‘Twenty seconds,’ repeated Chaudhry.
The seconds ticked slowly by. Bradshaw’s mouth was dry and he swallowed. ‘Ten seconds,’ he said.
‘Ten seconds,’ repeated Chaudhry.
Chaudhry and Kundi began to count down from ten, their voices blending into one. ‘Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one …’
‘Acquisition tone on,’ said Kundi. ‘Listening for the steady tone. Steady tone achieved.’ He mimed pressing the uncaging switch with his left hand, ‘Reconfirm steady tone,’ then pulling the trigger with his right index finger. ‘Missile launched,’ he said. ‘Allahu akbar.’
‘Allahu akbar,’ repeated Chaudhry. He grinned at Bradshaw. ‘Perfect, yeah?’
‘Perfect,’ agreed Bradshaw, glancing at his stopwatch. Kundi put the Stinger down, then jumped to the ground. ‘Right, you’d now head for my car,’ said Bradshaw. ‘Remember, you walk, you don’t run.’ He pointed at Talwar and al-Sayed in turn. ‘Then it’s up to you,’ he said.
Talwar hurried to the van’s cab and retrieved a red plastic petrol can. He walked quickly back to the tailgate and mimed slopping petrol inside. Then al-Sayed pretended to strike a match and throw it in. ‘Whoof!’ he said.
‘And that’s it,’ said Bradshaw, stopping his timer. ‘Rafee and Kafele go back to their car, and we’re away. From firing the missile to getting everyone into the cars shouldn’t be more than sixty seconds. The fire will destroy all the physical evidence. We drive slowly, we obey the rules of the road. No one will be any the wiser.’
He switched on his mobile phone. ‘I’ll tell you what each plane is before they pass over. I should be able to give you at least two minutes’ warning of a suitable target, possibly four minutes, depending on the cloud cover.’ He turned to Chaudhry. ‘What is your mobile number, brother?’ Bradshaw had bought a new pay-as-you-go Sim card and had told Chaudhry to do the same.
Chaudhry grimaced, embarrassed. When Bradshaw saw his face fall, he knew what had happened. ‘I told you to change it,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, brother. I switched it off in France and forgot about it.’
Bradshaw frowned. ‘You haven’t used it since?’
‘Definitely not,’ said Chaudhry.
Bradshaw sighed. ‘You should never use a Sim card more than once, brother. If they know you have a phone they can track you and listen in to your calls.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Chaudhry.
‘It’s probably okay,’ said Bradshaw. ‘Switch it on and I’ll call you so you have this number.’ Chaudhry did as he was told. Bradshaw rang him and Chaudhry stored the number. ‘If anything happens on the road, call me,’ said Bradshaw. ‘But no chit-chat.’
‘I understand,’ said Chaudhry, still crestfallen.
‘Right,’ said Bradshaw. ‘Let’s go through it one more time. Then we can do it for real.’
Shepherd was just stepping into his boiler-suit when he felt his phone vibrate in his jeans pocket. He had set his mobile to ring silently but the vibration was insistent until the caller went to voicemail. ‘Mickey, I’m going to use the loo,’ he said.
‘Not your bloody stomach again?’ Mickey was checking the action of his sawn-off shotgun.
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Shepherd. He went into the gents’, made sure the door was closed and took out his phone. The Major had called and left a message. Shepherd didn’t bother to listen to it. He rang the Major straight away.
‘It’s good news, bad news, I’m afraid,’ said the Major.
‘I’m listening,’ said Shepherd.
‘The good news is that one of those mobile numbers was switched on for a few minutes this morning. The bad news is that it was located ten miles from Heathrow airport.’
‘Which phone was it?’ asked Shepherd.
‘It wasn’t the one Bradshaw was using,’ said the Major. ‘It was the one he called in Calais. It was switched on at seven this morning. Then it received a call from another pay-as-you-go phone then both were switched off. They were at the same location.’
‘Ten miles from the airport?’
‘Exactly,’ said the Major.
‘How close were the phones?’
‘No way of telling, I’m afraid,’ said the Major. ‘Neither phone has GPS capability so all we can do is track them to the closest transmitters and triangulate. But I’d guess they were at the same location and were running a test. Spider, if they have a Stinger at Heathrow …’
‘I know, I know. Is there any way the Increment can get involved?’
‘We don’t have the resources to put a full protective screen around Heathrow,’ said the Major. ‘A Stinger has a ceiling of – what? Two thousand feet? That means in theory it could be fired anywhere within a twelve-to fifteen-mile radius of the airfield. The only way we could get that sort of saturation is by using the police and the army. And even then you couldn’t guarantee total coverage.’
‘And if they see that sort of reaction they’d know they’d be rumbled so they’d pull back,’ said Shepherd. ‘They’d just have to wait until the security was downgraded and then launch an attack.’
‘So, what are you saying, Spider? We do nothing?’
‘I say we wait, see if the phones go on again and see where they are. Then react. Are you okay with that, boss?’
‘You’re asking a lot,’ said the Major. ‘If they bring down a plane and it gets out that we had the intel we’re screwed.’
Shepherd heard footsteps outside the toilet and ended the call. He shoved the phone into the back pocket of his jeans, adjusted his boiler-suit, then leaned over the sink and drank from the tap as the door opened behind him. It was Yates. ‘You okay, mate?’
Shepherd straightened up and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. ‘Yeah, my stomach again.’
‘Soon be over,’ said Yates. ‘Don’t worry, everyone gets pre-show nerves. Even Mickey. He’s all laughing and joking on the outside but I know his stomach’s churning along with ours. He just hides it better.’
‘Cheers.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Yates. ‘You’re a pro, Ricky, you’ll be fine.’
‘Yeah, it’s gonna be a blast, literally,’ said Shepherd, trying to sound enthusiastic.
As Yates went to the urinal, Shepherd returned to the warehouse. Mark had already climbed into the driving seat of one of the Land Rovers. Wilson got in beside him. Two of the steel mesh girders had been fixed to its roof rack, the others to the second Defender’s.
Mickey stored his gun under the driving seat and waved Shepherd over. ‘You ride with me, Ricky,’ he said. He was already wearing his gloves and Shepherd put his own on as he got in. The four RPGs were in the back, hidden under a tarpaulin.
Black got into the Jeep Cherokee and fired the engine.
‘Rock and roll!’ shouted Mickey. ‘Chopper, where the hell are you?’
Yates came running out of the toilets, zipping up his boiler-suit. He picked up his gun, slotted it into the nylon sling and ran over to the Jeep. Black pointed to the door and mimed opening it. Yates jogged over to the control unit and pressed the button. Mickey drove out first, followed by Mark. Yates pressed the button to close the door as Black drove through, then climbed in next to him.
Shepherd bent down and slid his sawn-off shotgun under his seat. He felt his mobile phone in the pocket of his jeans under the boiler-suit. Satellites high above the earth would be fixing his position to a few feet enabling Charlotte Button to keep track of him, but that didn’t mean he was any less alone.
As they drove, Mickey chatted away. About football. About Pattaya. About the weather. It was his way of covering his nerves, Shepherd knew, so he just listened. Everyone reacted differently to stress. Some people externalised it with conversation or physical tics, others went quiet, sweated or froze. Mickey was a talker, and Shepherd was a thinker. Shepherd’s way of dealing with a stressful situation was to consider his options, calculating the best and worst possible scenarios, and always having his escap
e route mapped out. All that was going through his mind as he smiled and listened to Mickey babble.
‘Here’s our exit,’ said Mickey, eventually. He indicated left and checked in his rearview mirror that Mark was doing the same. The three vehicles came off the motorway. All around them were fields, with well-kept hedgerows and copses of spreading trees. Now that they were off the dual carriageway there was little traffic. Mickey pointed at the GPS unit on his dashboard. ‘The Professor even gave us the co-ordinates of the field,’ he said.
They passed a farmhouse to their right and a dog barked, but Shepherd didn’t see anyone around. Half a mile further on there was another farmhouse, this one well back from the road. A middle-aged man in a donkey jacket was using a hosepipe to wash down the wheels of his tractor but he didn’t even look up as they drove by. Mickey kept the Land Rover at just below forty miles an hour and a close eye on his GPS unit.
‘We’re coming up to the field,’ he said. He wound down the window and waved for Black to overtake in the Jeep, then pulled in to the side as he drove by. Yates flashed them a thumbs-up. A hundred yards ahead a five-barred metal gate was locked with a length of heavy chain. Yates climbed out with a pair of industrial wirecutters and severed the hasp of the padlock. He unhooked the chain and pulled open the gate. The three vehicles drove through and Yates pulled the gate shut behind them, then threaded the chain through to make it look as if it was locked.
The Land Rover bucked over the rutted furrows and Shepherd put his hand to the roof to steady himself. The field was bare soil that looked as if it had been ploughed prior to planting. The steering-wheel kept trying to tear itself out of Mickey’s grasp and he cursed. Shepherd glanced over his shoulder. The other Land Rover and the Jeep were close behind.
Mickey turned to the right and tried to focus on the GPS unit. ‘We’ll do the first ditch, Ricky,’ he said. ‘It’s coming up. Take down the two trusses and put them over it. Then watch as we cross.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t screw this up, mate, or the game’s over before we’ve even started.’ He slammed on the brakes and Shepherd climbed out. Twenty feet ahead a six-foot-wide ditch separated the ploughed field from pasture. Two chestnut horses stood stock–still, watching Shepherd, their heads up and ears back.
Yates got out of the Jeep and ran to help. Shepherd untied the first truss and pulled it off the roof rack. Yates grabbed the other end and they carried it over the field to the ditch and carefully laid it across. Then they ran back for the second and placed it parallel to the first. Shepherd ran over one of the trusses to the pasture and helped Yates reposition them so that they matched the vehicle’s wheelbase.
Shepherd motioned for Mickey to drive across. Mickey edged the Land Rover forward and Shepherd guided him on to the trusses. Mickey accelerated and surged over.
Yates ran back to the Jeep and climbed in as Wilson drove the second Land Rover across the makeshift bridge under Shepherd’s guidance.
The wheelbase of the Jeep was slightly narrower but the metal trusses were wide enough to take account of the difference and Black drove over confidently. Shepherd climbed back into Mickey’s Land Rover and all three vehicles powered across the field. The horses watched them go, then went back to chewing the grass.
‘Just hope no one moves them,’ said Shepherd. ‘Then we’d look bloody stupid.’
‘We’ll be back in fifteen minutes,’ said Mickey. ‘And, according to the Professor, the farmer’s daughter doesn’t come to see the horses until she’s finished school.’
The field sloped to the right and Mickey had to steer left to compensate. The ground got rougher and the Land Rover bounced up and down on its suspension. ‘See what I mean? The cops would never be able to follow us across this,’ said Mickey. ‘Even if they could drive around the facility, which they can’t. They’re gonna arrive at the front door and sit there like a right load of plonkers. By the time they work out what’s happened, we’ll be miles down the motorway.’ He slowed and drove around a copse of sycamores. ‘Second ditch coming up,’ he said.
As soon as Mickey braked, Shepherd had the door open. He ran to the other Land Rover. Mark was already getting out and the two men unfastened the second set of metal trusses and laid them one at a time over to the ditch. This time Mark crossed, adjusted the position of the trusses and beckoned them over. Shepherd got back into the Land Rover and slammed the door.
As they drove slowly over the ditch, Shepherd saw the wall of the money-storage depot for the first time. It ran the full length of the field and was close to twenty feet high. Beyond it he could see a pitched tiled roof with a clump of radio transmitters and a satellite dish in the centre. He took a deep breath, and tried to relax.
There were CCTVs at the corners of the building but they were aimed along the wall and not across the field.
‘Here we go,’ said Mickey, halting about two hundred feet from the wall. The other Land Rover and the Jeep pulled up behind him. Mickey and Shepherd climbed out and went to the rear of the vehicle. Mickey pulled open the door and threw back the green tarpaulin that covered the four RPG launchers, the warheads and the booster packs.
The launchers were wrapped in sacking. Shepherd opened the warhead packs and took the four warheads out, laying them carefully on the floor of the vehicle. He took four booster charges and screwed them one by one into the sustainer charges on the warheads.
Mark was walking towards them, pulling on his ski mask. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.
Shepherd inserted the first warhead unit into the launcher and handed it to Mickey. ‘Hang on to that for me,’ he said. He inserted the rest of the warheads into the three remaining launchers. He held one and left the other two on the floor of the Land Rover. ‘Ready when you are,’ he said to Mickey.
‘Let’s do it.’
Shepherd went down on one knee and looked through the sight, centring on the section of wall directly in front of him.
Mickey looked at his watch, noting the time. He glanced at Mark, who was adjusting the stopwatch on his wristwatch. As he turned back, Shepherd pulled the trigger. The booster charge fired and the warhead shot out of the launcher, leaving a plume of smoke behind it. A second later the sustainer charge kicked in. ‘Six minutes from now!’ shouted Mark.
Shepherd held out his hand for the launcher Mickey was holding as he watched the warhead smash into the wall and detonate. The noise was deafening and he felt the shock waves in his stomach. Three large concrete blocks disappeared and those above it were cracked. Shepherd put the second launcher on his shoulder, then took a quick look behind him to make sure no one was there. Satisfied that the area was clear, he squinted through the sight, aiming just below the hole made by the first warhead. He braced himself and pulled the trigger. He watched the warhead streak through the air and hit the wall. This time masonry flew into the air and there was a cloud of concrete dust. As the wind whipped the dust away he could see a gaping hole in the wall.
‘One more for luck?’ said Mickey, handing him a third launcher.
Shepherd took it. He checked over his shoulder that all was clear, sighted just above the hole he’d already made, and pulled the trigger.
As the third warhead streaked away, Black stamped on the accelerator and the Jeep surged forward across the field. Mark got back into the second Land Rover and he and Wilson followed Black.
The warhead slammed into the wall just above the hole and a dozen concrete blocks spilled to the ground in a cloud of dust. Shepherd stood up and pulled down his ski mask. The hole was now more than large enough for them to get through into the depository.
‘Well done, mate,’ said Mickey. ‘Now let’s not hang about. The cops will be here in just over five minutes.’ He picked up the two discarded launchers, took them to the Land Rover and tossed them into the back. Shepherd did the same with the third launcher and slammed the door.
Black brought his Jeep to a halt at the edge of the blind spot of the CCTVs covering the wall. He and Yates jumped out holding their pickaxes and
raced towards the hole. The second Land Rover pulled up alongside the Jeep. Mark and Wilson jumped out holding wirecutters.
Shepherd and Mickey climbed into their vehicle and Mickey switched on the engine. ‘Yee-haa!’ he shouted, and put it in gear. Shepherd pulled the gun from under his seat as the Land Rover lurched forward, wheels spinning on the damp grass, and fitted it into his nylon sling so that it nestled under his left armpit.
Black and Yates attacked the hole with their pickaxes. What blocks remained in place had been loosened by the three explosions and within seconds there was a space almost big enough to drive a car through.
Mark and Wilson ran towards the hole. Black and Yates stepped to the side to let them through, then dropped their pickaxes, pulled out their guns and followed them inside. It had been less than a minute since Shepherd had fired the first warhead.
Mickey stopped next to Mark’s vehicle and threw open his door. From the other side of the wall they heard a shotgun blast and Mickey cursed. ‘What the hell?’ he said. He ran towards the hole and stepped over the broken masonry. Shepherd followed him, pulling his weapon from its sling.
They emerged through the hole into a storage area the size of a basketball court, filled with mesh-sided trolleys full of cash. At the far end there was a wall of metal bars with a door set into it. On the other side of the bars two men in overalls were lying face down. Mark was standing with his gun pointed through the bars and screaming at them to stay on the floor. One had wet himself and urine was pooling at his groin. The other’s hands were clasped behind his neck and was muttering what sounded like the Lord’s Prayer. ‘What the hell’s going on?’ shouted Mickey.
‘Cleaners,’ said Mark.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve killed them,’ said Mickey.
‘They’re okay,’ said Mark. ‘They’re as good as gold now, but I’ve told them what’ll happen if they so much as look at us wrong.’
‘But the cleaners only come in on Friday,’ said Mickey.
‘That’s not the bloody point, is it?’ shouted Mark. ‘They’re bloody well here now.’
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