THE MOSQUE
Grace Farrington pulled the Jeep that she was driving to a halt. She turned to her superior officer, Major Stanley Timms who was sat in the rear of the vehicle. Timms was monitoring the information that the spy drone was sending to his laptop computer. There were four people in the building`s main body and two in a smaller room at the rear. Sian squeezed Faz`s wrist in a nervous gesture of support from the front passenger seat. Sian had returned from her mission in Ireland just a half hour before the Armed Response Teams left the station in Liverpool. There had been little benefit from the trip to Dublin. The people that she needed information from were dead, and their associates had all gone to ground. The culture of silence that surrounded the paramilitaries in Ireland was still as strong today as it was during the troubles. No one dared speak to the authorities for fear of dreadful retribution.
“How do you want to play this, Sir?” asked Faz.
“You and the troops go in and see who we have in the mosque. I will take two men around the back in case anyone decides that they would rather be somewhere else.” The Major opened his door, climbed out and checked his battle vest. Happy that everything was in order he walked around to the rear of the vehicle. Sian and Faz followed him and Faz popped the lock with the electronic key. Sian opened the locked gun box and took out a Remington 870 pump action shot gun. Faz picked up a similar weapon for herself and passed the third shotgun to Timms. The Remington 870 would stop a charging elephant at 200 yards. In a situation where a target may be in control of explosives then the target had to be neutralised quickly so that they couldn’t activate any detonators. A wounded bomber could still possibly activate his explosive charge in theory. The Remington`s destructive power lessened the chances of a potential target still being capable of causing any damage.
Timms cocked his weapon and indicated to two uniformed officers from the taskforce to follow him. They headed through a small gateway that ran along the building to the rear exit. Sian and Faz headed toward the front door of the mosque followed by their team.
They entered the unlocked mosque quickly and without any resistance. A startled Cleric was sat in the centre of the large area facing three young Muslim teenagers. The three young girls were wearing the traditional robes of Islamic women. They were obviously receiving some religious instruction from their shocked teacher.
“This is a house of God. How dare you enter here with weapons in your hands? What possible reason can you have for this outrageous behaviour?” The Muslim Cleric spoke in a quiet voice trying not to scare the already worried young girls. His accent was that of a local English man.
“We don’t want to frighten you, Sir, and your students can leave. Officer, escort these ladies from the premises please.” Faz smiled at the girls trying to calm them. She could see them staring at the silver pump action shot gun that she carried before her.
“We need to search the building, Sir. We have a warrant. We are investigating the whereabouts of an Iraqi man known as Yasser Ahmed. Do you know him?” Sian led the team further into the building whilst Faz dealt with the holy man. Faz saw the flash of recognition in the man`s eyes when she mentioned Yasser`s name.
“I know of a man by that name but he would not be welcomed into this house of God. We are peaceful people, Officer; the man you are looking for is a terrorist. You will not find him here.” The holy man stood and looked to see where Sian and the armed men had gone.
“We have received information that some of his supporters use this mosque for prayer. Do you know of anyone who might be giving shelter to this man? We know that he has bought explosives and is planning to use them in this country.” Faz pressed the old man. His expression was one of concern.
“Where in this country does any man go to buy explosives? Why do you think that we are connected? This community here is made up of bankers and doctors, lawyers and teachers; we have no bombers here.” The man gestured around the empty room as if his congregation were standing in front of them.
“I am afraid that terrorist cells don’t have `Bomber` tattooed on their foreheads. We have one of your congregation in custody. He was stopped driving a car full of Semtex from Ireland when we arrested him. His name is Usef Mamood. Do you know him?” Faz could tell that the man did know Usef from the reaction on his face.
Sian appeared from the rear of the building followed by the officers in her team. They were leading two men in handcuffs through the buildings.
“The building is clear apart from these two. They have no identification and they are refusing to talk. Take them to the station we can interview them later on.” Sian walked toward Faz and the cleric. Major Timms entered through the front door with his two men.
“I think we should finish this conversation at the station. You are not being honest with me are you?” Faz indicated to the two men that had entered with Major Timms, to take the cleric away with the others.
Sian said. “There are an office and some living quarters through the back of the building. We might as well have a quick look around before forensics get here.” They walked toward the rear of the building. Sian led the way down a narrow corridor. There were two doorways leading off the corridor to the left.
Sian opened the first door and stepped into a small dormitory. There were six thin mattresses laid out on the floor. Two looked like they had been slept in recently.
“This is where we found the two unidentified men. They were sleeping when we came in,” Sian said.
The three TTF members pulled on latex gloves and started to sift through items in the room. There were a few small sports bags containing socks and underwear but nothing of any great interest. At the far end of the dormitory was a small cupboard door. Faz opened it and looked at the two metal cylinders that were inside.
“There are two Scuba diving tanks in here. Chen found some diving equipment at the house, there must be a link.” Faz turned the metal valve on the top of one of the tanks and compressed air hissed out noisily.
“They are full too. They have not been used yet.” Faz checked the tanks to see if there was a supplier`s name anywhere. There was a small sticker on the side that displayed the date on which the tanks were last filled. There was also a company name and telephone number.
“Carpenray is the name of the suppliers I think; there is a contact number on this tank.” Faz punched the number into her cell phone and dialled the number she had found. A voice answered on the other end and she left the room to take the call, she pulled out a pen and paper as she walked through the doorway.
Sian and Major Timms finished the initial sweep of the dormitory and they headed down the corridor to the second door. The door opened into a large office space. There were three desks positioned in the room, all of them were crammed with paperwork. Sian walked to the nearest desk and started to sift through a wire letter tray that was filled with unopened envelopes.
Major Timms moved across the room from Sian and searched through an untidy pile of papers. He found a receipt for payment that related to the charter of a small airplane from a private company in Cheshire, for a flight to County Cork in Southern Ireland. The bill related to the fact that the plane had never been flown back to England when it was supposed to.
“This is very interesting. It could explain how the men that died in the explosion in Dublin were planning to get home with their weapons. It certainly links this institution with the events in Ireland.” Stanley Timms stopped reading as Faz came into the room. The pretty black woman looked flustered.
“It turns out that Carpenray is a flooded quarry in the Lake District. It`s a busy diving centre about sixty-miles from here. They have apparently put old airplanes and cars into the quarry for divers to swim down to. The manager on the phone said that he has hundreds of members from all over the country. Many of them are Asian. He said that he doesn`t remember specifically if any of them were from Warrington, and he can`t check their files until they open tomorrow.” Faz shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the third desk.
Suddenly the phone on the desk next to Sian rang. She put the envelopes that she had been scanning back down on the desktop. She picked up the handset and listened. She didn’t speak, waiting for the caller to announce himself or herself. There was nothing, just silence on the other end. She looked at Major Timms and shook her head. Timms rushed over to her and took the phone from her. He put it to his ear quickly and placed his hand over the mouthpiece.
“Hello I am expecting a call from a friend in Egypt.” Timms remembered that Mustapha had told them the calls from satellite links were all coded. The use of the code word Egypt might work. The line went completely dead. It had not worked.
“Oh bugger me. Well it was probably a sales call anyway. Ask the tech guys to put a trace on it just in case.” He walked back over to the desk he had been searching.
Sian picked up the bundle of envelopes that she had been studying earlier. She looked thoughtful as she considered the possible connotations. There was no end of disaster that Yasser Ahmed could inflict with Semtex and qualified Scuba divers. The River Mersey flowed by Liverpool on its way to the Irish Sea. The river had a fleet of passenger ferries, oil tankers, cargo ships, naval vessels; every type of sea going craft could be a potential target.
Sian`s thoughts were disturbed for a moment. There was a thick brown manila envelope with an Irish postmark stamped on it. It had been posted in Dublin.
Major Timms` cell phone rang, the caller ID was Tank`s number. He nodded in silence and paced the room, the two female agents looked at him in silence; the look on his face told them that this was bad news. He said a few brief words and arranged to continue the conversation back at headquarters.
“I am afraid that I have to be the bearer of bad news. We have lost a man at the distribution centre raid. It appears two Egyptian men disarmed him and took him as a hostage. They shot him during the getaway. One of the Egyptian men is dead and one of them is missing. Chen shot the dead man after they had cornered him in a car park however Chen has been injured in the process. His vest took most of the damage but he has a bullet in his shoulder and he has lost a lot of blood. We will not know if he will pull through for a few hours yet, he is in surgery now.” Timms knew how close his team was. Chen was a valued member of the Terrorist Task Force and a good friend to Sian and Faz.
“That has to be the final proof that Yasser Ahmed is here somewhere. Why would two men risk being shot to escape, if they had nothing to hide?” Sian tapped the envelope marked with the Dublin postcode on the desk as she spoke.
“The fact that they have shot a police man together with the receipt you found, that connects them with the explosives in Ireland. This envelope has a Dublin post mark on it.” She tapped the envelope on the desk again emphasising her points as she spoke.
Major Stanley Timms was an old school Royal Marine. He had more experience fighting the Irish paramilitaries than any man still alive. He understood how they worked. He knew how they thought. Revenge attacks were swift and brutal.
“Put that envelope down, Sian. Put it down on the desk and back toward the door.” Timms never took his eyes from hers. He had seen enough unexploded letter bombs in the army to recognise this as one immediately.
Realisation hit Sian in an instant. She knew now that Timms thought the envelope was a bomb sent in retaliation by the IRA, payback for the arrest of Patrick Finnen. She also knew that they had killed for far less. She looked at Faz, she was edging toward the door; her black skin was shiny with perspiration.
Timms edged slowly toward Sian. She had frozen with fear. He reached his hands out very gently and grasped one edge of the letter bomb. Sian didn’t release her grip on the other side so he guided the letter gently toward the desk. Sian was staring at the letter as they moved it slowly to the desktop; both were holding one side each, as if it were an incredibly heavy object.
Faz reached the doorway and grabbed her cell phone as she ran up the corridor.
“Get me the bomb squad quickly. Meet me at the mosque in Appleton.” She was about to speak again when the bomb exploded.
Grace Farrington was knocked off her feet by the blast. Her head hit the doorframe of the dormitory as she went down. The breath was punched from her lungs by the shock wave. The corridor in which she was lying was covered in little pieces of confetti like paper. Larger remnants of paperwork from the office were floating around like little white flying carpets, slowly descending to the floor. Grace briefly glimpsed the still body of her friend Sian lying across the corridor. Half of her body was still in the office, the other half outside it. Grace noticed that Sian`s beautiful auburn red hair was matted with blood and dust, before everything went dark.