Dead if You Don’t

18

Saturday 12 August

17.00–18.00

The coded message the dog handler relayed to Adrian Morris via the police radio operator told him the sniffer dog had detected possible explosives in the suspect item.

Morris informed the Match Commander, who updated Oscar-1. He in turn alerted the duty officer at the Explosives Ordnance Division, based in Folkestone — and emailed him a photograph of the camera, lifted from the stadium’s CCTV. The EOD, who were normally one hour and ten minutes away, on blue lights, would make an instant assessment from the image, using guidelines set out by NaCTSO, the National Counter-Terrorism Security Office, for the area of evacuation required in the event of a suspected bomb.

Less than one minute later Kundert’s phone rang. It was the EOD duty officer. ‘Sir, it looks a relatively small object. We have a unit at Gatwick Airport on a training exercise and we’ve dispatched them — they’ll be with you in thirty minutes. We’d like you to immediately clear a minimum area of fifty metres around the object. One hundred would be preferable, but given your situation, we’d be OK with fifty.’

He relayed the information to Morris and everyone present in the Control Room. One hundred metres would mean a total evacuation of the stadium, and a crowd-control nightmare. One potential danger they needed to be mindful of was that of secondary explosive devices, a classic terrorist tactic, where explosives would be placed in the Rendezvous Points to where the evacuated crowds would be directed. For this reason, the club kept these RV points a secret, regularly changing them. If they just evacuated the South Stand, where the suspect camera was, and part of the East and West Stands, they could put the people in safe RV points in the concourse and immediately outside. But more than that and they would have to send them home. Which would mean the match was abandoned and would have to be rearranged.

They all agreed to an immediate partial evacuation. With luck, if the device turned out to be a false alarm, there was a possibility, albeit slim, of recommencing the game.

Kundert called Oscar-1 and informed him of the decision.

Keith Ellis immediately ordered a Roads Policing Unit escort to meet the EOD vehicle at the junction of the Gatwick slip road and the A23, and help speed its journey to the stadium.

As he put down his radio, his phone beeped.

It was Roy Grace.

The two of them went back a long way. Ellis had been Roy’s sergeant at John Street police station, when Grace had been a uniformed probationer, nearly twenty years ago.

‘What’s the update at the Amex, Keith? I’m here with my son.’

‘They’re not happy with the camera. EOD are on their way.’

Roy turned and looked at Bruno and thought, I need to get you out, now.