First Response

by Stephen Leather

  ‘I’d recommend waiting,’ said Thatcher. ‘Shahid has planned this perfectly so far. He must have something in mind.’

  ‘I just wish he’d let us know what,’ said Gillard.

  BIGGIN HILL AIRPORT (7.12 p.m.)

  Talpur moved his head to the left, trying to look out of the door but there were too many people blocking his view.

  ‘What’s happening?’ said the woman in front of him.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said the man sitting next to her.

  Talpur craned his neck to look out of the front windscreen but all he could see was the wall of the hangar. Why weren’t they getting off the bus? Why wasn’t anything happening?

  ‘Driver!’ he shouted. ‘Can you see what’s happening out there?’

  The driver didn’t react but several people in front of Talpur turned to him.

  ‘Driver, can you see anything?’ shouted Talpur, standing up.

  ‘Shut up, man,’ hissed Ahmed. ‘You’ll get us killed.’

  ‘We need to know what’s happening,’ said Talpur. ‘The prisoners have been released, we’re at the airport, so why aren’t they releasing us? Shahid said we’d be released.’

  ‘He also said that if we deviated from his instructions, we’d all die.’

  ‘Brother, we know that only Shahid can detonate these vests. And if we’re sitting in this coach, he can’t see us. The windows are blacked out.’

  Another of the Asians turned. ‘Just sit down and shut up.’

  ‘You want to sit here like sheep and wait to see if Shahid will allow us to live or die?’ Talpur took a step towards the driver. ‘Driver, what’s happening out there?’

  The driver twisted in his seat. ‘Sit the fuck down!’ he shouted at Talpur.

  Talpur raised his hands and let the trigger lie in the flat of his right palm. ‘I’m not holding the trigger,’ he shouted. ‘I’m not going to press it. My hand is open. Look.’ He took another step forward and pulled the chain so that the woman slid across to his seat.

  The driver’s eyes tightened. ‘Sit the fuck down or I swear I’ll shoot you in the head.’ He had a gun in his hands now and he was pointing it at Talpur’s face.

  ‘My name is Kashif Talpur and I work for the National Crime Agency. I’m a cop.’

  ‘Sit the fuck down now!’ shouted the driver, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  ‘You have to listen to me! We can’t detonate the vests. They can only be detonated by phone. You have to get them off us now!’

  The Asian man sitting next to the priest stood up and screamed at Talpur, ‘You’re going to get us killed!’

  The driver pointed the gun at the man. ‘You, sit the fuck down! Everyone, sit down, now!’

  Talpur heard footsteps outside the coach. ‘Please, everyone, just keep calm!’ he shouted. ‘We can get out of this if we all stay calm.’

  ‘Go back to your seat now!’ shouted the driver.

  ‘No! You have to listen to me. No one here is going to press the trigger. The triggers don’t work.’

  ‘What’s happening in there?’ someone shouted from outside.

  ‘If we were going to detonate, we’d have done it already!’ shouted Talpur.

  Two more Asians at the front of the bus got to their feet at the same time and began shouting. The driver took a step back, trying to cover the two of them with his gun by swinging it from side to side.

  ‘We’re not going to hurt you. Can’t you see that?’ yelled Talpur.

  He heard a noise behind him. The emergency exit door opened and he caught a glimpse of two men in leather jackets with handguns.

  ‘Don’t shoot!’ shouted Talpur. ‘I’m a cop! I’m a fucking cop!’

  There were more sounds at the front of the bus, dull thuds. He whirled around and saw another man with a gun at the door, next to the driver.

  ‘Listen to me!’ shouted Talpur. ‘I’m a police officer. No one here can detonate their vest. They are remotely controlled. We are not a threat. I repeat, we are not a threat!’

  LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (7.13 p.m.)

  ‘What’s going on? Who told the SAS to go in?’ said Gillard. He turned to Murray. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Murray, staring up at the large screen showing the feed from the Biggin Hill hangar. SAS troopers were at the back of the coach and the front. Two of the SAS men had gone inside, Jim Hawkins leading the way.

  ‘Were shots fired?’ asked Kamran. The feed was silent so he had no idea whether the troopers had used their weapons or not.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ said Murray.

  ‘They’ve opened the rear door,’ said Gillard. ‘What the hell is happening?’

  Kamran frowned at the screen as the seconds ticked off. It didn’t make any sense. If the vests were going to detonate, what was taking so long? Were they trying to lure the SAS in so that they would be caught in the blast?

  ‘They shouldn’t have gone in without negotiating first,’ said Gillard.

  ‘Something must have happened,’ said Murray.

  ‘Then do us all a favour and find out what,’ said Gillard.

  BIGGIN HILL AIRPORT (7.14 p.m.)

  Jim Hawkins kept his MP5 trained on the face of the man standing in the aisle. His finger was tense on the trigger and the slightest increase in pressure would put a slug virtually instantaneously into the man’s skull. ‘Drop the trigger,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t,’ said the man. ‘It’s held in place with the Velcro strap. I couldn’t drop it if I wanted to.’

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Hawkins.

  ‘I want off this fucking coach,’ said the man. ‘We all do. Listen to me, I’m a cop. My name is Kashif Talpur. We are all here under duress. We can’t detonate these vests. They can only be detonated by remote control. You need to get them off us.’

  Hawkins frowned. He looked over at McMullen. ‘What do you think, Terry?’

  ‘I think if they were going to detonate, they already would have.’

  ‘He’s telling the truth,’ said the Asian man standing by the priest. ‘This is not our doing.’

  All the men wearing the vests began to talk at once, proclaiming their innocence and pleading to be allowed off the coach.

  ‘Shut the fuck up!’ shouted Hawkins. ‘Sit down, shut up, and put your hands on your heads.’

  LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (7.16 p.m.)

  Captain Murray put down his mobile phone. ‘The terrorists have surrendered,’ he said. ‘They’re saying they acted under duress.’

  ‘Duress? How?’

  ‘They’re claiming that the vests can only be detonated by remote control. The triggers don’t work.’

  ‘Then we need to get the vests off them immediately,’ said Gillard. He looked up at the screen showing the feed from the hangar. The SAS men were taking the bombers and hostages off the bus. One of the troopers had a pair of bolt-cutters and was using it to sever the chains. ‘Alex, get the hostages and bombers separated straight away. The bombers can be kept in the hangar but our men can take care of the hostages right now.’ He nodded at Kamran. ‘Mo, can you talk to Silver and make that happen? And get him to send in bomb disposal to sort the vests out.’

  ‘Will do,’ said Kamran, heading for his desk.

  ‘What the hell is going on?’ asked Gillard, looking at the screen again.

  ‘We’ve won,’ said Murray. ‘We’ve released the hostages, the would-be bombers have surrendered and we still have the ISIS prisoners. It’s a win-win-win situation.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Gillard. ‘Why did Shahid just throw in the towel?’

  ‘Maybe something happened that we’re not aware of,’ said Kamran. ‘Maybe he thinks he’s won.’ He picked up his mobile phone and called Inspector Adams at Biggin Hill. ‘Ian, the ISIS prisoners. Where are they right now?’

  ‘Over at the RAF base.’

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Last I heard, that’s where the
y were. Still under guard in the van.’

  ‘Okay. I need you to go over there right now and see for yourself. With your own eyes. Open the door and check that they’re all there.’

  ‘You think they’re not? You think they’ve gone?’

  ‘Ian, nothing would surprise me right now. All we know is that we haven’t heard from Shahid and the bombers have given up. If we still have the ISIS prisoners in custody then I don’t understand what has happened.’ Kamran ended the call. ‘Inspector Adams is going to check on the prisoners now,’ he said to Gillard.

  ‘Please God they’d better still be in the van,’ said Gillard.

  BIGGIN HILL AIRPORT (7.18 p.m.)

  A bomb-disposal technician in a full bomb suit used a large pair of industrial bolt-cutters to separate the last of the chains. A policeman in a fluorescent jacket rushed the woman hostage out of the hangar.

  A second technician removed the vest, carried it to a line of sandbags and placed it carefully with the eight vests that had already been removed. The Asian man’s wrists were bound behind his back with plastic ties, then two SAS troopers hustled him outside and made him kneel on the ground with the rest of the men who had been taken off the coach. All nine stared silently at their captors. Those who had tried to speak had been slapped and told to keep their mouths shut.

  The Bomb Squad leader walked out of the hangar, removed his helmet and waved at Hawkins to join him. Hawkins jogged over, his MP5 at his side. ‘They’re fake,’ said the bomb-disposal expert.

  ‘You mean they can’t be detonated using the triggers?’ said Hawkins.

  The man shook his head. ‘Nothing can detonate them. They’re fake. The explosive isn’t real. It’s Plasticine or something. And the wiring’s all wrong.’

  ‘I was told they could be detonated by phone.’

  ‘Then you were told wrong,’ said the technician. ‘They look the part, but they’re totally inert. There was never a chance of them blowing up. It’s a con. A scam. We’ve all been wasting our bloody time.’

  RAF BIGGIN HILL (7.22 p.m.)

  Inspector Adams drove from the hangar to RAF Biggin Hill in less than two minutes, his heart racing. The base was on the western side of the airport, to the south of the passenger terminal. It was the headquarters of 2427 Squadron of the Air Training Corps and there was a brick-built chapel, with a remembrance garden, to commemorate all the airmen who had lost their lives flying out of Biggin Hill during the Battle of Britain. Two full-size replicas of a Hurricane and a Spitfire stood guard at the entrance to the base and Adams drove between them, turned left in front of the chapel and parked in front of a two-storey featureless administration block. The prison van was at the side of the building with half a dozen armed police officers standing around it. Off to the left were the police motorcyclists who had escorted the van from Belmarsh. High overhead a police helicopter hovered, ever watchful.

  Adams walked over to an SCO19 sergeant. ‘Everything okay?’ he asked.

  ‘All good,’ said the sergeant. ‘Any idea what’s happening?’

  ‘The bombers are in custody. No shots fired, no one hurt,’ said Adams.

  The sergeant looked almost disappointed. ‘It’s over?’

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Adams. ‘But I have to check that your prisoners are all accounted for.’

  ‘No question,’ said the sergeant. ‘The doors haven’t been opened since we left Belmarsh.’

  ‘I’m under orders to see for myself,’ said Adams.

  Adams went to the van. A prison officer in white shirt and black trousers climbed out of the front and Adams asked him to unlock the back door. The door opened into a small metal corridor with four doors on each side. The prison officer climbed up and took a bunch of keys hanging from a chain attached to his belt. He unlocked the first door on the right and pulled it open so that Adams could look inside. It was a small cubicle, all white metal, with a small bench seat on which sat a bearded Asian man. He scowled up at Adams. ‘Am I to be freed?’ he asked.

  ‘Not on my watch,’ growled Adams, and nodded for the prison officer to relock the door.

  The officer opened another five doors. Each cubicle was occupied.

  ‘Satisfied, sir?’ asked the sergeant, as Adams climbed out of the back of the van.

  ‘Satisfied, but as confused as hell.’

  LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (7.25 p.m.)

  Kamran put down his mobile phone. He was sitting at a large table in a meeting room opposite the special operations room, which was normally used for press briefings, with lines of red chairs facing a raised podium. The Gold Command suite had been too small for the briefing that was now needed. Chief Superintendent Gillard was standing at the middle of the long desk on the podium, flanked by Kamran and Waterman on his left, Thatcher and Murray on his right. Facing them were more than a dozen Silver Commanders from the special operations room and representatives from most of the pods. Lisa Elphick was sitting in the front row, a notepad on her lap, Tony Drury next to her. Kamran looked up at Gillard. ‘That was Silver Commander at Biggin Hill,’ he said. ‘All six of the prisoners are present and accounted for.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ said Gillard.

  ‘And the suicide vests are fake.’

  Kamran’s revelation was met by a stunned silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mo, run that by us again,’ said Gillard.

  ‘The vests don’t contain explosives. Or a detonation system. They’re fake.’

  ‘I’m confused. What the hell have we been dealing with all day? What has this all been about?’

  ‘It was a scam, from the start,’ said Kamran.

  ‘But to what end?’ said Gillard. ‘The bombers have surrendered, the prisoners are still in custody, and we haven’t heard from Shahid since, what, twenty to five? Almost three hours ago. He’s been watching TV so he must know that the ISIS prisoners and his men are at the airport. Why hasn’t he called?’

  Tony Drury’s mobile rang and he went to the far end of the room, talking into it with his hand over his mouth.

  ‘Perhaps he realised it was a trap,’ said Thatcher.

  ‘In which case why did his men surrender so easily? There was no negotiation. No demands. No contact, even.’

  Thatcher shrugged. ‘Maybe the terrorists decided to take matters into their own hands once they realised they were trapped in the hangar.’

  ‘But right from the start they said they would kill everyone if they didn’t get what they wanted,’ said Gillard. ‘Okay, we now know that the vests weren’t a real threat, but at the time we thought they were. At the very least, you would have thought Shahid would have tried to negotiate. It makes no sense that he’d just walk away.’

  ‘Unless he already had what he wanted,’ said Kamran.

  Gillard turned to him. ‘But what?’ he asked. ‘How is this in any way a victory for him?’

  ‘It could have been a test,’ said Waterman. ‘Testing to see how we would react, how much leeway we would give them. Now they know that the government will bow to their demands, next time they will ask for even more. And next time the vests could be real.’

  Murray nodded. ‘We showed weakness,’ he said. ‘They’ll take advantage of that.’

  Drury finished his call and walked back to his seat. ‘That was one of my guys,’ he said. ‘He confirms that the explosives weren’t real, and neither were the detonators. The triggers looked like the real thing but they wouldn’t have done anything if pressed. The vests were harmless. Totally harmless.’

  Gillard was about to speak when the door opened. It was Sergeant Lumley. ‘It’s the prime minister, sir,’ said the sergeant. ‘On your direct line in the Gold Command suite so I can’t transfer it.’

  Gillard stood up. ‘Mo, you’d better come with me.’ He looked around the room. ‘To be continued …’ he said, and headed for the door with Kamran in tow.

  BIGGIN HILL AIRPORT (7.26 p.m.)

  Inspector Ian Adams stood next to the EOD t
echnicians and watched as they worked. They had all nine vests on the ground and one was taking photographs with a digital camera. ‘Have you ever seen anything like this before?’ Adams asked the older of the two men.

  ‘Fakes, you mean? Not outside the movies, no. But someone went to a lot of trouble to make them appear real. They’d fool me from a distance, no question.’

  Adams walked out of the hangar.

  ‘Sir! Are you the Silver Commander here?’

  Adams turned to see who was shouting at him. SAS troopers with guns at the ready were guarding the nine men who had been wearing the vests. They were all kneeling facing the outside wall of the hangar, their wrists bound behind their backs. One of the men had twisted his head around to look at Adams. An SAS trooper stepped forward and shouted at the man to keep quiet.

  ‘Yes, I am. Inspector Ian Adams.’

  ‘My name is Kashif Talpur. I’m an undercover officer with the National Crime Agency. My governor is Inspector Mark Biddulph. He was at Tavistock Square. He can vouch for me.’

  ‘That’s all right, I know who you are,’ said Adams. He nodded at the SAS trooper standing behind Talpur. ‘It’s okay, he’s one of ours.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. My orders are to keep everyone here in this position.’

  ‘He’s a cop.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir.’

  Adams opened his mouth to argue but could see from the look on the trooper’s face that there would be no point. He glanced around for Sergeant Hawkins and saw him inside the hangar, standing by the coach. He went over and explained what had happened. Hawkins called over to the trooper, ‘Let him go, Haggis. He’s one of the good guys.’

  Haggis used a knife to cut the plastic tie before helping Talpur to his feet.

  Talpur hurried over to Adams. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said. ‘Any idea where my governor is?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Adams. ‘But I can find out. What the hell’s going on? What were you doing with that vest on?’

  ‘We were forced into it. They said if we didn’t do as we were told, they’d set the bombs off.’

  ‘The bombs were fake,’ said Adams. ‘You were never in any danger.’

  ‘That can’t be right. I saw one of them explode. It blew a guy to pieces.’