Stew must have seen that I was shaken, because he glanced sideways at me and said, 'Everything OK, Geordie?'
'Yeah, yeah.' I switched off the map light and tried to sound flippant. 'Just the usual bloody nonsense. We'll sort it out when we get back.' But everything was far from OK. I felt the whole world was coming down on top of me.
TWELVE
During the journey back nobody spoke much: Dough nut kept the music going on the radio, and when Farrell asked me some question I pretended to have dozed off.
I knew Andy would have reported direct from the railway wagon, so that the SB guys in the incident room would already know that our meeting had taken place.
All the same, they'd be panting to hear our version of the story; but with Farrell in the car I wasn't going to start honking off about it while we were on the road.
It was after one when we reached the cottage.
Whinger and Tony had sat up waiting for us, and they got a brew on as soon as we arrived. Of course they wanted to know how things had gone, so I described the meeting a bit and said that everything had been OK.
I told them that Farrell's identity had definitely been confirmed, but I didn't mention the PI1LA orders.
When Farrell started asking about them, I said they were a load of shit and we'd deal with them in the morning. Then, after we'd all had a cup of tea, I asked Tony to put the man to bed.
'It's like looking after a goddamn baby!' he protested.
'The next thing I'll have to do is wipe his butt for him.'
'I know. But someone's got to do the job. And anyway, our baby's special. When this is all over, I'll see you're issued with a diploma, so that you can get a job as a nanny.'
As for me — I couldn't imagine going to sleep. I needed to call the incident room, but first I wanted to talk things through with the other lads. So, with Farrell safely shackled to the bed and out of earshot upstairs, we settled into a Chinese parliament in the living room.
At first the others were as incredulous about the orders as I'd been. The scheme was so monstrous they couldn't believe it. But as we went through the PIRA reports, we could see how thorough the terrorists had been in their reconnaissance and research. The documents were semi-literate in places, but neatly laid out by a word processor, and full of information.
'Listen to this,' I said, and I read out a paragraph labelled 'Political Background':
A conference for Commonwealth Heads of State will take place at Chequers on 2 and 3 June. The first of the foreign dignitaries is due to arrive there at 1100” hours on 2 June. The first full session of the meeting will start at 1430 that day.
The Prime Minister will travel down from London by car the night before, 1 June. When in the country during the summer months it is his habit to walk out into the garden before breakfast, and before any guests are up. He is a very early bird. Often out by 0630. Being a rose freak, he likes particularly to go round the rose garden on the south terrace. There is every chance that on the morning of 2 June he will be attacking the greenfly by 0700 am at the latest. This will present a sniper at Point D with an ideal opportunity…
I picked up another sheet of paper and said, 'There's no doubt they've been and cased the joint.' I read them some more:
The range from Point D to the retaining wall at the front of the south terrace is 580 yards. The security screen round the house extends no more than 200 yards. Therefore Point D lies well beyond the reach of cameras and other security devices.
'Sounds as though their intelligence is shit-hot,' I added. 'They must have people all over the place. I mean, we know they've got men in London, but it looks like they've got Swindon sewn up, they've spent a lot of time at Chequers… They can put guys in wherever they need them. The question is, how the hell do we respond?'
'We can't handle this on our own,' said Whinger.
'Got to tell the incident room and the head-shed.'
'We'll call them in a minute,' I agreed. 'Fraser's going to do his nut. He's been wittering on about a shoot in London — but wait till he hears this.'
Tony, practical as ever, asked, 'What weapon are they proposing for the shoot?'
'There's something here…' I flipped back a couple of pages and read out: '“The sniper weapon will be collected from a transit hide, details later.”'
'Gotta be some weapon, to be effective at the range they're talking about.' J
'Wait a minute,' said Whinger. 'It's not that fucking great five-oh they had in Ulster, is it?'
'Could be,' I told him. 'Could easily be. SB had wind that some big cannon was being brought over, or maybe had been brought over already.'
'A five-oh!' Tony whistled. 'That's something else.'
'We're jumping to conclusions,' I said. 'But that's what it sounds like.'
Everyone in the Regiment who'd served in Ulster knew about the fearsome rifle with which members of the security forces had been taken out in the late 264 eighties and early nineties. It was so accurate that it could hit a man at a thousand yards, so powerful that a round would go straight through a flak-jacket and blow the wearer away. The guy using the weapon had become such a menace that the SAS had twice tried to get him. They'd set up special patrols that appeared to be from the green army, in the hope of luring the.sniper to take a shot and give his position away, but by a combination of luck and guile he'd always evaded them and had never been accounted for.
'If they're talking about a range of six hundred yards,' said Tony, 'that's peanuts for a weapon of that calibre.'
'All right,' I said. Somehow, thinking about the big rifle had suddenly cleared my mind. A flash of intuition had shown me the way ahead. But all I said for now was, 'What are we going to suggest?'
'Suggest?' Whinger looked baffled. 'Who to?'
'The head-shed and.Special Branch.'
'Isn't it up to them to suggest something?'
'I mean, are we going to have a crack at this or not?'
'At what? Sorry, Geordie, I'm not with you.'
'The shoot. Why don't we go through with it? Keep the charade going. Tell the PltkA we're on-side with them for the big hit.'
The others leant back in their seats with expressions of amazement on their faces. Stew said, 'You have to be joking.'
'The bastards have me over a barrel. The only thing we can do is play for time, right up to the last second.
We know the search for the hostages is closing in, but we're not at the end of it yet. It's the only option I have.
It's the zero option.'
'Take it easy, Geordie,' said Tony. 'Don't tell me you're going through with this?'
'Of course I'm not. But I might as well pretend I'm on, just to play the PIILA along.'
This time nobody spoke. They all stared at me in silence as if I'd flipped completely.
'Listen,' I continued, 'everything's gone brilliantly so far. The whole idea of the intercept was outrageous, but we hacked it. Nobody got hurt. No security leak.
Nobody any the wiser. One van wrecked, but so what?
We've had fantastic back-up from the Regiment and the police. And from the politicians, come to that. And the Prime Minister. If we just stay cool, we can carry the process one stage farther.'
Whinger shook his head. 'I still don't get it. Unless you do drop the guy, how are you going to make the PIRA hand your family over?'
'It's all a question of timing. We buy more time by shaping to go through with the shoot. In the two days between now and the second ofJune, SB may crack the puzzle.'
'Time…' Doughnut said suddenly. 'Did Andy get a device on the PIRA car, I wonder? If he did, Special Branch may have a breakthrough already. The car may have led them to the hostage location.'
'Possible,' I agreed. 'Look. I'm going down to camp.'
'Now?' said Whinger. 'It's two o'clock on Sunday morning.'