First Response Read online

  ‘You always were a master of understatement,’ he said.

  ‘How many now?’

  ‘Five,’ said Kamran.

  ‘Twitter’s gone into meltdown,’ she said. ‘We’re getting copied into a lot of it so our feed is being overwhelmed. They’re letting their hostages tweet, which is a first.’

  ‘A first here, maybe, but it happened during that ISIS attack in Paris. It helps to spread the word.’

  ‘Hashtag ISIS6 is what they’re using now. Some of the hostages are even posting selfies.’

  Kamran looked over at Lumley. ‘Let’s get that checked, Joe,’ he said. ‘See if there are any decent pictures we can use.’ He sat down and smiled at Elphick. ‘So, how can I help you, Lisa?’

  ‘We’ve had a request from the media, obviously. They want a pool journo in the SOR. Ideally one TV crew and one print.’

  Kamran shook his head. ‘No can do,’ he said.

  ‘I thought as much, but I had to ask.’

  ‘There’s too much operational stuff on the screens,’ said Kamran. ‘And too much info being shouted about.’

  ‘I already explained that,’ she said. ‘I said that afterwards, when it’s been resolved, we can give them a press conference here and show them around but that’s it.’

  ‘That would certainly be doable,’ said Kamran.

  ‘I’ve had requests for interviews with Bomb Squad and firearms spokespeople but I’ve explained that we’re swamped,’ said the press officer. ‘At the moment they’re getting most of their info from social media. I thought it might be helpful if I put a couple of press officers here full time and they can feed information out. Information that you want out there, obviously.’

  ‘That sounds like a plan. But I’d prefer them to run everything through Sergeant Lumley, just to be on the safe side. There’s a lot of operation information that we don’t want out there.’

  ‘I’ll make sure that happens,’ said Elphick. ‘Now, in terms of talking to the TV, do you want to do that?’

  ‘I won’t have time, Lisa. Can’t the deputy commissioner do it?’

  ‘I think he’s trying to distance himself from the operational side,’ she said.

  ‘In case the shit hits the fan?’ Kamran grinned. ‘Can’t blame him, can you? Did he put my name in the frame?’

  ‘He said the best spokesman would be someone involved directly.’

  ‘To be honest, I might be running the SOR but I think the spokesman needs to be at a higher level.’

  ‘It really is a poisoned chalice, isn’t it?’

  ‘Unless it gets resolved, in which case they’ll all be falling over themselves to talk to the press. Why don’t you step up, Lisa? You know how to handle journalists.’

  ‘They want someone in uniform,’ she said.

  Lumley looked up from his screens. ‘We’ve managed to get a live feed from inside the shopping centre,’ he said. ‘From inside the actual shop.’

  Kamran stood up. ‘Duty calls,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘I’ll send a couple of press officers over,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they keep out of your way. And let me know if you change your mind about going on TV.’

  Elphick waved, and as she left Kamran went over to Lumley’s desk and peered over his shoulder. There was a black and white CCTV image of a young Asian man handcuffed to an even younger girl. Half a dozen women of various ages were huddled in a corner. Kamran couldn’t tell if they were staff or shoppers. The quality wasn’t great but it was good enough to see what was going on. The man was holding something in his right hand. The trigger to the explosives, presumably. He was shouting something at the women. Several of them were holding their mobile phones.

  ‘How are we getting this?’ asked Kamran.

  ‘The videos in the stores all feed through to a central control room, mainly so they can watch out for shoplifters,’ said Lumley. ‘After Seven/Seven we started talking to all the centre owners about direct video feeds, and most of them now have it in place.’

  ‘No sound, though?’

  ‘Unfortunately not.’ He gestured at the screen. ‘Their tweets are starting to come through now, all with the hashtag ISIS6.’

  ‘Who’s Silver Commander there?’

  Lumley looked at his notepad. ‘Inspector Ross Edwards.’

  ‘Can you get him for me?’ Kamran went back to his desk to get his coffee but realised the mug was empty.

  Inspector Adams rushed into the suite. ‘There’s been another, sir. An ARV’s on the way. A pub in Marylebone. The Grapes.’

  ‘How many hostages?’ asked Kamran.

  ‘We don’t know for sure. But a pub at lunchtime. Dozens, maybe.’

  Kamran sighed. ‘Okay. As soon as you’ve found out who the Silver Commander is at the pub scene, let me know. In the meantime make sure Fire Brigade and Ambulance know what’s going on and where they’re needed. And we’re going to need one of TfL’s traffic experts in here. All those road closures are going to play havoc with the traffic flow.’

  ‘I’ve had Transport for London on twice now asking if they should close the Tube down.’

  ‘That’s not our call,’ said Kamran.

  ‘That’s what I said and suggested they call the mayor’s office. They did and the mayor passed them back to us.’

  Kamran’s brow furrowed. It looked as if no one wanted to make a decision, which during a crisis tended to be par for the course. No one was ever punished for indecisiveness but plenty of careers had been ended by a wrong decision taken in the heat of the moment. ‘I’ll talk to him,’ he said.

  Adams smiled his thanks and left. Lumley stood up. ‘Inspector Edwards is holding on line two.’

  ‘Thanks, Joe. Do me a favour and get me a coffee, and as soon as I’m done with Inspector Edwards, see if you can put me through to the mayor.’

  Kamran picked up the phone and sat down. ‘Ross, long time no see. How’s the wife?’

  ‘All good, Mo. The chemotherapy’s taking its toll but the doctors are pleased with her progress.’

  Kamran had been Edwards’s sergeant at Savile Row police station almost a decade earlier and the two men had always got on well together. Their paths had continued to cross, and a few months earlier they’d had a catch-up drink during which Edwards had revealed that his wife had been diagnosed with breast cancer. ‘Give her my love, please.’

  ‘I will, Mo. Thanks.’

  ‘So how are things there?’

  ‘We’ve one ARV and we’re waiting for more. The floors have been cleared and within the next five minutes or so we should have the whole centre to ourselves. I’m waiting for a negotiating team and until they arrive we’re keeping our distance.’

  ‘We’re getting a live feed from the video in the shop. Are you seeing it?’

  ‘I’m in the security centre now. So yes.’

  ‘Looks to me as if there’s only the one way in and out.’

  ‘That’s right, there’s no back entrance to the shops.’

  ‘Are you planning on a face-to-face negotiation?’

  ‘I was going to leave that up to the experts, Mo. There’s a phone in the shop we can use. Just be aware there’s a lot of glass around. If he does detonate it’ll cause mayhem.’

  ‘Okay, we’ll be watching on the video feed but keep us posted.’

  ‘How many others are there?’

  ‘Five plus you. The first was in Brixton, then the Southside shopping centre, followed by Fulham, Kensington and Marble Arch. And I’ve just been told about a pub in Marylebone.’

  ‘This is a fucking nightmare, isn’t it?’ said Edwards.

  ‘You said it.’

  MARYLEBONE (12.08 p.m.)

  ‘Shit! Please tell me we’re not the first on the scene,’ said PC Connor O’Sullivan, as he brought the patrol car to a halt outside the Grapes. There were half a dozen people standing on the pavement looking at the pub but none of them was wearing uniform and there were no emergency vehicles in the street.
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  ‘Luck of the Irish,’ said the PC in the front passenger seat, Emma Wilson.

  ‘This isn’t funny, Emma,’ said O’Sullivan. He had been with the Met just three years and Wilson had even less experience. They had been heading out to offer home-security advice to a couple of pensioners in St John’s Wood when the call had come in and there had been no one else to take it. A reported suicide bomber and hostages. O’Sullivan’s heart was racing and he fought to stave off the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him. A suicide bomber? A fucking suicide bomber? His hands were shaking as he turned off the engine.

  ‘Where are the ARVs?’ he muttered.

  ‘En route,’ she said. ‘We just have to hold the fort until a senior officer gets here.’

  ‘So we just stay in the car, right?’

  ‘No, Connor, we get out and do our job.’ She patted his knee. ‘We’ve been trained for this. We just follow the protocols and we’ll be fine.’

  ‘A fucking suicide bomber, Emma.’

  She forced a smile. ‘It’s a major incident and we treat them all the same,’ she said. ‘SADCHALETS, remember?’

  O’Sullivan nodded. He remembered the mnemonic:

  S – Survey the scene.

  A – Assess the situation and gather information.

  D – Disseminate the information to the control centre.

  C – Casualties: check the number of dead and injured. Hopefully none, so far.

  H – Hazards: identify the existing hazards. Presumably a deranged suicide bomber.

  A – Access and Egress for emergency vehicles.

  L – Locate: confirm the exact location of the incident.

  E – Emergency services and evacuation: list which will be needed.

  T – Type: assess the type of incident and its size.

  S – Start a log and review safety.

  ‘But there’s only two of us. How do two of us do all that?’

  ‘We’re just the first. There’ll be more on the way. We just start the ball rolling.’ She patted his knee again. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  O’Sullivan reached for his hat and opened the door. He pressed his transmit button and spoke into his radio: ‘Bravo Delta Three responding to the incident at the Grapes.’

  ‘I’ll clear the area,’ said Wilson, as she got out of the car. She hurried over to the onlookers. ‘Folks, please clear the area, it’s not safe here.’

  ‘They said there’s a suicide bomber in there,’ said a teenager in baggy sweatpants and Puffa jacket.

  ‘Which means you all need to move away,’ said Wilson. ‘Now!’

  She looked over her shoulder. O’Sullivan was still on the radio, reporting to the control room. To be honest, she felt as out of her depth as he clearly did. They were just PCs and this was a major incident.

  ‘So it’s true?’ said a young woman with a toddler in a pushchair.

  ‘Yes, it’s true,’ said Wilson. ‘Now come on, move along.’

  ‘Let me get a selfie first,’ said the woman, turning so that her back was to the pub. She raised her smartphone and pouted for the camera.

  ‘Folks, you’re really going to have to move,’ said Wilson. She was close to shouting but no one appeared to be paying her any attention.

  O’Sullivan jogged over to join her. ‘Fire and Ambulance are on their way.’

  A black BMW SUV screeched to a halt behind their patrol car and three armed officers dressed in black ran over. ‘What the fuck are these civilians doing here?’ shouted a sergeant.

  ‘I was just moving them along, sir,’ said Wilson.

  ‘Well, bloody get on with it,’ snapped the sergeant. ‘You need to establish an inner cordon immediately. Where’s the Silver Commander?’

  ‘There’s no one else here at the moment,’ said O’Sullivan.

  ‘Well, consider me acting Silver,’ he said. He lifted his chin and glared at the crowd of onlookers. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, you need to clear the area now!’ he shouted. ‘Anyone still here in ten seconds will be arrested for obstruction. I need you to be at least one hundred yards from here. Move!’

  The onlookers scattered like sheep.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Wilson.

  ‘What’s your name?’ asked the sergeant.

  ‘Emma. Emma Wilson.’

  ‘Well, you’ll be fine, Emma Wilson. Just organise me an inner cordon and find somewhere for the appliance and ambulances when they arrive.’

  ‘Yes, sir. The JESCC, right?’ The Joint Emergency Services Control Centre was where all the emergency vehicles would gather.

  ‘That’s it,’ said the sergeant. He looked at O’Sullivan. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Connor O’Sullivan, sir.’

  ‘Okay, Connor O’Sullivan, I need you to park your car across the road to block it off until we get more officers here.’ He pointed at a line of houses overlooking the pub. ‘As soon as you’ve done that, work those houses. Anyone inside, tell them to keep well clear of the windows and warn them that we might have to evacuate them. If you come across anyone who seems especially police-friendly then ask if they’d allow a room to be used as a control centre. A little old lady with a big teapot would be favourite.’

  ‘Yes, sir, th-th-thank you,’ stammered O’Sullivan, but the sergeant was already jogging over to his colleagues who had positioned themselves either side of a parked car, their weapons covering the front door of the pub.

  LAMBETH CENTRAL COMMUNICATIONS COMMAND CENTRE (12.10 p.m.)

  Sergeant Lumley placed a mug of coffee and a couple of plastic-wrapped sandwiches on Kamran’s desk. ‘Cheese salad and tuna mayo – not much of a choice, I’m afraid.’

  ‘This’ll do fine, Joe, thanks.’

  ‘If you want something hot bringing down, let me know. The shepherd’s pie is just about okay.’ He looked at the clock on the wall. ‘The mayor should be calling anytime soon. He was cycling to his office and his assistant said you were at the top of his list.’

  A phone on Lumley’s desk rang and he rushed over to answer it. He grinned and put his hand over the receiver. ‘Speak of the devil,’ he said. ‘Line three.’

  Kamran took the call and the mayor got straight to the point. ‘So, Superintendent, do we shut down the Tube or not?’

  ‘It’s a tough call, sir.’

  ‘Yes, I’m aware of that, which is why I’m asking for guidance.’

  ‘General policy is to close the Tube only if and when there is a direct attack on it.’

  ‘So I guess my next question has to be, is it likely that they will do that?’

  ‘They haven’t yet, sir. And I would have thought that if they wanted to do a repeat of Seven/Seven then they would have.’

  ‘No Tube stations and no mainline stations have been targeted so far?’

  ‘A church, a shop, a post office, a childcare centre, a coffee shop and a pub.’

  ‘And there’s no discernible pattern to the attacks?’

  ‘Not in terms of type of places, no. But there does appear to be a geographical pattern. They started in Brixton and are moving clockwise around the city. We’re checking CCTV at the moment to see if we can spot the vehicle we believe dropped them off.’

  The mayor was silent for a few seconds. Kamran said nothing, giving the man time to think.

  ‘The problem, Superintendent, is that I’m old enough to remember how the IRA operated,’ said the mayor, eventually. ‘They would set off a small bomb so that a panic would start. Then they would detonate a second, bigger, bomb to kill those running away.’

  ‘You think they could be trying to drive people down into the Tube system?’

  ‘Multiple bombs above ground causing traffic chaos. They wait until the Tube is packed, then set off multiple devices below ground. Can you think of a more damaging scenario?’

  ‘I can’t,’ agreed Kamran. ‘But my gut feeling is that this isn’t about causing casualties. If they’d wanted to kill and maim, they could have just detonated the devices. I think they’re serious about w
anting these ISIS prisoners freed.’

  ‘So you think this could actually be resolved without casualties?’

  ‘I hope so, yes.’

  ‘Well, we all hope so, Superintendent. I’m asking for your professional opinion.’

  Kamran took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to organise this so I do believe that they’re serious about their demands. If those demands are met, there is every possibility they will withdraw their threats.’

  ‘Well, I hope you’re right. So you’re saying we keep everything moving?’

  ‘That would be my advice, sir. Obviously at the first sign of trouble on the Tube we would react accordingly, but until then I would suggest business as usual.’

  ‘And the road closures?’

  ‘Nothing we can do about that, unfortunately. We have to establish an inner cordon and an outer cordon surrounded by a pedestrian zone, and all non-essential traffic has to be excluded from that.’

  ‘The problem TfL has is that even a single road closure can cause havoc with the buses. What we have already is approaching chaos and as soon as they work their way around one incident they get hit with another.’

  ‘I can see if there’s any way of limiting the size of the outer cordon, but most of the time our hands are tied,’ said Kamran. ‘What I can do is allow you to have a couple of TfL people here in the SOR. That way they can see what’s happening in real time but also they could give their input re road closures on the spot. That might smooth things along.’

  ‘We’ll definitely take you up on that, Superintendent. And as far as the negotiations are going, how likely is it that the ISIS prisoners will be released from Belmarsh?’

  ‘That’s a decision only the PM can make,’ said Kamran.