Pritchard nodded. ‘Well, let’s start with the incendiaries. Four were found in time, but one went off. They used their trick again of using a sodium base, so the more water that fell from the sprinkler, the greater the blaze. It was a bloody great fireball. The entire floor was gutted. Luckily the fire brigade were exceptionally quick to react, realised what was happening and shut down the sprinklers. But it was still a damn close thing, the entire store could easily have burned down.’ He looked towards the Yorkshireman. ‘Midge can tell you about the vans.’
‘There were four,’ Midgely confirmed. ‘The warnings came in one after the other within seven or eight minutes. A similar setup in each case. Vans abandoned under flyovers and in the Blackfriars underpass, apparently broken down. The drivers propped open the bonnets, left the hazard lights flashing, then just walked off as calm as you like. Anyway, our first Expo was tasked to Blackfriars Bridge. He approached from the rear, knocked out a window and threw in a Candle charge for a controlled explosion. Afterwards we found an antihandling mechanism had been fitted to the courtesy-light system, just like the cars at Seven Dials.
‘By that time the Chiswick flyover bomb had gone off — well within the warning time. What a mess! Bloody great crater and serious cracks to the bridging span. Over traffic’s been reduced to one lane each way and all heavy vehicles are being diverted. Odds are the surveyors will say the whole thing has to come down and be rebuilt.’
‘What about the M4 Marylebone flyover?’ Harrison asked.
‘It was the same setup as Blackfriars, only afterwards Al realised he’d had a bloody lucky escape. They’d only added an additional pressure switch in the front-axle spring, hadn’t they? Just the movement as he climbed aboard should have set it off. It’s got to be confirmed yet, but it can only have been a poor electrical contact that prevented it from blowing.’
‘And the M25 junction at West Drayton?’ Harrison asked. ‘Was that a controlled explosion too?’
Midgely shook his head. ‘No, that’s just what was put out to the press. You see, we’d just got back to London from the funeral then and Les was tasked to it.’
Appleyard took up the story. ‘By all accounts it was the same as the other two. Same vehicle type and similar location. But remember, they were going off at ten-minute intervals, so information was pretty sketchy at the time. I was just about to make my initial approach, when at — what? — thirty metres the thing blew up. Thought I was a goner, I can tell you. I’m still half deaf.’
Harrison nodded. ‘It had been fitted with infrared detectors?’
Appleyard’s jaw dropped. ‘How did you know?’
‘The AIDAN cell used a three-van ploy about five weeks ago in Belfast. One of them was parked under a new flyover. We called it Find the Lady. It cost us a Wheelbarrow.’
The Expo pursed his lips and blew softly as he recalled the narrow escape of the previous day. ‘I just saw them mounted above the rear doors a second before I set them off. They were like the type used for automatic household porch lights. Luckily I had on a helmet and flak jacket, it threw me quite a distance.’
Al Pritchard said: ‘It was one of those fluky things with that explosion. Although the van appeared to be positioned well to damage the flyover, afterwards the engineers reckoned there was no structural damage and the police were able to open up the road again. It was decided to claim that we’d successfully done a controlled explosion on a hoax. On the basis that the terrorists weren’t going to hang around to see what happened, they’d be none the wiser. And on the other two bombs, it was decided to say they were false alarms, just to keep the buggers guessing what we’re playing at.’
Harrison nodded. ‘All part of the public relations war, I suppose.’
Pritchard began fiddling with his paperknife. ‘What you’ve got to remember, Tom, is that there’s a great deal of interest in this new campaign being shown by Whitehall. It’s caused the biggest amount of damage in London since the City bombs of‘92 and ‘93 and it’s more ambitious than anything we’ve seen in the past. And I detect that the Provos are less interested in avoiding civilian casualties than previously — at least, as long as it appears to be due to police ineptitude rather than deliberate PIRA policy.’
‘It was ever thus,’ Harrison said.
That annoyed Pritchard. ‘But more so, Tom. There’s some new political dimension to this that we’re not being told about. The Home Office is convinced the bombing is going to get worse over the summer. That’s why you’re here and that’s why MI5 is co-ordinating the response on all of this. The AntiTerrorist Branch and Special Branch are dancing to their tune. And, in their, wisdom, MI5 has decided to put it about that there was only one van bomb at the Chiswick flyover and that the other three were hoaxes or false alarms. That’s what’s going to be confirmed at this morning’s press conference.’ For a moment he stared morosely at the paperknife in his hands as though it held some magic property which might help him understand the thinking of the Security Service. ‘I suppose it helps to reduce the level of public hysteria. I mean one bomb’s quite enough. No need to overalarm Joe Commuter with four of the blighters. But to be honest, I don’t know what real good it does.’
Then the meeting was at an end, Midgely and Appleyard pitching their plastic mugs into the wastebin as they made their way to the door. Pritchard said: ‘I suppose you’re still smoking that awful pipe of yours, Tom?’
Harrison smiled. ‘Wild Cherry tobacco. Taxi drivers are always ly;’ saying how they like it.’
Only Pritchard’s eyes showed he appreciated the SATO’s swift comeback. ‘I’m not a taxi driver, Tom. So I’ll put you in with Les Appleyard at Jock’s old desk. You can smoke each other to death.’
‘Thanks, Al.’
As he went to follow Appleyard through the door, Pritchard called: ‘Just a minute, Tom.’ Harrison turned back to the desk. The Senior Explosives Officer had resumed his seat and his expression appeared a little more relaxed, his features almost softened by the first hint of a smile. ‘Sorry if I’ve been a bit hard on you, Tom. I know I can be a miserable bugger at the best of times — comes from having too much male hormone — ‘ Harrison assumed this was a vague reference to his bald crown as well as being a joke, a rarity in itself. At least the man was making an effort. ‘The pressure’s been pretty tough since this new campaign began. It’s been round the clock and not a lot of sleep. I’ll be frank, I don’t appreciate your presence here. Nothing personal — when we were serving together, I always reckoned you were the best ATO we had.’
Harrison wasn’t sure Pritchard really meant that, so said nothing.
‘You’ve got your job to do,’ the Sexpo continued, ‘and I’m sure you’ll do it, whether I cooperate or not. In fact I’m expected to attend this press conference later and I’d like you to come along too. Handling the media is all part of the overview, even if it’s not the Section’s direct responsibility.’
‘Thanks, Al. Whatever you suggest.’
But Pritchard was staring into the middle distance as though apparently unaware that Harrison had spoken. ‘Trouble is I can see where all this is going to lead.’
‘Meaning?’
‘You’re going to be asked, you realise that? The Home Office is going to ask you for recommendations,’
‘No one has yet.’
‘They will. And you’re going to give all the answers based on your experience in Belfast. You’re going to say we’re doing too much hands-on. That my lads should be making more use of Wheelbarrows, not sitting on top of bombs with a pair of pliers and a Stanley knife. Am I right or am I right?’