In position. All curtains drawn. No lights Zero Bravo. Wait out,' Local Control replied.
Blue Team had few preparations to make, and the leader reported, 'Blue One in position and to go.'
Again Control answered, 'loger. Wait out.'
It was the led Team who needed most time to repare. There were no easy anchor-points for their lavatory, that a light was switched on.
For the top brass, listening in to commentary from the front line, events suddenly became gripping.
'There's a bumping noise,' said the Scots voice of the fibre-optic operator. 'They're moving the furniture around. There's a bed across the door — they have to move it to get out…'
The pitch of the voice rose sharply as the man said, 'The light's on. The kid is there! It's definitely him.
He's in a camp bed. He's woken up. He's sat up and looking round. Seems to have a black eye. light eye swollen.
'The woman's gone to the bathroom. Wearing white pyjamas… now she's coming back. Two women.
One's small, stocky and fair. The other's tall and slim.
Not a redhead, though. Wait till I get a look at her face.
Yes, it's Tracy all right. But her hair's very dark. Black.
Could by dyed. Could be a wig… No — she wouldn't wear a wig at night. Her hair's been dyed. Pass that to the teams. Don't be looking for a redhead. We don't want any identities mistaken. The guard isn't much over five foot. You can't confuse the two.'
The news precipitated immediate action. In the control room at Hendon the assault plan was finally ratified. Details were confirmed over the secure net to the Red and Blue teams, and to the assault commander, Captain Terry Morris, who, along with Staff Sergeant Bill Brassey, had set up a forward command post in another commandeered flat, across the street from the north front of Cumberland House. It was from there that the main surveillance had been conducted for the past three days; now closed-circuit television cameras were watching both entrances.
By 0515 both teams had been bussed to the site. One by one they infiltrated via the garden passage. The six guys in Red crept up the fire escape, taking care not to
346 let their MP 5s, axes or other equipment clank against the steel guide-rails. Out on the roof, among the dish aerials and ventilation shafts, they sought anchor-points for their ropes, so that they could abseil down and come in through the windows of no. 57. Simultaneously the six guys in Blue went quietly up the eastern staircase to the sixth floor, moved along the corridor and back down to level five, where they slipped silently into no.
Farther out, two snipers crawled on to the roof of a warehouse which commanded a view of Cumberland House's south front. Their primary role was to report any movement in the hostage fiat's windows, which had been numbered One (the main bedroom), Two (the second bedroom) and Three (the sitting room). A secondary task was to watch the windows of no. 72 for any change. When the raid went down, the snipers would also act as cover and take out any terrorist who tried to escape from that side of the building. Also waiting nearby, hidden in the drive of a private house, was the hostage reception van, with another six guys from the Regiment on board. Their job would be to scorch in and whisk everyone away from the scene hostages and soldiers alike — the moment the assault was complete.
From all these sources quick reports flowed in over the secure net. 'Sierra One,' called the lead sniper.
'We're on. In position. All curtains drawn. No lights showing.'
'Zero Bravo. Wait out,' Local Control replied.
The Blue Team had few preparations to make, and soon the leader reported, 'Blue One in position and ready to go.'
Again Control answered, 'loger. Wait out.'
It was the P,ed Team who needed most time to prepare. There were no easy anchor-points for their ropes, and as the light came up the guys felt very exposed on the bare, flat roof. 'led One,' called Fred Daniels, their leader. 'We need to get a shift on or we're going to get compromised up here. There's people on the move in the streets already.'
'Zero Bravo. Roger,' responded Terry Morris. 'Wait Out.'
As the minutes ticked past tension mounted. Danger lay in the fact that the security forces were not certain how many terrorists the flat contained. The aim, in situations of that kind, is to work out the position of every X-ray in advance, so that the teams can be certain precisely where their targets will be before they go in.
But in this case it had proven impossible. Thanks to the fibre-optic probe it was known for sure that Tracy, Tim and one PItLA woman were in the main bedroom. The pattern of mobile telephone calls had suggested that there were also two men in the flat — but whether both were sleeping in the second bedroom, or one there and one in the sitting room, nobody knew. The only option was to hit the apartment from both sides simultaneously — Red through the windows, Blue through the door.
The intention all along had been that the assault should go in before 0630, to forestall any need for the shoot at Chequers. But permission had to come down from COBR, and then at the forward control room Terry had to sign an order from the senior police officer present, taking over command of the incident.
While these formalities were being prepared, the Red Team lay flat on the roof beside their coiled ropes, to keep out of sight of passers-by or people in other buildings. By 0625 everything was in place, and Terry was about to sign the hand-over order when a man appeared, walking fast along Ellerton Road with a plastic shopping bag in his right hand. One of the cameras picked him up as he went into the eastern entrance of Cumberland House, and he was immediately identified as Danny Aherne, the tenant of no.
Where had he come from? What was he doing, heading back to his lodgings at that time of the morning? What was he carrying in the bag?
'Zero Bravo for Tango One,' said Terry, calling the reserve team into action. 'A suspect X-ray has entered the building. Move to seal both entrances immediately.'
'Tango One. Moving now,' came the answer, and then from Terry: 'All other stations, this is Zero Bravo.
Hold, hold, hold.'
Crouching at the edge of the wood I felt like I'd had a kick in the crotch, and it took me a couple of minutes to recover. I felt physically sick at the thought that something had gone wrong. At that stage I didn't know what had hhppened. I'd only heard Yorky's message, but surely the security guys couldn't have mistaken the identity of the people in no. 57. Surely they'd got the right flat…
Fighting down the disappointment, I made my way back through the trees to rejoin the others. From the way Tony looked at me I could tell that he knew how I was feeling. Through his covert earpiece he too had heard Yorky give me the bad news, and he was suffering along with me. I was grateful for that.
But all he said was, 'It's such a hell ofaxnorning, the target may come out early. Hadn't we better get ready?'
'We are ready,' I replied. 'We just have to whip forward and fire.' All the same, I withdrew the bolt from the Haskins and looked through the barrel to make sure it was clear. Then I gave the lenses of the telescopic sight their hundredth polish. I was halfway through getting up from behind the rifle when Tony, who was watching the house through binoculars, said, 'Look out! A door's been opened.'
I had my own binos up in a flash. Yes, there was movement at the back of the terrace. A man in a white shirt and black trousers had come out and was shaking something pale — maybe a rug or a tablecloth.