First Response

NEAR BROMLEY (6.54 p.m.)

Talpur looked at his watch. They had been driving south for less than ten minutes so, assuming they were taking the direct route to Biggin Hill, they must be somewhere near Bromley. Only the front windows had not been blacked out but he was so far back he couldn’t see much in the way of road signs. He could see the police motorcyclists ahead of the coach. He leant closer to the woman sitting next to him. ‘What is your name?’ he asked.

She sneered and said something to him in Arabic. He didn’t understand the words but the meaning was clear enough.

‘Listen to me carefully,’ he whispered. ‘I’m a police officer and I need your help.’

She spat in his face and turned away.

‘Thank you so much,’ said Talpur. He wiped his face with his sleeve. He turned to the man sitting on the other side of the aisle.

‘What is your name, brother?’ he asked.

‘We need to sit quietly,’ said the Asian man sitting by the window.

‘What’s your name, mate?’ Talpur asked him.

‘Zach. Zach Ahmed.’

‘Well, Zach, I’m a cop.’

‘You don’t look like a cop,’ said Ahmed. ‘Not with that beard.’

‘I’m undercover.’

‘Like fuck you are,’ said Ahmed. ‘Show me your warrant card.’

‘Undercover cops generally don’t carry warrant cards. It’d sort of negate the whole point of being undercover,’ said Talpur. ‘Look, we’re all in the same boat here. We all saw what happened this morning. But the windows are blacked out so Shahid can’t see what we’re doing.’ He nodded at the man sitting next to Ahmed. ‘What’s your name, mate?’

‘Mohammed.’

‘Where are you from, Mohammed?’

‘Sudan.’

‘Okay, Mohammed from Sudan, I need you to check how this vest is fastened. I’m going to turn around and I want you to reach inside my coat and see if you can work out how it’s fastened. There might be a lock or it might just be tied.’

‘Are you fucking stupid?’ said Ahmed, leaning forward to stare across the aisle at him. ‘We were told not to try to take the vests off. He said they’d explode, remember?’

‘I’m not taking it off, I’m just trying to find out how it’s fastened. He might have been bluffing.’

‘Bluffing? You remember what happened to that guy who didn’t do as he was told? He’s in pieces. Remember?’

‘Yes, I remember,’ said Talpur. ‘But those blacked-out windows mean Shahid can’t see what we’re doing.’

‘You don’t know what he can or can’t see,’ said Ahmed. ‘But you need to stop fucking about. You’re going to get us all killed.’

‘What is your problem, mate?’ asked Talpur.

‘My problem is that I know what will happen if Shahid finds out we’re not following his instructions. We’re nearly done, the ISIS prisoners are already at the airport, we’ll be there soon. Then we’ll be released.’

‘You have a lot of faith in Shahid,’ said Talpur.

‘He’s kept his word so far,’ said Ahmed. ‘The prisoners have been released so he’s got what he wants. Once they’re on a plane he won’t need us any more.’

‘Exactly,’ said Talpur. ‘So what’s to stop him just blowing us all the fuck up?’

‘We have to trust him,’ said Ahmed.

‘I don’t,’ said Talpur. He patted Mohammed’s leg. ‘Check under my raincoat. Just reach inside and pat my back gently…’

‘Mohammed, you so much as touch him and I will break your fingers!’ hissed Ahmed.

‘This is nothing to do with you, mate,’ said Talpur.

The man sitting directly in front of Talpur twisted around in his seat. ‘He is right, sir,’ he said quietly. He was darker-skinned than the other men, and taller, from Africa maybe. He had a thick scar across his cheek. ‘Better we sit quietly.’

Talpur shook his head in frustration. ‘You’re all making a big mistake,’ he said.

‘It is in the hands of Allah,’ said the man in front of him as he turned away.