured reported to be in the hundreds; it was the biggest terrorist attack ever carried out on British soil.
With the intelligence service working furiously, the information came flooding in. Pictures and maps of the blast-sites covered the walls of the tube station. The information was growing as the hours passed. By the next morning, tasks were being allocated to various teams. The intelligence service had identified possible terrorist cells in and around the city – they had been under surveillance for some time, and were watched constantly, but now many were deemed to be a significant threat and needed to be taken out of the equation.
Cam watched the others preparing their missions and moving out, all the time waiting for his task to be given to him, wondering what it would be and where he would be asked to go – but nothing came. The days passed by and Cam remained in the disused station.
The other teams began to return from their missions. Tales of raids against the suspects’ homes rattled around the staging post. From Leeds to Aylesbury, explosives were found at most of the locations. Even the car the suspects had used to travel to Luton train station was found, and some controlled explosions were carried out before it was taken away to be examined.
It was about two weeks later, on 21 July, after most of the military had been stood down and only a few remained in the mail station, that the alarm was raised. Another attack was under way. Cam and his team struggled into their remaining assault gear. Shouts of explosions at Shepherd’s Bush, Warren Street and Oval tube stations came in as Cam inserted a magazine into his pistol and holstered it.
This was it; there was a strange sense of excitement and fear buzzing around the staging post as the men split into their pre-arranged assault teams. Running to the small mail trains that would transport them quickly into the danger areas, Cam could feel the sweat trickling down his back and soaking into his black coveralls beneath his body armour.
Cam and his team were stacked up and ready to secure their area of operations. It would be a long dash through a tube line tunnel and into the station platform, and they would then make the area safe. The excitement mounted, the adrenaline built up – he could hear it ringing in his ears.
Cam was preparing himself for the sprint; in the respirator it would be hard going, as it seriously restricted the breathing. The lead man had his hand on the fire-door handle, ready to push it down on the command of, ‘Go, go, go!’ Then the radio broke its silence.
* * * * * * *
‘Stand down, stand down,’ the radio crackled. Although the teams heard the instruction, nobody moved. Then it dawned on everyone at the same time. The disappointment was obvious, the weapons were lowered and the gas masks ripped off. The members of the team took in the cool air, looked at each other and started to walk back to the staging post.
The men gathered around the command post, they wanted to know what had happened.
As they waited for word, Cam could feel the cold sweat beginning to dry on his back.
‘There have been a number of small explosions in several underground stations, and a possible one on a bus.’ The disappointment on the troop’s faces was evident. ‘We are exploring the possibility that this is a copycat of the first attack. At first glance it looks amateurish and quite ineffective. At this time the police and MI5 have it contained.’
The men turned their backs on the ops officer and began to return to where they had spent the last two weeks. For Cam it was his hammock, which he had strung up in a closed-off stairwell.
‘At this time we are to stand down,’ the ops officer shouted after the disappearing men. ‘We are looking at clearing this location and returning you to base tomorrow.’
If Cam had got used to one thing it was disappointment. The job was full of it. Many times he had been stood by, ready to do whatever the job entailed, followed by a massive let-down. This time it had been an important one – perhaps his chance to take part in a little bit of history.
The next day they packed their equipment away. They had been released to return to base, and Cam was annoyed he had not taken part. Almost everyone else had been involved; he felt left out.
For the first time in two weeks Cam was in his civilian clothes. It felt strange to be dressed as a civilian again. The returning of the black coveralls and equipment to the metal containers always symbolised the end of the op. As the guys were loading the equipment boxes into their sprinter van, the ops officer came running over.
‘We have a situation developing!’ he shouted across the station. ‘MI5 have an unidentified man under surveillance.’ Breathing hard, the ops officer approached the partially loaded van. ‘He’s on the move towards Stockwell tube station. Potential suicide bomber, get going!’
Cam and Swanny jumped into the cab of the vehicle and scrambled for their weapons. Cam opened the weapon cabinet while Swanny grabbed his pre-packed equipment in a small backpack. Before they knew it they where running towards the fire-door where they had stood by the previous day.
Cam slammed the handle down and the door flew open. They could now see the platform of Stockwell Station in the distance. A train was at the platform and there were people everywhere. The two men ran full out towards the lit-up area. It was as they approached the light that they heard gunshots ring out. Cam counted seven, but some may have been echoes.
Swanny summoned an extra burst of energy and accelerated towards the stationary train and Cam kept up with him.
‘Stand down, stand down.’ Again, the instruction came through their earpieces to stop all actions. The two men slowed to a standstill and, from just inside the shadows of the tube tunnel and out of view of the public, they watched the chaos.
People ran out of the train, which still had its doors open. The shouting and panic of the train passengers erupted like a volcano. Cam and Swanny didn’t know whether to approach and help out or follow orders and back off. They had no idea what had happened, but they suspected the bomber had been taken out by plain-clothes police officers.
They decided to back off and find out what was going on from the ops officer.
As it turned out, the man had been shot dead by the police. He had been seen leaving a block of flats in South London that was under surveillance, and although he was unknown to the police, he was wearing a large puffa jacket on a warm summer day. This alerted the police and they followed him. He had taken a bus to Stockwell tube station and whe
n challenged by police, he ran. What happened next was inevitable.
After the final disappointment of the operation, the team left the city and drove the long way out through south London. They wanted to have a look at the block of flats that the dead man had left. As they passed the block in Tulse Hill, they wondered if they would be ordered back to assault the flat that was being watched. And with that thought in Cam’s head they left London. It was over.
* * * * * * *
Now, back in his car, he found himself only an hour from London. The journey had gone faster than he had anticipated. Maybe this guy Al was giving him an opportunity to complete what he was not allowed to finish on his own. He might be able to do what he had been planning all along – but with the help of the government. Cam knew that Al was under the impression that he had complete control of him, and Cam was quite happy to be continuing his work. This new task seemed very familiar to Cam – he was on his way to south London.
Chapter 15
Cam parked up a few streets away from the address Al had given him. He double-checked it by looking at the photo of the documents on his phone. Once he had confirmed he was in the right place, he got out of the car and locked it. He put the keys into his pocket and tucked his pistol down the back of his trouser waistband.
It always felt warmer in London, although he felt he was getting used to the northern weather. It had been years since they had driven past that block of flats on their way back from the London underground, but they still looked exactly the same. It was now two in the morning and the block looked fast asleep. Only a few lights were on, in flats that housed people getting up early to start work. He wondered just how many of the occupants did work. Cam stood on the opposite side of the street where he had a view of all the flats. The one he was interested in was on the third floor.
He looked around. He knew it must still be under surveillance by the intelligence service, but where they could be was anyone’s guess – possibly in one of the random vehicles parked along the street, or maybe in another flat that overlooked the one they were watching. They might even have occupied the flat next door, and have drilled through the wall and placed covert bugs and cameras to observe the targets. They must have been briefed that he was now involved and what he was about to do.
‘Could this be a trap? Why?’ he thought. Al could simply have had him arrested after the last job. Al might simply be using him to get rid of a problem that they couldn’t solve. If that was the case, he would be arrested for murder shortly afterwards. If he got away he would know it was all for real. Cam knew that he had to get it done, no matter what.
Slowly the hours passed. The sun would be rising soon. Because of their religion they would be required to get up and pray at sunrise, and this would be the perfect time to strike. Cam waited, then he saw the lights flicker on through the closed curtains. Cam started towards the front entrance and up the stairs to the third floor.
The smell of stale urine burned in Cam’s nose as he climbed to the entrance to the long balcony that led to all the flats’ front doors. He moved along the balcony to the front door of the flat in question. He paused and listened – he could hear only the faint murmurs of the men praying.
Now would be the best time, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. The disrespect of killing men as they prayed was too much. He would wait until they were done. Cam drew his pistol and knelt down; he carefully nudged opened the letterbox with the barrel of his pistol.
He could see no movement, but a light was on in what he presumed to be the living room. He could now hear the murmurs of Morning Prayer. Even then, although not bound by the rules of engagement, he felt it would be wrong to strike. He could wait.
To his left he heard a click – one of the occupants of the flats was unlocking their door. Cam sat still in the low light of the shared balcony. The door opened and a middle-aged man stepped out of the doorway.
Cam remained still, looking at the man out of the corner of his eye. He knew that any movement would give him away – even the slightest movement of his head might draw the man’s attention.
The man fumbled for his keys as he turned to face his front door. Cam didn’t even want to breathe – it would form a cloud in the cold early morning air. The man locked his door and turned his back to Cam, who was still kneeling down in the half shadows with his pistol holding the letterbox open. He watched the man disappear down the stairs, and then returned his attention to the interior of the flat.
Without warning, a figure came out the lit-up room and walked away from the front door. Cam had not expected that and nearly withdrew his pistol, however, he fought the urge as it would have made the metal flap slap shut. He watched the back of the person walk into the far room, and as the light went on it was evident that that was the kitchen. Two more people followed him into the kitchen shortly after.
All three of his targets were now in the same room. Prayer time was over, and all he needed now was a distraction.
Cam shuffled to his left and from that angle he could see part of the living room in which the prayers had taken place. It was now in darkness as the light had been turned off, but he could see the corner of an ornamental mirror hanging on the wall. Taking aim at the bottom corner of the mirror he fired his gun. The dull thump of the pistol was almost inaudible, but it was followed a split second later by the smashing of the mirror as it shattered and crashed to the floor in pieces.
Cam carefully withdrew his pistol and let the letterbox close silently. Next came the thundering of footsteps towards the door. Cam stood up and waited, aiming at head height in the middle of the door. If it should open, he would take out whoever opened it, then deal with the others. But it didn’t open – he never expected it to. They couldn’t have heard the shot from the kitchen area – all they would have heard was the mirror breaking.
Cam waited a few seconds until he heard voices coming from the living room. The light came back on, and he knew it was time. He raised his foot and kicked the door as hard as he could. The flimsy door swung inwards and bounced off the corridor wall. Cam placed his foot firmly on the floor near the doors hinges, stopping it from flying back towards him. The light of the living room illuminated three perfect targets. He took aim on the first.
Thump – the first man crumpled to the floor. Thump – the second followed. By this time the third man had turned towards the front door, only to see the black shadowy figure shift his sights in his direction. Before he had a chance to react – thump. Hit in the side of the face he fell backwards hitting the wall where the mirror had once been.
Cam paused for a couple of seconds, checking for movement. None of them moved. He stepped into the flat and closed the damaged front door. He looked down at the first man, leaned over and felt for a pulse. Nothing – he was dead – as expected. The way he had fallen showed that – he just dropped like a sack of meat, making no effort to cushion the fall. The second man the same. He stood up, and, stepping over his second victim he squatted down next to the third. Feeling for a pulse on this awkwardly positioned body, he felt something – he detected a slight pulse. Unacceptable, he thought. He stood up, aimed at the already disfigured head and fired a second fatal shot. Looking down on the now shattered head, he didn’t need to check again.
The man was definitely dead.
After flicking out the lights with the barrel of his pistol, he left the darkened apartment. Closing the door, which was hanging tenuously by its hinges, he exited the block of flats and calmly walked back to his car.
Chapter 16
‘I have to admit you have a unique style,’ Al said, as Cam opened his front door. ‘Unique but effective,’ he continued, as he walked into the house.
‘Come on in,’ Cam said as Al pushed past him into the living room.
Cam had only been back a few hours and the day was turning into a beautiful Cumbrian evening. He was hoping to have
a long night’s sleep before returning to work the following morning, but Al had turned up out of the blue.
‘That was good work this morning – nice to see that you don’t hang around.’
‘So, what happens next?’ Cam asked.
‘Well, you’re one of us now.’
‘Was that a test, or something?’
‘Kind of. Anyway, if it was, you passed.’ Al moved over to Cam’s bookcase.
‘You definitely won’t need any of these any more.’ Al said as he picked up the Scrabble box and opened it. ‘I’ll keep hold of these, if you don’t mind.’ Al put down the now empty box.
‘This is for you.’ Al handed Cam a mobile phone. ‘This phone is a link between the two of us. It is completely untraceable to anyone apart from us. It is entirely secure. Use it only for Asset business, nothing else.’ Cam looked at the phone as Al continued. ‘If I want to contact you, I’ll do it through this phone. Give the number to no one else, so if it rings or you get a text it will be from me. All information on tasks will arrive via email. Delete them once complete.’ Al handed the phone over to Cam. ‘One thing Robert – and this is most important. Do not lose this phone!’
‘OK, no problem. One thing for you though,’ Cam replied. ‘I told you last time, I don’t like Robert – I’m known as Cam.’
‘Yes, I need to talk to you about that as well – shall we sit?’
‘Yes, make yourself at home,’ Cam replied.
‘Thank you.’ Al sat down, oblivious to Cam’s sarcasm. ‘We give our assets new identities; this helps them to start a new life if they want to. We try to make it as simple as possible for you, and as you answer mostly to Cam, we have decided to move your last name to your first name and give you a new surname.’
‘What will my surname be?’
‘Sterling,’ Al replied, taking an envelope from his pocket and rummaging through the contents. He pulled out a driving licence and handed it to Cam.
Sterling Page 9