Stephen Leather - The Bombmaker

Quinn took a final drag on his cigarette and dropped it on to the ground. He stamped on it, then got into the van, switched on the ignition and drove slowly out of the carpark. He turned on the radio and pushed the tuning buttons until he found a station playing heavy metal. He nodded his head back and forth in time with the beat as he drove through the City, choosing a road out that he hadn't used for a couple of days, just to be on the safe side. He was waved through the checkpoint by a bored uniformed policeman who didn't even give him a second look.

– «»-«»-«»Canning knocked on the basement door and slipped back the bolts. Katie was lying on her camp bed, curled up around her Garfield toy.

'I feel sick,' she said.

'You're just upset,' he said. 'You're worried, that's all. It's going to be okay. Just a few more days.'

'No, I feel really sick. Hot.'

Canning put his hand on her forehead. She was indeed hot and her skin was clammy with sweat.

'Sit up. Let me have a look at you.'

Katie did as he asked and looked at him with sad eyes as he felt her neck.

'Open your mouth.'

She opened her mouth wide and closed her eyes. He told her to turn her head so that the light shone into her mouth. The sides of her throat were bright red, but there were no white patches which would have indicated serious infection.

Katie opened her eyes. 'Are you going to take me to the hospital?' she said.

Canning smiled. 'You've just got a bit of flu, that's all. You've had flu before, haven't you?'

Katie nodded.

'Okay. I'll go and get you some medicine. But don't worry, you're going to be all right.' Katie saw the video camera that Canning had put on the bed and began shaking her head.

'You've got to do it for me, Katie.'

'I don't want to.'

'I'm not asking you to do anything dangerous. It's not going to hurt you.'

'But it's not Saturday. I'll be telling a lie.'

'But it might be Saturday when they get the message. If you say it's Friday and they get the message on Saturday, they might be worried. You can understand that, can't you?'

Katie nodded. 'I guess.'

'I mean, suppose we put the tape in the post. It might take two days before your mum gets it. You don't want your mum to worry, do you?'

Katie rubbed her nose with the palm of her hand. 'No.'

'So let's record a message that'll make her happy, then I'll go and get your medicine. Okay?'

'Okay. I guess.'

Canning put the camera up to his face, pressed the 'record' button and nodded.

'Mummy. Dad. This is Katie. Your daughter.' She hesitated.

Canning mouthed the words 'I'm fine' and nodded encouragingly.

'I'm fine,' said Katie. 'But I've got flu, I think. My head hurts and my throat's sore. The nice man is going to give me some medicine to make it better so I should be okay soon.'

Canning mouthed 'Saturday'.

'He said to say it's Saturday and that I'm okay. Mummy, I want to come home…'

She started crying and Canning switched off the video camera. He gave her a hug but her little body was racked with sobs.

'I want to go home,' she said.

'I know you do,' said Canning.

She curled up on the bed with her back to him and he went upstairs and into the kitchen. McEvoy was watching the news on a portable television set.

'How's the little princess?' he snarled.

'She's got the flu. I'll go and get her some Night Nurse or something.'

'Did she do the tape?'

'Yeah. Saturday.'

'Egan wants a week's worth. He's not going to be happy with two days.'

'The kid's sick,' said Canning.

'She's going to be a hell of a lot sicker if this thing doesn't pan out,' said McEvoy. 'Sick as in dead.'

– «»-«»-«»Lydia McCracken was sitting in front of her computer when she heard the van pull up outside. On the screen was a closed-circuit television image of the reception area of the office on the ninth floor of Cathay Tower. She pressed one of the function keys and a different view appeared. The sacks of fertiliser. There were six hidden cameras in the office – three in smoke detectors, two hidden behind mirrors, and one in an air-conditioning unit. She checked all six viewpoints, satisfying herself that the office was secure. She switched off the computer as the outside door opened. It was Quinn.

'Everything okay?' she asked.

'Sure. I've got the diesel and the sawdust. Don's picking up the rest of the stuff. You want me to get the woman out? Get her to check it?'

'No need. Diesel and sawdust's straightforward enough.'

She looked at her watch. It was after seven, so there wasn't enough time to get the electrical equipment. It would have to wait until tomorrow. 'Leave the stuff in the vans. Best we use them rather than the Transit.'

'You hungry?' asked Quinn. 'I'm starving. I'll go out and get a takeaway, yeah?'

'Might as well,' said McCracken. 'But nothing close by, okay? Drive into Milton Keynes. And don't use the vans, take the Volvo or the VW.' She nodded over at the offices. And ask her what she wants. She hasn't eaten since breakfast.'

Quinn pulled his ski mask on and tucked it into his shirt collar. He went over to the office where they were keeping the woman. Andy was sitting with her back against the wall, her suitcase by her side.

'Room service,' he said.

Andy looked up at him, confused.

'I'm going out for food. Do you want something?'

She put a hand on her stomach and nodded her head. 'Yes. Please.'

'Any requests? Indian? Chinese? Burger King? I'm driving into town.'

'Anything.'

'You'll have to give me a clue,' said Quinn, closing the office door behind him. He tucked his thumbs into the pockets of his trousers and stood with his legs apart, his groin thrust slightly forward. 'I don't know what you like.'

'A sandwich. Anything.'

Quinn pulled a face. 'I'm not sure if I can get sandwiches. Fast food, yeah?'

Andy pushed her hair away from her face. 'A burger'll be fine, then.'

'Cheeseburger?'

'Okay.'

'Anything to drink?'

'Coffee'll be fine. Thanks.'

Quinn nodded. He looked her up and down. She had long legs, and a good, firm bust. Nice hair, too. Soft and blond. She looked good for a thirty-four-year-old. That was what O'Keefe had said, but Quinn didn't believe him. She couldn't possibly be a whole ten years older than he was. Nice mouth. Full lips and really white teeth, the sort of teeth that the models in toothpaste adverts had.

'I want to talk to my daughter,' she said.

'I bet you do,' said Quinn.

'And my husband. I want him to know that I'm all right.'

Quinn shrugged. 'It's not up to me. You'll have to ask McK…' He caught himself before the name slipped out. She wasn't going to catch him out as easily as that. 'You'll have to ask her outside.'

'You know her, right? Can't you persuade her? I just want to phone my husband. And talk to my daughter. That's not too much to ask, is it? I'm co-operating. I'm doing everything you ask.'

Quinn stared down at her for several seconds. His chest had gone tight and it was difficult to breathe. 'What's it worth?' he said eventually.

Andy frowned up at him. 'What?'

'You know. What's it worth?' He jutted his neck forward. 'I do something for you, you do something for me. Yeah?'

Andy drew her knees up against her chest. 'I just want to talk to my daughter, that's all. And my husband. I want to know that they're all right.'

'Great. I can probably persuade her to let you use the phone. But you're gonna have to do something for me.' He licked his upper lip as he watched the rise and fall of her breasts. 'Just one blowjob,' said Quinn. He took a step closer to her. 'No one'll know.' He jerked his head towards the door. 'She won't know. Your husband won't know. It'll be our secret.'