“I think you know what’s wrong with the feed,” Hannah said.
Sonny’s brow creased in deep folds as he pleaded his case. “There’s nothing wrong with that feed. We just need more feeds.”
“This feed is coming from Duke of York Street,” Young said.
“We need a view of the street,” Hannah said, “not the inside of a strip club.”
“I was just messing with you all,” Young said, clearly trying to bring a little levity to the situation. “That was the Gaslight Club.”
The screen went blank and a view of Duke of York Street replaced the image of the stripper.
Sonny slammed his fist down on his desk. “What the hell is wrong with you, Young?”
Young just chuckled quietly from across the Atlantic.
15
The day after Evelina’s death, Animus sat alone with Xander in the older man’s hotel room.
“How are you holding up?” Xander asked.
“I don’t understand how those Americans slipped out of our hands,” Animus said. “How are you holding up, sir?”
Xander breathed deeply. “When I was with Evelina, nothing else seemed to matter.”
Animus nodded.
“Now I am angry,” Xander said. “I cannot shed another tear for her. I am all cried out. I wish I could cry more, but I cannot.”
Animus understood that feeling all too well. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
Xander patted him on the leg and straightened his spine, determination steeling his features. “We will continue with our plans to bomb UKP headquarters. After the bomb goes off, we will sweep through St. James Square and shoot everyone on sight. Then we will make our escape and contact the media and tell them 21D will continue its attacks until UKP stops construction of TAP. The West must stop its meddling in Greek affairs. For Greece and everyone, it is time to de-Westernize the world.”
“Yes, sir,” Animus said.
“First we need to build the bomb. Do you have the cannon fuse, diesel fuel, mixing buckets, and the thirteen barrels I told you to acquire?”
Animus nodded. “And the duct tape, plastic pipe, screws, power drill, and scale you asked for, too. We spread out the purchases with different men at different locations — just like you explained.”
“You called earlier and said Boris has the nitromethane?”
“Yes, sir,” Animus said. “He used his fake ID to pose as an FIA drag racing crew chief and paid cash for it.” Using the cover of a member of the Federation Internationale de l’Automobile was his idea, and he was quite proud of it.
Xander rubbed his chin in silence for a moment as if reviewing a mental checklist. “And you already acquired the blasting caps, shock tube, and Tovex.”
The Tovex was a highly stable water-gel explosive, and it wasn’t easy to get. But they’d managed.
“Ivan snuck into British Seismic Exploration and took it. They’ve been gathering the materials and storing them in the safe house for weeks before you and I arrived.”
Xander nodded. “I know you already told me, but I had to hear it again. I am not in my normal state of mind. I just need reassurance that something in the world around me is stable when so much has gone wrong.”
“Well, all we need is fertilizer to shape the charge and oxidize the nitromethane,” Animus said.
The corners of Xander’s lips rose, creating more of a sneer than a smile. “Yes, we need fertilizer, and the UK is the ammonium nitrate fertilizer capitol of the world. You know what to do.”
Animus nodded. Then he stood, walked to the door, and opened it. Before he left, he stopped and turned to look at Xander. “I’m sorry about Evelina.”
“Me, too.”
“Her killer was Chris Johnson, the American legal attaché who came to your party.”
The muscles in Xander’s jaw worked. “Ivan told me.”
“I’m sorry,” Animus said again.
He waved a hand, dismissing Animus. “I want to be alone now.”
Animus nodded and stepped into the hall, closing the door behind him. The sound of something heavy hitting the wall sounded inside Xander’s room, like a chair that had been thrown. Xander had always seemed in control, but Animus had never seen or heard him like this.
Animus walked down the hall, stopped at Ivan’s room, and picked him up. The two exited the hotel and found their van in the parking lot. Ivan pulled a magnetic sign out of the trunk that read, Wellington Farms. He affixed it to the side door of the van before driving them northeast out of London.
“Xander said you told him Evelina’s murderer was Chris Johnson,” Animus said.
“I hope you’re not angry,” Ivan said. “I know you wanted to tell him yourself but couldn’t.”
Animus bowed his head. “Thanks.”
They rode a little over an hour and a half in silence until they arrived at the importer’s warehouse in Essex. Ivan dropped Animus off out front.
He was anxious about the whole transaction, but he hid his nervousness as he strolled through the front door and approached the clerk. “I’m Edward Wellington, and I ordered some ammonium nitrate fertilizer.” Animus handed the clerk his business card.
The clerk shook his hand and read the card. “Oh, yes, Wellington Farms.” He sounded bored, just going through the motions of his job as he put the card in his shirt pocket. “Will this be credit card or cash?”
“Cash,” Animus said.
“If you’ll fill out your company information on this form, please…” The clerk handed him a pen and a clipboard. “Once we input you into our computer, you won’t have to fill this out again — just sign for it.”
Animus filled out the form and signed at the bottom before returning it to the clerk.
The clerk took it and briefly glanced at the paper. “Can I see some ID, Mr. Wellington?”
Animus presented his UK driving license and showed his face boldly to make it clear he wasn’t hiding anything.
The clerk took a cursory look at the license then Animus’s face before returning his gaze to the paperwork on his counter. “Okay.” His tone became apologetic. “We have to do this to protect against terrorists making homemade explosives.”
Animus grinned and paid the man. “I understand.”
“Thank you.” The clerk turned and called out to one of the warehouse workers. “Fertilizer pickup!” Then he turned to Animus. “Just bring your vehicle around to the side and park next to the first pallet.”
Animus walked out of the warehouse with a feeling of celebration, but it wasn’t over until it was over, so he kept his emotions in check. He hopped into the van and directed Ivan to pull around to the side, where the warehouse worker began loading the bags of fertilizer. Animus remained seated in the passenger seat to avoid small talk with the worker.
But when the young worker finished loading the van, he tried anyway. “What you going to grow with all this fertilizer?”
“You’ll have to excuse us,” Animus said. “We’re in a bit of a hurry.”
“Yes, sir. Have a good day.”
The worker walked away and headed back into the warehouse, and Animus and Ivan smiled as they drove off the lot.
16
Young had hacked into the CCTVs of various private companies, including UKP, giving Chris and his crew views of Duke of York Street, St. James Square, and Charles II Street. The video was then digitally recorded, so they could analyze it. They’d stocked up on microwavable dinners, and while working on his meal of chicken curried rice, Chris peered out the window. Outside, the uniformed bobby and plainclothes security officer were gone. New men had replaced them, and the same white van with tinted windows was still parked outside UKP.