The Hotrod — a larger version of the Pigstick disrupter — was now poised to shoot its high-velocity water jet, the effect of which was so powerful that the plastic plug it fired could kill anyone standing in its path.
‘In position,’ Clarke reported.
‘Okay, Nobby.’
Clarke bellowed out his one-minute warning with relish, then selected the circuit and uncovered the firing switch on the control box.
‘STANDBY! FIRING NOW!’
Even across the street they heard the virtually simultaneous crack of the charging explosive and sound of the Hotrod ripping through the suitcase to shatter the circuitry of the bomb before it could close. There was a brief moment of anticipation as each man waited for the earth-shaking roar that would tell them that they had failed.
Nothing.
‘Well done, Nobby,’ Heathcote said. Together they viewed the results of their handiwork through the Wheelbarrow’s colour cameras and identified the critical components of the shattered bomb. After waiting for the mandatory ‘soak time’, the captain made his decision. ‘I’d better go take a look-see now.’
Clarke scrambled down from his perch, hoisted up his baggy DPMs and helped the operator on with his helmet. Harrison watched on with a curious mixture of envy and gratitude that it was no longer his job to take that lonely walk. The suitcase device may have been ‘disrupted’, but there was never one hundred per 1 cent certainty until it had been eyeballed at close quarters.
Involuntarily his mind flashed back to the sniper in Ballymurphy in ‘83. The derelict and the pressure-mat booby trap… He was older and wiser now. Perhaps he really should learn to be happy living without the daily adrenalin rush.
‘Tom.’
He turned.
It was Don Trenchard. Harrison was somewhat taken by surprise because he had hardly seen his friend during the past year. Now a half-colonel, Trenchard recently seemed to spend most of his time in London.
‘Good grief, Don, what are you doing here?’
Trenchard smiled tersely and drew him to one side. ‘A bit embarrassing actually. I’m not here and you haven’t seen me, right?’
Harrison was well used to his friend’s mysterious operational role, although he sometimes suspected that the melodramatics were as much cultivated for effect as actual. ‘What’s the problem?’
‘The Europa bomb. Get your lads to tread extra warily.’
Harrison nodded. ‘You don’t need to tell me that, Don. They used the AID AN codeword. We’ve learned our lesson.’
Trenchard was impatient. ‘There’s more to it than that. There was a secret meeting going on tonight. High-powered political stuff — sorry, can’t go into details. It could be merely circumstantial, but then again PIRA might have been trying to kill those taking part.’
‘Where was this meeting taking place?’
‘One of the syndicate rooms on the second floor.’
Harrison considered for a moment. ‘Then there’s not much point in leaving a device of that size in the foyer.’
‘Precisely.’
‘You’re saying that there could be a secondary, perhaps a bit better placed?’
‘I’m guessing, but you should be warned. Don’t make a big fuss about it, Tom, but maybe you could take a discreet look around without alerting the whole team. These talks are secret and we’d like to keep it that way.’
Harrison was irritated. ‘If these talks are likely to attract PIRA’s attention, why the hell hold them in a public place, just inviting innocent casualties?’
Trenchard shrugged. ‘They’re unofficial, I suppose that’s why. There have been enough high-profile talks going on in the last year to satisfy the media and the pundits. But these are the really important ones, the ones that count.’ He gave a sympathetic smile. ‘All I can tell you is that this venue wasn’t decided on until this morning, if that helps. Okay?’
‘I suppose it will have to be.’
‘There’s a chum.’ He told Harrison which syndicate room had been used. ‘Forgive me, Tom, but I have to scoot now.’
And then he left Harrison alone to watch as Heathcote plodded his way back from the Europa. The ATO looked bemused.
‘Done the trick, Peter?’ the SATO asked.
‘Yes, boss. But then it wouldn’t have gone off anyway. Come and see for yourself.’
Together they returned to the foyer where the suitcase now lay in two pieces on the floor, the disrupter having burst open the lid and left the component parts scattered over a wide area.
Heathcote picked up the remnants of a Memo Park timer. ‘This bit’s genuine, but it was an elaborate hoax. The det was a dummy and the Semtex is coloured modelling clay.’ He held out a piece of yellow substance for the SATO’s inspection. ‘Someone’s idea of a joke.’ *.
‘At our expense,’ Harrison murmured.
‘As this is one of AIDAN’s stunts, boss, I think I ought to call in a High-Risk Search Team before Scene-of-Crime and the forensic boys take over, just in case. What do you think?’
‘Sounds a wise precaution. And while you’re organising that, I’ll have a quick snoop round myself, if you don’t mind?’
‘Course not, boss.’
‘Put someone on the reception telephone, but keep everyone else outside the building until I get back.’
Heathcote looked suspicious. ‘Have you got something in mind, boss?’
‘Just a hunch. Have you got a set of pass keys?’
Heathcote nodded and called across to Corporal Clarke who ‘was now entering the foyer. ‘Nobby, give SATO the master keys will you — and look sharp!’
Harrison took them and headed for the main staircase that would lead him up to the newly refurbished syndicate rooms of the grandly named Euro Business Centre on the second floor. He located the room in which Trenchard said the secret meeting had taken place. Apart from chairs left askew around the table the place was totally empty, every scrap of paper having been removed. It was in direct contrast to the two adjoining rooms: in one a cocktail party had been abandoned in midflow, bottles and glasses everywhere; in the other, documents relating to a trade union branch meeting had been left behind when the fire alarm sounded. But there was nothing suspicious in either room.
His eyes wandered to the ceiling. If he were placing a device, he would go for the floor above. Bring the whole lot down on top of them.
Being reasonably familiar with the Europa, he knew that the bedrooms began on the third floor. He left swiftly, making his way towards the fire-escape stairs, taking them three at a time. At the next floor he hesitated, drawing breath before pushing open the door.
He was at one end of the carpeted corridor, bedroom doors to the left and right. From where he stood, he could see clearly to the first fire door. Beyond it, he knew, were the two side-by-side elevators and then, farther along, another fire door.
The place was uncannily hushed, the only noise to reach his ears was the background murmur of the air-conditioning and, somewhere, the faint hiss of running water. He advanced quickly, desperately trying to relate the layout of this floor to the one below. Which rooms might be above where the secret talks took place? It was impossible to be certain without studying the architect’s plans. No doubt the manager would have a copy in his office, but Harrison wasn’t sure he had that much time. Indeed he wasn’t sure he had any time.
He glanced up at one of the fire-extinguishers, then dismissed the notion. Trenchard had said the venue had only been decided that morning. Therefore any device would have to be compact and portable, easy to smuggle in. Maybe hidden in some bedroom furniture or inside a bath panel.
With some trepidation he examined a laundry trolley that had been left by the fire door. It was close to what he judged was the right area… But no, there was nothing.