‘You will have to wait,’ said Malik, moving back into the chair.
‘I can’t wait.’
‘Then you will just have to do it here.’
‘You could undo the handcuff. I’ll let you put it back on afterwards.’
‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ snapped Malik. ‘If I take that off I’ll never see you again.’
‘But I have to pee!’
‘There’s nothing I can do,’ he said. ‘Now shut up. I need to think.’
Malik wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He was uncomfortably hot but there was no way he could remove the coat while he was handcuffed to the girl. Taking the cuff off wasn’t an option because he didn’t have the key, but he didn’t want to admit that to her.
Tears began to trickle down her face and Malik groaned. ‘Girl, pull yourself together.’
‘I want to pee.’
‘I know. I know. Look, is there a toilet in the back?’
‘Just the changing rooms.’
‘What about a bucket or something?’
‘A bucket?’
‘You can pee into a bucket.’
‘I’m not peeing into a fucking bucket.’
‘I’m trying to help here,’ said Malik. He squinted at the name tag, white letters on a black plastic oval. ‘Look, Zoe, I know we’re in a bad place at the moment but if we stay calm and see this through, everything’s going to work out all right.’
‘You’re not going to blow us up?’
‘I don’t want to die today, Zoe, and I certainly don’t want to die like this.’
‘Mohammed, can you hear me?’
Malik stiffened. The shout had come from outside the store. ‘Who’s that?’ he asked Zoe. She shrugged, not sure if he expected her to answer the question.
‘Mohammed, I’m with the police and I’m here to talk to you. Can you hear me, Mohammed? Let me know that you can hear me, will you?’
‘Is that your name, Mohammed?’ asked Zoe.
‘No. Well, yes, but no one calls me Mohammed, not even my mum.’
‘He wants to talk to you.’
‘I’ve nothing to say.’
‘You have to tell him what you want.’
‘They know what we want. We want the six ISIS prisoners released.’
‘Mohammed, I’m coming up to the front of the shop. I’m not armed and I’m alone. I just want to talk.’
‘Stay the fuck away from me, man!’ shouted Malik.
‘I just want to talk. I’m almost there now. Come to the entrance and you’ll see me. I just want to talk.’
‘I’ve nothing to say to you!’ shouted Malik. He took a hesitant step towards the entrance.
‘It’s just a conversation,’ said the man. ‘That’s all I’m here to do, establish contact so that you have someone to talk to.’
‘I don’t need to talk to anybody,’ said Malik. ‘All you have to do is release the prisoners. There is nothing to talk about.’ He took another step to the entrance, keeping the trigger held high above his head. He pulled Zoe after him.
The man was about twenty feet away from the entrance. He was wearing a black flak jacket with POLICE in white letters across the front and was holding his hands above his head, fingers splayed. He stopped when he saw Malik, and smiled. ‘Mohammed, good to see you,’ he said. He was in his thirties with hair that looked as if it hadn’t been combed in days and a close-cut beard.
‘You need to get the hell away from here, now,’ said Malik.
‘I just want a quick chat,’ said the man, slowly lowering his hands. ‘Your name’s Mohammed, right?’
‘No one calls me that.’
‘Mo, then? Is that what they call you, Mo?’
‘My name’s Sami.’
‘Sami Malik? I thought it was Mohammed.’
‘Sami’s my middle name. That’s what everyone calls me.’
‘Yeah? Well, I’m Jamie. Jamie Clarke. Is everyone all right in there, Sami?’
‘Of course they’re not all right. They’re all scared shitless. Now you need to get the fuck away from here before we all die.’
‘I just want to talk to you, Sami. That’s all.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ said Malik. ‘You need to get the ISIS Six released and then everyone can go home.’
‘How are you for food? Water? I suppose everyone in there is thirsty.’
‘We’re fine.’
‘I’m thirsty,’ said Zoe. ‘They can give us water, can’t they?’
‘See? The lady wants a drink. Why don’t I send you in some water, Sami? Maybe some soft drinks. If you wanted pizza we could get you some.’
‘I don’t want anything!’ Malik shouted.
Clarke held up his hands. ‘Okay, okay. I just wanted to make sure everyone was comfortable, that’s all.’
‘I need to go to the toilet!’ shouted Zoe.
‘I can get a portable loo sent in,’ said Clarke.
‘You need to get the hell away from here,’ said Malik. ‘I’m not to talk to anybody.’
‘Why not? You need to talk to us, Sami, so that we can understand what it is you want.’
‘You know what they want. They want the six ISIS prisoners released. Do that and we can all go home.’
‘Who’s “they”, Sami? Who do you mean?’
‘Stop using my name!’ shouted Malik. ‘You don’t know me. You’re doing it to show that you’re my friend but you’re not my friend. Same with the beard. They sent you because you’ve got a beard, right? Same as me. So I’ll empathise.’
‘I’ve had this beard for years, Sami. I had bad acne when I was a kid, and it helps hide the scars.’
Malik saw movement behind the policeman and he stepped to the side. On the far side of the mall, two armed police were crouched by a bench, pointing their guns at him. ‘You need to get them away from here!’ shouted Malik.
‘They’re just here to make sure that no one gets hurt,’ said Clarke.
‘They’re pointing their fucking guns at me!’ yelled Malik. ‘Get them away from here. Everybody needs to stay the hell away!’
‘Sami, keep calm. No one’s going to hurt you.’
‘Yes, they are! If you don’t do exactly what they want, we’re all going to die! Now get those prisoners released! Just do it!’
Clarke started to back away, his hands still up. ‘I’m going to be along the way a bit, Sami. If you want to talk, just call out and I’ll come back.’
‘I don’t want to fucking talk to you or anybody!’ shouted Malik. ‘Keep your distance or everybody dies.’
Clarke turned and walked away and Malik pulled Zoe back into the shop. ‘That bloody idiot is going to get us all killed!’ he hissed.
LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (12.18 p.m.)
‘Another one’s just come in,’ said Lumley, standing up. ‘A bus in Tavistock Square.’
‘Please don’t tell me it’s a number thirty,’ said Kamran.
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Lumley.
Kamran groaned. There had been four suicide bombs in London on the morning of 7 July 2005. Three had been on Tube trains. The fourth, the final one, was detonated on the top deck of a number thirty double-decker bus in Tavistock Square, close to the headquarters of the British Medical Association, killing thirteen people and injuring dozens more. ‘This can’t be a coincidence,’ said Kamran. ‘Not when it happens on the tenth anniversary of Seven/Seven. On the same bloody bus. Bastards, bastards, bastards.’ He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then patted Lumley on the shoulder. ‘Liaise with SCO19, Bomb Squad, Fire and Ambulance. And let’s get the helicopter overhead. Where is it now?’
‘Marble Arch.’
‘Move it to Tavistock Square. As soon as you know who the Silver Commander is there, let me know.’