Echo of the Reich

46

26 July 2012

The telephone call to the Metropolitan Police went pretty much as Bronson had expected. He’d turned off the motorway and stopped the BMW in a quiet Kent village to use a public pay phone, and got through to Bob Curtis almost immediately. But as soon as Curtis realized who he was talking to, his voice changed.

“Right, Bronson,” he said-the use of Christian names now seemed to be off the menu-“I’m taping this call and as soon as we’ve got your location from the computer, Davidson will be sending out the cavalry. You are so deep in the shit that you’re going to need a scaffold tower to climb out of it. What the hell have you been doing?”

“And good afternoon to you, too, Bob. I reckon the trace will take no more than three minutes, but I’ll be off the line in less than two. You don’t need to talk, just listen, because this is serious.”

With one eye on the second hand of his wristwatch, Bronson told Curtis what he’d discovered in Berlin and at the Wenceslas Mine, and what he believed the German terrorist group intended to do at the opening ceremony of the Olympic Games.

“And you’ve got proof of this, obviously,” Curtis said, when Bronson finished, “otherwise you wouldn’t be wasting my time telling me.”

“Of course I can’t prove it,” Bronson snapped. “What are you expecting? A signed note from Marcus-and I’ve found out who he is, by the way, or at least where he lives-saying that he intends to blow up half of northeast London?”

“Yeah, well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? It’s all too little, too late, and far too bloody vague. Sounds to me like you’ve been reading too many thrillers, my friend, and you’re trying to create a smokescreen you can hide behind. The best thing you can do is stand right where you are until the patrol car gets to you, and then come in quietly.”

“That comes from Davidson, doesn’t it?” Bronson asked. “He’s not going to listen to anything I say, is he?”

“You got that right.”

“Okay, then, Bob. I’ve got a piece of advice for you. You’ve been taping this call, so I suggest you make a copy of that tape and stick it away in a safe place somewhere, so that when northeast London goes up in flames you can tell the official inquiry that I gave you fair warning. That way, at least you can save your own skin, even if Davidson fries for it.”

For a moment, Curtis didn’t reply.

“You’re that certain?” he finally asked.

“I’m that certain,” Bronson replied, and hung up the phone.

As he drove out of the village on one of the minor roads, heading more or less west toward London, Bronson spotted a Volvo police car traveling in the opposite direction along the main road, at speed, lights flashing.

“That’ll be the cavalry,” he remarked to Angela. “I don’t think Bob Curtis believed a word I said to him. I was right: we’re on our own.”

“Suppose I called the police?” Angela asked. “Or even the newspapers?”

“I doubt if the police would listen to you. You’re tainted because of your association with me. They’d just assume I’d prompted you to tell them the same story. If you went to the newspapers they’d note down what you told them, but before they did anything else they’d talk to their friendly Media Relations Officer at the local cop shop. He’d do some checking before he gave the go-ahead to print anything, and the result would be the same: your name would be mud because of me. And if by some miracle a newspaper reporter did believe you, and thought the terrorist threat was real, the paper still wouldn’t run the story because the police would tell them not to, to avoid panic.”

“Like that strange American expression: we’re between a rock and a hard place,” Angela said. “Time’s running out because the opening ceremony is tomorrow evening. What do we do now? What can we do?”

“Two things,” Bronson replied, sounding suddenly determined. “In fact, three things. First, tomorrow you don’t go to work at the British Museum, but stay in your apartment, because I want you well out of harm’s way. I’m pretty sure the target will be the opening ceremony, but we don’t know how big or powerful the device is, and if it is some kind of a dirty bomb, the fallout could spread for a long way. In Ealing, you should be safe enough.”

“What about you? You won’t be hiding away somewhere, will you?”

“No, but that’s my job. I have to do whatever I can to stop this attack, and if I don’t have to worry about your safety, that’ll make things easier for me.”

Angela shook her head, but didn’t argue the point.

“You said there were three things, so what else will you do?”

“I’ll be making a phone call to a friend, because I’m definitely going to need help on the ground. And then I’m going undercover again.”

“Not to that same group?” Angela sounded alarmed.

“No. I mean deep undercover. I need to be able to move around the Olympic complex without anybody seeing me, or at least without taking any notice. And there’s one group of people that almost everyone ignores, who can go wherever they want without anyone bothering them.”

“Who? Policemen?”

Bronson smiled at her.

“No,” he said. “Almost the exact opposite, actually.”