Read Online Live Fire by Stephen Leather - Free Book Online Page A

myself,’ said Bradshaw.
    ‘How, exactly?’
    Bradshaw lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘The car bombs in Soho.’
    Hakeem turned to look at him for the first time since they had started walking. He raised his eyebrows. ‘That was you?’
    ‘That was me and my brothers,’ said Bradshaw.
    Hakeem stopped suddenly and faced him. ‘Others have claimed responsibility.’
    ‘They wanted the glory. They are welcome to it. I am not doing this for the glory. I am doing this for jihad , for Allah. I am carrying out His will.’ There were those among the Muslim community, men that Bradshaw hated almost as much as he hated the unbelievers, who argued that jihad meant ‘struggle’ and not ‘holy war’. But Bradshaw had no doubt what the Prophet Muhammad had meant. Jihad was the duty of every good Muslim. Jihad was the reason that every Muslim drew breath. Jihad was what every Muslim lived and died for.
    ‘And where were you trained, brother?’
    ‘I was a soldier.’
    ‘You served in Iraq?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘And the army taught you to make bombs?’
    Bradshaw shook his head. ‘I was an engineer more than a soldier,’ he said.
    ‘But the bombs were professional, according to the newspapers.’
    ‘Everything you need is on the Internet, these days. And two brothers with me have been trained. We knew to use that model of Mercedes for the second bomb because the petrol tank is exposed. We learned how to turn light-bulbs into detonators and how to use a mobile phone to set it off.’
    Without any warning, Hakeem started to walk again. ‘And funding – where did you get the money from?’ he asked.
    ‘It was not expensive, brother,’ said Bradshaw. ‘I have some money and there are brothers prepared to support me.’
    ‘Where did you get the cars from?’
    ‘One of the brothers worked for a body shop in Kilburn. We waited until he had a customer with the type of Mercedes we needed and he got a spare set of keys. The other car we stole from the street.’
    ‘Is there not a danger that the Mercedes will be traced to the body shop?’
    ‘We waited a long time,’ said Bradshaw. ‘We let six months pass after we got the keys. Two months ago he left and got another job. I’m certain that the car will not be traced to him. The other we stole in south London.’
    Hakeem stopped again. He steepled his fingers under his chin as he studied Bradshaw. ‘And who guides you?’ he asked.
    ‘Allah,’ said Bradshaw, quickly. ‘I am doing his work.’
    ‘But who on the mortal plane gives you instructions?’
    ‘No one,’ said Bradshaw.
    ‘No one?’ repeated Hakeem. ‘You are a totally self-contained cell?’
    ‘That is what gives us our strength,’ said Bradshaw. ‘We can betray no one, and no one can betray us.’
    ‘Then what is it you need from me?’ asked Hakeem.
    ‘Funding,’ said Bradshaw. ‘I am told you have access to finance.’
    ‘And who told you that?’
    Bradshaw shrugged. ‘A brother who knows of my need for money.’
    Hakeem was walking again, and Bradshaw hurried after him. ‘How much do you need?’ asked Hakeem.
    ‘Half a million pounds,’ said Bradshaw.
    Hakeem exhaled through clenched teeth. ‘That is a lot of money.’
    ‘It’s one per cent of one per cent of one per cent of one per cent of a day’s oil revenue in Saudi Arabia. And I’m told that money flows from the Kingdom into your bank accounts.’
    ‘You have been told a lot, my friend.’
    ‘Information is power,’ said Bradshaw. ‘Information and money.’
    ‘And what do you know about me?’
    ‘Enough to know that you are a man to be trusted. A good Muslim who is doing the work of Allah.’
    ‘Specifics?’ said Hakeem.
    ‘You are from Palestine, though you now hold British citizenship. Your family were murdered by the Israelis. They fired rockets at your house and killed your parents, your brother and your three sisters. You became a bomb-maker and you sent more than a dozen suicide-bombers into Tel Aviv before you