‘Zoom in, Dave.’
‘Oh, yeah. HMS Belfast.’
‘Thanks Dave.’
Launched on St Patrick’s Day 1938, HMS Belfast underwent eighteen months of sea trials and fittings before finally being commissioned for service in the Royal Navy. On September 3rd 1939, Britain and France declared war on Germany, and the Belfast was sent to patrol the seas around Britain.
Her part in the war is legendary, even though she was out of action between November 1939 and December 1942 after hitting a mine while leaving the Firth of Forth and her base at Rosyth. She was an invaluable asset when it came to escorting supply conveys, helping to ensure the Soviet allies received their tanks, aircraft, vehicles and ammunition. From escort duty, to the Battle of North Cape, Operation Tungsten and the D-Day landings, it could be argued that no other British vessel had given so much to the war effort.
Post war, Belfast spent time in the Far East. She was a patrol vessel during the Korean War and provided bombardment support for UN troops on land.
The future of the ship was jeopardised after she was hit by a 76mm shell, and her active service came to an end on September 27th 1952 when she was consigned to the scrap heap. However, Belfast won a reprieve in 1955 when it was decided that she be modernised and returned to the fleet and sent once more to the Far East.
After twenty-five years of service, Belfast was retired on June 19th 1962. Her future as a museum ship was sealed in 1971 when she was handed over to the Belfast Trust and opened to the public at her permanent mooring on the banks of the River Thames. And even though her mooring was less than a mile away, the quickest route would see Sam cross the Thames in both directions to get there.
Sam tapped the route into his navigation app. A seventeen minute walk, or a nine minute drive. He stamped on the accelerator and headed back to Southwark Bridge, which he crossed once again to get to the north bank of the Thames.
A few minutes later, he was crossing the river again. This time using London Bridge. Once over the bridge, he mounted the pavement to avoid the traffic lights and slid the car onto Duke Street Hill before slamming down the accelerator once again.
Seconds later, he took a left onto Battle Bridge Lane and then a right onto English Grounds. He drove as far as he could before having to abandon the car and run the remainder of the way down Morgan’s Lane.
Sam ran as fast as he could toward the Deck Bar and Visitor’s Centre and sprinted up the steps. To the right of the bar was the gangway which led to the nearly two-hundred metre long light cruiser. A gated entrance hindered his approach, but he leaped onto the railing and swung past the gate. He hadn’t noticed a second gate blocking his route, but he realised he could simply repeat the manoeuvre and swing around it on the hand-rail.
Once he’d passed the gates, Sam sprinted along the gangway ending up on the quarterdeck of the ship. Where would Raynor be? If he intended to sink the ship he’d have to be below the waterline, but if he went too deep into the vessel the mobile signal might be blocked by the superstructure.
Sam slowly walked around the deck. A ramp led up to the deck above, the gun deck. The rain kept falling, making the deck slippery. He wondered how the sailors managed to run around while on the open sea with high waves crashing over the sides, soaking the deck.
Sam slowly walked up the ramp. He really needed to get lower, but he knew as the ship was a tourist attraction which had a route laid out, only certain hatches and doors would be unlocked. He’d have to follow the tourist route to find a way down. He crouched and made slow progress, keeping close to the wall of the superstructure. It was possible that Raynor had finished his work and was heading back up to leave.
Sam stopped. He squinted trying to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. A figure, stationary, stood to the right underneath an overhang between two structures. Was that Raynor? It looked too small. Security guard, maybe? Sam approached cautiously and then sprung from his cover. He jumped and punched down hard on the man’s temple. The figure collapsed under Sam’s weight, its head became detached from its shoulders and landed on the deck where it rolled for a few metres before coming to rest, staring back at its attacker. Sam stood up and brushed himself off, bemused by what had just happened. Then it became clear when he saw the crushed mannequin of a headless sailor lying on the deck.
Sam crouched once more and continued his slow walk around the structure. He passed the 4-inch HAVLA guns that seemed to be aiming at London’s financial district and 30 St Mary Axe, The Gherkin, in particular. He made his way to the boat deck and headed for an alley in the centre of the ship. A sign pointed to the Walrus Café. He was now under the cover of the gun deck.
Past the café door, a flight of steps gave access to the deck below. A safety warning on the walls advised visitors to face the ladder. The steps were steep and slippery when wearing wet shoes.
Sam looked around; he was now in the main exhibits. A maze of displays detailed the history of the ship. It was dark, the lights off. Only the emergency lights were illuminated. A dull green shining from above the exit signs.
Sam walked into an exhibit area and was startled when a television lit up along with all the lights in the display area. A motion sensor, having picked up his movement, had triggered the audio/visuals accompanying the exhibit which detailed the Second World War Battle of the North Cape.
Sam regained his composure and continued through the exhibit, ending up in the galley. More mannequins made him jump; thinking one of them might be Raynor. Then a figure stepped out from behind a mannequin of a sailor chopping meat. He had his back to Sam. He held something in his hand that was attached to a length of cable and what looked like a circuit board from a mobile phone. He opened a small hatch on the side of a bulkhead. The hatch was attached to a tube about the diameter of a house gutter, which ran down the side of the wall to the deck below.
Raynor dropped the small device through the hatch. A second later a clunk echoed through the tube as the device fell to the floor of the lower deck. Raynor turned, wiped his hands and noticed Sam standing not two metres away.
‘Alright Sam?’ Raynor asked, as if they were mates bumping into each other while out shopping.
‘Great engineering in these old buckets. These tubes,’ He pointed at the hatch where he had just put his device. ‘They run up and down the decks, made for carrying messages between stations. Great idea. Means I can get my gadget below sea level, should make things a bit more lively when the hull gets breached'
Sam shook his head. He couldn’t believe that Raynor was still on-mission.
‘Come on Raynor. Time to go. Call it a day, mate.’
‘I’ll go when I complete my mission.’
‘But you’re not going to. I’m here to make sure of that.’
Raynor laughed and put his phone in his pocket. He turned to face Sam, giving him his full attention.
‘Well if you don’t walk out, I’m going to have to take you out.’ Sam said.
He sounded full of confidence, but nothing was further from the truth.
Raynor laughed again before declaring,
‘You can’t take me out Sam, it’s too late. The wheels are in motion. There are six more bombs dotted around this great city of ours. The server’s remote, up and running, the texts have just been sent. I usually get a reply in about seven minutes. But it might be a bit longer as people are taking longer to reply now they know about the Trashman. Nice nickname, by the way, Five’s idea?’
‘No, that was the work of the tabloids.’ Sam replied.
‘I’m not keen on it, if I’m honest.’ Said Raynor. ‘But it beats the Bin Bomber, I suppose.’
Sam’s phone rang silently in his pocket. His earpiece alerted him to it. He slipped his hand into his pocket and hit the accept button. It was Mickey.