‘There!’ cried one of the new operators. He zoomed in on three figures scurrying across a road. ‘That’s them, isn’t it?’
Staite’s gaze flicked to another screen showing pictures of the fugitives, now joined by SIS’s own identity photos of Roy Boxley. ‘Yeah. And they’re carrying a laptop! Where are they?’
‘North End Road, not far from the coffee shop.’ He zoomed out and rewound the footage. ‘They came out of the alley behind it.’
‘We don’t need to know where they were,’ Staite chided. ‘We need to know where they are.’
The young man hastily fast-forwarded. The trio popped across the main road and skip-framed down it until they passed out of sight. Waterford noted the time code, then brought up a contemporaneous image from a different camera. After a moment, their targets reappeared. Everyone watched as they continued down the street — then stopped. ‘Looks like they’re getting on a bus.’
That was confirmed when a double-decker pulled up. The three targets boarded. ‘We’ve got them,’ Staite said into her headset. ‘They’re on a number 397 bus, heading south down North End Road.’
‘Affirmative. Pursuing,’ was the hunters’ terse reply.
‘There are quite a few civilians on that bus,’ warned Waterford. ‘And Chase has a gun. This could get out of control very quickly.’
‘I’ll call Transport for London,’ said Staite, picking up a phone, ‘and tell them to slow the bus down until our teams catch up. If the driver fakes a malfunction, we can get everyone off — right where we want them.’
The bus continued southwards, leaving West Kensington and entering the more downmarket area of Fulham. Eddie kept watch for pursuers, while Nina checked on Roy’s progress. ‘Please tell me it’s almost at one hundred per cent,’ she said.
Roy shook his head. ‘Afraid not. But it’s getting there. Ninety-three.’
‘Great. Once it’s done, it might be best if you copy the file on to—’
She broke off as Eddie tensed in his seat, leaning forward to listen in on a radio discussion between the driver and his depot. ‘Buggeration and fuckery.’
‘What is it?’
‘I didn’t catch all of it, but it sounded like they want him to tell the passengers the bus’s broken down so they can get everyone off.’
Roy raised his head to listen. ‘Seems fine to me.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with it,’ Nina realised. ‘They know we’re aboard. What do we do? Get out and run?’
Eddie looked outside. He didn’t know the area, but MI6 would have every escape route mapped in detail. ‘If we’re on foot, they’ll catch up with us in no time. We need to go faster.’
‘I think we’ve picked the wrong vehicle for that,’ said Roy.
‘I dunno — didn’t you see Speed?’ He jumped to his feet and drew the gun. ‘All right! Everyone listen — I’m hijacking this bus!’
‘You’re what?’ Nina yelped, but she was drowned out by sounds of alarm from the passengers when they saw he was armed.
Eddie grabbed a handrail in case the driver braked suddenly, then pointed the gun at him. ‘Stop the bus and open the doors!’ When there was no immediate response from the stunned man, he fired a single shot at the floor. ‘I’m not fucking joking — everybody off!’
The terrified driver stamped on the brake, the bus lurching to a standstill in the middle of the road. He opened the doors. The passengers on the lower floor scrambled in panic towards the central and rear exits, more stumbling down the two steep flights of stairs from the top deck. Small screens above the windscreen showed CCTV images of the interior; Eddie waited until both decks were clear before pulling the driver from his compartment. ‘All right, bugger off. Nina, take over.’
‘What?’ she protested. ‘You’re the one who knows how to drive a bus, not me!’
‘Roy’s on the computer, I might need to shoot, so that just leaves you. Sorry, love.’ He ushered her into the empty seat. ‘It’s a hybrid, so it should be a piece of piss to drive — like a big Prius!’
‘A very big Prius.’ She reluctantly took her place at the wheel as Eddie ran to the rear. ‘Okay, what do I do?’
‘If it’s like the bus I learned on in the army,’ he called to her, ‘there should be buttons for the gears and a lever for the airbrake.’
‘Buttons, buttons… yeah, we got buttons!’ There were several banks on the dash, but the three marked D, N and R were the most obvious in function. The squat grey lever beside her right knee was also helpfully labelled ‘handbrake’. She put her foot on the brake pedal and pushed the drive button, then fumbled with the lever until it released and pushed it forward. The bus jolted, but remained stationary.
Horns sounded behind her as angry drivers expressed their displeasure at being held up. ‘All right, Jeez, give me a chance,’ she said, nervously switching her foot from the brake to the accelerator.
The bus crept forward. ‘That’s it!’ Eddie shouted. ‘Go faster!’
‘Ah… I still think it’d be better if you drove!’ The huge wing mirrors were convex, giving her a wider view but at the same time distorting it. She tried to compensate for what she thought was a drift to the right only to find herself instead swinging towards the left kerb. ‘Whoa! Okay, this is weird.’
‘Never mind weird, we need fast!’ He saw cars in their wake pull over as something bore down behind them — a black Range Rover. ‘They’re coming!’
Through the open front door, Nina heard a siren. ‘So are the cops!’
‘Well, what did you expect?’ said Roy testily. ‘You just hijacked a bus at gunpoint! Every armed woodentop in London’s probably on the way.’
‘You just keep watching numbers go up,’ Eddie fired back. ‘Nina, put your bloody foot down!’
With deep apprehension, she did so. The bus’s unscheduled halt had opened up a space ahead — but it shrank with alarming speed as the speedometer rose. ‘Okay, problem — there’s a traffic jam!’
Their side of the road was occupied by waiting cars — but the other side was relatively clear. ‘Then go around ’em!’
‘We’ll hit someone coming the other way!’
‘They’ll move, trust me!’
Nina was almost out of room to manoeuvre. No choice. She threw the wheel to the right to overtake the traffic — and the bus swerved alarmingly, centrifugal force tilting its tall body steeply to the left. She yelled as it veered towards the pavement on the road’s right side, pedestrians scattering as she swung back the other way—
A lamp post swept past just inches from the Routemaster’s front corner. Nina gasped in relief as she brought the bus back towards the road’s centre — only for her to be almost pitched from her seat as the rear corner, extending out far beyond the back wheels, clipped the obstacle. Metal crunched, a window shattering.
‘Jesus!’ Eddie shouted. ‘Mirrors, use the mirrors!’
‘I’m just trying to use the steering!’ she cried. The long front and rear overhangs made the bus’s handling very different from a car’s; each hard turn felt as if she was sweeping sideways rather than forwards. She finally brought the vehicle parallel to the stationary traffic and powered onwards — only for her heart to sink. ‘Oh, crap! There isn’t enough room!’ Even though oncoming drivers had swerved on to the pavement to get clear, the gap between them and the vehicles on the other side of the road seemed much too narrow to traverse.
‘Yeah, there is!’ Eddie shouted. ‘You’ve got loads of room on the left! Mirrors! Mirrors, mirrors! Use the bloody mirrors!’