If he was going to die, he wanted to die with his eyes open.
His eyelids opened.
He stepped to the side of the door so he was shielded by the wall and turned the handle and pushed…
“SHIT…” he shouted.The door was locked!
His eyes glanced down at the door. What now?
Something caught his eyes on the floor, just beneath the handle.
A key.
The key?
Perhaps it had fallen out as Hamilton had turned it rapidly, in haste, or dropped it deliberately, before the door was sealed with the plastic.
He grabbed it off the floor, and thrust it into the keyhole, applying pressure.
It turned.
He twisted the door-handle and pushed.
The door opened.
“I’m entering the room,” he said into his comms microphone. “It’s sealed everywhere on the inside with the black plastic sheeting. I can smell gas. Confirm I smell gas. But not at toxic levels. Mrs McKenzie is in the middle of the room sitting on a chair beside the kitchen island. Her eyes are open. She’s gagged. But I confirm her eyes are open and moving. There are two words written on her forehead in red… Remember Me?… I’m now locating and turning off the gas taps on the cooker, although it seems like there’s no longer any gas coming out… I confirm, I have now switched off the gas.”
Galbraith rushed back to the chair on which Fiona was sitting and quickly scanned her and it with his trained eyes.
Immediately underneath the chair, but sitting independently and not connected to anything else, was a small bundle. A clock. Small cables. And two sticks of TNT.
“Shit… there’s a manual detonator on two sticks of TNT. There’s no mobile. Could be sensitive to movement… ”
“Shit… ” he said again, noting the time on the clock on the detonator. Two minutes to go.
Slipping his rucksack from his shoulder to the floor, he stepped to the front of the chair, bent down and picked her and the chair up.
Little Bump pushed against him. He couldn’t lift them in that position. He couldn’t get the balance.
He put her down again and then swiftly stepped around and behind the chair. He breathed in deeply, bent forward and lifted.
Summoning all his strength, he picked them both up and with the same effort and momentum launched himself and his passenger through the kitchen door.
Two other Tactical Team members were now in the corridor.
The front door was now open, having been checked for wires and any booby trap by the others and then opened from inside to create a draft and vent the gas.
As the Sergeant and Mrs McKenzie emerged through the kitchen door, the others pushed and redirected them down the hall and through the open front door into the courtyard beyond.
They’d made three metres into the courtyard when the blast caught them from behind.
It pushed them over, propelling them onto the ground, Fiona’s chair landing on its back and then turning onto its side, the wooden struts of the chair splintering and absorbing most of the shock, and acting as a buffer from the impact of the fall.
Behind them, the windows of the cottage blew out, and some masonry shot across the courtyard, a few bricks and small pieces of stone peppering the cobblestones.
Immediately following the blast there was a moment of strange quiet and calm.
“Man down!” a voice echoed across the comm’s unit linking them all together. “Medic required, immediately!”
Galbraith opened his eyes, feeling two sets of powerful hands pulling him up onto his feet.
Galbraith quickly surveyed the scene. One of the men behind him was lying on the ground writhing in agony, a large piece of shattered glass protruding from one side of his thigh. His left arm appeared to be broken. The single quick glance from Galbraith told him that it was a non-fatal wound. It had missed the artery. It needed taking out carefully under supervision, but the man would live, and the leg would recover.
Fiona McKenzie was lying on her side, one arm trapped beneath her on one side, both arms still tied behind the remnants of the chair. Her eyes were moving wildly, darting from side to side.
The other man from inside the building was kneeling up, and reaching towards Mrs McKenzie. His hands touched her face and then pulled the gag from her mouth.
“Are you ok?” he shouted, the blast still ringing in his ears.
She coughed several times, then vomited onto the cobblestones in the courtyard.
Galbraith had lost his knife in the explosion, but reached across and pulled one from the leg of his colleague lying on the ground.
He quickly cut through the ropes tying Mrs McKenzie to the back of the chair, and set her free.
Together he and his colleague helped Mrs McKenzie up onto her feet.
“How are you?” they asked. “How much gas did you breathe in? How’s the baby?”
She coughed, then smiled.
“I’m okay, and I think Little… the baby, is okay too. Not much gas. It was okay. The man turned the taps on, then hurried out… I heard the gas coming… then it just stopped… ”
Galbraith spoke quickly into the comms microphone on his lapel.
“Mrs McKenzie is fine. Baby seems fine. Mrs McKenzie reports all well. We need a medic to check her over and fix a flesh wound on PC Davies and a broken arm. But all looks well. And I now have a visual on all members of my team. Mission successful. I repeat, Mission successful. Victim secured alive and well, and there is a baby kicking, apparently!”
Thirty miles away DCI Campbell McKenzie collapsed onto his knees.
And wept.
-------------------------
McKenzie had just spoken to Fiona. It had been a short conversation, but a reassuring one.
The ambulance which had been waiting in the field near the cottage with the rest of his team had quickly made its way to the cottage, and the medics had given Fiona a once over. So far, everything seemed fine, but they were just about to take her into the hospital in North Berwick for a full investigation and ultra-sound scan of the baby. The paramedic had reassured McKenzie that it was only a precaution and that everything seemed good. Apparently one of the Tactical Team had been injured though, but he would be well too, once his arm and leg had been given time to heal.
Before the ambulance left for the hospital McKenzie had insisted on talking to Fiona.
There had been a few tears and McKenzie had apologised for sending her away and putting her and Little Bump in danger.
Deep down, McKenzie knew it was not his fault, but he would never have forgiven himself if anything had happened to them.
He was proud of Fiona though. She seemed to have been strong, and even after the explosion and coming close to have being blown up, she seemed to be coping with the stress of it all, even to the point of insisting she give him a quick de-brief before she was taken away.
“Campbell, before you go, I have some information I think you need to know,” she had insisted. “I got to see his face. At first he wore a mask, like the face of an Indian Chief you see kids wearing at Halloween, but he took it off just before he started to write something on my forehead. I asked what he was doing, and why, and he just said that it was ‘so I would remember in Hell what I had done, and who I’d done it to.’ I told him I didn’t understand, and he shouted at me and said ‘Shut up, you Gasbag. She’s dead because of you. You killed her.’ I asked him what he was talking about, and he got even more upset and shouted that ‘you killed the only person I ever loved, and the only person who ever loved me.” He said that he was doing this for her, ‘making her wishes come true, just like in her book.’ Campbell, does that make any sense to you?”
“Yes. It does. A little. I think that he and Maggie Sutherland had a relationship once. They split up. I’m guessing that she killed herself because she couldn’t cope with life and what had happened to her, and when that happened, he decided to exact revenge on everyone in her book. Obviously, he must have bee
n given the last outstanding copy of the book that was printed. We know she dedicated the draft copy to him. She must have wanted him to have a copy, and given him one at some point.”
“Campbell, I’ve got to go… the ambulance driver needs to get one of the Tactical Team to hospital who’s broken his arm and got a flesh wound.”
McKenzie promised to come straight to the hospital as soon as he could, then Galbraith had come on the phone and had requested a conversation with McKenzie.
The news had not been good.
“I saw two sticks of TNT under the chair. Not more. According to what you told me, there are four pieces still not accounted for. Hamilton may have them with him in his car.”
McKenzie thanked Galbraith profusely for saving his wife and child. He’d then hung up and called Wishart.
She was still in the van with the technician and the drone operator.
“Status” he asked.
“About ten miles from Edinburgh, on the dual carriageway.”
“Okay, keep him under observation. I’m going to call in the reinforcements.”
The next call he made was to DCS Wilkinson.
“Ma’am, what time does the Queen leave today?”
“Tomorrow morning now. She’s staying one more night in Holyrood.”
“I got the news back on the analysis of the TNT from the school and the comparison with the TNT taken from your supposed terrorist attacks. It’s the same TNT Ma’am. The same.”
McKenzie could hear her take a breath, quickly processing the implications of what he’d just said.
“Okay, something tells me you’re not finished.” She carried on. “What else have you got, McKenzie?”
“The terrorist you’re looking for under Operation Crown is Hamish Hamilton, also known as Neil McBeth. He’s currently heading towards Edinburgh in a blue Nissan. We have him under observation and we’re following him. That’s the good news. The bad news is that we think he has three sticks of dynamite left and he’s possibly got them with him in the car… We also know that he is very upset, and thinks he has just killed my wife, who by the way, thanks to Sergeant Galbraith and his Tactical Team, is alive and well. As is, we hope, our baby.”
“Fiona and the baby are okay?”
“Yes. They’re going to hospital as we speak for an examination, but the paramedics are happy.”
“Great news. Congratulations Campbell. I couldn’t be happier for you!” She exclaimed, some real emotion sneaking through in her voice. Then her tone changed, and she became more serious. “So, you’re handing the case over to me or the National Crime Unit?”
“Ma’am, there’s a terrorist heading to Edinburgh with three sticks of TNT. He’s killed four people already and placed numerous bombs targeting the Queen. What are you going to do about it?” McKenzie replied.
She replied with only two words.
“Stop him.”
-------------------------
It took twenty minutes for DCS Wilkinson to pass over all the relevant information that McKenzie had provided to the appropriate authorities responsible for preventing and terminating a live and ongoing terrorist threat to the Queen.
By the time all the relevant parties were informed and resources had been deployed, Hamish Hamilton was on the three-lane bypass heading around the outskirts of Edinburgh en route to Glasgow or Stirling.
McKenzie had been waiting and watching for him to pass by, sitting patiently in an elevated but hidden police viewing point, at all times full informed by Wishart exactly where Hamilton was.
As soon as the car passed by, McKenzie dropped back down onto the road, and followed from behind about twenty metres away.
The traffic on the road was light today, and there were only a few cars ahead of McKenzie’s between him and Hamilton’s Nissan.
A large and expensive white Land Rover, and a green Audi.
McKenzie was no longer in charge.
The Combined Response Firearms Team working on Operation Crown had taken over.
The plan was simple. Already several Tactical Teams and armed response units with Counter Terrorist Specialist Firearms Officers were waiting to enter the motorway at the next junction behind Hamilton. They would then close the motorway behind him.
Likewise, the traffic in front was already being diverted off the motorway ahead of Hamilton’s Nissan, and all traffic in the opposite direction on the opposing carriageway had been terminated.
The C.R.F.T. had done this many times before. If everything went well, only a few cars in front of the Nissan, and those immediately behind it would be left travelling down the next stretch of the motorway, with armed response units immediately filling the road in front and behind, and setting up barricades on either side of the road.
Helicopters would then descend from the heavens, bristling with hardware and megaphones blasting threats and instructions, with armed officers rappelling down ropes onto the motorway.
Within minutes the remaining traffic would be stopped and encircled at a suitable distance on the motorway by very scary armour-plated CRFT vehicles.
Heavily armed CTSFOs would immediately move in and secure the safety of passengers in any of the other vehicles, leaving only Hamish Hamilton alone in his vehicle in the middle of three lanes of empty traffic.
The plan sounded simple. And it was executed well.
Unfortunately, however, one vehicle – the expensive Land Rover - was travelling too close to Hamish Hamilton’s Nissan and was eventually stopped and became stationary, only metres away. It had entered at the last junction beneath the Pentland Hills and had been in a hurry.
“Remain in your vehicles. Do not attempt to leave.”
The helicopter’s megaphones blasted out the instructions as it hovered above the two vehicles.
McKenzie had come up slowly behind the CRFT vehicles in front of him, and he was now safe on the other side of the barricade as the CRFT took control.
From where he was, it was obvious Hamish Hamilton was going nowhere fast.
-------------------------
The Edinburgh City Bypass
17.48
“Maggie, I’m really sorry, I genuinely want to be there with you at six-thirty for the meeting with the First Minister and the photograph. I was heading over there now …” Stuart was explaining to Marie on the phone. “There’s a lot I need to talk to you about. There’re some things I want to explain to you. It’s important I get the chance to tell you something before we meet the First Minister and have the photograph.”
“So where are you now? How far away are you?” Maggie had asked.
“Actually, there’s a problem. I may be a little late…”
“Why? What’s happened?” she asked, sensing an excuse coming.
“Well, I seem to be trapped on the Edinburgh Bypass. I’m completely stationary and can’t move. There’s one car just in front of me. Two police helicopters directly above my head, and a fleet of armed vehicles in front and behind me… As far as excuses go, I think this is a pretty good one.”
“Are you serious? What’s going on?” Marie asked, now a little concerned.
“Actually, I don’t know… but I think I have to go now. There’s about six armed men surrounding my vehicle and ordering me to get out… I think I have to go…”
-------------------------
The Edinburgh City Bypass
17.55
Hamish Hamilton sat in the front seat of his car. He was still gripping both sides of the steering wheel, the white of his hands showing through his knuckles.
There was a helicopter above his head.
A fucking helicopter.
And armed vehicles and heavily armed police officers everywhere.
“Where the fuck did they come from?” he swore aloud.
Still gripping the steering wheel, he swivelled his head around, taking in the scene around him.
The crazy, chaotic, madness that was unfolding around him.
“Where the fuck did th
ey come from?” he repeated.
He was tired.
So tired.
And so confused.
He needed to get to Maggie before the police arrested her.
To see her.
She was still alive!
Hamish knew that it would all be alright when she saw him again. She would love him again. They would be together again.
They would have what they had before.
She was alive.
That was all that was important.
“Hamish Hamilton. Open the door slowly and step outside your vehicle. Put your arms in the air and keep them there. Leave everything else in the vehicle.”
The helicopter had now lifted up higher into the air, and to the side, backing off.
The voice that was almost blasting his eardrums to pieces was now coming from a wall of loudspeakers mounted on a nearby police vehicle.
Glancing in his rear-view mirror he saw another man step out of a white Land-Rover. His hands were in the air. He was immediately surrounded by armed officers in uniforms that made them look like something from Star Wars, and the man was swiftly ushered away.
Within seconds it was just Hamish. Alone.
Against what seemed like the whole fucking Scottish armed police force. There were armed cars and police in strange uniforms and weird helmets everywhere, all carrying weapons, all of which were pointing straight at him.
He was tired.
What was happening… He had to get to Maggie…
“Step out of the vehicle, put your hands above your head… ”
Hamish glanced down at the passenger seat. Three sticks of dynamite.
And a detonator.
He picked it up in his hands and held it close to his chest.
He was tired… so very, very tired…
Closing his eyes for the last time he started to dream about Maggie.
It was a nice dream.
And Hamish didn’t want it to end.
Maggie smiled at him. Hamish saw her wave.
“Come… ” she said.
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