Colin Forbes - Cell

'No barge will break through. If necessary it will be sunk by the SAS, using advanced missile launchers. Once this al-Qa'eda cell has been liquidated we can start guiding the traffic back over all bridges.' He paused. 'Except for Albert Bridge.'

He then answered a number of relevant questions before returning to his seat. Tweed stood up to occupy his desk seat when Harry also stood up, his voice powerful.

'Now, you useless lot, down to the basement with me to collect your weapons and ammo. You may get some sleep while you're waiting on the Embankment so we have stockpiled cushions. Don't ever think we don't look after you.'

'One more vital question,' Paula called out in a commanding voice which froze everyone where they were. 'Since Albert Bridge will also be closed to traffic, won't this al-Qa'eda scum notice the absence of traffic from the very start?'

'Good question,' Buchanan replied, standing still. 'Which is why we have arranged for a trustworthy firm dealing with old cars destined for the crusher to transport them on to Albert Bridge, placed on the upriver side. After that they'll be too busy concentrating on their evil work to notice anything odd elsewhere.'

As men filed out, following Harry, Tweed turned to Beaurain. He kept his voice low.

'Jules, I would appreciate it if you were by my side on the embankment. To start with we shall probably be perched on a statue's plinth to get a good view.'

'My pleasure…'

As they were speaking, and before anyone had left the office, Buchanan called out in his clear voice.

'Two more things and then I'll shut up. One, you will all be in radio contact with each other. Equipment waiting in the basement. Two, the BBC, all TV and radio stations, have been told not to broadcast any news bulletins after midday. They will play music, explaining this is due to a technical fault. Al-Qa'eda may well have small TV sets and radio on board the barges. I have sent policemen everywhere to make sure these instructions are carried out. Now I really will shut up.. .'

Soon the only people left in the office were Tweed, Beaurain, Monica and Paula. Paula went close to Tweed, whispered.

'You must be tired. You must get sleep here before the SAS contact arrives back at noon.'

'Never felt more alert.'

At Dick's wharf Ali had checked the control rooms at the stern of each of the six barges twice. When the convoy sailed on its last voyage he would be on barge number five, the barge which would destroy Chelsea Bridge. He would be in constant radio communication with all the other barges. He also had a small TV set in the control room of that barge. He would see the BBC broadcast the frightful destruction he would wreak.

Bridges smashed, the Thames full of cars and other traffic which had fallen into the river, crammed with people -either already dead or the few who would drown. It would be high tide. For years North London would be severed from the south. But it was the thousands of casualties he looked forward most to seeing.

He descended to the interior where all his cell was assembled. They were kneeling on their prayer-mats, facing east. They rose up slowly as Ali stood on a crate to address them in Arabic.

'Allah is great,' he began. 'Allah is looking down on us to see our work on his behalf. You will all carry explosives strapped to your bodies. The enemy will also be driving along both sides of the river bank, on their way home. Their last drive. You know what to do? To those who survive?'

'We know,' one huge Saudi called out. 'We get into the craft and speed to the shores…'

Ali had been meticulous in checking motor-powered dinghies were arranged along the roll-over decks. His cell had forty men and he felt sure a large number would survive long enough to arrive on the embankments. Once there they would use their sub-machine guns to spray the slow-moving traffic.

'Then,' the Saudi continued, 'we slaughter as many infidels as we can before we rush at crowds of pedestrians, clasp them and detonate our bombs. The Embankment will flow with their blood.'

There were shouts of praise from the packed cell, standing in rows behind each other. Ali raised a hand and the shouts ceased. It was not that he didn't approve of their reaction. Ever cautious, he didn't think there was any risk of their shouts being heard in the nearby hospital, not with the main hatch being still closed, but he couldn't risk it. Below the closed hatch was a roped-off area. Inside it perched the first of six torpedo shells, crammed with explosive, aimed to pass easily through the main hatch and then strike the central span. Beside it stood two men – one to press the button to activate the bomb, the second man to press the button which would send it winging its way upwards.

Ali, very athletic, shinned up the ladder (soon to be removed) and ran along the deck to the bows. Here they had placed a smaller bomb, the barrel of the launcher angled. This would be fired as soon as Nebuchadnezzar, the name of the main bomb, had been sent on its terrible way.

The smaller bomb at the bows would be aimed at the support struts of the bridge, to ensure the entire bridge collapsed. It was a refinement aboard all six barges – and something the defenders on the river banks were unaware of.

Dawn was a placid series of pink streaks in the east. The weather forecast was for a brilliant sunny day, the first for weeks, with temperatures still very low. Newman was behind the wheel of the four-wheel-drive taking his passengers – Paula by his side with Tweed and Beaurain in the rear seats – down to the Embankment.

'Which route are you taking?' Paula asked, by now completely lost.

'Any which way,' he replied. 'To avoid early morning traffic already building up. Buchanan has already closed the bridges and both sides of the embankment.'

They wended their way down side streets Paula had never known existed. Behind them followed three more four-wheel-drives. One contained Harry, driving, with all the murderous equipment piled into the vehicle, covered with canvas.

Behind him Nield drove with Sarge, well-muffled, beside him. The rear of the vehicle was packed with more weaponry, also concealed under canvas. This consignment was for the SAS and Sarge had put it aboard himself. All that Nield could see of Sarge was his eyes and his mouth, above and below a scarf.

Characteristically, the fourth vehicle was driven by Marler, who was by himself. His four-wheel-drive was also transporting more SAS equipment. Again the equipment was concealed by a canvas sheet. On the seat by his side rested an Armalite rifle, Marler's favourite weapon. He still held the legend of being the finest marksman in Western Europe.

Suddenly they were on the Embankment. Paula sucked in her breath. She had never seen the Embankment look like this before. She reflected she'd never see this sight again.

No traffic. No pedestrians. Westminster Bridge had been deserted. Dawn shed its spectacular light on the fast-moving Thames heading upriver. It was like something out of of a dream. The peace, the silence, only broken by the swish of the incoming tide splashing against the walls.

'It's high tide,' she said.

'Not yet,' Newman corrected. 'That's at 5.30 p.m.'

'So al-Qa'eda has chosen its attack time well.'

'It has,' he agreed. 'Tweed is convinced the same man planned September 11 in New York, the Trade Center tragedy. He's also convinced the mastermind is not an Arab. He's American or an Englishman.'

'Or a woman,' she said again.

She studied the map of the river Tweed had handed to her just before the vehicles left Park Crescent. At the head it was marked TOP SECRET. He told her Sarge had handed him this map on his first visit to Park Crescent.