Ultimatum (7 page)

This last rumour concerned him. They’d used Akhtar Mohammed so that the attack could be blamed on Islamic fundamentalists. If it was revealed that he’d been blackmailed into delivering the bomb, then their plan fell to pieces. Worse still, Mohammed would be able to identify Martha Crossman as the intended target.

There was nothing he could do about this now, though, so he sat patiently, staring at the iPad’s screen, waiting for the signal to go to the next stage.

Sure enough, a little over five minutes later it finally came as the anchorwoman interrupted her interview with the Sky security correspondent to announce further breaking news. Viewers had been calling the newsroom to report that large numbers of armed police had surrounded a block of flats in Bayswater, barely a couple of miles from where the coffee shop bomb had exploded, and were in the process of evacuating the surrounding area. A minute after that the security correspondent announced live on air that he’d received confirmation from a source at New Scotland Yard that an ongoing armed operation was underway.

This was the amazing thing about modern life, thought the man. The speed with which news travelled was almost instantaneous. There were plenty of positives in this. It meant citizens were generally kept well informed. It made it difficult for dictatorships to hide their guilty secrets. Unfortunately, it also allowed the bad guys to monitor the progress of the security forces highly effectively.

The screen had switched back to the Sky News Copter which was now circling above the block of flats where he’d shot dead Mika and booby-trapped her body over two hours earlier. Dozens of black-clad police were moving like ants round the front of the building as they formed a cordon around it and evacuated residents from the surrounding flats. Clearly they’d traced the mobile phone he’d used to make the call claiming responsibility for the café bomb, as he’d anticipated. Of course, they wouldn’t be reckless and go storming in, even though he could see that a number of them were CO19, with their trademark Heckler and Kochs. First they’d need to secure the area, finish the evacuation of any civilian within a hundred yards, then make a risk assessment, before even thinking of trying to get into the flat where the dead woman lay with the bomb and the phone on top of her. The whole thing would take hours. The man smiled. He knew this would happen, which was why there was a second bomb in the boot of one of the cars in the parking area directly in front of the building. The device contained twenty kilos of PETN explosives in two large bags, surrounded by a further twenty kilos of assorted shrapnel – and, like the bomb on Mika, it was timed to go off in two minutes exactly.

So far no one seemed to be taking any notice of the parked cars, although the senior officers on the scene would get round to checking them fairly soon. They’d probably already blocked the mobile phone signal in the immediate area to prevent any booby-trap bombs being set off remotely. Secondary devices were a known hallmark of Islamic terrorists. At the moment, though, the situation on the ground was still in its early semi-chaotic stages.

The man looked at his watch. One minute to detonation.

He took a cheap mobile phone from the outer pocket of his jacket and speed-dialled the single number stored on it. ‘This is the Islamic Command,’ he announced into the voice disguiser as the man on the
Evening Standard
news desk picked up. ‘Two more bombs are about to explode. There will be no further attacks if our demands are met.’ He ended the call and switched off the phone, throwing it out of the window into some bushes.

The Sky News Copter was still filming the scene when there was a huge flash of light, accompanied by a very loud bang, from among the parked cars, followed moments later by a second blast from inside one of the flats. The camera shook and the helicopter banked, temporarily losing its view of the scene as the programme suddenly went to split screen, showing a visibly shaken anchorwoman with her hand on her mouth as it became clear to her that she’d just witnessed a second bomb attack.

The man shut the iPad case, and pulled away from the kerb.

It was time to meet their new recruit.

Twelve

10.40

HMP WESTMOOR WAS
a very big, very bland-looking modern prison set slap bang in the middle of glorious rolling Hertfordshire countryside. It was, Tina thought, like some kind of immense fortified municipal library, and it had been an act of architectural barbarism to put it in such a beautiful place.

As she walked towards the reception area, it struck her that she could very easily have ended up in a place like this. It was only a little over a year since she’d killed a man with a single blow to the head. The fact that the man in question, twenty-one-year-old Liam Roy Shetland, had been one of the terrorists involved in the Stanhope siege and was about to murder two kidnapped children was still not perceived as sufficient justification for what she’d done.

Although she and Shetland had been fighting, and Tina had sustained a number of injuries herself, he’d had his back to her when she’d hit him with a piece of piping, and for weeks afterwards charges had been hanging over her head. She’d been lucky. Public and political pressure had helped her, as had the fact that Shetland was going for a gun at the time. Tina was a hero in some people’s eyes, the kind of tough, no-nonsense cop that the UK was sorely lacking these days. ‘Dirty Harriet’ the
Daily Mail
had called her, which was far more preferable than ‘The Black Widow’ moniker that had haunted her ever since one of her colleagues had been killed on a job they were both working on. Politicians, sniffing an opportunity as always, had also got involved, singing her praises (but with plenty of caveats, of course), several of them pushing for her reinstatement in the force, which was how she’d finally ended up in Westminster CID.

Westmoor was a maximum-security prison, housing only Category A offenders, and those awaiting trial for the most serious crimes. It was built in a wheel shape, with the six spokes representing separate wings, each of which could be sealed off from the others, and a separate prison-within-a-prison section in the centre where only those guilty of, or charged with, the most serious crimes were held, and it was here that Fox was currently residing.

Having filled out all the forms and passed through security, Tina’s first port of call, however, was the governor’s office.

The governor, a tall white-haired man in his sixties with a slight stoop, a bow tie, and the air of a weary academic, got up from behind a cluttered desk next to the room’s only window. ‘I’m Jeremy Goodman,’ he said, giving her a surprisingly firm handshake and a quick once-over, before motioning her to take a seat opposite him. ‘So you’re the famous Tina Boyd. I’ve read a lot about you over the years.’

‘All bad I’m sure.’

Goodman didn’t smile. ‘All very interesting,’ he said after a short pause, his silence confirming that yes, it had all been bad. ‘And you’re here to see William Garrett?’

‘That’s right. I understand he was attacked three days ago. Can you tell me what happened?’

Goodman nodded, an expression of distaste sitting all too easily on his face. ‘It was a most regrettable incident. We pride ourselves here at Westmoor on the peaceful, tolerant environment we’ve fostered, and as such, relations between individual prisoners, and between prisoners and staff, are generally very good. This fight was a rarity. There was a confrontation between Mr Garrett and another Category A prisoner, Eric Hughes, inside the main recreational area toilets of the prison’s Central Maximum Security Section, where they’re both housed. Both prisoners were injured, and were hospitalized in separate sections of the hospital here. They’ve since been released from the hospital, but we don’t know what caused their altercation, since both prisoners refused to cooperate with the police when they were interviewed yesterday.’

‘Was it captured on film?’

‘No. The camera covering the main area of the toilet was out of order. By the time the control room realized it wasn’t working, and had organized someone from maintenance to examine it, the fight was over.’

‘So it suggests a degree of planning.’

‘I honestly don’t know,’ said Goodman defensively. ‘Two of our officers heard the commotion from the toilets. They ran inside and intervened.’

‘You describe it as a fight, but Mr Garrett sustained some major slash wounds. It sounds like he was attacked by the other man.’

‘We can’t be certain. The camera in the corridor outside recorded each man going into the toilets approximately thirty seconds apart, but it was impossible to see which one was carrying the knife. And when the officers went in, the two men were struggling violently on the floor, with Mr Garrett on top of Mr Hughes, punching him, even though he was losing a lot of blood. The homemade knife that was used was a few feet away. It’s been taken away by the police for examination, and we’re awaiting the results.’

‘Can you tell me about the other prisoner – Mr Hughes? What’s he in here for?’

‘Murder. I’m afraid Eric Hughes is a man with a very violent background. He killed a man during an aggravated burglary eight years ago – one of a series of similar crimes that left a further two people seriously injured.’

‘When’s he due for his parole hearing?’ asked Tina, unable to quite hide the cynicism in her voice.

‘The minimum tariff for Mr Hughes set by the judge was eighteen years, so it’ll be another decade at least before he can be considered for release. He may have a violent past but his behaviour since he’s been at Westmoor has generally been very good prior to the incident on Monday.’

‘I’m going to need to speak with him while I’m here.’

‘As I said, he’s already been interviewed by the local CID, and he refused to cooperate.’

‘Maybe I can sweet-talk him into admitting something,’ said Tina with a slight smile.

‘Maybe you can. I’ll see what I can arrange,’ Goodman answered tightly, as if it was an inconvenience.

Tina was used to certain people taking an instant dislike to her – it was the kind of thing that happened when you’d attracted the sort of headlines she had – but she was a little surprised by the cold reception she was getting here. She’d expected more from a man running one of the country’s toughest prisons. ‘Thank you, I’d appreciate that. As for Mr Garrett, I understand he wants to cooperate with the inquiry into the Stanhope attacks.’

‘Yes. He made contact with one of the prison officers this morning, after he saw footage of the bomb in London on the news. He said that he knew who’d done it, but refused to talk to anyone other than you.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you have any idea why that might be?’

Tina shook her head. ‘No. I’ve had no contact with him whatsoever. I’m not even working on the inquiry. At least I wasn’t until an hour ago.’

‘I’m just hoping that he’s not going to attempt to’ – Goodman paused, clearly looking for the right word – ‘manipulate you.’

‘I’m not easily manipulated, Mr Goodman. Tell me, does Mr Garrett sound genuinely interested in cooperating?’

Goodman thought about this for a moment. ‘I think the altercation he was involved in scared him. It shocked all of us. Both men were very lucky not to have been more seriously injured.’ He paused. ‘But Mr Garrett worries me. He’s quiet, he’s controlled, and he’s well behaved and polite to the staff. In that sense, he’s been a model prisoner – at least up until this latest incident. But there’s also no sense that he’s remotely concerned with the gravity of the crimes he’s committed. I’m a great believer in the power of rehabilitation, Miss Boyd, something which I know isn’t a particularly fashionable view among a lot of people in this country. But I believe we could gain a great deal from the Scandinavian model of treating prisoners as individuals who’ve made poor life choices, rather than as amoral monsters who need to be locked up for as long as possible. However, I believe Mr Garrett might be an exception to that rule. I very much doubt that he
can
be rehabilitated. I’ve spent enough time with him, and the psychiatrists who’ve interviewed him, to know he feels no real remorse for what he’s done. Given that it’s likely he personally killed at least five people, and was responsible for the deaths of many times that number, that makes him extremely dangerous. Coupled with that, he’s highly intelligent. Whether you’re easily manipulated or not, I’d bear this in mind when you’re dealing with him.’

‘Thank you, sir, I will.’

‘We’ve prepared an interview room in the Central Section for your meeting. He should be there by now, so if you’ve got no further questions, I’ll have you escorted down there.’

‘I think you’ve answered everything for me,’ said Tina, getting to her feet.

‘I must admit,’ said the governor as they shook hands a second time, ‘I’m surprised that he asked to see
you
here, and alone too. It seems odd to me, given your own involvement in the Stanhope siege.’

Tina swallowed her continuing irritation at the way she was being talked to. ‘It was my
involvement
that helped bring the siege to a successful conclusion, Mr Goodman.’

‘Surely over seventy dead civilians can’t be judged to be a successful conclusion.’

‘It can when you have five hundred hostages and a building wired up to be blown to smithereens. And whatever you or Mr Garrett may think, I’m good at my job.’

Goodman raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘In my opinion, your methods leave a great deal to be desired, Miss Boyd, so I’d request that when in my prison you work according to my rules.’

Tina held his gaze for a long second, sorely tempted to kick him in the nuts, or at the very least come up with a rude rejoinder, but in the end she thought better of it. ‘Of course, sir.’

The guard who escorted Tina to the prison’s Central Section was the same one who’d taken her to the governor’s office. His name was Thomson, and he looked like he’d been doing the job for years.

‘Did the governor give you his talk on rehabilitation?’ he asked as they walked.

Tina gave a derisive grunt. ‘He said a few words on the subject.’