First Response

TAVISTOCK SQUARE (2.15 p.m.)

Mark Biddulph patted the ballistic panel that would protect his chest and groin from any explosion — hopefully. ‘It’s bloody heavy,’ he said.

Robin Greene grinned over at him. ‘I’d like to say you get used to it, but that’d be a lie. It’s almost forty kilos and the longer you wear it the heavier it gets.’

Biddulph held up his hands. ‘It seems so wrong that the hands aren’t protected,’ he said.

‘We need the flexibility,’ Greene said. ‘But it’s not like the movies. We’re not in there deciding which wire to cut while the clock ticks away.’

Biddulph had arrived with a Bomb Squad team at just before two o’clock. The van had POLICE on the side but there was no indication that it was involved in bomb disposal. Inspector McNeil had given Greene a briefing in the Silver Command office, which was when Biddulph had asked if he could go on the recce. McNeil hadn’t been happy but Greene had said that, providing Biddulph wore a suit and didn’t get any closer than twenty feet to the bus, the risk of injury was minimal.

The recce was to establish contact with the bomber and to get a close-up view of the inside of the bus, and after confirming with Gold Command at Lambeth that the risk was acceptable, Inspector McNeil reluctantly gave the go-ahead.

Two other members of the Bomb Squad helped Greene and Biddulph suit up while another technician prepared a field phone that they would try to persuade the bomber to use.

‘So this guy, he’s been working undercover?’

Biddulph nodded. ‘For the NCA. It started as a sexual-predator case with Asians grooming underage white girls, then it became obvious they were big-time drug importers.’

‘But there was no terrorism involvement?’

‘None that Kash reported.’

‘Kash?’

‘That’s his name. Kash, with a K. Well, his nickname, I guess. Kashif Talpur. He joined three years ago, did a couple of years pounding a beat in Wandsworth, and then we co-opted him into the NCA. Bright lad.’

‘Lad?’

‘He’s only twenty-three but looks younger.’

‘And no one suspected he’d turned fundamentalist?’

‘I still can’t believe it’s him,’ said Biddulph. ‘I’m hoping that when I get up close I’ll realise that it just looks like him and that the facial-recognition system has screwed up.’

‘People change.’

‘Yeah, but not that quickly. I saw him just three days ago and he was as right as rain. Had a couple of pints and a curry, chatted about the football more than the case.’

‘Pints? He drinks?’

‘Likes his beer. Was going out with a very pretty blonde girl before she got fed up with his hours. I’ve even seen him buy pork scratchings in the pub.’

‘But he’s a Muslim, right?’

‘Same way that I’m a Christian. I’m in church for funerals and weddings and I’ve broken most of the Ten Commandments. Kash is third-generation British. He can speak Urdu but that’s because his mum and dad insist on it at home. But Kash is…’ He shrugged, lost for words.

‘Well, let’s see what he has to say for himself,’ said Greene. He indicated a metal box with a phone handset on the top and a coil of wire clipped to the side. ‘You’ll be carrying the field phone. We’ll try to persuade him to take it onto the bus so that we can get negotiations started.’ He gestured at a small video camera that had been clipped to his protective jacket, just under his chin. ‘I’ll be recording everything and the video will be uploaded to Gold Commander in GT Ops so if there’s anything you’d rather keep private…’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger.

‘Thanks for the heads-up,’ said Biddulph. The man who was helping him dress began adjusting the collar that would protect his neck. ‘You do this a lot?’

‘Suicide bombers? Nope, this is a first for me. To be honest, most of what we do involves old war munitions. Unexploded bombs and the like. And meth labs, we do a lot of them. But since the IRA went quiet we don’t have many terrorist-related bombs. We were there on Seven/Seven, but after the event, obviously.’

‘And these suits will protect us, one hundred per cent?’

‘There’s always a chance that a piece of shrapnel might hit you, but it won’t be anywhere vital. You’d be bloody unlucky to get a scratch.’

Biddulph grinned. ‘Good to know.’

‘It’d be a different story for anyone on the lower level of the bus, though,’ said Greene. ‘What they usually do with those suicide vests is wrap wire and nails and bolts around the explosive. The actual bang isn’t what does the damage, it’s the shrapnel. Now you and me, outside the bus, wearing these suits, we’ll be fine and dandy. And the passengers on the upper level, they’ll mostly be okay. But everyone else — they’ll be ripped to shreds.’

Biddulph nodded. ‘Got it,’ he said.

‘So we go in slowly, try to keep him calm. If there’s any sense that we’re making him agitated, we back away. We don’t want to be the trigger for anything happening. If he wants to talk, we tell him to use the phone. We give him the phone, gather intel, then leave.’

‘All good,’ said Biddulph.

‘We won’t be using the radios in the suits to talk until we’re sure what detonating system he’s using, but providing we’re close together we should be able to hear each other.’

Biddulph’s heart was racing and he took several deep breaths to calm himself down.

Greene grinned and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘That Kevlar will stop most things.’

‘It’s not me I’m worried about,’ said Biddulph. ‘It’s Kash.’