They walked together into the building, where the lorry driver was stubbing out a cigarette with the heel of his shoe. ‘OK please to open up?’ the driver asked.
Jackson shook his head. ‘Not yet.’ He turned to McManus and gestured at the new arrival. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. Give our friend a coffee, will you? There’s a machine in the kitchen over there.’ He pointed towards the end door in the partition at the side of the warehouse.
The Middle Eastern-looking guy said sharply, ‘I don’t want coffee. What’s the hold-up?’
‘Don’t worry: I just want to have a look around outside,’ said Jackson. ‘Can’t be too careful, can we? Then we’ll get down to business.’ And Jackson walked out of the warehouse before anyone could object.
McManus turned towards the other man. ‘What’s your name, mate?’
‘Whatever,’ the man said impatiently, his eyes following Jackson.
‘All right, “Whatever” – are you sure you don’t want coffee?’
In the Ops Room Peggy asked, ‘What’s Jackson doing?’
Lazarus looked at Andy, who said, ‘Can’t see him. He’s out of camera range.’
‘Perhaps he’s gone to have a pee,’ said Emily.
Nobody laughed. The atmosphere in the room had tautened with Jackson’s sudden disappearance from view.
Lazarus said, ‘Andy, get me Team Three.’
A moment later Andy said, ‘On the line now.’
‘Yes?’ a disembodied voice came over the loudspeaker.
‘Jackson’s outside the warehouse. Don’t know where he is – out of camera range. Hold your position until we know where he is.’
There was a pause. ‘Do my best. But I’ve got two men closing in now.’
The Chief Constable looked at Liz and winced.
The lorry driver was growing agitated, which didn’t improve his English. ‘Doors to open,’ he was insisting.
McManus shook his head. ‘Not yet. The man will be back any time now.’ The Middle Eastern guy was standing by the front of the warehouse, looking out. McManus had given up efforts to make conversation.
‘Not waiting,’ the driver said, going to the back of the lorry.
McManus took three strides and caught up with him as the driver was reaching for the steel handles of the twin back doors. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. ‘The boss will be back in a minute,’ he said firmly. ‘So cool it.’
The driver stepped back from the lorry door. He shook his head. ‘I am not liking this.’
‘You’ll survive,’ said McManus. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something move outside, and then Jackson came back inside the warehouse, a tense expression on his face.
‘He wants to open the lorry.’ It was McManus speaking.
‘Yeah, well, we got bigger problems. There’s a car down the road that wasn’t there before.’
‘So? Lots of people must come in and out of here.’
‘At three in the morning? I don’t think so.’ He stared at McManus. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you, Jimmy?’
‘Me? Why would I?’
‘You tell me. First you say you’re retiring, then you try to duck out of driving over here with me. And you didn’t like it when I took your phone. Who are you working for tonight?’
‘I didn’t realise I was working. You said could I lend a hand, and here I am. What’s this about anyway?’ He pointed over at the Middle Eastern customer who was watching them from the front of the warehouse.
‘Never mind him,’ Jackson said curtly. He seemed to have made up his mind. ‘Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll open the doors and let the cargo out. I want you to take them into that room – I’ve got beds in there, and they can spend the rest of the night here. While you doss them down I’ll finish up with my customer here. Got that?
‘OK.’ McManus was thinking hard about his options, which seemed dismayingly limited. If there were police outside and they raided now, how was it going to look? They’d never believe he’d been forced into giving up his phone; they’d assume he’d been trying to double-cross them. Yet it was equally clear Jackson wasn’t going to let him out of his sight – not long enough to get away, at any rate – and Jackson had a gun…
Jackson turned to the driver, ‘Go on. Open up.’ Then he looked back at McManus. ‘Just try something now,’ he said, his voice full of menace, ‘and it will be the last thing you ever do try.’
‘What on earth?’ asked Peggy as they watched the monitor. The back doors of the lorry had been opened, and a pile of mattresses dragged out by the driver and chucked onto the warehouse floor. Now down a step at the back of the HGV came one, two, three, and finally a fourth woman.
They were all bedraggled, thin with matted blonde hair, and each clutched a suitcase. In spite of their winter coats and trousers, they looked frozen and they screwed up their eyes, dazzled by the light. They looked to be in their twenties – except for the last one, whom Liz watched with a growing sense of outrage: the girl could not have been more than sixteen years old.
Once out of the lorry, they huddled together in a little circle, clearly apprehensive about their new surroundings. The youngest was shivering uncontrollably, and one of the other women put an arm around her shoulder.
Jackson stepped forward. ‘Welcome to England and the Jackson Hotel. You’ll be spending the rest of the night here. My associate Mr McManus will show you to your quarters.’
The oldest-looking of the women stepped forward. ‘We have not eaten for twelve hours,’ she said. ‘We’re hungry.’
Jackson was unfazed. ‘You’ll have to wait till breakfast.’ He made a show of looking at his watch. ‘That won’t be long now. So why don’t you all get some sleep?’
McManus ushered the women towards the side of the warehouse, a plan starting to form in his mind. As he led the women along the partition towards the door into the so-called bedroom, he looked over his shoulder and saw Jackson and the driver conferring at the back of the lorry, while the young Middle Eastern guy stood by looking impatient. It wasn’t going to take them long to locate the cargo in the lorry and bring it out; McManus would probably have less than a minute. But it might be time enough.
When they reached the first door in the partition, the girls stopped and looked back at him for directions. He nodded and indicated that they should open the door. He then stood in the doorway and watched as the girls put down their suitcases in the small spaces between the bunk beds. One of them opened the door into the tiny bathroom next door. He felt sorry for them in this comfortless place after their long journey in the back of the lorry.
‘There’s a kitchen next door,’ he said. ‘You can make some coffee.’ From his position at the door in the partition, he looked back at the lorry. There was no sign of Jackson or the other two. They must all be inside the vehicle.
McManus walked fast back towards the front of the warehouse. As he passed by the lorry, he paused, listening carefully, then he set off, running fast towards the warehouse door.
McManus had gone out of sight of the internal camera as he’d taken the women towards the bedroom, and the attention of the watchers in the Ops Room had focused on Jackson as he clambered into the back of the lorry with the driver and Zara. As they all watched there was silence in the room. Liz now thought it was improbable that the other jihadis would be appearing, and she was willing Zara to get on and retrieve his ‘goods’ from the lorry, so they could send the armed team in to arrest him and Jackson.
Suddenly at the bottom of the screen a figure appeared, walking quickly towards the front of the warehouse. ‘It’s McManus,’ Lazarus exclaimed just as the figure broke into a run, his shoes slapping noisily on the warehouse’s concrete floor.