the bust. They could be a real problem if they get to Dominick before we do.’
‘ Or a solution ,’ the voice said.
She frowned, as she hit Send.
She didn’t see how that statement could work.
‘Listen ,’ the voice continued. ‘ I’ve had an idea .’
Inside the hotel restaurant and sitting by the window, Dominick Farha had just finished an egg and toast breakfast with a tall glass of orange juice. It had been surprisingly good and he’d enjoyed every bite.
Around him, the restaurant was busy with other guests taking seats and breaking their fast. Some were moving along a buffet across the room by the wall, loading up on yoghurts and muffins, while others waited at their table for a waitress to bring them a cooked meal. Farha was holding a newspaper in front of him, examining the headlines as he drank from a thick cup of coffee. He was still wearing his sunglasses, which made reading the paper a slight challenge, but it reduced the chances of being spotted or recognised by anyone looking for him.
As he read the articles and headlines in the broadsheet, one thing pleased him.
Neither he, nor any other members of the cell, were in any of the paper’s reports.
He smiled.
After today, that was going to change.
To his left, he suddenly sensed a stirring in the room, one that pulled his attention from the newspaper. He saw a score of other diners sitting to his left watching something across the restaurant, momentarily ignoring the food on their plates. He lowered the broadsheet to see what was so interesting.
It was a television. An aerial view from a helicopter of a street that Farha instantly recognised. There was a banner headline that ran across the bottom of the screen, bold black text on a yellow background.
Breaking News: Armed man killed in London police raid. Explosive materials, weapons and dead body found in house.
He immediately felt his stomach clench, his pulse quickening.
How the hell did they find them?
He glanced around, left and right, slowly. Have they found me?
No one seemed to be paying any extra attention to him. They were all more interested in the report on the screen.
He took slow breaths, thinking hard as he lifted the broadsheet back up in front of him, covering his face.
Then he made a quick decision.
Lowering the newspaper and leaving it on the table, he grabbed the black holdall from under the table by his foot, rose and strode out of the restaurant. He was headed straight back to his hotel room and the television inside.
He needed to watch the news alone.
And think.
EIGHT
At the ARU’s headquarters, the unexpected discovery of the three members of the terrorist cell had left Cobb both extremely relieved and extremely worried.
The safe-house they’d been holed up in wasn’t on any of the databases or listed on the raid-sheet to be searched, which was more than concerning. Right now he had Nikki and her team working the three guys’ mug-shots through every file they had. Mac had just called, saying he was on his way back and that he’d ordered the team from Farha’s apartment to return. Two of the arrested suspects were already on their way here for questioning. The other was headed to the morgue.
As Nikki worked at her computer in the tech area, Cobb stood behind her in silence, desperately trying to think where the other six suspects could be. It was only by a stroke of ridiculous luck and a nosy old lady that they had stumbled upon these three. They couldn’t rely on such good fortune again. Turning, he withdrew to his office, shutting the door behind him as his mind ran through every possible scenario.
Lost in thought, he sat back in the chair behind his desk. His office was a modern design in that the walls were made of clear transparent glass, which meant he could see what was happening outside without leaving his desk.
It also meant he saw the moment the newcomer arrived, escorted by the detective who manned the front desk downstairs.
The
‘ Or a solution ,’ the voice said.
She frowned, as she hit Send.
She didn’t see how that statement could work.
‘Listen ,’ the voice continued. ‘ I’ve had an idea .’
Inside the hotel restaurant and sitting by the window, Dominick Farha had just finished an egg and toast breakfast with a tall glass of orange juice. It had been surprisingly good and he’d enjoyed every bite.
Around him, the restaurant was busy with other guests taking seats and breaking their fast. Some were moving along a buffet across the room by the wall, loading up on yoghurts and muffins, while others waited at their table for a waitress to bring them a cooked meal. Farha was holding a newspaper in front of him, examining the headlines as he drank from a thick cup of coffee. He was still wearing his sunglasses, which made reading the paper a slight challenge, but it reduced the chances of being spotted or recognised by anyone looking for him.
As he read the articles and headlines in the broadsheet, one thing pleased him.
Neither he, nor any other members of the cell, were in any of the paper’s reports.
He smiled.
After today, that was going to change.
To his left, he suddenly sensed a stirring in the room, one that pulled his attention from the newspaper. He saw a score of other diners sitting to his left watching something across the restaurant, momentarily ignoring the food on their plates. He lowered the broadsheet to see what was so interesting.
It was a television. An aerial view from a helicopter of a street that Farha instantly recognised. There was a banner headline that ran across the bottom of the screen, bold black text on a yellow background.
Breaking News: Armed man killed in London police raid. Explosive materials, weapons and dead body found in house.
He immediately felt his stomach clench, his pulse quickening.
How the hell did they find them?
He glanced around, left and right, slowly. Have they found me?
No one seemed to be paying any extra attention to him. They were all more interested in the report on the screen.
He took slow breaths, thinking hard as he lifted the broadsheet back up in front of him, covering his face.
Then he made a quick decision.
Lowering the newspaper and leaving it on the table, he grabbed the black holdall from under the table by his foot, rose and strode out of the restaurant. He was headed straight back to his hotel room and the television inside.
He needed to watch the news alone.
And think.
EIGHT
At the ARU’s headquarters, the unexpected discovery of the three members of the terrorist cell had left Cobb both extremely relieved and extremely worried.
The safe-house they’d been holed up in wasn’t on any of the databases or listed on the raid-sheet to be searched, which was more than concerning. Right now he had Nikki and her team working the three guys’ mug-shots through every file they had. Mac had just called, saying he was on his way back and that he’d ordered the team from Farha’s apartment to return. Two of the arrested suspects were already on their way here for questioning. The other was headed to the morgue.
As Nikki worked at her computer in the tech area, Cobb stood behind her in silence, desperately trying to think where the other six suspects could be. It was only by a stroke of ridiculous luck and a nosy old lady that they had stumbled upon these three. They couldn’t rely on such good fortune again. Turning, he withdrew to his office, shutting the door behind him as his mind ran through every possible scenario.
Lost in thought, he sat back in the chair behind his desk. His office was a modern design in that the walls were made of clear transparent glass, which meant he could see what was happening outside without leaving his desk.
It also meant he saw the moment the newcomer arrived, escorted by the detective who manned the front desk downstairs.
The
Similar Books
