Линда Ла Плант - Good Friday

‘No, I’ll stay here.’

‘It’s not necessary… go inside.’

‘No…’ she said, through gritted teeth, holding his jacket tightly.

Church pulled out his packet of cigarettes and lit one, passing it to Dexter who took it and gave him a smile of thanks. Church then shook a cigarette out for himself and Jane asked if she could have one. She took one and leaned towards him as he struck a match, using the same flame to light one for himself. Although the wait seemed interminable it was only five minutes before Crowley returned with some kitchen knives and a leather folding case full of tools.

‘Found the tools in the basement maintenance office… they OK?’ He handed Dexter the tools.

‘Under the circumstances, they’ll have to do.’

Jane watched as Dexter and Stanley conferred, checking over the tools together. Dexter looked round at the rest of them.

‘If you insist on staying in the foyer then you should position yourselves further inside the entrance behind the pillars for protection…’ He smiled. ‘Just in case I cock up and it goes off.’

Grim-faced, Stanley took the torch and followed Dexter to the Triumph. Dexter handed him the tools and told him to place them on the front passenger seat and shine the torch inside the boot area. Stanley could now see the explosives. He was sweating as he crouched down next to Dexter and leaned forward into the cramped space.

Dexter grinned. ‘Man, this bomb is a biggy… it would blow this car park and anyone standing in it to smithereens…’

‘Let’s hope not,’ Stanley replied nervously. He could hear the clock ticking.

There were six wires running between the cigar box to the explosives and the lock of the boot. Stanley shone the torch around the boot.

Dexter grabbed Stanley’s arm. ‘Keep the torch steady on the cigar box, please.’

‘Sorry. Why are all the wires the same colour? I thought they’d be set up like a plug… You know, red, green and brown? Or is the earth yellow?’

‘They’re deliberately all the same colour to make it more difficult for me to know what’s what and which one to cut. Now, be quiet, unless you want to be blown up. Pass me the small paring knife.’

Easing the knife under the cigar box, Dexter lifted it a fraction and looked under it.

‘Devious bastards!’ he muttered under his breath. ‘There’s a small micro switch under the box so it will go off if I lift it… Get me a heavy spanner out of that tool kit.’

Stanley started to lift each spanner to feel their weight.

‘The biggest one will be the heaviest, Stanley, so just hand it to me.’

Dexter took the spanner from Stanley then eased the knife back under the cigar box, to hold the micro switch down while he slowly lifted the cigar box and put the spanner down in its place. Next, he checked the seal of the cigar box lid and satisfied it wasn’t booby-trapped, opened the box. Inside there was an alarm clock connected to a battery and circuit board with the wires running from them. Dexter could see that he only had three minutes left before the big hand made contact with a piece of metal attached to the clock, which would then detonate the bomb.

‘How long have we got?’ Stanley asked, his hand shaking.

Dexter lied. ‘Plenty of time. OK Stan, my man, gimme the torch and tool kit. You go back and join the others. Tell them all to go to the banqueting hall… just in case the bomb goes off.’

Stanley hesitated. ‘No, I’m OK.’

‘Well, I’m not. You’ve got a wife and kids, so just do as I ask.’

Stanley got out of the car and passed the tools and torch over to Dexter who carefully propped them up inside the boot. He then chose various clippers and scissors, and two Stanley knives from the tool kit, placing them next to him so they were easily to hand.

Stanley walked back into the hotel foyer and spoke quietly with Crowley, explaining that Dexter wanted to work alone and that it would take some time to defuse the device. Crowley dragged on his cigarette, his nerves on edge.

DCI Church peered around a pillar. ‘What could you see?’ he asked Stanley.

‘There’s an alarm clock and battery in a cigar box with wires leading to the explosives and the boot lock. He said there’s plenty of time left, but we should get further back in the hotel to the banqueting room… It scared me half to death.’

Inwardly Crowley knew something wasn’t right. Dexter had not made the booby-trapped car boot safe so he could get better access to the bomb. This could only mean he was running out of time.

Dexter picked up the wire clippers and, opening them, held them between one of the wires leading to the battery, but as they were all the same colour he wasn’t sure if the timer was rigged so that when he cut the wire the detonator would activate. He looked at the clock and saw that he only had one minute left. There was no time for indecision. His heart was beating like it never had before. There was only one course of action he could take, but whether it would work or not was in the hands of the gods.

He put the clippers to the wire attached to the detonator that was embedded in the explosives. With thirty seconds to go he closed his eyes and, cut the wire. When nothing happened, he breathed a huge sigh of relief, and, after removing the initiator by hand, cut the battery wires to the alarm clock, finally making the bomb safe.

Dexter switched the torch off, slowly got out of the car and began placing the tools he had used back into their holder. He shut the driver’s door, turned towards the expectant watchers and smiled as he held up the offending alarm clock. Crowley let out a sigh of relief.

‘He’s bloody done it!’

As Dexter joined them they crowded round him, but he simply waved his hand at them and placed the tools and torch down on the reception desk. He handed the clock to Crowley, as if he had won an award.

‘Job done… now I need a large drink and some food. And I want to win the crate of Moët in the raffle.’

Jane handed him his jacket.

‘I need to take a leak and clean myself up…’ he said.

‘We’re so proud of you, Dex… Congratulations! We were all so tense, willing you to succeed…’ Church clapped him on the shoulder.

‘Oh, come on… enough of all this… I want to get into that banqueting room. I’m starving!’ As Dexter walked away, jacket slung over the crook of his arm, he appeared nonchalant, but Jane could see that his shirt was soaked through with sweat.

DCI Church clapped his hands.

‘OK, everyone… show’s over! I suggest that we all do as our hero suggests and get back to enjoying the evening.’

As Jane accompanied them back into the reception she overheard Crowley speaking with Church.

‘He’s got nerves of steel… I’ll speak with DS Lawrence about having the vehicle removed to the explosives lab.’

As they headed towards the dining room it was clear that the word had got round and some detectives, flushed from the evening’s booze, were joking that the phrase ‘the party went off with a bang’ had nearly came true.

The frill at the bottom of Jane’s skirt was still trailing as she headed for the powder room in the hope that there was a cloakroom attendant who might have a needle and thread. There was a large cloakroom next to it, with rails of coats and jackets belonging to the female guests. A woman in a hotel uniform was standing behind the counter.

‘Do you have a needle and thread? I’ve had a bit of a problem with the edge of my dress.’

‘Just wait here, dear… I’ll see if I can find one for you.’

As she left the cloakroom, Alison, Stanley’s wife, barged into the cloakroom. She was obviously very angry as she began to search for her coat.