Agent of the State (52 page)

‘Where were you going to take her?’

‘Why should we take her anywhere?’ Jibril gave a harsh laugh. ‘No, we let the infidels come to her.’

Kerr punched him hard in the face, and this time he fell unconscious. There was a coil of rope on a hook on the wall above the futon and Kerr used it to bind Jibril’s hands in front of him. In the left pocket of Jibril’s jeans his mobile was vibrating. Kerr carefully withdrew it and looked at the screen. It was a text from Samir Khan, the target in East Ham, with two words: ‘Send now?’

Kerr texted a one-word reply, ‘Now’, and showed it to Melanie. She immediately covered his hand. ‘Be careful, John. The signal. You sure this can’t detonate the bomb?’

‘No. Everything will be all right.’ He pressed ‘Send’. Seconds later, Kerr’s BlackBerry vibrated. He had an email from an unidentified sender: ‘Your daughter will be waiting for you at two p.m. exactly. Brent Cross Shopping Centre, first floor by the main elevators. Come alone or you will never see her again.’

Kerr knelt down with Melanie beside Gabi to examine the vest. It was fixed at the front by two metal clasps, with a narrow loop of fabric around Gabi’s neck to support the weight of the detonator, explosives and shrapnel. A toggle identical to Malik’s dropped by Gabi’s right hand.

‘It’s hurting me, Dad.’ Gabi was shaking now, close to hysteria as the shock sank in. ‘Please help me.’

‘It’s OK.’ Kerr took her hand. ‘We’re going to get it off you. But you have to keep absolutely still.’ He glanced at Melanie, then carefully manipulated the clasps while Melanie pulled the vest tighter to ease the pressure. When it was released, the weight took her by surprise and she almost dropped it. She laid it gently on the concrete floor as Kerr took Gabi in his arms.

Melanie was already standing up and there was the glisten of sweat on her brow. ‘Job done,’ she said. ‘Please, let’s get out of here.’

Kerr gently pushed Gabi to her. ‘Take her to the car and tell Jack and Justin to stand off.’

‘John, this whole place could go up.’

‘I’m not finished here. I’ll join you in a minute.’

When they were gone, Kerr knelt down to study the vest again, then tested the hook from which he had taken the coil of rope. Jibril was groaning, beginning to come round. He tied a length of rope around Jibril’s bound hands, dragged him across the floor until his body was directly beneath the hook, then looped the rope over it. He hauled Jibril to his feet and pulled on the rope until his arms were high above his head and he was almost on tiptoe. Jibril was awake now, but Kerr ignored him as he gingerly picked up the vest and secured it around Jibril’s upper body.

‘I’ll ask you once again,’ said Kerr, looking directly into his eyes. ‘Is it live?’

Jibril’s face looked different now. He was a
jihadi
, but suicide was not his favoured method of mass murder. Kerr understood perfectly. Suddenly, Jibril was betraying the fear of the ordinary man confronted with his mortality. His eyes showed surprise, too, perhaps because he believed he was destined for greater things than this.

‘Were you really going to use my daughter as a bomb?’ said Kerr, quietly.

Jibril was starting to say something, but Kerr suddenly realised the time for talking was over. Staring into Jibril’s face, his mind reeled back to his Tube journey with Gabi so many years ago, and his execution of another bomber, which had caused so much damage to their relationship. A voice inside was telling him he could avoid making the same mistake again. This was his chance to walk away, it said. There would be no cover-up this time. Jibril was going nowhere, except to jail for the rest of his life.

But even as these thoughts cascaded through Kerr’s brain, his hands grabbed a roll of twine from the bench and tied the free end to the toggle. Without another look at Jibril he reeled out the twine, walked from the garage and closed the doors behind him, putting the padlock through the hasp.

Outside he moved quickly, carefully unravelling the twine as he crashed through the undergrowth. This time he travelled in a straight line, impervious to the twigs whipping his face and the brambles ripping his clothes. He was less than ten paces from the end garage when he stumbled on a fallen branch. His falling body yanked the twine hard. There was a loud crack followed by a roar and a rush of searing heat. Then he felt a sharp pain in his leg and head. It surprised him because it was such a different sensation from the tearing of the undergrowth. Then the same searing, roaring energy was ripping away his clothes and he was airborne, flying easily through the saplings and dense brambles, which, seconds earlier, had been so difficult to penetrate. Almost the last thing he heard was the deafening flapping sound of birds abandoning the trees and foliage, before something exploded inside his head in a final red-hot, searing meltdown, and he was wrapped in blackness.

Sixty-three

Friday, 28 September, 13.07, bomb factory, Willesden

Melanie reached Kerr first, sprinting between the maisonettes with Jack Langton close behind. She found him, crumpled and unconscious, close to their original hiding place. His flying body had created a neat tunnel through the undergrowth and he must have bounced a couple of times to reach the higher ground, ending up hard against a beech tree. The explosion had ripped all his clothes and his skin was covered with weals and scratches. His upturned face was a swollen mass of red, almost unrecognisable, and Melanie immediately pressed her bare hand over a heavily bleeding wound on the left side of his skull. He lay like a discarded puppet, his limbs splayed at unnatural angles, and his broken lower left leg flopped haphazardly across his right shin. The shrapnel Melanie had been examining only a few moments earlier around Gabi’s body had ripped into his legs, reducing his trousers to shreds, and his shoes were nowhere to be seen. As she searched for life signs, Langton was kneeling beside her, pressing a handkerchief to Kerr’s head wound as he called for assistance on Channel Five, managing to give their precise location.

‘Weak pulse,’ she said quietly to Langton. Melanie wanted to keep Gabi away. She shouted to Justin, but Gabi was already tearing into the bushes, kneeling down to cradle her father. Melanie checked his airway and immobilised his neck as best she could with a makeshift pillow of twigs and leaves. Justin covered him with his jacket, and everyone willed the competing sirens to reach them.

Melanie glanced at Langton and Justin, following their gaze to the bomb scene. The whole row of garages had disappeared, although the site itself was still burning fiercely. Melanie looked in vain for signs of Jibril’s corpse: either the fire had consumed every trace, or his remains were covered with debris. The wind shifted as they stared, blowing dense black smoke in their direction. It made them cough, and Gabi tried to shield her father’s face from the fumes as a huddle of onlookers from the maisonettes appeared at the end of the alleyway.

The first local uniforms on the scene were trying to clear the area. They sent the occupants back inside and came over to Kerr’s team. The older of the two was brisk and professional as he tried to make sense of the situation and account for victims. ‘We need to clear the area. Paramedics are on their way.’ His glance at Kerr’s body said they probably would not be necessary. He meant nothing by it. He was doing his job, trying to manage the crisis, but Langton flashed his ID and told them to piss off.

‘How the fuck could this happen, Mel?’ he said, when they had gone.

Without taking her finger from the pulse in Kerr’s neck, Melanie pointed at the flames. ‘Jibril must have topped himself as John was getting clear.’

Langton’s body language was telling her he did not believe a word of it, so Melanie looked away and gave all her attention to Kerr. There was nothing else to say, so Melanie gently searched what remained of Kerr’s clothes. She found his smashed BlackBerry in his jacket pocket, his car key and some cash in his trousers. She expected nothing more, for she knew Kerr always travelled light.

Everyone was relieved when the paramedics arrived. They needed space, so while they stabilised Kerr for the rush to hospital, Melanie put an arm round Gabi and slowly led her back to the car.

They took Kerr to Central Middlesex Hospital in Park Royal, about three miles away. Melanie followed with Gabi in Kerr’s Alfa, while Jack and Justin roared ahead to clear the traffic. Gabi protested that she wanted to go with Kerr in the ambulance, but Melanie told her it was not possible. That was a lie, but Melanie needed space to get her talking. Gabi was in shock, crying that she was to blame for everything, so Melanie needed to extract as much information as possible before she closed down completely.

‘Robyn told us a young man called Sam had been writing to you,’ said Melanie, as they pulled out behind the ambulance.

‘He Facebooked me a couple of weeks ago. I should never have accepted. I’d been writing stuff about Palestine and he wanted to work with me. We were writing to each other for a couple of days, then I gave him my mobile number. He wanted to Skype me and he seemed such a nice guy. We chatted for ages.’ It was raining now and Gabi stalled for a moment at the memory, biting her lip and staring through the streaks of water on the passenger window. Then the words came in a rush. ‘His family in Pakistan had been through hell. Really suffered, you know? We met for a coffee near college. He wanted me to help him start a student group. Tuesday afternoon he picked me up on his bike and brought me out here.’

Melanie slipstreamed the ambulance through a blot of heavy traffic in Craven Park Road. ‘To the house where he just collected you, yes?’

‘There was another guy, too. They took my mobile and kept me upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Told me I could go in a couple of days.’

‘Did they harm, you, Gabi?’

‘It wasn’t like that. No one laid a finger on me. Just didn’t want me to leave, that’s all.’

‘It’s kidnap, Gabi. Very serious.’

‘I feel a complete idiot. I was so scared, Melanie.’

‘There was nothing you could do. Try and think back. When did he contact you the first time? Exactly? It’s important.’

The ambulance had switched on the siren to negotiate a red traffic light and Gabi stared directly ahead. She was weeping again, as if she alone was responsible for everything.

Melanie reached for Gabi’s hand. ‘Gabi. This is not down to you. We’ll get you through it.’

The ambulance eased its way across the junction followed by the Alfa, and then they were left with just the sway and swish of the windscreen wipers.

‘It was the evening after the concert Dad came to,’ she whispered.

‘Some people bugged John’s flat. They must have found out about you that Sunday when we all came round, remember? When you got back from Rome?’

‘So they were using me to get at Dad? How could I be so stupid?’

‘This is so much not your fault, Gabi. Listen to me. You could never have known. This “Sam” who contacted you. I think his real name is Samir Khan. He’s a friend of the man who just killed himself and we’re going to arrest him.’

Gabi was crying again. ‘I’ve been so mean.’

They were approaching the hospital. As the ambulance pulled into the emergency bay, Melanie could see Langton and Justin already waiting.

‘He was going to blow me up,’ said Gabi in disbelief.

‘We would never have let him.’

‘And now they’ve killed Dad instead.’

‘Don’t say that.’ Melanie gripped her hand tightly. ‘Let’s just hope for the best.’

Melanie drove into the nearest waiting bay and switched off. She had the door open but Gabi was still sitting there, looking at the rain through the passenger window. ‘I can’t go in,’ she wept.

Melanie pulled the door shut, scarcely able to hear her. ‘Of course you can. He needs you.’

‘I’ve been so mean to him, Melanie. A complete bitch for years.’ She swung round, her face wrecked and puffy. ‘It’s just . . . he has such a weird life. You know, the thing with him and Mum. It’s hard for me to get my head around.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘And no one else’s dad does the things he does, none of my friends’ dads. The things you all do. I didn’t really get it till now. This is all down to me.’

‘No, it’s not.’

‘I’ve been a complete and utter moron.’

Melanie leant across Gabi and clicked her door open. ‘So let’s start again.’

In addition to the countless lacerations all over his face and body, and a badly gashed leg from where he had crashed into the tree, Kerr had serious shrapnel injuries to his head and back. Langton and Justin joined them in the A&E waiting room, where they hung around like caged animals, comforting Gabi and keeping in touch with Donna. When she was more composed, Gabi borrowed Melanie’s phone to call Robyn, who told her she would catch the first flight the next day. When they sent Kerr up to the ward and settled him in the room closest to the nurses’ station, the four of them went to the canteen for a break.

By the time they returned, Kerr’s new doctor was using different language. She was young and looked tired, as if she had treated several Kerrs that day. She used different language to describe his condition. Things had moved on from unconsciousness, a temporary state they more or less understood. The word she used was ‘coma’. At some time between being blasted against a tree and trolleyed up in the lift, the drip-fed, heavily bandaged figure they glimpsed through the screen had drifted to this other place. And that was a good sign, she said, because it gave his body space to recover.