Talpur was standing next to the driver and on his left side was a woman who had clearly been crying earlier on but now had a blank look on her face as if she had emotionally shut down. The woman’s right hand was chained to Talpur’s left and in his right Talpur was holding what was obviously the trigger for the vest.
Greene stopped and Biddulph almost bumped into him. He moved to Greene’s right side. Both men slowly raised their hands to show that they weren’t armed. ‘Kash! It’s me, Mark!’ shouted Biddulph.
There was no reaction from Talpur, though several of the passengers had already spotted them and were peering through the windows. Biddulph realised that his voice wasn’t carrying through the helmet.
‘Kash!’ he shouted, louder this time, but there was still no reaction. He was side on to them, saying something to the driver. Biddulph looked at the upper floor of the bus. Two black schoolboys were looking down at him. And further along he saw a young mother cradling a baby and rocking back and forth.
Biddulph began to remove his helmet but Greene realised what he was doing, put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head. ‘No way,’ said Greene.
‘I have to talk to him,’ said Biddulph.
‘That’s what the phone’s for,’ said Greene.
‘I’ve known Kash for years,’ said Biddulph. ‘There’s something not right about this.’
As he was speaking, Talpur turned and spotted them. Biddulph saw the man’s mouth open and close but he couldn’t hear anything. He picked up the field phone with his left hand, held it up and pointed at it with his right, but that seemed to make Talpur even more agitated
‘I have to talk to him face to face,’ said Biddulph. ‘He can’t see who I am with the helmet on and he can’t hear a word I’m saying.’
‘If you take your helmet off and he detonates…’
‘If he was going to detonate, surely he’d have done it already.’
‘Your call,’ said Greene. ‘But it’ll be on your head.’ He grinned. ‘No pun intended.’
Biddulph put the phone down, straightened up, then slowly removed his helmet. It snagged on something and Greene had to help him wiggle it off. As soon as the helmet came free, Biddulph heard Talpur screaming at him: ‘Get the fuck away! Both of you!’
Biddulph put the helmet down next to the field phone. Greene was using the digital camera on video mode.
Biddulph held up his hands and took a step towards the bus. ‘Kash, it’s me, Mark!’
‘Fuck off!’ shouted Talpur. ‘Just get the fuck away before we all die!’
Biddulph took another step towards the bus. ‘Kash, mate, whatever the problem is, we can talk it through. I’m here to help.’
Talpur said something to the driver and a few seconds later the door rattled open. Talpur stood in the doorway, glaring at Biddulph. ‘Listen to me and listen to me good!’ he shouted. ‘You coming here is putting everyone at risk. Do you not understand that? You need to go away — get the hell away from here — because if you don’t this vest will go off and everyone dies.’ He turned and spoke to the driver and the door closed.
‘Looks like he doesn’t want to talk,’ said Greene. ‘But leave the phone where it is, in case he changes his mind.’
Biddulph picked up his helmet and the coil of wire attached to the field phone. The two men walked back to the cordon with Biddulph playing out the wire behind him.
LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (3.04 p.m.)
Sergeant Lumley stood up and waved over at Kamran. ‘ISIS have just posted a propaganda video on YouTube, claiming responsibility for what’s happening,’ he said. ‘Dozens of fundamentalist Twitter accounts are now tweeting about it.’
‘Can you put it up on the big screen?’ asked Kamran.
‘No problem,’ said the sergeant. He tapped on his keyboard and the YouTube main page appeared on the screen. Kamran stood up and Gillard joined him.
Shahid was dressed in black and was wearing a black ski mask. Behind him was the black and white flag of the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria. He stood with his arms folded. ‘ISIS is prepared to do whatever is necessary to force the British government to release the ISIS fighters it is currently holding in Belmarsh Prison,’ he said.
The flag disappeared and was replaced with a view of an Iraqi street. A man was walking towards an American checkpoint while soldiers in desert camouflage aimed their weapons at him. Shahid was obviously standing in front of a green screen and the image was being superimposed behind him. He pointed at the man and as he did so he exploded and the checkpoint was destroyed.
‘ISIS suicide bombers are now in place at nine locations around London,’ said Shahid.
The suicide-bomber footage was replaced with a TV news shot of the Brixton church where the first bomber had struck.
‘There is an ISIS warrior at this church, and if the six ISIS freedom fighters are not released by this evening, the warrior will destroy the church and everyone in it.’ On cue, the church exploded.
Kamran flinched even though he knew it was only a CGI special effect.
A map appeared on screen with nine cartoon bombs dotted around the capital, marking the location of the suicide bombers. ‘Other warriors are around the city, ready to give their lives in order to force the government to release the ISIS prisoners,’ said Shahid, folding his arms.
The background became a rapid series of images of the effects of the Seven/Seven bombings in London — images of bodies on stretchers being carried from Underground stations, of damaged Tube carriages and the bus blown apart in Tavistock Square.
The camera went in close on Shahid’s mask. ‘What happens next is in the hands of the prime minister,’ he said. ‘If he releases the ISIS Six, lives will be saved and he will have proven himself to be the better man. But if he insists on unjustly imprisoning the ISIS warriors, his citizens will die. He knows what needs to be done.’ Shahid raised a clenched gloved fist above his head. ‘Allahu Akbar!’ he said. ‘Allah be praised.’ The screen went black and then the ISIS flag appeared, wreathed in flames. It stayed on the screen for almost a minute as background chants of ‘Allahu Akbar’ grew louder and louder.
‘Two hundred thousand hits already,’ said Gillard, as the video came to an end. He looked at Lumley. ‘Can we talk to YouTube and get them to take it down?’
‘I can make the call, but even if we get them to take it down it’ll be copied and back up within minutes,’ said the sergeant. He peered at his computer screen. ‘It’s already on five other sites. Make that six.’
‘They really know how to use social media,’ said Kamran. ‘Videos of beheadings, video tutorials on how to sign up and what life is like as an ISIS soldier, all professionally done.’
‘They shouldn’t be allowed to post inflammatory videos like that,’ said Gillard.
‘Almost impossible to stop, unfortunately,’ said Kamran.
‘Twitter’s going crazy with it,’ said Lumley. ‘Hundreds of retweets of the video URL. And they’re growing exponentially.’
‘Bastard,’ muttered Gillard, under his breath. ‘He’s got us by the short and curlies and he knows it.’
MARBLE ARCH (3.07 p.m.)
One of the baristas raised his hand. He was in his twenties, olive-skinned with a carefully tended goatee beard.
‘What?’ snarled the man in the suicide vest. ‘What do you want?’
‘I need to use the bathroom.’
‘Where is it?’
The barista pointed at a door opposite the end of the counter. ‘I really need to go.’