London Under Siege

By Jeremy Cope

The discovery of an unexploded 'dirty' bomb in the center of London, leads to a nationwide search for the terrorists. Mayhem and death ensue, before the situation reaches its tragic conclusion.  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeremy Cope
• Release date: Apr 21, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224793228

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Clear blue skies covered London on Wednesday 4th April 2018, promising a perfect back drop to the Edwards seasonal -sale. In truth, it would become a day of infamy. A nightmare that London would never forget.

Edwards still retained its crown as one of the worlds most revered and prestigious departmental stores. You could even purchase one of its very own  cobalt blue plastic bags with a diagonal gold stripe and emblazoned in gold lettering with the Edwards name, to let any passerby know you were likely someone of taste and money. Deception, however momentarily, could easily be achieved.  Sporting that carrier bag whether in New York, Hongkong, Paris, Rome or most parts of the civilised world, made its mark. You had visited and shopped at Edwards.

The eagerly awaited sale would again gold stamp itself on the splendour and opulence of this crazed bazaar. The hype and publicity machine had worked feverishly to reach that goal. Thousands of eager bargain hunters now lined Edwards surrounding pavements to witness the official opening, scheduled for nine thirty that morning. It was rumoured that any resident living in close proximity to Edwards, would take leave of absence from their residency during this dreaded sale period. They would take refuge in a short vacation abroad or go and visit friends or relatives outside of London. Living close to Edwards meant all most certainly that you were moneyed and possibly, but not guaranteed, well heeled. A leave of absence was more than likely affordable.

The larger than life self-publicising store proprietor, flanked by four body guards, stood on a large sturdy ten foot raised platform, garishly bedecked in swathes of gold wreathes and laurels outside the imposing front of the store. The circus master was ready to declare the store open for another sale of the century. Ahmed El-Araby relished these moments. The razzamatazz caused by the paparazzi photographers, fighting for best angle shots and jostling with television camera crews, guaranteed the blaze of publicity he craved for himself, and a reflection for his great store too. Here was his creation, a dream come true. This was him. His Egyptian heritage, flesh and bones, almost eclipsed by those huge flaunting Cleopatra golden gilded statues adorning the immediate inside main entrance, draped in the finest Egyptian cloths.

The traditional cutting of the ribbon would be left to Rikkie Hollywood, the twenty two year old current darling of the British pop circuit. He had been hired to galvanise excitement. Bolster the frenzy. He worked the crowd well, flashing his impossibly perfect sparkling white teeth into that smile. Beloved of the younger female audience, many males included and some of the the older set too. A reincarnation of Liberace maybe, bedecked in a one piece white cat suit, speckled with silver stars, and an array of sparklers adorning most fingers. And yes, that incandescent and almost impossible Hollywood smile. A mouthful of very expensive implants no doubt. Camera flash lights irradiated this spectacle, causing no doubt photo sensitive persons to blink or close their eyes. Several more poses were held as photographers shouted ‘this way Rikkie, just one more please’. The final pose was with him and El-Araby shaking hands. The ribbon was cut by Rikkie and Mr El-Araby was left to declare the sale was now truly open to everyone. Edwards, like the Ritz Hotel, was ‘open to all.’ He smiled to himself.  A smile which he inwardly self-termed to as that bankable smile.

Crowds swarmed through the fifteen different entrances, as door staff sought to contain the surge while releasing bolts and twisting door locks.

Once inside the store, shoppers quickly darted at great speed in every conceivable direction, showing how well they had done their homework; the shortest route to China, Glass and kitchenware, though that quickly became clogged by stragglers who had been slow off the mark. So too did the track to the Television and Electrical department on the fourth floor.

By eleven o’clock every one of the six floors of Edwards lay besieged with bargain hunters, some of whose’ humour was beginning to falter.  More than seven thousand shoppers had now passed through the doors and the numbers were increasing by the minute. Satisfied customers left with their purchases, passing envious eyes of people unwilling to make even a little room for newcomers, jostling

from behind. The Brompton Road front entrances were witnessing the largest volume of shoppers coming and going. The least obvious entrances to the side of the store along Hans Place proved less congested and much more negotiable. For the knowing, that is.

It was through one of these lesser used entrances that two men entered the store. One held the door open for the other as the cameras would later show. Both were Arabic in looks and wore casual, well-tailored westernised clothing. No real surprise. They harmonised very well with other foreign shoppers.

The first was in his late twenties, with a short-well trimmed beard and his companion cleaned shaven and around twenty years older.  The younger man carried a large package wrapped in the unmistakable cobalt blue and gold striped livery of the Edwards emporium. He held it with both hands, waist high with the top of the package reaching slightly below his chin. A doorman in his late fifties, dressed in the customary Edwards blue costume, stood at the bottom of the escalator to the right. He gave them a cursory glance as they were about to pass him, heading towards the lift just beyond. He decided to make a general enquiry.

Can I help you sir? he asked of the one carrying the parcel. Yes I am returning a portable television for exchange. It has a problem. I bought it last week, he replied in fluent English. Certainly sir, fourth floor for television and hi fi. The lift will take you straight there. No directions or forthcoming help was sought nor intended from the doorman. The less interaction they had with him the better. But he was oblivious to that.

They made directly for the lift situated across the marble floored entrance and waited for just a few seconds before the doors opened. A stream of shoppers poured out, causing both men to take a step back. The one holding the parcel entered first, followed by his companion together with a handful of other customers.

The doors were just about to close when Oliver Waterman squeezed in. Thank you, he said addressing the woman nearest him. She had ‘held’ the lift doors and coincidentally had then pressed button six. Oliver’s intended stop. The doors closed and the lift went to the second floor where two more people squeezed in. It then rose to the fourth floor. It stopped and Oliver had to step out to let some of the passengers off - including the two Arabic men with a bulky looking parcel.

He caught their eyes momentarily, the elder one in particular. He felt for just a fleeting second a twinge of unease - a recall of something or someone he knew? It disappeared in a flash. But something struck him as irregular about the pair of them. There seemed something abnormal about a package being taken in to the store on such a day as this. Most people he observed were in a rush to leave the store with their merchandise. However, strange things will happen he thought and odd looks like odd thoughts often meant nothing. Oliver stepped back in the lift and watched the two men move away. It looked as if they were heading towards the television section. The elevator doors closed and rose to the sixth. Oliver stepped out., first stepping aside to let the woman out who had first pressed the sixth floor button.

The security room was located on this floor, tucked away behind a labyrinth of corridors for staff use only. It was brimming with activity today. A bank of twenty four television monitors repeatedly flashed sections of the store across the screens. Two operators sat glued to these screens, focused on close ups on any visual images that may warrant closer inspection.

Oliver walked in. It’s bedlam out there. Anything new Ethan, whilst I’ve been downstairs?

Ethan gave him a glance upwards. Hmm. Usual stuff. Nothing that exciting. Still I think I might have one here. Tune in to camera fourteen. We’re up on the third floor. I’m watching the guy walking away now from the Lanvin tie collection.

Got it! He’s wearing a long length black mackintosh - a young looking guy with fair hair.

Oliver and Ethan Adams had worked together from this operation room at Edwards for a number of years. Oliver was an extremely fair but no nonsense boss to work for. He headed the Internal Securities operation for the entire store. He was also very much a team player, something that he had learnt in a previous career. Life had been good, tough and most of all elite in the British Army’s 22nd Special Air Service Regiment. No place for mavericks. Only team players would ever stand a chance against terrorists and the rest. 

Oliver, like so many other television viewers throughout the United Kingdom, remembered when the normal evening diet of light entertainment and soap opera was dramatically interrupted without warning. BBC and ITV broadcasters switched to live coverage of an extraordinary scene: figures in black appearing on the roof of the Iranian embassy in Princes Gate, London, which had been the scene of a siege for the past six days. The time was 7.23 p.m. on the bank holiday evening of Monday 5 May 1980. Oliver was just six years old at the time, with only vague and immature ambitions for life ahead. What he saw that night stimulated a resolve. He became transfixed by his parents’ television set, as two further figures appeared stealthily on a balcony at the front of the building and placed what appeared to be a short ladder against a window. It was in fact an explosive charge and seconds later it detonated with a deafening roar. As it did so, the figures on the roof abseiled down the rear of the building, disappearing inside to the accompaniment of deafening explosions of stun grenades which were swiftly followed by the stern rattle of submachine-guns, reverberating within.

Like much of the British Public, over the next few days and weeks Oliver learnt more about the identity of those black-clad figures who had carried out such a successful operation to release hostages. He felt then he wanted to be part of the elite counter-terrorist operation within the British Army. That was now all part of his past. Then, he remained true to his conviction and joined the army at eighteen, breaking his parent’s heart on the way. They had always envisaged him going onto university. His schooling years had marked him out as an exceptional pupil. Apart from achieving outstanding grades in practically all his exam results, he held the captaincy of the school rugby team for the last two years of his education. High achievement in both the academic and sports arena went hand in hand to surely complement those formative years.

He was now heading for close to his fiftieth birthday. He had given  years of his life to the army, most of which had been with the SAS. And then four years with MI6 and now two plus years down the line he still grappled with life back in civvies. To be fair, the financial remuneration was much greater now but the challenges and stimulation fell painfully short of the mark. Nevertheless, his six senses still remained highly sharpened.

His memory fleetingly recalled that oh so brief encounter in the lift with the two Arab gentleman, but nothing was really amiss. Or was it?  

He and his team could spot shoplifters almost before they entered the store. Today would be no different, except for the volume of traffic within the store. A seasoned shoplifter’s paradise maybe, but nothing overall that Edwards could not handle.

He definitely just lifted something from the display table and it went into the inside of that raincoat. Ethan’s adrenalin was now pumping up for the chase. It’s what the job was all about. Spot the thief, follow the thief and then move in for the kill. Floor security is onto it. Someone’s moving up to the third floor. Ethan had already radioed down to alert a tail to be put on the suspect. It would only be a matter of time before he’d likely be snatched. The store’s policy had for years always been the same. Follow the suspect but don’t make a move until they had stepped out of the store. Once outside the premises there could be no mitigating circumstances of intention to pay for the items. The moment they had physically left the store with unpaid items, they were nicked.

Ooops. I’ve lost him? He’s left the floor. Oliver switched to camera twenty two showing the second floor. Mayhem reigned in the Glass and China department. He quickly switched up onto the fourth floor. He twiddled the stick to pan a camera operating around the busy television sales department. He wasn’t there. Or if he was, it was just too crowded to get an instant recognition on the screen. And then something caught his attention.

His eyes became oddly inflamed. His eyes were affixed to the monitor screen and he could see them, the two Arabic men, one of whom continued carrying that cumbersome parcel. He mopped his brow and eyes with a tissue to regain clarity of vision. A distant memory had been stirred. It was ludicrous and so obviously wrong. It went as quickly as it came.

They had walked out of the lift, alighting on to the fourth floor and heading into the crowded kitchen ware section, beyond where lay the television and electrical  department. They moved unnoticed by the sheer numbers channelling their way into ‘electricals’, where row upon row of television sets were blinking anodyne pictures; volume off and vision display only. The one carrying the parcel was now apparently following his older companion, who led him close to a customer service till. The till service area was surrounded by would-be paying customers with only one till operative present. The older Arab turned and nodded to the other, who then carefully placed the parcel on the floor next to a couple of other pre wrapped Edwards covered packets at the edge of the service till. No one in the immediate vicinity showed a speck of notice.

The pair calmly moved away and out of view. But Oliver had now seen that parcel being placed next to those other parcels lodged at the end of the cashier’s desk. This new addition was considerably larger. He had a clear visual impression of the person who left it there. He and his companion’ ethnicity was not in question -without question Arabic.

The roving electric eye was certainly earning its keep. In the left hand corner of the monitor screen the time read 11.12am and something had stirred Oliver’s instinct. What was it? Was it the way the person seemed to nonchalantly discard the parcel and just walk away? There appeared to be no communication whatsoever with the cashier. Customers would sometimes ask to leave a package with the cashier whilst they attended to other shopping - something that had been discouraged at this store. Unattended parcels meant a security threat but today the owner, Mr El-Araby would brook no disruption. He had made it plain at his last briefing that nothing ‘and I mean nothing’ would damage this moment of his singular hoped for triumph for himself and last but not least - his purse.

So today there was far too much going on for normal protocols to be followed to the letter. Oliver switched to several other cameras around the fourth floor. After a couple of seconds he caught sight of what he was searching for - the two Arabic  individuals. He switched to a camera someway ahead of them. They were headed in the direction of the elevator and escalators and now both coming back into full view. They walked at a fair pace, paying no regard whatsoever it would seem, to any sale merchandise displayed before them. Surely these weren’t your average people bent on bargain shopping. Oliver twiddled the camera’s focus and just before they turned right into an elevator, he hit the still button. An almost perfect image of the pair was now held on screen. The image would be captured in the computer log for any future reference. The recorded time showed 11.14am.

I’ve got him back, the guy in the black mackintosh. He’s up on the fourth now. Whilst he was saying this Ethan was communicating on his walkie talkie to floor security. 0K I’ve got him. Yeah. I’ve got him good. He’s moving into electrical I guess.  Oliver then cut in.  There’s something odd I picked up a moment ago in this area, two Arab looking guys. He continued focusing on the young man in the black mackintosh, as he partially went out of  view. His senses were on other matters. A sixth sense was telling him to move.

Two Arab looking guys? The place is swarming with Arabs. It’s their money that keeps half of this place going for Christ sake! The place is full of them right now.

No, it’s something I need to check out. I’m going down to the fourth for a moment. He jabbed his finger towards the screen, still monitoring the black mackintosh suspect. Keep an eye on him while I’m down there. He grabbed his walkie talkie and was gone.

Oliver moved out from a relatively tranquil staff-only area, straight onto the sixth floor and it’s throng of shoppers. This department was however less busy than most and it made sense to cut across it and gain a time advantage to reach floors closer to the electrical department. Going down another staff back staircase and entering the fourth floor to reach the electrical section through other departments, would surely be much slower. He hadn’t reckoned on the dawdling progress he met when he reached the escalator. Shoppers stood two abreast right down the moving staircase. He cursed his bad judgement as he was forced into the people jam.

The blond headed young man spotted the wrapped parcels lying on the floor at the end of the cashier’s desk. They lay there totally unattended. The cashier had her back half turned away from this pile. She was desperately trying to keep up with the overwhelming demands of queuing customers. He moved forward, hesitated for a split second and then bent down and picked up the largest of the wrapped parcels. It was weighty and almost certainly electrical. Possibly a portable television set. Not a bad item to shoplift and so easy to do. Wrapped and all ready to take away. He started to retrace his steps back towards the escalators. His hands were full, so unquestionably it was now time to leave.

As the escalator neared the fourth floor, Oliver peered down at the moving throng of people on the next escalator below him and to his left. Something jolted his senses. The person travelling down to the third floor and now almost out of sight - it was him. The guy in the black mackintosh he and Ethan had been tracking on the security cameras moments earlier. The difference now was the addition of a large parcel he was carrying. Then he lost sight of him. There was nothing he could do. The ever increasing volume of people crowding the escalators made it impossible to catch up with him. Maybe the floor security had tailed him somehow and would pick up his trail before or as he left the store.

It had taken him about five minutes to get to the fourth floor and he was now heading in to the electrical department. His walkie talkie started to crackle. Can you hear me Oliver? It was Ethan. The reception was near useless. Hold on Ethan, I’m trying to move to get a better reception area.

Oliver can you hear me? Get back up here immediately. We’ve got a... The rest became garbled. Ethan you’re breaking up. Got the message to return upstairs immediately. Will do.

Oliver momentarily wondered what the urgency was for him to return. He placed the walkie talkie back inside his jacket breast pocket and continued walking deeper into the electrical department. He jostled between the crowds. Headway was slow. He had to reach that cashier’s desk. He could now just see the pay point slightly to his left, then almost dead ahead. There was a permanent queue of about a dozen shoppers waiting to pay, with only one cashier working the register, taking money and packaging the goods. As he almost reached the far end of the check-out counter, he saw what he was after and proof of what was missing. There were the parcels just as he had viewed them on the screen monitor. However, the large package was nowhere to be seen. He glanced at the cashier at the end of the counter. She was hopelessly overwhelmed with customer activity, those credit card authorisations and that till.

Miss. Miss. Stop what you are doing! Come here a minute. Immediately! Security. He almost screamed out the words as he fumbled for his identity card and waved it at her. She paused for a moment, startled by this sudden interruption and now perplexed. She clicked a key in her till and came over to where he was standing.

Look. There was a large parcel here not so long ago. Do you know what happened to it? She looked at him mystified. Large parcel? No, I don’t know anything about a parcel. She appeared genuinely concerned. Why was security questioning her about a parcel?

A large parcel? Yes, I think there might have been something else there. I don’t know. I can’t be sure. Why?

You must think. Oliver was trying to keep his impatience from showing. Did you see anyone remove a parcel from this pile in the last few minutes?

No. I mean I’ve been so busy at the end of the counter. I’ve been on my own since we opened. Oliver looked at her apologetically. Who was she – just one of the army of temporary staff taken on for two weeks to cover the annual sale? Over worked, poorly paid and unappreciated. It’s ok. Just remember not to allow any parcels to be left unattended. These parcels? He indicated to the three still stacked up. Whose are these? A customer bought some goods and asked to leave them there about an hour ago. They’ll be back for them. Right, well please don’t allow anyone else to leave anything, I mean anything, unattended here. That’s company policy. I’ll send someone down to remove these to the left luggage office. Tell the customer to collect them from there.

Oliver moved swiftly away, heading across the floor and out of the department. He reached a small door marked staff only and slipped through into a maze of corridors, before exiting through another door and onto a small back staircase. He took the stairs two at a time up to the sixth floor, whilst at the same time phoning security to organise the removal of the remaining parcels to the left luggage office. He was eager to find out the urgency of Ethan’s call. He knew he was needed immediately back in central control. What for, remained the question. He would soon find out.

The man in the black mackintosh reached the ground floor where he stepped from the elevator to the nearest exit which also directly faced Knightsbridge tube station. Struggling with the parcel he crossed the road and headed down the steps leading into the subway to surely engage with the Piccadilly line.

CHAPTER 2

Around six months previously, a press advertisement appeared:

PRESS ADVERTISEMENT FOR THE ATTENTION OF ALL STUDENT UNIVERSITY NEWSPAPERS

2 SEPTEMBER 2016 

Please be aware that Stourridge University is encouraging members of all ethnic communities to engage with us in a trial of a life-saving formulation that will transcend racial types and provide secure immunisation across all genetic variants of disease. Professor Goldstein has already worked to halt sickle cell anaemia in its tracks by identifying disparate racial factors lying below the levels of simple blood analysis by type. He wishes to extend this research to allow other endemic diseases to be tracked and diagnosed so that an appropriate immune response may be obtained across all racial groups.

To this end he and his team are inviting people to volunteer their blood, based on their ethnicity. This blood will then be collected and used to establish which variants best match the cure strains that are now successfully held in strictest isolation at the Stourridge Research Facility.

Volunteers should provide the following information:

Caucasian or Arabic / Semitic or Black or Asian or mixed blood e.g. Caucasian – Semitic.

Racial origin diagnostics will provide a safeguard to assist us with our risk assessment analysis.

Each volunteer will be required to attend Stourridge Research Centre to provide blood samples on a thrice weekly basis. They will then agree to accept three injectable doses of a new drug that protects against life threatening disease before being exposed to a non-virulent flu virus which in itself has been neutralised. This – simply to research the amplification of the body’s immune system to an alien entity where our new drug will generate a powerful antidote by enhancing white blood cell reproduction. The research period will cover a three week period and during that time, selected volunteers will reside within the facility. No smoking/drinking or drug abuse will be tolerated and daily testing will be undertaken to ensure every volunteer is completely free of any substance that could imperil their test results.

The University will cover all transportation costs and will also agree a disbursement of £1,000 per week – as long as the student completes their three week residency within the Research Facility.

Seventy students will be selected for this initial research initiative based on ethnicity and each group will be quarantined in seven separate units within the facility, to