Cell (56 page)

'It has,' he agreed. 'Tweed is convinced the same man
planned September 11 in New York, the Trade Center
tragedy. He's also convinced the mastermind is not an
Arab. He's American or an Englishman.'

'Or a woman,' she said again.

She studied the map of the river Tweed had handed to
her just before the vehicles left Park Crescent. At the head it
was marked TOP SECRET. He told her Sarge had handed
him this map on his first visit to Park Crescent.

'The blue circles show where we will be stationed at our
firing points,' she remarked. 'The red ones are SAS firing
points. Sarge must have recced this area in the middle of the night.'

'He did.'

Newman was driving at a moderate speed. He glanced in
his rear-view mirror. The other three vehicles were strung
out at intervals behind him. Paula stared across the river
at the opposite bank. No sign of Buchanan's anti-terrorist
squad, but she knew they would be there.

'We're about to pass an SAS firing-point,' she warned.

Newman glanced to his left. Beyond the pavement reared
up a wall, a viewing platform almost invisible, surrounded
by massed trees without foliage. Sarge had chosen well, but he would. Thirty yards past it he parked, leaving his engine
running.

'Look back,' he said.

Vehicle No. 3, driven by Nield with Sarge by his side, had
stopped. Four masked men with black caps and clothes had
appeared from nowhere. They unloaded Nield's vehicle
while Sarge supervised. Some of the equipment looked very
heavy. Tweed spoke for the first time as he gazed back.

'Superbly well organized.'

Beaurain had also turned in his seat to look. His gaze
was critical. Suddenly the vehicle was emptied. The masked
men, some disguised for night with blackened faces, had
vanished. So had all the equipment, some of it clearly
very heavy.

'Incredibly professional,' Beaurain remarked. 'And they
have camouflaged the jeeps brilliantly.'

'The jeeps?' Paula queried.

'Well,' Beaurain explained, 'they will start being posi
tioned at that point to protect Waterloo Bridge. Once
their work is done there they have to drive back like
mad along the deserted embankment to reinforce the unit stationed further upriver. You'll find in a minute we also
have jeeps.'

Harry, in vehicle No. 2, had paused while this part of the
preparations took place. As Newman drove on so did Harry.
Paula stared once more at the growing dawn, a spectrum of pink and blue and green. She wished she'd brought a
camera to record the glorious sight.

Newman seemed to read her mind. Using one hand to drive, he delved under his windcheater with the other.
When it emerged it was holding a small camera. He handed
it to Paula.

'In case you need it.'

'Bless you.'

She took six shots of the dawn just before day came and the spectacle was replaced by a clear blue sky. She purred.

'I could kiss you.'

'Not now. Keep your eye on the map.'

'Sorry. Slow down. I think we're almost there.'

Newman pulled up alongside a location where a statue
of a man on a horse was perched on a huge plinth well back
from the pavement, shrouded by a mass of leafless trees.
Tweed jumped out first, clambered up to the plinth, took
out a pair of field-glasses and scanned the river. Paula had
hauled herself up behind him, followed by Beaurain and Newman. To their surprise vehicle No. 3 had arrived and
Sarge leapt up to join them on the plinth.

'From here,' said Tweed, 'we can disable the first barge
and protect not only Waterloo Bridge but Hungerford Bridge, which carries all the trains from Charing Cross.'

'If we succeed,' said Nield, who had joined them.

'When
we succeed,' growled Sarge.

Vehicle No. 2, driven by Harry, had parked below them.
His voice expressed frustration.

'You lazy lot up there. Get down here and help me bring
up the weaponry. Now!'

Sarge took control. He lay down on the edge of the plinth
and issued the order.

'All of you go down, fetch equipment, hand it to me.
It will save time clambering up the plinth. We must keep
moving.'

Paula was the first to reach the vehicle. Harry handed
her a sub-machine gun, a satchel of ammo. She insisted she could take two guns. Scrambling with her burden up to the
base of the plinth, she handed one weapon, then another,
then the ammo satchel to Sarge, who grasped them in
his hands, laid them behind him on the plinth. She was surprised at his great strength.

When all the weapons were delivered they were covered
with heavy canvas to conceal them. All except Sarge were
perspiring when they had completed the job. Paula stood on the plinth as she asked the question.

'Where are our jeeps?'

Sarge made a sound which could have been a chuckle.
He pointed down to the side of the pavement.

'You've walked past them several times. They're under
all those branches piled against the embankment wall. Now,
we must start work.'

'What was that we have been doing?' Paula asked.

'Initial preparation.'

A semaphore light began flashing from the other side of
the river. Sarge stared intently. Then he produced from a satchel over his shoulder a signalling lamp., flashed back
a reply.

'What was that?' Tweed asked.

'Buchanan. Asking if all goes well. I replied all is going
well, all will go well. . .'

The convoy of four-wheel drives reversed, except that
Newman raced past them to take the lead, knowing the
route. Now they had four more bridges, some way upriver,
to locate and furnish firing-points already mapped out
by Sarge.

He must have spent most of the night deciding on the
best location, thought Paula. Yet he's moving round like
a man who has had eight hours' sleep.

Again and again the SAS units appeared from nowhere when they reached a fresh firing-point. More and more weapons were stockpiled for both groups. At one point
Newman approached Sarge to ask him a question he had
forgotten.

'At the plinth between Waterloo and Westminster bridges
I noticed we were overlooked by office buildings. Surely we would be seen by people inside?'

'No.' It was Beaurain who answered. 'Buchanan had
every building evacuated. Reason given, danger of major
gas explosion. They were gone - if any tried to enter -
long before we arrived. Including security and cleaning
people.'

Paula found herself acting like an automaton. Carrying
a load of weaponry, running back to Marler's vehicle which
seemed stuffed with endless weapons. She was surprised at
the rate Tweed kept up, showing no signs of fatigue. Then
she remembered that these days he took to walking the
two miles to and from his flat to Park Crescent. He looked
remarkably fit.

They did not proceed with the vehicle convoy to Albert
Bridge. As on the journey out, early in the morning only one vehicle made its way there. Newman again drove with Paula
by his side. In the rear seats Tweed sat next to Beaurain.

As they approached the area Paula was once more struck
by the eerie atmosphere. No traffic. No people. Nothing
moving on the river. As though London had been frozen
into a strange ice age. She pointed to the apartment build
ings and houses close to the river.

'Anyone at home?'

'No one,' Tweed told her. 'Buchanan has evacuated
everyone who might be within range of what is going to
happen. A few argued but he didn't take any notice. Same explanation. A huge gas explosion feared.'

Newman stopped the car when they were close to the bridge. Paula stared in puzzlement. She was tired and couldn't grasp what might have happened.

'There are cars all along the far side of the bridge.
Why?'

'It's wrecks obtained from a car crusher firm. Brought
out on huge transporters. So the first bridge al-Qa'eda see
will look normal.'
,

'I'd like to take a few photos. It's a beautiful bridge . . .'

They waited while she got out, aimed her camera. Light
ing was perfect. She took twelve pictures. Then stood gazing at what wouldn't be there in a few hours. She felt
sad. Returning to the car she smiled, thanked them. They
headed back for Park Crescent, Newman trying to find a
way through alley-like streets.

During the complex drive back to Park Crescent Paula
sat with a serious expression. She was unusually silent.
Before getting back into the car she had glanced at the
serene view downriver. Supposing al-Qa'eda succeeded?
Destroyed all the target bridges? London would be severed
in two. As in the time long ago of Roman occupation. Worse
- the Romans had spanned the river efficiently. Behind her
Beaurain leaned forward, as though sensing her fears. He squeezed her shoulder.

'Stop worrying, Paula. We shall pull it off.'

45

At Carpford Margesson, wearing a suit, drove the four-
wheel-drive he had kept concealed in a shed. The suit
was necessary. Dressed in his robes, it would have been
dangerous driving.

Skilfully, after leaving the village, he sped down the curving road. There was a wind, which rustled his beard.
Above, the sun shone down out of a duck-egg-blue sky. His
extraordinary face had a determined expression.

Anxious to reach his destination, he spun round curves
at speed. He roared up the sunken tunnel with Black Wood
above him on either side. Reaching the triangle he swung
down towards the main road leading to London.

Inside a holster strapped under his jacket he carried a
pistol, fully loaded. He had no illusions as to the jungle
the world had become. At one deserted point he raised his
voice, called out.

'Allah be praised.'

His tone of voice had a peculiar inflection.

Peregrine Palfry, faultlessly dressed, walked down White
hall. He wondered why it was so deserted. No traffic. No people. He had even had to identify himself at a police checkpoint before he could enter Whitehall.

He was mystified and very worried. In one hand he carried the obligatory briefcase, part of the uniform. The other hand grasped a tightly rolled umbrella. Ridiculous
considering the clear blue sky, the sun shining down on
him.