‘It gets busy down there, Jay, almost impossible to see everybody that uses a litter bin. The tramp came up tops though, managed to find a half-finished can of Lager.’
A few people laughed, Virani was not impressed.
‘Right, get on to the council, bring in the bin men, or refuse removal technicians as I’m sure they like to be called these days. Check their history, backgrounds, family. Eliminate the possibility that one of these workers planted the device.’
Sam’s mind started to wander. Three days and nothing to go on. Nobody had claimed responsibility. That alone was strange enough. Nobody was seen putting the device in the bin. Sam started rooting through known organisations, the obvious being the so called Islamic State. It amazed him, how the two words ‘so called’ made all the difference. As if to leave them off would be to recognise their existence.
But Sam didn’t think it was their doing. Why detonate on Salisbury Plain? Why start a campaign on British soil? Weren’t they too busy fighting in Syria and the rest of the destabilised Middle Eastern territories?
Okay then, the Real IRA? No, they would have claimed it with great pride, same as Al Qaeda. In fact, the IRA used to phone ahead, very commendable. The attacker’s silence was an obvious clue that Sam just couldn’t work out. What was he missing? Logic was his thing. But there were so many countries we’d pissed off over the years that it was hard to pinpoint one over another. Shit, it could be the disgruntled people of Jersey for all the leads they had. Sam was confused. What was the agenda? What was the end game? Why didn’t it make sense?
‘Okay Sam?’ Virani’s voice boomed across the room.
Sam jumped. ‘Sorry Jay, he replied. ‘I was thinking about responsibility and motive, must have wandered off.’
‘I’d guessed that after trying to get your attention for the fourth time!’ She Snapped. ‘So, what are your thoughts?’
‘Well, first off, no claims. There are always claims if the player is on the international stage. Then, why a bin? Mass transit systems and shopping centres are the usual targets. Time of detonation. Totally random.
‘We’ve not witnessed anything so far that fits a pattern for what we know from past terror attacks. Sorry to say this Jay, but we could have a new player in town.
Virani thought for a moment, tapping a dry wipe marker against her chin as she gazed into nothing. After a few seconds her focus returned to the room.
‘Right, Sam has made a very good point here. Why not claim and why wait until after the rush hour? They missed the chance to maximise collateral damage. We’re missing something.’
Nick Upex took the pen he was chewing out of his mouth and raised his hand.
‘Yes, Nick?’ Asked Virani.
‘Well, I was just thinking. Did forensics find anything from the device itself? Any circuitry? Anything to link it to Salisbury Plain?’
‘Thanks Nick, I was going to get to that. Once more, fragments have been found and again they match an old phone. This time an Ericsson GF788. Doesn’t really tell us much though, apart from a penchant for old technology or a regular car boot visitor.’ Sam raised his hand. ‘Yes Sam?’
‘Or an online auction user maybe?’
‘That’s a good point Sam. Nick, get onto all major auction sites and ask if they’ll provide a list of all mobile phone purchases under, say thirty pounds? I can’t see these handsets being much more than that.’
‘You’d be surprised Jay.’ replied Nick ‘Some of these handsets are now collectible, you could pay in excess of a hundred quid for one in good working order.’
Virani’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
‘Really?’ she asked. ‘I’ve got drawers full of old phones at home. Must have a sort out. Anyway, I digress. Okay, so we may have quite a lot of data for phones sold under a hundred pounds, ask them if they can provide data for handsets originally released three years either side of the millennium.’
‘On it.’ Said Nick as he noted down his new task. ‘What about chargers, Jay?’
‘What about them, Nick?’
‘Well, they were all proprietary back then, each manufacturer would have their own charger style. Sometimes multiple styles within the same manufacturer. It was a nice earner for them, you see. If somebody lost or broke their charger they’d have to buy a new one, not just plug in a standard USB cable like today.’
‘Okay, let’s get chargers as well. Might as well try and get all angles covered.’
Virani started to wind-up the meeting.
‘Right, well, it’s seems we’ve come to a dead end. May I suggest you all get home tonight? Recharge your batteries as much as possible, we’ll reconvene tomorrow at the eight A.M. briefing. Thank you, everyone.’
The room started to clear, most people wearing a look of relief. Sam left and immediately phoned Julia.
‘Hiya Sweetheart, it’s me.’
‘Oh, hi Babe. Look, sorry about earlier, I know this is a big thing for you. Sorry if I made you feel bad. Anyway, how did the briefing go?’
‘We’re not making much progress if I’m honest, so Jay’s letting us all go home tonight. Any chance of a Ruby Murray?’
‘Sam, that’s great news. Of course I’ll do you curry, what time will you be home? Jack will be so excited to see you.’
‘Usual time Darling, I’ll be leaving for the station shortly.’
‘Can’t wait to see you.’
‘Me too. I’ll see you later.’
‘Okay Babe, Love you.’
‘Love you too.’
Sam ended the call.
Raynor also disconnected from the call and put the phone down on his bedside table. He stretched, and smiled.
The train stopped at Andover and Sam got off. He left the station and started the short walk up The Avenue.
‘Sam, Sam Edwards.’ A voice bellowed from behind Sam.
Sam turned to see the man he was talking to a few days earlier.
Shit, what’s his name?
Raynor bounded up, bold as brass, hand outstretched, Sam grasped it, slightly bemused.
‘Nathan?’ Raynor questioned. ‘The Town Mills, the train last week?’
Sam looked thoughtful for a moment, and then the penny dropped.
‘Yes, of course, sorry mate, had a busy few days. All this bombing stuff is causing havoc at work.’ They turned together and started to walk towards Sam’s house.
‘I’d imagine it is. What is it you do again?’ Raynor asked.
Sam averted eye contact for a moment while searching for a suitable cover.
‘I’m a data analyst,’ he eventually replied. ‘In the City. Things like this cause our forecasting models to go all over the place.’
‘I bet they do. Millions, Billions maybe, lost or gained on a random event. Must be difficult analysing that sort of trend.’
A Ford Focus passed, windows down, a twenty-something lad wearing a back-to-front baseball cap, nodding along to an all-too-loud rap tune blaring from his in-car entertainment system.
‘Noisy bastard.’ Said Raynor. ‘So, you off home then? Little lady waiting? Meal on the table?’
Sam chuckled. ‘Yeah, something like that.’ He was warming to Raynor, finding his abrupt no-nonsense attitude both welcoming and humorous. Within minutes, they were at the gate to Sam’s house
‘Well, I’ll see you later Nathan.’ Said Sam
Raynor looked through the gates at Sam’s house. ‘Fuck Me.’ he said, staring at the impressive structure. ‘Someone’s done alright for himself.’
‘Inherited.’ Lied Sam, not wishing to give too much of his personal life away. ‘Where are you heading, Nathan?’
‘I’m going for a quick pint in the Railway Tavern, then a bus to Ludgershall, to meet a mate.’ He lied, in return.