The Bombmaker (36 page)

'We'll let her go. This isn't about killing children.'

'And her?' O'Keefe nodded at the offices.

'Ah,' said Egan. 'That's a whole different ball-game. She has to go up with the bomb. It's not going to work if she's around to tell her story afterwards.'

'And us?' asked O'Keefe, watching Egan's face for any reaction. 'What about having us around afterwards?'

Egan grinned and put a hand on O'Keefe's shoulder. His leather jacket swung open and O'Keefe saw the butt of a gun in a shoulder holster. Unlike his own black nylon holster, Egan's was glossy brown leather that glistened under the overhead fluorescent lights.

'Don, you're as much a part of this as I am. You're hardly likely to go spilling your guts to the cops, are you? Plus, you don't exactly have an IRA pedigree, do you? I'm paying you to do a job, and providing you behave like a professional, I'll treat you like one. Might even have more work for you after this.' He patted O'Keefe gently on the cheek, then pulled a black ski mask from his jacket pocket. 'Right, final stretch. Let's get on with it.'

Andy rocked back on her heels, staring at the five small videocassettes in horror. She picked one up. There was a handwritten label stuck to one side. Friday. She picked up a second cassette. Wednesday. On the first cassette that Green eyes had shown her, Katie had said it was Saturday. On the second cassette she'd been shown, Katie had said it was Monday.

The five cassettes in the briefcase were for the rest of the days of the week. They weren't being sent over from Ireland. They'd all been done at the same time. Andy felt suddenly sick at the realisation of what that meant. There was no proof that her daughter was still alive. Worse, the kidnappers had probably killed her after filming the seven cassettes. She put the cassettes back in the briefcase with trembling hands and picked up the cellular phone.

If Katie was dead, if she was really dead, then she had nothing to lose by calling the police. She switched on the phone and its display glowed green. It was a Vodafone digital phone, a Nokia,

the same model that Martin used. She began to tap out the emergency services number, but stopped on the second '9'.

What if Katie was all right, what if she was panicking for nothing? What if they'd made the tapes on the same day just to make life easier for themselves?

Andy cancelled the call. She stood up, tapping the phone against her leg. They weren't going to let her live after the bomb was ready, she was sure of that. They wanted her fingerprints all over the device so that it looked as if it was the work of the Provisionals. The deception wouldn't work if Andy was around afterwards, so they'd have to kill her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. If they were going to kill her, what chance was there that they'd allow Katie to live? She opened her eyes and started to tap out '999' again. This time she stopped on the third '9'. What if she was wrong? If she called the police and Katie was still alive, what then? Green-eyes had made it clear that the kidnappers in Ireland were under orders to kill Katie if the London team were apprehended. Would the police be able to force Green-eyes to tell them where Katie was? She cancelled the call. It was a risk she couldn't take. The police's first concern would be the thousands of office workers in the City. They'd evacuate all the buildings in the area, there'd be sirens and roadblocks, and then they'd try to negotiate. Katie would be low down their list of priorities.

If she couldn't call the police, who then? Who could possibly help her? On the note she'd left behind the picture in her hotel room she'd told Martin to call her Special Branch handler, but he was in Northern Ireland. She wanted Liam Denham to explain to Martin who she really was, and why Katie had been taken from them. Martin deserved an explanation,

and that was why she wanted her husband to talk to the policeman -- it wasn't because she thought there was anything Denham could do to help her. Besides, even if she called Denham, what could he do? He'd probably call Special Branch in London but they were police, too. She needed experts, professionals. What she needed was the SAS,

but she couldn't very well call up directory enquiries and ask for their number. She frowned. Maybe she could. Maybe she could call them and explain to someone what had happened.

The SAS wouldn't bother with sirens and roadblocks - they'd storm the office and that would be the end of it. Except, of course, everyone would probably die. That was how the SAS worked. They went in with guns blazing, and their prime concern would be to stop the bomb going off, and the best way of doing that would be to kill everyone in the vicinity.

And if Green-eyes and her companions were killed, who'd be able to tell them where Katie was being held?

Andy glared at the phone in her hand as if it were responsible for her predicament. She was in an impossible position. If she did nothing, she would almost certainly be killed. But if she called for help, her daughter would die. It wasn't a decision that anyone should be forced to make, and it wasn't a decision that Andy could make on her own. She tapped out the number of Martin's mobile, but it was switched off. She tapped out her home number. She had to speak to Martin. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer as the number rang out.

All four people in the room froze as the black phone warbled.

Carter grabbed for one headset, Denham picked up the other.

Fanning sat down and scrutinised the tape recorder. Martin stood motionless, staring at the ringing phone. Denham motioned for him to pick up the receiver.

Martin took a deep breath and snatched it up. 'Yes?'

'Martin, thank God you're there.'

Martin felt as if he'd been punched in the solar plexus. His whole chest went numb and he couldn't breathe. He tried to speak but no words would come.

'Martin, can you hear me?'

He swallowed, though his throat was painfully dry. 'I'm here, love.'

'Martin, I don't know what to do. You've got to help me. I can't face this alone. I ..." Her words ended in sobs.

Denham frowned and scribbled a note on a sheet of paper.

He held it in front of Martin's face. 'ASK HER IF ANYONE'S

LISTENING.' Carter took off her headset. 'I'll get Patsy,'...

mouthed, and dashed out of the room.

'Andy, love, it's okay. It's okay.' <

'It's not okay. They're making me build a bomb, a huge bomb. Hundreds of people are going to die, Martin. But if I do anything to try to stop them, they're going to kill Katie.'

'I know. I know.'

'You know? What do you mean? You can't possibly . . .'

'Andy, is anyone there with you?' Martin interrupted. 'Can anyone hear you?'

'I'm in an office, on my own, but I don't know for how much longer.'

Denham took off his headset and reached for the phone. For a second Martin tried to keep hold of the receiver, but Denham flashed him a stern look and Martin relinquished it.

'Andrea. This is Liam.'

'Liam? Liam Denham? What are you doing there?' The confusion was obvious in her voice.

'We don't have time for that, Andrea. Where are you?'

'Are you in the house, Liam? Are you in Dublin?'

'I'm in London, Andrea. So's Martin. Where's the bomb,

Andrea? Where've you built the bomb?'

There was a long silence.

'Andrea, are you there?'

'Oh, sweet Jesus,' said Andy.

'It's all right. We can help you, Andrea.'

'You know what's happened? You know about Katie?'

'Yes. Martin's told us everything. Where are you, Andrea?

Where are you calling from?' He scribbled on the paper as he spoke. 'ARE WE TRACING THIS?' He caught Farming's eye and tapped the paper with his ringer. Fanning read the note and gave Denham a thumbs-up and an emphatic nod.

'Please, Liam, don't do anything that'll put Katie at risk.

Promise me. Swear to me, Liam, swear to me now.'

The door opened and Patsy rushed in, followed by Carter.

She picked up the headset that Denham had been using and hurriedly put it on, then stood next to Denham, her head tilted slightly to one side as she listened.

'I'll do what I can, Andrea.'

'If Katie dies, I'll . . .' She didn't finish the sentence.

'I know, Andrea. We'll be careful, we won't do anything that'll put her at risk, I promise.'

Patsy's face hardened and Denham turned away from her.

He knew what she was thinking. He was making promises that she wouldn't be able to keep.

'I'll hold you to that, Liam. We both know what happened last time . . .'

'It was a terrible mistake, Andrea. A mistake.'

'Children died,' said Andy.

Patsy touched Denham lightly on the shoulder. He looked at her and she made a circling motion with her finger, telling him to hurry up.

'Andrea, where are you?'

There was a slight hesitation, then Andy cleared her throat.

'Cathay Tower. It's in Queen Anne Street, close to Bank Tube station. We're on the ninth floor.'

Patsy wrote down the address and nodded at Denham.

'Good girl,' said Denham. 'The bomb, Andrea. How big is it?'

There was another hesitation, then another clearing of her throat. 'Four thousand pounds.'

Patsy's mouth opened in surprise.

'What type is it?' Denham asked.

'Ammonium nitrate, aluminium powder, sawdust and diesel.'

'Initiator?'

'They've got Semtex, Liam. Semtex and Mark 4 detonators.'

'And what stage are you at?'

Andy didn't reply.

'Andrea? How close to completion are you?'

'It's ready, Liam. All I have to do is set the timer.'

Patsy ripped off the headset and dashed across the office to the door, the piece of paper in her hand. She rushed out, leaving the door open.

'Liam, promise me you won't do anything until Katie's safe.'

'We'll do what we can,' said Denham, not wanting to lie to her.

'Liam, I want you to promise.'

Denham could hear Patsy shouting instructions down the corridor.

'Now listen to me, Andrea. If we're going to locate Katie,

you're going to have to get them to let you telephone her, do you understand? If you can get her on the phone, we can trace it.

No matter where she is, we can trace it. Just make sure that you use her name. You have to say “Katie”, do you understand?'

'I'll try,' said Andy. 'But please, you have to promise me,

don't let them storm the building, not until Katie's safe.'

Denham closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. He didn't want to lie, but he knew that the bomb was the priority, and that the life of a seven-year-old girl would come a poor second.

Patsy rushed into the briefing room, waving the sheet of paper.

There were more than a dozen people there, either working on computer terminals or phoning. 'Right, everybody, stop whatever you're doing and listen. We have a location.'

Phones were slammed down and all the agents watched her as she wrote the address on the whiteboard. 'Cathay Tower,

Queen Anne Street. Ninth floor. Lisa, get me a large-scale map of the area, now.'

Lisa Qavies got up from her computer and dashed out of the room.

'Anna, I need an architect's plan of Cathay Tower. Every floor. And I need to know the tenants on each floor.'

Anna Wallace picked up the phone and dialled a number.

'Our information is that a four-thousand-pound fertiliser bomb has been constructed on the ninth floor. David, I need to know what effect a bomb of that size will have if it goes off.

Radius of damage, direction of blast -- talk to our technical boys and any contacts you've got in RAOC in Lisburn.' David Bingham nodded and picked up his phone.

'Right, everyone else, I want you to split into four groups.

We need observation points around the building and we need them fast. Eyes and ears, full thermal imaging, the works.

Jonathan, find a base that I and the SAS officer in charge can use. I want everyone to gather in the gymnasium in five minutes.'

Jonathan Clare nodded, then half raised his hand. She encouraged him to speak with a raised eyebrow. 'Evacuation?'

he said.

'No, not at this stage. If we start pulling hundreds of people out of the area, it's going to attract attention. We don't want them spooked. So mum's the word until I say otherwise. Am I clear on that? Another thing. We don't know what effect the bomb's going to have. If we fill the streets with people, an evacuation could kill more than it saves, if the worst comes to the worst.'

The agents in the room nodded. 'Right, let's get to it,' Patsy said. She looked at her watch. It was just after eleven o'clock in the morning. The City would be at its busiest.

Andy cupped her hand around the bottom of the mobile phone.

'Liam,' she hissed. 'You mustn't let them do anything until Katie's safe. They'll kill her.'

'I'll do what I can, Andrea,' said Denham. 'But the best chance we've got of finding her is if you can persuade them to let you speak to her. Do you think you can do that?'

Andy walked over to the television. The remote control for the video recorder was on top of the TV set, and she picked it up with her free hand. She stroked it against her cheek, a faraway look in her eyes. 'I think so,' she said.

'Good girl,' said Denham. 'Now, who else is there, Andrea?

How many of them are there?'

'Three. Two men, one woman. They keep their faces covered all the time they're around me. One of them's called Don. He's got a tattoo on his left forearm. A cross of St George.

And I think the woman's name started with “McC”. Or “McK”.'

'Irish?'

'God, Liam, I don't know. Her brother was killed by the SAS, so she's got Irish family, I'm sure, but the more I hear her speak, the more I think she's Scottish.' She tucked the video remote control into the back pocket of her jeans.

'Have they said why they're doing it?'

'No.'

'Do you get the feeling it's political?'

Before Andy could answer, she heard a noise behind her.

Two figures wearing ski masks were standing at the open door.