‘Why not?’ said Bhashir.
‘You’re a good man, Rabeel,’ said the priest. He held his cigarette above his head. ‘Mr Bhashir has kindly agreed that the smokers among you may light up,’ he called. ‘If you do light a cigarette, please respect those who do not smoke and move away from them.’
Three of the men, including Mr Donaldson, and one of the women took out their cigarettes and shuffled along the pews to the far side of the church before lighting up.
The priest tried to blow a smoke-ring but failed. He smiled. ‘Just a thought, Rabeel. If that does go off, do you think I will go to my heaven or yours?’
‘That’s a good question, Father Sean. There are supposed to be seventy-two virgins waiting for me.’
‘You see now, that’s my problem, Rabeel. Most of the virgins I come across are nuns and, truth be told, you wouldn’t want to be spending eternity with them.’ He took a last drag on his cigarette and flicked it away. ‘Okay, let’s get this show on the road.’
‘What show?’
‘It’s an expression.’ He crossed himself and took a last look around his church, wondering if he would ever see it again.
The two men walked to the door. Bhashir undid the bolts and pushed the large oak doors open. There was a white coach parked in the road, the engine running. The front door was open. All the side windows had been blacked out. Just in front of the coach were six white police motorcycles and another four behind it.
To the left, crouched behind a police car, two armed officers were sighting down rifles at them. Beyond them were more vehicles and a cluster of policemen in fluorescent jackets. One was holding a megaphone. ‘Please move to the coach,’ boomed an electronic voice. ‘You are in no danger.’
‘Easy for you to say,’ muttered the priest.
To their right, close to a large white van, there were two men in bomb suits. They both pointed at the coach.
Bhashir headed for it, the priest following. The driver looked down at them. ‘We’re on a tight deadline so if you could hurry up I’d appreciate it,’ he said. Bhashir nodded and went up the stairs, his left hand behind him. The priest followed. ‘Come on, come on,’ said the driver.
Bhashir went to sit on the seat behind the driver but he shook his head. ‘Not that close. Move down. And get a move on.’ Bhashir walked down the coach and sat on the right-hand side, next to the window, the priest beside him. The driver closed the door. The motorcycles switched on their flashing lights, giving everyone on the coach a bluish tinge. The coach lurched forward as if the driver wasn’t used to the controls. They quickly reached forty miles an hour. Traffic had been diverted from the route and they sailed through any red traffic lights as they headed north to Wandsworth.
LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (5.05 p.m.)
Kamran looked up at the main screen on the wall. It was showing a feed from Sky News, a helicopter shot of the police transport van driving down a deserted road, police motorcyclists leading a convoy of marked and unmarked vehicles. Across the bottom of the screen a headline read, ‘RELEASED ISIS PRISONERS HEADING TO BIGGIN HILL AIRPORT.’
‘They’ll be there by six,’ said Gillard, as if reading his mind. ‘The roads are being cleared along the route. Did you get the RAF sorted?’
‘All non-essential personnel have been moved out,’ Kamran confirmed. ‘There’s a parking area they can use to wait in.’
‘What will happen to the TV news helicopter? Will they be allowed to fly over the airfield?’
‘We’re closing the airport as of five thirty, so in theory there’d be no problem allowing it, but I don’t want Shahid seeing what we’re doing. If he spots the van parking at the RAF base he might realise we’re up to something.’
Gillard nodded. ‘Talk to Lisa Elphick. They can have news crews at the entrance to the airport showing the van and the coach arriving, but make it clear the helicopters have to stay away from the airport itself. The only chopper allowed above Biggin Hill is our own.’ He looked at the SAS captain. ‘Alex, your men are going to have to start thinking about moving their coach out of the hangar.’
‘How long have we got?’ asked Murray. ‘The more they rehearse, the better.’
‘What do you think, Mo?’ asked Gillard.
Kamran rubbed his chin. ‘Eight to pick up but we’re clearing the roads so an hour and a half until they’re ready to head to Biggin Hill. Southwark to Biggin Hill is about half an hour on a regular day, maybe twenty minutes with the roads cleared.’
‘That takes us past the six o’clock deadline,’ said Murray.
‘The ISIS prisoners will be at Biggin Hill by six,’ said Kamran. ‘We’re assuming that’s the deadline that has to be met. I’d suggest your men continue to rehearse until six thirty.’
Chris Thatcher stood up and waved a hand apologetically. ‘I don’t want to rain on anyone’s parade, but have you considered that this might be a way of them attacking the SAS?’
‘We’ve considered that,’ Murray said. ‘If they do detonate at the same time in the hangar, there’s a chance they could take out a dozen SAS men.’
Gillard turned to Kamran. ‘Could that be what they’ve got planned?’
‘It doesn’t seem to be how ISIS or Al-Qaeda operates,’ said Kamran. ‘They want to inspire terror so they go for civilians wherever they can. The old IRA was a different kettle of fish. They tended to attack military targets. But these jihadists are looking for shock value and they would have got that by blowing up nine different locations in London at the same time.’
‘We need to do as much as we can to protect your people, obviously,’ Gillard said to Murray.
‘We’ve got sandbags in place and our guys will stay behind them for as long as they can,’ he replied. ‘But obviously if we have to storm the coach, all bets will be off.’
Kamran’s phone rang and he answered it. It was Mark Biddulph. ‘We’ve spoken to the three passengers released from the bus,’ he said. ‘Something weird came up that I thought I should run by you.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘One of the kids says that Kash whispered something to him about condoms as he got off the bus.’
‘Condoms?’
‘I know, it’s bloody weird, right? But the boy swears blind that Kash said he wanted to know if the boy had a condom. A Durex, specifically. He asked him twice.’
‘Just as the boy was getting off?’
‘Yeah, he grabbed him and whispered in his ear.’
Kamran looked up at one of the screens on the wall, showing the feed from Tavistock Square. ‘It wasn’t “Durex” he was saying, Mark,’ said Kamran. ‘It was “duress”. He’s under duress. Somehow he’s been forced into this.’
WANDSWORTH (5.10 p.m.)
Malik heard his name being called. ‘Sami! It’s me, Jamie. Can you hear me?’
‘I told you, I’ve nothing to say to you!’ shouted Malik. ‘Leave me alone.’
‘The coach is here to take you to the airport.’
‘What coach?’
‘The Belmarsh prisoners have been released,’ shouted Clarke.
‘It’s true,’ called Laura, from the changing rooms. ‘It’s all over Twitter. They’ve let the prisoners go and they’re on the way to the airport.’
‘It could be a trick,’ said Malik. ‘They could be lying.’ He walked slowly to the entrance of the store, pulling Zoe with him. He peered out and saw three armed policemen pointing their weapons at him. He pulled back. ‘They’re going to shoot me,’ he said to Zoe.