Stephen Leather - The Bombmaker

'It's not too late to replace him, Lydia.' His pale blue eyes watched to see how she'd react.

McCracken knew what he meant by replaced. 'I don't know,' she said.

Egan walked up close to her and looked into her eyes. It's got to be your call,' he said. 'Your responsibility. I can't be here all the time.'

'I know. It's just I haven't worked with guys like him before.'

'He's not a terrorist. He's a career criminal. They have different motivations. Different behavioural patterns.'

'He's undisciplined.'

'That's a function of his background, Lydia. You were trained by the best, mentally and physically. So far as the Provisional IRA are concerned, it's just as important that their volunteers are politically educated as it is that you can fire a gun or place a bomb. Quinn's all action and reaction. A couple of years back he was involved in a bank robbery. Sawn-off shotguns, stun guns, a team of six. They were unlucky and a passing armed response vehicle piled in. Quinn was the only one to get away. Shot two cops. Drove off in their car, cool as a cucumber. Plus he's good with vehicles.' He smiled reassuringly. 'What I'm saying is that if anything does go wrong, Quinn's a good man to have in your corner. But as I said, it's your call. Has to be.'

McCracken nodded. 'He'll be okay. Besides, we're going to need everyone to do the mixing.' She gestured at the notepad. 'According to what the Hayes woman says, there's a hell of a lot of work involved.'

'She's co-operating fully?'

'Carrot and stick,' said McCracken. 'She thinks she's going to see her daughter if she helps us. And that we'll kill her if she doesn't. She keeps asking if she can call her husband. What do you think?'

'Only if it's the only way you can get her to co-operate. The husband hasn't gone to the cops, so the phones are clean. But if you do allow it, keep it short and watch what she says.' Egan jangled his keys. 'Right. I'll leave you to it. I've got to get back to Ireland.' He reached into his jacket pocket and took out an envelope. He handed it to McCracken. 'Be careful with her,' he said, nodding at the offices. 'She's not to be trusted, not for a minute.'

– «»-«»-«»Katie crept up the stairs and put her ear to the door. She couldn't hear anything. 'Hello!' she shouted. 'I have to use the bathroom!' There was no answer. 'It's an emergency!' she shouted at the top of her voice. Still no answer. Katie tried the door handle. It twisted but the door wouldn't move. She didn't think it was locked because if it was locked then the handle wouldn't move. That meant it was only the bolts that kept her in. Katie pushed and pulled the handle, wondering if it would be possible to shake the bolts loose, but the door hardly moved.

Katie kicked the door, but that didn't seem to move it much – it just hurt her foot. She ran her fingers around the edge of the door. There was a gap between it and the frame where the hinges were, and she pressed her eye to it. If she moved her head to the side she could just see the kitchen door at the end of the hallway. If she pushed her head to the other side all she could see was the wall opposite.

She went back down the stairs, sat on the bed and held Garfield in her arms. Cats were always getting out of places, but they were small and could squeeze through tiny holes. There were no holes that Katie could squeeze through. She sat and frowned, her chin resting on Garfield's head. She had to find another way out.

– «»-«»-«»Andy was sitting on the office floor when she heard her name being called. She got to her feet and walked through to the factory area where Green-eyes was standing at the rear of the blue Transit van, still dressed in the overalls and ski mask she'd had on the previous day. There were smaller vans parked next to the Transit. One was grey and one was black, but they both had the name of the same courier firm stencilled on the side.

'Some stuff here I want you to check out,' said Green-eyes.

Andy walked over to the Transit. The green tarpaulin that had covered the bags of fertiliser was lying on the floor. There was no sign of the bags. The Wrestler was over at the table, drinking from a bottle of water. The Runner climbed down from the driver's seat of the van and went to open the rear doors.

The back of the van was filled with dozens of cans of denatured alcohol, batches of twelve wrapped in clear plastic. Andy didn't recognise the brand name but each can was labelled 'Pure Denatured Alcohol' and carried a series of warnings that the contents were flammable, that the vapour could irritate eyes and that the contents were poisonous if swallowed.

'It's what we need?' asked Green-eyes.

'It's fine,' said Andy, checking the labels.

'The aluminium powder's in the box.'

Andy clambered over the stack of cans and pulled open the lid of a large cardboard box. Inside were cans of aluminium powder. She pulled out one of the cans and read the label. Pyro grade 400 mesh.

'We could only get two hundred pounds,' said the Runner. 'We've fixed to pick up another four hundred pounds from a supplier in Essex.'

Andy put the can back into the cardboard box and climbed out of the van, wiping her hands on her jeans.

The Wrestler put his bottle of water down and straightened his ski mask as if it were troubling him. 'It's okay?' he called over to Green-eyes.

Green-eyes waved him over. 'Yeah. Get this delivered and then pick up the electrical stuff.' She turned to Andy. 'Go back to the office, Andrea.'

Andy did as she was told. Behind her, the Runner and the Wrestler took the goods out of the Transit and began loading them into the back of the two smaller vans. She sat on the floor and waited as the metal shutters were raised and the vans drove out of the factory. The shutters rattled down again and a few minutes later Green-eyes opened the door to the office.

'I'm going to make coffee. Do you want some?'

'What I want is to talk to my husband. And my daughter.'

'Maybe tomorrow.'

'Why tomorrow?'

'Who's calling the shots here, Andrea? Me or you?'

Andy glared at the masked woman. 'I just want to know that she's okay. How could you do this? Don't you have children?'

'No, I don't. But I do have people that I love, and people that love me, and I know that I'd do anything to make sure that they didn't come to harm.'

'How would you feel if someone kidnapped somebody you loved? How would you feel if someone said they'd be killed if you didn't do what they wanted?'

'I'd feel the same as you do,' said the woman. 'I'd feel angry and bitter and fearful. But the difference between us is that I wouldn't do anything to jeopardise the lives of those that depended on me.'

Andy's brow furrowed. 'What do you mean?'

The woman reached into the pocket of her overalls and brought out an envelope. She threw it at Andy and it fell on to the floor in front of her. Andy stared at it with wide eyes. It was the letter she'd left at the Strand Palace Hotel. The letter addressed to her husband.

'That was very, very stupid, Andrea,' said the woman, her voice a low growl. 'What did you think? That we wouldn't be checking on you?'

Andy closed her eyes and banged the back of her head against the wall.

'Everything's been planned, down to the last detail. And if you do as you're told, you and your family will be back together in a few days.' She pointed an accusing finger at the envelope on the floor. 'But tricks like that could screw it up for all of us. So don't whine to me about your daughter being in danger. If anyone's putting Katie's life on the line, it's you.' Green-eyes turned on her heels and slammed the door behind her.

– «»-«»-«»Mick Canning drew back the two bolts and opened the door to the basement. Katie was sitting on the bed, and she looked up at him as he walked down the stairs carrying the video camera.