Red Crystal (58 page)

One thing was for sure: it wasn’t vibration activated. Otherwise the blast five minutes ago would have set it off and blown up not only Sir Henry, but a lot of the house as well.

‘All right then,’ he said brightly. ‘We’ll get going. Anything you want to ask before I start, sir?’

Sir Henry coughed violently. He wasn’t sounding at all well. His breathing was heavy and laboured. The shock of the explosion can’t have helped. The poor bloke had probably thought he was going up too. Lucky he didn’t.

The coughing ceased. He was trying to say something. ‘She died instantly, did she?’

Captain Harris said gravely, ‘Yes. Instantly.’ In fact she had lived for a minute, but only in a technical sense; her heart had kept beating, pumping blood out through the massive hole in her back. But she had been unconscious, so it had hardly counted. The body was still here. No point in removing it and endangering more lives. Harris had thrown a coat over it.

Now there was just Sir Henry and himself. Harris wondered how long Sir Henry could withstand the strain. At the moment he was still calm and composed. It was vital that he didn’t panic.

Although he generally preferred to work in silence, Harris said, ‘Look, if at any time you’re worried, feel uneasy, or just want to talk, do so, won’t you? And of course you will tell me if you feel anything move or click or whirr or anything like that. Are you with me?’

‘Yes, I understand. The only thing is, I may not be able to stop myself coughing.’

‘That’s all right. But perhaps you could give me some warning.’

‘I’ll try.’ Sir Henry managed a weak smile. Harris smiled back. They were going to get on fine.

Harris began by taking a good look at the box. He crawled round it, minutely examining the wood for signs of holes or fittings. He stopped on the right side, where Sir Henry had said the girl had been sitting while setting up the device. There was a small hole. Of course it might have been there before. On the other hand it could have been used to remove a safety device and arm the bomb.

The lid itself was fixed down with nails. There might easily be a spring mechanism jammed underneath; the lid was definitely
not
the way to approach the problem, then.

He shone a torch down past Sir Henry’s shoulder and had a look with a mirror. However, the poor man’s body was jammed so tight up against the lid of the box it was hard to see beyond his chest.

Sir Henry was lying with his knees pushed over to the right, so he had said. The obvious approach was from that side. However, it would be wisest to start from the end of the box, as far away from the device as possible, and see what he could discover from there.

After asking Sir Henry exactly where his feet were located, he cut a small hole in the end, well away from the lid and hopefully from Sir Henry’s feet, and removed the offcut. Nothing untoward in sight. Cautiously he slipped a finger into the hole and felt gently around. When he was satisfied, he made the hole a little larger. Eventually, the hole was large enough to take a really good look.

As far as he could tell there was nothing in this end of the box at all. Unfortunately, however, Sir Henry’s thighs were twisted across to the right and, apart from the area by the knee, jammed up against the lid, so that he could not see beyond to the stomach area.

But what was that by the knee? Something screwed on to the side of the box, just under the lid.

And a wire leading from it.

Ah.

He cut a hole in the side of the box below the knee, where he knew it was clear, and had another look. Ah yes, more and more interesting. A pressure release switch, which would be activated by the opening of the lid. Two wires led from it but were lost to view between the clothing and the lid.

Part one of the puzzle.

He asked, ‘As far as you remember the entire device is on your stomach?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing on your sides?’

‘Only the tape she fastened it on with.’

‘And where is your right hand, sir?’ he asked.

‘Against my right leg.’

‘And your arm is pressed hard against the side of the box?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m going to take a section of the side away in that area. You may feel the saw but hopefully not the cutting edge.’

‘Right.’

Harris cut into the side of the box half-way along, where he judged Sir Henry’s stomach to be, and made a six-inch hole near the bottom so as to keep well away from the lid and from the small hole which might or might not be significant. He removed the offcut. Nothing but clothing in sight. He slipped his fingers inside the edge of the hole and felt around. No wires. He pushed his entire hand in. Nothing. He listened. No unusual sounds.

He enlarged the hole to within four inches of the lid. Ah, that was more like it. He could see over Sir Henry’s arm to the area of his stomach. He shone a torch in.
There
. The side of the device: two sticks of explosive visible. Plus …

Bother, he reflected mildly. He couldn’t quite see.

He pressed gently down on Sir Henry’s sleeve so that he could aim the torch beam higher up into the box.

There
.

Wires.

Right. The wires could belong to a simple electrical circuit connecting the charge to the pressure release switch. In which case a simple cut of the wire would deactivate it. On the other hand, the wires may be part of a collapsing circuit which, if cut, would complete a second circuit and fire the device. A sophisticated booby-trap. The firm rule was: do nothing until all the components of the device have been identified.

Often easier said than done.

Cautiously, he pushed his hand in through the hole and felt up the side of the box. This was fairly safe, since Sir Henry had, according to his story, wriggled his arm on several occasions.

Nothing so far. He pushed his hand further up the side until the tips of his fingers came to the join with the lid. He ran his fingers along the join. Nothing.

Checking with his hands to make sure it was safe he enlarged the hole still further, the whine of the jigsaw shattering the eerie silence. He peered in.

Ah. More of the wires were visible. They ran away from the infernal device along the underside of the lid towards Sir Henry’s hip. One of them was hidden between the lid and the hip, the other dipped back down towards the floor. To the very thing he had been looking for.

A clothes peg. The wires connecting across two drawing-pins. On the floor beside it a piece of card attached to a strong thread. The safety device.

From the clothes peg the wire ran straight back up to the area where he had seen the pressure release switch.

Harris ran his fingers further along the join where the lid met the side. Yes, there it was. He barely touched it with the tip of his fingers. Two wires, one to a metal washer, the other to the plunger.

He felt a small satisfaction.

Two parts of the puzzle in place.

Now he must check that the second wire, which was caught up against the lid, did indeed run straight to the explosive charge. Very gently he pulled on the wire until it was free.

It did run straight to the charge.

He took a breather.

Then he cut into the other side of the box. He examined the explosive charge. No more wires in sight.

He’d got almost all the information he needed. There was only one unpleasant possibility. That there was more to the device than met the eye – a second circuit hidden
under
the explosive itself, next to Sir Henry’s chest, which he couldn’t see.

But that would be pretty sophisticated stuff. From what Sir Henry had said they had made this device fairly rapidly. Also, each bomb-maker had a style, a
modus operandi
, and this girl had done nothing before to suggest she was into clever booby-traps. Careful,
yes
. But sophisticated,
no
.

Sometimes one had to make a judgement. He made it now.

Taking some small wire cutters he reached in. At that moment Sir Henry made a sound and, drawing in a rasping involuntary breath, coughed loudly. Harris held still. The coughing fit lasted for a good thirty seconds. He gave it another minute to make sure Sir Henry was over it. The man was looking agitated now. Yes: this business would be over none too soon. Giving Sir Henry a comforting smile, he reached back into the box and felt for one of the wires.

He snipped it.

And blinked.

The great thing about getting it wrong was that, though something happened all right – and how – you would know nothing about it.

Next, he carefully capped off the two severed ends of wire with plastic tape. You could never be too careful.

Time for another breather. Sitting back on his heels, he said cryptically, ‘Well, I think we’ve made progress. But still a few more things to check.’

‘Well done.’

‘You okay?’

‘Oh yes,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t – consider me. I’ve been here so long that …’

In his mind Harris finished the sentence for him: A little longer won’t make any difference.

He turned his mind back to the job in hand.

He cut another hole in the left side of the box, near the feet. Nothing. He tried the other side, looking into the triangle formed by Sir Henry’s bent knees.

Nothing.

Eventually he had cut enough away to have examined the entire lid where it met the wall of the box. No more pressure release switches anywhere.

It was still possible that there was some kind of initiator sitting directly on top of the charge. Very carefully he reached in and felt the device itself. He tried to slip his fingers over the top, but it was pressed up very close to the lid. However, by squeezing the device downward into Sir Henry’s stomach, he eventually managed it.

There was nothing. He came to a decision. It was time to open the box. He took a wrench and began to lever open the lid. At each stage he checked the rim. Then, as soon as he could get to it, he taped back the plunger on the pressure release switch, just to be doubly sure. When he was satisfied, he prised the lid completely free of its nails. And swung it open.

There was a small gasp from Sir Henry, but Harris was too busy taking a good look to pay attention. No horrid surprises in sight.

Sir Henry’s face was contorted with pain.

‘Best stay as you are, sir,’ Harris said. ‘I’ve still got some checking to do.’

He thought: Very much so. He had to check the tape that bound the device to Sir Henry. This he did very carefully, looking for wires and triggers. Once satisfied, he cut it, keeping a steadying hand on the device itself.

A nasty mind would have put another pressure release switch underneath the device, next to Sir Henry’s body. With exceptional care he examined the device from every angle then probed very gently underneath.

Two minutes later he lifted the device off Sir Henry’s chest.

It still wasn’t over.

‘You sure nothing was put underneath you, sir?’

Sir Henry was obviously in a bad way, but he managed: ‘Pretty sure.’

Harris checked anyway.

Five minutes later he called in his team to take the remains of the device away, and the stretcher party came down soon after. Then it really
was
over.

Harris shook Sir Henry’s hand. He was a brave man. Strangely, the fellow didn’t look very relieved, just dazed. Probably hadn’t hoisted it in yet. And then there was the delayed shock. Harris guessed it would take him a long time to recover from his experience.

For Harris it was a lot easier. He was trained for it. Nevertheless, it did sometimes cross his mind that one day, for no good reason, the grand lottery in the sky might throw up his number. As usual he was rather pleased that today had not been the day.

Gabriele paid off the taxi at a phone box on the airport perimeter.

It was a quarter to twelve.

There was a petrol station further along the road. A good place to take a car-driving hostage. And she could still get into the airport by twelve.

She pulled
The Times
out of the holdall and propped it up in front of her. Her hand was shaking. She felt hot and feverish.

She put the money in and dialled, preparing her speech.

The number rang three times.

It answered. The same clipped voice. ‘Hello?’

She pressed the button. The money dropped. She began, ‘We will arrive at noon. You have fifteen minutes to complete the arrangements. Once we are safely in the air I will give you directions on how to locate the hostage and defuse the explosive. Now let me speak to my comrades.’

‘I’m afraid it hasn’t been possible to fix up the link—’

‘
You have two seconds to get them on the line
.’

‘Er – can you give us a little longer?’ The voice was confident and strangely unperturbed.

She thought: They’re just stalling. ‘You don’t
have
any longer!’ she snapped. ‘The attorney-man dies in half an hour. And I’m going to take more hostages! And if you haven’t got that line open when I call back again the first hostage dies.
Understand
?’

There was a pause. Gabriele felt a burning impatience. Even now they must be tracing the call. She was about to slam the phone down when the voice came smoothly back.

‘In that case the deal’s off.’

Gabriele’s heart gave a great lurch. The voice was very cool. Something was dreadfully wrong.

The voice continued, ‘Sir Henry is safe and sound. The bombs are all defused. The deal’s off. Although we are prepared to discuss surrender—’

‘
Give me proof
.’

Another pause, as if the voice was conferring. Back it came, calm and controlled. ‘Hunter’s Wood Farm. In the cellar.’

Gabriele slammed down the phone, raging with anger. For a moment she couldn’t grasp the enormity of the disaster.

Max, Stephie, Reardon.
Success
.

All gone. All gone.

Failure hit her like a punch in the stomach. She had been massively, outrageously cheated, and the bitterness rose like bile in her throat.

Then she realized: they would be coming for her. Trying to catch her, trying to put her away.