First Response

SOUTHWARK (6.45 p.m.)

‘It’s time to go,’ said Masood, slipping his mobile phone into his waistpack. He picked up a bottle of water and took a drink. His hand was shaking and water trickled down his beard. He put down the bottle and wiped his beard with his sleeve.

‘Go where?’ asked Wade.

They were sitting at a table by the window. It was the table Wade always saved for his big-tipping regulars, with a good view of the street outside but in a corner that cut down on the traffic flow around it. ‘The airport,’ said Masood. ‘The prisoners have been released. Now we have to join them.’

‘I don’t want to go to a fucking airport,’ growled Wade.

‘You have no choice,’ said Masood. He raised his left hand and jiggled the chain. ‘I don’t have the key.’ He stood up and squinted out of the window. Outside the restaurant, armed police officers had taken position. Helicopters were flying overhead. Two. Maybe three. As he and Wade walked to the door, a uniformed officer, crouching behind a police car, put a megaphone to his lips. Wade was hanging back and Masood pulled the chain to bring him closer. ‘Stay next to me,’ he muttered.

‘They’re going to shoot you,’ said Wade, his voice trembling.

‘They won’t shoot anyone, not with the TV and press here,’ said Masood. He pointed down the road. Off in the distance there was a white van with ‘BBC’ on the side and next to it a similar van with the Sky News logo. Both vans had large satellite dishes on their roofs. He pulled open the door. ‘And if they do shoot me, the vest goes up and it won’t matter how close to me you are. So stick with me.’

He stepped out onto the pavement and Wade followed him. They both gazed up at the two helicopters hovering high overhead. ‘What are they doing?’ asked Wade. ‘They wouldn’t shoot from a helicopter, would they?’

‘That one on the left is a TV chopper,’ said Masood. ‘They’re filming us.’ He nodded at the second. ‘That’s the police. They’re just following us. Surveillance.’

A megaphone crackled. ‘Please proceed to the coach as quickly as possible,’ said the officer.

‘Why have they covered the windows?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Masood. ‘Come on.’

They walked slowly towards the coach. The armed police tracked them as they moved.

‘They’re going to fire,’ said Wade.

‘They’re not,’ said Masood.

‘Then why are they pointing their guns at us?’

‘Because they’re scared,’ said Masood.

‘They’re scared? Fuck me, I’m the one who’s pissing himself.’

‘I’m scared, too, but they won’t shoot us. They’ll take us to the airport, that’s all.’

‘And then what?’ asked Wade. ‘What happens then?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Masood. ‘We’ll find out when we get there.’ He pointed at the coach. ‘Come on, we’re keeping them waiting.’