First Response

LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (4.40 p.m.)

The massive gate that guarded the entrance to Belmarsh Prison rattled back and the prisoner transport vehicle pulled out. Virtually everyone in the special operations room was watching the screen on the wall showing the feed from Sky News. One of the shots was from a helicopter and the news team had been given permission to fly over the prison so they could film the six prisoners being loaded onto the van, each handcuffed to a burly prison officer.

There were two ARVs escorting the van, one in front and one behind, along with half a dozen police motorcyclists.

‘I have two cars en route,’ said Murray. ‘Make sure the ARVs are expecting them. We don’t want a friendly fire incident.’

Kamran glanced at Lumley, who nodded. ‘They’ve been briefed,’ he said.

‘How long to drive from Belmarsh to Biggin Hill?’ asked Gillard.

‘With no traffic should be forty-five minutes, but we’ve told them to take it slowly,’ said Kamran. ‘It should take them an hour with an ETA of seventeen forty. We’re using motorcycle police to keep the roads clear.’ He turned to Lumley. ‘Joe, can you call up the route for me?’

Lumley clicked his mouse and a map filled his left screen, showing the route the police van would take from the prison, down the A206, A205, A208 and B263 to Bromley, then south to the airport on the A21 and A233.

‘As soon as they get to the airport they’ll drive to RAF Biggin Hill and park by the main block there,’ said Kamran.

Kamran’s mobile rang. It was Shahid. ‘It is time to take my people to the airport,’ he said. ‘You have the coach?’

‘It’s ready when you are,’ said Kamran.

‘I need the windows to be blacked out.’

‘Blacked out? We never discussed that.’

‘I’m discussing it now. I need the windows blacked out.’

‘Why?’

‘So that no one can see inside. I don’t want one of your armed cops shooting one of my people.’

‘They won’t do that, Shahid. I swear,’ said Kamran. ‘We don’t want anyone getting hurt. We just want this to be over.’

‘It will be,’ said Shahid. ‘Soon. Is the coach ready?’

Kamran looked at Drury, who nodded.

‘It’s ready,’ said Kamran.

‘Then start to pick up the warriors,’ said Shahid. ‘Pick them up in the order they went out. Brixton. Wandsworth. Fulham. Kensington. Marble Arch. Marylebone. Tavistock Square. Camberwell. Southwark. Then drive south to the airport.’

‘It will be quicker if we collect the warriors individually and take them to the coach,’ said Kamran.

‘You will do as you are told, Mo. Do you understand me? If you deviate one iota from your instructions, everyone will die.’

‘I understand,’ said Kamran, quickly. ‘I just wanted to make things easier.’

‘All the warriors will be taken in the same coach, along with their hostages. The windows will be blacked out. I will be watching, and if at any point during the journey to the airport you try to gain access to the coach or hinder its progress in any way, it will be destroyed. Are we clear?’

‘Yes, Shahid. We are clear.’

‘Then send the coach to Brixton. The clock is ticking, Mo. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.’ The line went dead.