Sam looks at the rest of the screens, one at a time. He notices a similar activity taking place at the front of the building.
‘Foxtrot-Bravo to Trojan One. Lock picked. Ready for breach.’
‘Copy that Foxtrot-Bravo, Romeo-Bravo, what’s your status?’
‘Romeo-Bravo, Ready to breach.’
‘Affirmative. Breach and clear. Repeat. Breach and clear.’
Jayshree Virani tapped at her keyboard, the video feed configuration changed and the four video feeds of the external cover teams disappeared. The top and bottom centre feeds expanded, revealing more detail from the Breach Team Commander feeds. Almost simultaneously, the front and back doors opened and the breach teams entered. Sam’s gaze was once again drawn to the Rear Breach Team Commander. The team members either side of the door swung into the open doorway and swept the hall for hostiles, the commander followed them in and immediately proceeded to the bottom of the stairs while the other two provided cover.
Sam heard a whispered ‘Romeo-Bravo, hallway clear.’ followed by ‘Foxtrot-Bravo, front ground clear.’
‘Bravo Teams, this is Trojan-One, Foxtrot-Bravo, proceed to rear of property and provide backup to Romeo-Bravo. There’s a rear side exit, take it and continue to first floor flat. Assist in sweeping and clearing. Over.’
‘Romeo-Bravo, copy Trojan-One.’
He got up from the table and moved to his bed. He dropped heavily onto it and started staring at the ceiling, nothing much going on in his head. A noise. Just a quiet shuffle. Probably just rats, this place really is a shithole.
The whir of a distant helicopter could be heard over the radio which was set to a low volume. The television was on a news channel, the sound muted. The top story, on constant repeat, being the Knightsbridge bombing.
The shuffling again. It seemed closer this time, on the stairs maybe.
He watched the door to his bedsit. Did the door handle just move? For fuck sake, get a grip. Shit! It is moving.
He slowly and quietly got up from the bed and tip-toed across the room to his kitchen area. He took a bread knife from a drawer. What the fuck’s going on?
The door handle returned to its up position.
‘India Nine-Eight to breach team. Target has moved. He will be on your right as you breach. Use caution, he may have been alerted to your presence. Over.’
‘Copy Nine-Eight, appreciate the update.’
The team commander expertly handled the lock picks and set the last lock pin in place. The door was unlocked.
The door handle started its descent once more.
He moved toward the door, careful not to be in full view once it opened, edging around the walls to be behind it. The door slowly started to open.
‘Breach Team, this is India Nine-Eight, target has positioned himself to be behind the door when it opens. He’s trying to blindside you. Assume he’s armed.’
Shit is that a gun barrel?
More of the MP5’s barrel became visible and then retracted. A second later, the door swung open and a team of armed men swarmed the room to shouts of ‘Armed police. Don’t move.’
The first armed officer through the door had his sights firmly on the man.
‘Armed Police! Drop your weapon. NOW!’
He lay the knife on the floor and put his hands on his head.
A shout was heard from the bathroom.
‘Clear.’
‘Trojan-One, this is Breach Team Commander. Target acquired, no more hostiles. Mission successful.’
‘Copy, Commander. Good work. Prepare target for extraction.’
Within seconds, the man’s wrists were behind his back, bound with plastic wrist ties.
The sound of screeching tyres could be heard as a police Range Rover came to an abrupt stop outside the takeaway.
The man was bundled downstairs and into the idling Range Rover which took off as quickly as it had arrived, once the passenger was secured inside.
The local residents, unaware that anything had happened until the support vehicles started turning up, started to gather on the street. Though the hour was early, the lure of catching a glance at the man who may have been the Knightsbridge bomber was just too much. ‘He was such a nice, quiet man.’ Would undoubtedly be a morning news soundbite.
More police vehicles arrived. Forensics. They’d rip the flat apart searching for evidence.
Virani pushed a few more keys and the video feed shut down. She looked at Bray, then at Sam. Her look of confidence had returned. She almost looked smug. She gave Sam a smile and a slight nod.
‘Well done Sam. You’ve handled today extremely well.’
‘Thanks Jay.’ came his reply.
‘Bloody good show.’ exclaimed Bray.
‘Don’t get your hopes up too soon, Grant.’ said Jayshree.
‘This is only one of a large number of suspects, and the first successful operation. The chances of this being our man are slim, but if the other missions go off as smoothly as this one, we’ll have him in no time.’
Chapter Ten
‘But how long Sam? I need you. We need you. Jack’s frantic without you here.’
Sam was torn, hurting. He’d been stuck in Thames House for three days now with no real progress being made. Every interview, questioning, suspect brought in, was leading to nothing. To hear the desperation in Julia’s voice ripped his heart in two.
‘I don’t know Darling, what can I say? This is my job now.’
She sighed. ‘But what about clothes, toiletries and all the stuff you need? Underwear, Laundry?’
‘It’s okay Jules, it’s taken care of. Food is provided, I’ve bought clothes and anything else I need on an expense account. I’ve even managed to get a couple of hours shut-eye a few times. There are small rooms here with single beds in, just for this sort of emergency. I’m fine.’
‘But we’re not, Sam. We need you here.’
This time, Sam sighed. ‘I’ll be home soon Sweetheart, I promise.
A tap on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to see Virani, tapping her watch, mouthing ‘Briefing. Now.’
‘Look, Jules, I’ve got to go to a briefing. I’ll call you later if I get a chance. Give Jack a big hug and kiss from me.
‘I love you both. I’ll be home soon.’
‘We love you too. Be careful Sam, we need you so much.’
Sam hung up and rested his head against the wall that he was leaning against during the call. A tear formed in his eye. I’m just a data analyst. How the hell did I end up in this mess?
‘Okay. Everybody quiet. QUIET.’
Silence fell over the incident room like a blanket over a bed. All eyes turned to Virani.
‘Right, I don’t need to tell anyone here that things aren’t going too well. The press are all over this, questioning our methods, our progress. Quite frankly, I don’t blame them. We’ve been searching for three days and haven’t got a thing to go on.
‘The death of Shelly Winter doesn’t help either. The tabloids are having a field-day. A “national sweetheart” killed in the worst terrorist attack since the July seventh bombings in 2005.
‘If that’s not bad enough, the PM is leaning on the Home Secretary, who in turn is leaning on Grant. And as you’re probably aware, Grant is looking at me. I’m the lucky one. I’ve got you lot to track down whoever did this and bring them in.
‘So, does anyone have anything positive to tell me?’
Silence. Lost, bewildered faces gazed at each other. Nobody spoke.
‘Nick. CCTV. Give me some good news. Please.’
‘Sorry Jay, nothing. The device was planted in a bin. The bin was emptied the morning of the blast, then it was business as usual. People walking past, casually tossing litter in. A tramp having a rummage for dog-ends. Nothing suspicious.