Zero Option

'If the target goes down, Farrell will use my mobile to phone through the authorisation for the hostages to be released. He guarantees they'll be driven to our final lkV point, on the M25 between Junctions fourteen and fifteen.'

'That was where you had the aborted R.V the other day, wasn't it?'

'Yep, but that was northbound. This one's heading south. The first emergency phone past Junction fifteen.'

'Trust those bastards to hold it somewhere we can't have a chopper overhead.'

'I know. But we'll make sure Farrell's wearing his magic shoes. Also, as soon as the handover's been done I can put the make and number of the PllkA vehicle out over the radio.'

'OK. Go back a bit, though. How do you get out of the park at Chequers?'

'The chopper's laid on to be standing by from 0630.

The idea is that the pilot will put down somewhere out of sight a mile or so to the west. The moment Farrell calls him, he'll come straight in to pick us up from 834055. That's in a field west of Whorley Wood.'

'Got it. Looks as if it's out of sight of the house.'

'It is.'

'Then what?'

'We fly south for two or three minutes, then west, and put down in a field, just east of Junction Six on the M40. Doughnut will be waiting there with the Granada. We pile into that, and away towards London.

Off at the next exit, number five, where Stew's waiting with the lkekord. Switch into that, and on to the M25.'

'R.ight, right. Got all that. I'll go back through it with you.' Yorky ticked offthe points, one by one, then said, 'What if there are more PIRA on board the aircraft?

What if they try something funny?'

'They can't. A Jet-Ranger can only take four passengers. There'll be me, Farrell, Tony and Whinger.

That's it. Anyway, we'll all have pistols and knives.'

'All right.' Yorky paused. 'Now — d'you want to hear my side of it?'

'Of course.'

'So. We've established a forward control room in Chequers itself. I'm heading up there myself in half an hour, to direct operations from now on.'

'Great!' I said. 'That's really good.'

'We're putting a comms centre into the house as well. Did you see the rebro station on the hill to the west of the house?'

'Yeah, we went up and had a look at it.'

'Our signallers stuck up an auxiliary mast this afternoon. That'll give us secure comms over the whole area.'

'Wait a minute!' Suddenly I had twigged the identity of the vehicle which gave us such a fright. 'Was that them in a police Land Rover? About four o'clock?'

'Sounds like it.'

'Christ! They scared the shit out of us. We were up there when they started heading for the site.'

'That was your bloody fault, for pissing about. The net's up and running, anyway. The signallers have stayed put, and we're bringing up a team of medics. The Qt<F will consist of three four-man teams: one in the farm, one in a vehicle, standing back, and the third in a chopper, ditto. Their call-signs will be Black One,

Black Two and Black Three — in that order. Got that?'

'Sure.'

'You'll be Green One, the Granada Green Two, the R-ekord Green Three. Our local head-shed will be Zero Charlie. Got all that?'

'Yeah, yeah. I'm making notes. It sounds as if half the Regiment's getting seconded to this operation.'

'It is. And of course we're liaising with the Prime Minister's own close protection squad. So you'd better not drop a bollock, Geordie.'

'No way. I'm going to play it straight down the line.

I take it the Prime Minister's been briefed on the shoot itself?'

'Absolutely.'

'You'd better warn him about the noise. According to Tony, the sound of a five-oh round going past is like the crack of fucking doom.'

'OK. I'll see he's told that. Now… what's the time?

I should be up there for half-eleven. D'you want to call me again then for an update?'

'Sure. What's the number?'

Yorky gave it, and I rang off feeling relieved that at least the situation in the country would be well contained. As for London — I could only hope. I kept saying to myself, 'Find them! Find them!'

The whole evening seemed to consist of briefing sessions. No sooner had I finished with Yorky than I had to run through everything again with Farrell. Of course, many of the points were the same — our drop-off, walk in, and selection of firing position and I had to be careful not to say anything that would betray the fact I'd just been in touch with the security forces.

'Let's get things straight,' I said. 'If the shoot goes down, you'll use my phone to give the codeword for releasing the hostages. Right?'

'I will.'

'What is the codeword?'

'You'll hear soon enough.'

'So we make for the helicopter pick-up point.'

'We do.'

'And the chopper lands us here, by junction six on the M40.'

'Agreed,' said Farrell. 'He's going to fly south first and disappear through the valleys, to confuse anyone who might see us-take off. Then he'll turn east and head for the motorway.'

'Fair enough. Then, at the pick-up point, Doughnut's waiting with the Granada. By the way, you'll need to put your spare kit into the car before we start in the morning: dry socks and shoes and so on. Wear wellies for the shoot. The grass'll be full of dew. Keep the trainers for later… As I say, Doughnut collects us and drives us to the next exit. Stew's there with the lekord.

We switch cars and carry on to the final tkV on the M25.'

'Correct.'

'What about the rifle?' I asked. 'What d'you want done with that?'

'Jaysus, man. That's coming with me. I wouldn't be leaving such an asset behind, would I?'

'OK. You take it. And the spare ammunition. Next, how do fie correlate timings? I mean, where will your lot be coming from?'

'They've a shorter distance to travel than we have,' said Farrell cryptically. 'Once we're on the road, we'll call them to set a time.'

'Well…' I pretended to measure distances on the map, although I'd thought them through already.

'They'll have to shift, because it won't take us long.

From our pick-up point to the motorway interchange is only twenty miles. Say twenty minutes if we take it easy, twenty-five including the switch from one car to the other. But when we hit the M25 it may be a different matter.'

'What d'you mean?'

'It's going to be the rush-hour. Any time between about seven and nine-thirty the motorway can seize solid along that section.'

'It's no problem. We'll be in touch with the boyos on the mobiles. If we get late, we'll tell them to hold back a bit.'

'All right,' I said, 'but this time I don't want any fuck-up at the RV.'

'And neither do I. I'm wanting out, I tell you. I've had enough of being chained to some stinking turd of a Brit or a Yank day and night.'

'It's OK for you.' I glared at him, deliberately not rising to the insult. 'If anything goes wrong, the worst that can happen to you is that you land back in the nick.

For me, it's a matter of life and death.'

'Come on, now. Nobody's threatening you.'

'Not me, but they're threatening my family. What's going to happen if we can't carry out the shoot for any reason? What if the Prime Minister doesn't appear?'

'He'll appear,' said Farrell heavily. 'He's always at his filthy roses.'

'He might not come out tomorrow. He might feel under the weather or something. He might just be late.

How long do we wait, for God's sake? If it gets to midmorning and we haven't seen him…'

'So what?' said Farrell calmly.

'There'll be people about by then. Hikers all over the place, coming along that footpath. We saw quite a few today.'

'They'll not bother us. We'll keep back inside the wood until the right moment, so we will.'

'And the chopper. What about him? He can't sit around half the day in somebody's field.'