LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (2.00 p.m.)
Sergeant Lumley put his hand over the phone he was holding. ‘Sir, you might want to take this. Guy on the line says he wants to talk to the man in charge about the demands of the suicide bombers.’
‘Are you sure he’s not a crank?’ asked Kamran. ‘They’ll all be coming out of the woodwork today.’
‘He seems to know what he’s talking about. Design of the vests, location of the bombers.’
‘Anyone who’s watching Sky would know most of the details,’ said Kamran.
‘He sounds like the genuine article, sir.’
Kamran wrinkled his nose, then took the phone from the sergeant. ‘Who is this?’ he said.
‘My name is Shahid — at least that’s what you can call me. You are?’
‘Superintendent Kamran.’
‘And you are the Gold Commander?’
‘Yes. For now. I’m expecting a more senior officer at any moment.’
‘But you’re the acting Gold Commander?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then you are my point of contact from now on. I’ll talk to you and no one else. Do you understand?’
‘I’m not the best person for that. I’m not a trained negotiator.’
‘You’re my point of contact. I won’t be talking to anyone else in future. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ said Kamran.
‘Good. Now what’s your first name?’
‘Mo.’
‘Mo is short for Maurice?’
‘Mohammed.’
There was a silence for several seconds. ‘You are fucking shitting me?’
‘That’s my name. Mohammed Kamran. Superintendent Mohammed Kamran.’
‘You’re a Muslim?’
‘Very few non-Muslim boys get to be called Mohammed.’
‘Don’t fuck around, Mo. Are you a Muslim or not?’
‘Yes. I am.’
‘A good Muslim?’
‘I try to be.’
‘You pray five times a day, you plan to visit Mecca one day, you give ten per cent of your earnings to charity?’
‘Like I said, I try to be a good Muslim. I do the best I can.’
‘And they fast-tracked you, did they? Because you’re Asian and a Muslim?’
‘I wish,’ said Kamran. ‘I walked a beat for five years and drove around in a Territorial Support Group van as a sergeant for three. I’ve been lucky, but I didn’t get preferential treatment. I worked for my rank. Why? Do you have a problem with Muslim police officers, Shahid?’ Lumley was grinning and giving him a thumbs-up.
‘I just think it’s one hell of a coincidence that you’re in charge, on today of all days.’
‘I’ve had experience in policing major events,’ said Kamran. ‘But, as I said, a more senior officer will be taking over shortly.’
‘No, you tell everyone that I’m only talking to you from now on. You’re my point of contact and only you. Make that clear to one and all, right, Mo?’
‘If that’s what you want, Shahid. You’re the one calling the shots.’
‘Then we’re on the same wavelength, Mo. You and me, we’re going to get along just fine, I can tell.’
Sergeant Lumley stood up and punched the air. He picked up a phone and started talking animatedly.
‘So what is it you want, Shahid?’ asked Kamran, keeping his voice as calm as he could. By the look of it the sergeant had managed to trace the call.
‘What I want is the six brothers released from Belmarsh. Can you handle that, Mo?’
‘How do I know you have any connection to the incidents?’ said Kamran.
‘One of them is in a childcare centre in Kensington,’ said Shahid.
‘That’s been on television,’ said Kamran. ‘Everyone knows that.’
‘I will arrange for the children to be released,’ said Shahid. ‘Our quarrel is not with innocents. I shall arrange for their release, then call you back. But I need a direct line for you, Mo. From this point on I will talk with you and no one else.’
Kamran started to give him a landline number but Shahid cut him short. ‘Your mobile, Mo. Your personal mobile. It’s that or nothing.’
Kamran gave him the number of his mobile. Shahid repeated it once, then cut the connection.
Lumley put down the phone. ‘We’ve got a location,’ he said. ‘Brixton. There are two ARVs en route as we speak. Well done on keeping him talking as long as you did.’
‘It wasn’t down to me,’ said Kamran. ‘I couldn’t shut him up.’
‘Well, we’ve got him now, that’s the important thing.’
KENSINGTON (2.02 p.m.)
Mohamed Osman flinched as the mobile phone in his waistpack buzzed. He was sweating and wiped his forehead with the back of his sleeve. The phone buzzed again. The girl was standing as far away from him as she could and the chain linking them was taut. He had to step towards her to reach into the waistpack but as soon as he moved she backed away from him. He tried to smile. ‘I have to answer the phone,’ he said.
‘What phone?’
‘In my pack. Someone is calling me. I have to use my left hand.’ He held up his right hand and showed her the trigger. ‘I have to keep hold of this. You understand?’
The girl nodded fearfully. Osman took a step towards her and this time she didn’t move. He unzipped the pack and took out the phone. He pressed the green button to accept the call and put it to his ear.
‘Are you well, brother?’ It was Shahid.
‘I just want to go home,’ said Osman. ‘What we’re doing is wrong.’
‘You are part of jihad, brother, you should be proud. Now, listen to me and listen carefully. You are to release the children. But only the children. You are to take the children to the door and allow them to leave, in single file. If you allow even one of the adults to escape, I will detonate the vest. Do you understand?’
‘Please, this isn’t fair. I shouldn’t be here. I’m a good Muslim. I have a mother and a father and they need me. They depend on my money. I should be at work today. This isn’t—’
‘Brother, if you carry on like this I will detonate the vest. Is that what you want?’
‘No!’ said Osman.
‘Then do as I say. Let the children go. But the adults must stay. Do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then do as you are told, brother, and know that you are serving Allah the best you can.’ The line went dead. Osman put the phone away and zipped up the waistpack with a trembling hand. He tried to smile at the girl. ‘What is your name, madam?’ he asked.
‘Sally,’ she said, her voice trembling. ‘Sally Jones.’
He forced a smile, trying to put her at ease. ‘Sally, you have to help me,’ he said. ‘We are going to let the children go.’
‘Really?’
He nodded. ‘Can you gather them all together? And then we will take them to the door. The police will be outside to meet them.’
‘What about me?’
‘The adults have to stay inside.’
‘Why can’t you let us all go?’
‘I can’t. But the children can go.’
‘Are you going to kill us?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Osman. ‘Not if we all do as we’re told. Now gather them together.’
Sally closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them. ‘Right, children, listen to me,’ she said. ‘It’s time to go outside so I want you all to stand up and hold hands. We’re going to go for a walk.’
‘What’s happening?’ asked Laura.
‘He’s letting the children go,’ said Sally.
‘What about us?’
‘We have to stay.’
Laura was close to tears.
‘Madam, the children can go now,’ said Osman. ‘If the prisoners are released, you will be able to go, too. Now, please, get the children organised.’
The children were standing up and looking around, confused.