Century of Jihad

by John Mannion

  ‘The living room is filling up with smoke. We can’t see clearly what’s going on inside,’ came the call from the surveillance van.

  The front door to the property flew open and out ran one of the terrorists, firing his assault rifle wildly as he entered the deserted street. He was quickly followed by his compatriot, who jumped into a kneeling, firing position to the side of the door, as he exited the building. Coughing and spluttering, both men fired blindly into the darkness, before being cut down in a hail of police gunfire. Then silence.

  Armed police cautiously approached the prone bodies, now lying motionless on the ground.

  ‘Both targets neutralised,’ came the voice over the radio.

  DAC Braithwaite, DI Ward and the CO19 Commander broke cover and approached the grim scene at the same moment as Ed Malone, who had come running down the empty street from the surveillance van.

  ‘Pity they couldn’t have been taken alive. Maybe we could have got something useful from them. I suppose that was never likely to be an option,’ he said, as much to himself as to the others gathered around.

  CHAPTER 17

  Lisa and Ed walked back to the unmarked police car in silence. As Ed drove them back to Scotland Yard, the silence continued like a barrier between them. Neither knew what to say. Normally these team ‘aways’ were full of mindless banter or general chit-chat. But not tonight. Too much had happened over the last few days. Both had seen unbelievable carnage and tragedy befall ordinary people. Each was concerned that more was to follow, and frustrated that they were no closer to predicting the ‘where’ and the ‘when’.

  ‘Callous, murdering bastards!’ Lisa blurted out suddenly.

  Ed slowed the car and looked across at her. ‘At last,’ he thought, relieved. ‘She’s giving vent to her emotions.’ He’d been a little concerned at how Lisa was coping with the events. She was relatively new to the team and he’d not worked with her under pressure before. He was very impressed at how she got stuck into the job in hand and her professional manner, but he’d not had the opportunity to see how she vented her emotions.

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘I don’t think we’ve seen the end of it. These incidents may appear to be ad-hoc, but I think they’re the lead up to something big. Trouble is, there was no HUMINT or ‘’chatter” picked up relating to either the underground or club bombings, so we’re still in a position of dealing with aftermaths rather than prevention.’

  ‘I know,’ Lisa replied. ‘It was a disastrous outcome this evening. It would’ve been far better if those two could’ve been taken alive.’

  Arriving at the Yard, Ed checked the car in and told Lisa to go home. He went up to the office where Russ Ward and DAC Braithwaite were waiting, drinking coffee.

  ‘Not the best of outcomes, eh Ed?’ said DAC Braithwaite, pouring a coffee and handing it to Ed.

  ‘I’ll be speaking to Fayaz at Five first thing tomorrow,’ DI Ward added tersely. ‘I can’t believe that Talwar was so low on the intelligence radar!’

  Taking a sip of his coffee, Ed calmly responded. ‘Those two tonight had no intention of being taken alive, so we can’t blame ourselves for that. What’s worrying me and my team is what else is planned that we’ve no idea about. There are still a couple of weeks left before Christmas, and we’ve no idea what the next potential target is, what warnings to give out to the public, or the scale of operation we may be dealing with. This could be the end, or it could just be the beginning.’

  The three continued for a while longer then headed off home in different directions.

  At home, Salim was cooking dinner, music playing softly in the background. He was anxious and found cooking helped absorb the anxiety. Home was a swish apartment at Canary Wharf, as befitted his status – the son of a wealthy Asian businessman, who had made good in his adopted country. He lived alone, which allowed him to indulge his stylish, yet minimalist, décor tastes. It also meant that he didn’t have to explain his work, his bank balances, or his comings and goings to anyone. He liked to socialise, but picked his company carefully, and never let anyone get too close. He enjoyed good food, good wine, a variety of music and the theatre. His lifestyle was in many ways at odds with the teachings of fundamentalist Islamic clerics.

  As he busied himself in the kitchen with tonight’s culinary delight, he looked out of the panoramic window onto the River Thames. He loved the night-time view back up the river, where he could see London’s lights twinkling, and imagine all the human activity scurrying around, hither and thither, like worker ants. Suddenly the phone rang and he was drawn out of his reverie. As he moved across to answer it, he felt the anxiety, which had been assuaged by the cooking, return. His heart began beating faster and his hand hesitated, momentarily, before he lifted his mobile and put it to his ear.

  ‘Yes?’ he answered. He’d learned never to use his name, no matter which phone he was answering.

  ‘Mission accomplished,’ was the terse response. Then the phone went dead.

  Passing the Bang and Olufsen sound system as he returned to the kitchen, Salim increased the volume. Grabbing a plate and cutlery, he dished up and went to the dining table. He was ecstatic. Nothing had been compromised. The food was excellent; the music uplifting; the two fighters in Paradise.

  That afternoon Ed had decided to stand Stuart and Theo down for the rest of the day. His team had been hard at it for several days, and he felt a few hours’ free time, as opposed to ‘sleep time’, would do them good. He knew Lisa’s boyfriend, Chris, was working tonight and felt it wouldn’t do her any good to sit at home alone, so she would partner him.

  Stuart made his way home across London, rather disappointed. He knew what was ‘going down’ tonight and had hoped to be part of the action. His girlfriend, Lara, an air stewardess with Virgin Atlantic, worked on the long haul US flights and was currently away in San Francisco. The nature of both their jobs meant they didn’t really have the opportunity to socialise with anyone, other than work colleagues. Mostly they spent their free time together – going for long walks, finding a pub with good food, ordering a takeaway and watching a DVD, or discussing plans for their next move to a more countrified area.

  They’d met in Scotland, where their families and close friends still lived, and moved to London when Stuart joined the Met. They tried to get back to Scotland every few months for a short break – the next one was supposed to be Christmas. Stuart already knew he wouldn’t be going but hadn’t, as yet, told Lara or any of his family.

  Arriving home, he showered, changed and looked in the fridge. Nothing took his fancy, so he reached for his mobile and rang the number pinned to the board on the kitchen wall. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he slumped down in front of the TV, scrolling through the channels to see what was on. He planned to watch some football later on, but not just now. He noticed Dr Who would be on soon, and opted for that. In the meantime, he went through the post which had accumulated over the last few days. Mostly Christmas cards and bills, but also some property details from estate agents. Just then the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of his curry. Great timing, he thought, as he rushed back from the door, dinner in brown paper bag, as the familiar Dr Who signature tune began. As the evening wore on, he relaxed, had a few more beers and watched the highlights of an exciting football match between Everton and Chelsea on Sky. Later that night as he got into bed, he realised that he’d just spent five or so waking hours without thinking about the events of recent days.

  Theo was in a quandary. Did he go home or did he go home, home? Home was the house he shared with two police friends; home, home was at his mum’s. He knew the guys were planning a night out, and had already said that he couldn’t make it as he’d be working late. At the time he’d been disappointed and a little resentful that he’d be missing out. Now as the opportunity to go after all presented itself, he wasn’t sure that he wanted to. If he went home now, the guys would set about persuading him to join them, and wouldn’t let up until he gave in. It wasn’t that
he was worried about having to go to work after a very late night. He was still at that age where he could function well on only three hours’ sleep. He didn’t drink much, and anything he did drink he sweated out through the energetic dance routines he was so proud of, and which attracted the girls. No, much to his surprise, Theo felt it would be totally inappropriate to be out enjoying himself given the events of the last few days. And so he went in the direction of home, home, arriving unexpectedly but conveniently just in time for one of his mother’s wonderful Saturday evening dinners. After dinner, his younger brother and sisters got ready to go out, but neither invited him to come along. He knew they wouldn’t – bringing along a police officer wouldn’t do much for their street cred!

  He settled down for an evening with his parents. An evening spent chatting about family, neighbours and other generalities. Mum got excited when the lottery numbers were called – she got four numbers in a row – and then he and dad were quiet whilst she watched ‘Casualty’. They chatted some more, mum had some wine, he and dad shared a few beers, and all the while the conversation steered clear of his job. At some point that evening, both parents suggested that he stay the night and he was relieved. Now, as he got into bed in his old room, he reflected on how well his parents understood him. They knew that the events of the last few days were affecting him, but that he wouldn’t or couldn’t admit it. They also knew instinctively that the normality of family life was what he needed tonight, even if only for a few short hours.

  Leaving Scotland Yard, Lisa drove home, alone again, through the night. She’d rung Chris before she left and was glad he was already at home waiting for her. She thought about her outburst in the car with Ed, still surprised. Where had it come from? It was very unlike her – she tended to keep things to herself. Obviously she was open with Chris about her experiences and thoughts relating to work, but never before with colleagues, and definitely not the boss. Nevertheless, she felt a lot better for it, and Ed seemed almost pleased with her. Despite the events of the day, she felt much less stressed going home than she had of late.

  Ed got into his car and a wave of exhaustion swam over him. He rubbed his eyes, popped a piece of chewing gum in his mouth and opened the windows a fraction. Firing up the engine, he shot out of the underground car park and into the cold, dark night. As he drove, he thought about his team. Lisa had done well tonight, and he was pleased she’d ‘let go’. There was nothing to worry about there.

  He hoped that Stuart and Theo had enjoyed their unexpected time off. Two very different personalities, but they worked well together, and Lisa appeared to work well with either of them. He detected no tensions or friction, but he did occasionally worry that Theo might over-react. It was nothing tangible, nor had he any evidence that this had ever happened in the past. It was simply a gut feeling, and his ‘gut’ had been right, more often than not in the past.

  He had the same feeling about these terrorist incidents. He was sure this was a lead up to something major. This in turn led to him thinking about the family Christmas plans. He’d have to tell Sue that he definitely wouldn’t be able to make the planned Christmas with her family in East Anglia. He wanted her and the kids to go though – it had become something of a family tradition, and was a great opportunity for the kids to meet with their cousins, and spend a truly traditional country Christmas.

  Arriving home, he was surprised to see the lights still on. Walking in, he found Sue on the living room floor, surrounded by wrapped presents and remnants of wrapping paper and plastic bags. She got up, kissed him, and he followed her through to the kitchen. Pouring two glasses of wine, Sue said,

  ‘Sit down, I want to say something. But before I start, I want to make it clear that it’s not up for discussion. The kids and I are staying here for Christmas. We’ve been out today and bought a load of food, ordered the turkey and sent letters to Santa letting him know we’re staying here. I’ve also phoned the parents and everyone understands. The kids and I will go to East Anglia on the 27th for a few days. ‘Right, before we go to bed, can you help me put all these prezzies away?’

  That night Ed had probably the best night’s sleep he’d had in days. Yes, he had plenty of worries and concerns, but family was not one of them.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Public Meeting in the town hall in Thornbury was set to be a crowd-puller. Doctor Paul Prentice, a representative from the nuclear power industry, was to address a large gathering of interested parties, ranging from members of the general public through to environmental activists and the anti-nuclear lobby. The press, local and national, would also be present.

  This was just one of a series of public meetings organised around the country now that all the enquiries into the future sources of energy had been completed. The Government had, after years of prevarication, finally addressed the issue. Furthermore, it had become convinced of the necessity to include nuclear energy as a necessary part of its plan for future energy supplies and had, as a result, agreed that Britain’s ageing nuclear plants needed to be replaced as a matter of urgency. The consultation process now complete, construction work was getting underway across the country to create the nuclear power plants necessary for the nation’s needs. Much of this development was to be at the location of previous nuclear power stations, such as the one at Oldbury, which was ten minutes’ drive from Thornbury. Not before time, in Paul’s opinion. And very much at the eleventh hour, if the country’s predicted demand for electricity was to be met and sustained.

  Faced with a nation still very much uneasy about the concept of ‘nuclear’, the industry had embarked on a massive nationwide public relations exercise. Paul was part of this effort to explain the benefits of nuclear power to the masses.

  Dr Paul Prentice was a nuclear physicist, and had worked in the nuclear industry since graduating from university. In his mid-forties, he did not have the appearance of an academic, and he was quite comfortable with this. Whilst short in stature, he had a strong wiry build, and kept fit with a combination of running and cycling.

  Paul hated these meetings. He was unnerved by the often naïve questions that came from the general public, and driven to despair by the often ignorant and arrogant histrionics which came from the Green movement and the anti-nuclear lobby.

  As the crowd gathered in the auditorium, he found himself looking into the faces of the throng, as he always did, trying to assess their mood. Was this group going to be any different from the others? Was this going to be an easy one this evening? He felt he had become quite a good judge of human character, having attended a number of such gatherings over the years. He would look into the assembly, trying to spot the troublemakers – the Colonel Blimps, who wanted to retain England’s green and pleasant land as it had always been, in their blinkered view of such things.

  Then there were those who were against everything, and turned it into a career. You could guarantee their presence at any protest, for or against any cause. Their only tangible achievement was to cost the poor British taxpayer a fortune in policing their all too often illegal activities. They offered no viable alternatives to anything, just obstruction. He thought to himself how ironic it was that so-called environmental groups were now aligned squarely with big businesses, which were falling over each other to cash in on the often unscientific arguments surrounding ‘climate change’. These arguments were being promoted by the ruling elite and left wing media, who had created a mindless mantra with all the ignorance that usually goes with religious fervour, which indeed ‘saving the planet’ had become over the years.

  Paul knew all too well what a powerful weapon ‘saving the planet’ gave the ‘intelligentsia’ in terms of power over the people. The ruling elite were now interfering in almost every aspect of human activity. These often shallow and mediocre individuals had given themselves the standing of high priests. Scientists were unable to get grants to pursue research, unless it was to prove man’s responsibility for global warming, even though this was still disputed by many w
ithin the scientific community. Some disputing the very idea of global warming. The debate, if it could be called that considering all alternative theories were stifled or vilified, failed to mention that Britain had, in times past, been part of the ice cap and also a tropical paradise. All this, before man had even set foot on the planet. In fact, Paul felt there was a degree of arrogance in the belief that something as insignificant as mankind could be responsible for the changes in climate, which he agreed were at once irrefutable and, at the same time, so obviously part of the wonders of the natural environment. It was ironic that here he was again, having to defend the nuclear industry which was the only viable alternative and secure source of energy capable of generating power in the quantities required, at little cost in terms of pollution, to replace the insecure supply and polluting fossil fuel sources of energy generation. It was an insult to be defending it against the much eulogised, alternative blight on the landscape – wind farms – which would, in time, prove to be totally unreliable, unable to cope with demand, and would have to have a back-up supply from another source of power generation anyway.

  Quite suddenly he was brought back to the present, as the local dignitary stood to introduce the visitor to the now packed hall.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have the pleasure this evening of having, in our midst, one of the country’s most eminent, scientific brains.’

  ‘Bullshit!’ thought Paul. ‘Let’s bloody get on with this farce!’

  ‘Let me introduce Doctor Paul Prentice, representing the Nuclear Power industry.’

  Paul rose and moved forward to face his audience. ‘I would, first of all, like to say how pleased I am to have been invited to speak here this evening.’ In truth, he just wished it was over.