The streets in the immediate vicinity of the railway station were locked down. Police vehicles blocked every access point, and officers in hi-vis apparel sought to keep both vehicular and pedestrian traffic moving. With no ticket barriers to impede passengers, station staff wearing orange jackets welcomed the presence of armed police as they struggled to engage with angry new arrivals, while allowing those out who wished to leave. In the short-term car park a man with a ponytail was having an animated conversation with two others, one wearing a baseball cap.
Inside the station, the 09.40 from Liverpool Lime Street had finally arrived almost forty minutes late, its frustrated travellers spilling onto Platform 2 and milling immediately among the swell of those awaiting a connection to Blackpool North. On Platform 3, many more listened anxiously for an announcement on the fate of the 11.50 for York, now delayed by twenty-seven minutes. None seemed overly concerned by the numbers of armed police in their midst. Commuters had grown accustomed to heightened security measures, and accepted their presence with stoic reserve.
From her elevated position, DI Emily Blake checked both her phone and her watch, echoing the habits of many more in the immediate vicinity. She felt calm enough, almost elated by the situation. An incident was going down, but she had faith in her team, or at least some of them. Fate would influence the outcome. Or a stupid mistake.
It had been a shock to see her Aunt Helen arrive with both Meredith and Billie. She’d not expected that, but understood the logic behind the action. They would need help to identify their target in a crowd. It could complicate matters, but she’d have to factor that in when the time came. Right now, Billie and Meredith had reappeared on Platform 4. She spoke into her mouthpiece. ‘I have visual on subjects A and B. Copy?’ A response in her ear: ‘Copy that.’
*
Chrissie found she was holding her breath. The conversation with Billie had been one of the weirdest (and shortest) ever. I’ll be blown away to see you again. Platform 4 outside the bar. Then he’d rung off. What the hell was that about? The slow progress of her train provided plenty of time to think it through, and her breathing gradually returned to normal.
The train had come to a halt somewhere on the edge of the city, the train manager apologising for the further delay, a signal failure at Warrington. Most passengers were so familiar with the situation that few even looked up from their magazines or electronic devices. What’s new.
But for one American passenger it felt like being at the dentist, waiting for a wisdom tooth extraction. For Chrissakes let’s get this over with!
*
Billie’s nerves were in a similar state. He hoped he had said enough to warn Chrissie. Meredith snatched back the phone, anger barely contained. They were stood on the platform with at least a hundred others, their attention mainly on screens displaying static updates for delayed or cancelled journeys. Two men in hi-vis jackets approached through the crowd, one addressing Meredith in a confident manner.
‘Just a moment, sir. We’d like a word with this gentleman.’
Meredith was ready to challenge. ‘Officer?’
‘I have a message for you, Mr Meredith. From Chief Superintendent Tanner.’ He passed him a written note, then took a firm grip of Billie’s arm. ‘We’ll keep Mr Vane safe, don’t you worry.’
Billie was nervous at a policeman treating Meredith with the cosy respect normally reserved for one of their own. As they marched him away towards a door marked “Staff Only”, he looked back and wished he could wipe the smirk off that smooth face.
The train now arriving on Platform 3 is the delayed 10.05 from Edinburgh…
Helen Vinke listened to the announcement, but stayed where she had been told, waiting for Billie and Meredith to return. She leaned across to speak to a woman sitting opposite, dressed in a sari, eyes fixed on the screen above her head.
‘Can you smell something? I thought I could smell garlic.’
But the woman didn’t appear to hear her under another announcement:
The next train to arrive at Platform 4 will be the delayed 11.58 service from London Euston.
*
At the top of the stairs Billie was experiencing two extremes: relief and panic. Finding both Ed and Robin on the other side of the door marked “Transport Police” came as a complete contrast to what he knew he should feel, and he stood in the doorway in shock. Were they all under arrest? As the two men got to their feet, Ed rather more slowly than his partner, one of the police officers intervened.
‘One moment, please. Mr Vane, we need to check a few things. Are you injured in any way?’
‘What? Injured, no. But aren’t you… with him?’
‘We’re the Transport Police, sir. We’re not with anyone.’
‘But I thought… oh God. This jacket… I think he might have tampered with it.’
Billie spread his arms, inviting an inspection. Rescue was close, but danger potentially closer. He gazed in desperation at his friends while the officer radioed a call for assistance.
*
Meredith approached one of the armed officers. ‘You know who I am?’ He held up a small wallet containing some ID.
‘Yes, sir, Mr Meredith.’
‘I need to locate Sergeant Baddiel, SCO19. A Code twenty-three?’
‘Can’t help you right now, sir. We’re on lockdown until the PM has cleared the station.’
‘What?’
‘Prime Minister’s train, sir. Just arriving. I’ll have to ask you to wait until we get the all clear, sir.’
Meredith stood his ground, but only for a moment. He turned away and swore quietly, glancing again at Tanner’s handwritten note: Highly sensitive change of plan. Sgt Baddiel SCO19 your contact asap. Code 23. T
Plan B then. With everyone’s attention on the train approaching Platform 4, he moved smartly back down its neighbour to fetch Helen from the waiting room. He needed another set of eyes to track down Emily. But she wasn’t there.
Stepping out again onto 4, he spotted a flash of mauve among the crowd. The coat stood out, especially now she had put her hood up for some reason. He strode quickly over, grabbed her arm from behind and pulled her round to face him.
And stared straight into the face of Emily Blake.
*
The train now arriving at Platform 4 had the Prime Minister on board, but few of those waiting were aware of it. Passengers intending to disembark waited in vain for the buttons on their doors to turn green. Those on the platform faced a similar problem. The train manager had locked all bar one carriage, giving his special guest the privilege of some extra privacy to exit discreetly down the station subway under the protective screen of a police barrier. Emily caught the preparation for all this in her peripheral vision, while confronting the man in the suit face to face.
‘Hello, Meredith. It’s been a long time.’
She saw his eyes bulge with surprise, but only for a moment.
‘You!’ Then he spun her round, clamping both her arms against her chest and forcing her body against his, whipping his stiletto blade up and against her throat, while taking a step backwards. An unconscious echo of a similar incident with the girl’s brother thirty years earlier. Shouts and screams all around, police levelling guns, safety catches released, orders shouted for everyone to move back. Meredith’s eyes darted everywhere, keen to spot threats or support in equal measure.
‘IT’S OKAY! I have her under control. She was going to attack the Prime Minister. Baddiel? You there?’
Emily tried to make light of the situation. ‘You know, for someone who’s a smart dresser you’ve got awfully bad breath.’
An armed officer called out. ‘Sir! Are you aware if the subject is carrying a weapon?’
‘I’m NOT carrying a weapon!’ Emily shouted back. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Blake, an officer with the GMP, and this man is a trained assassin!’
‘Bad move, Emily,’ breathed Meredith. ‘They know who you are.’ Then he raised his own voice. ‘I believe the subject to be wearing a device, Baddiel. You need to get Expo down here!’
‘On their way, sir!’
Police officers discreetly urged people to move back and clear the area, but fascinated faces remained at the windows of the train. The same voice called out again. ‘Officer Blake, please move away from Mr Meredith, lie face down on the ground, keeping your hands where we can see them at all times, and then put them above your head. Do you understand me?’
Emily didn’t move. She was thinking back to the moment she had found Helen in the waiting room, and they had swapped coats. That smell. Not Meredith’s breath. Not even garlic. The significance of his reference to her wearing a device hit home. He’d called for Expo. Bomb disposal crew. The odour was associated with yellow phosphorus explosive. Almost certainly sewn inside the coat. Shit! She spoke urgently to Meredith. ‘I’m prepared to cut a deal. Give you what you’ve been looking for.’
‘What would that be?’
‘My father’s letter.’
‘Officer Blake…’
‘WAIT!’ shouted Meredith, then to Emily, ‘Where is it?’
‘I don’t have it on me. I’m not stupid.’
Yes, I am. She remembered a road in Bootle. Emma yelling at her side. The roar of a car. Pushing her so roughly it hurt. Now who’s being stupid?
Meredith raised his voice again. ‘WAIT! I can manage this myself!’ Then to Emily, ‘Where?’
‘My bag. I left it in the ladies loo.’ She needed to get all three of them—her, Meredith and the bomb—away from everyone else, including the Prime Minister. If he wanted the thing badly enough, he’d know this might be his last chance. I have to push you back, Em. No other way.
‘Okay. Just do exactly as I tell you. Sergeant?’
‘Sir!’ came the response.
‘It will be safer for everyone if I take her off the platform. Officer Blake has agreed to do as I say, so I’m going to isolate her inside. But I’d appreciate it if you’d send Expo in after us as soon as you can. Understood?’
Instruction acknowledged, he stood away from her. The remainder of the crowd watched in silence as Emily fought her demons, forcing her brain to relax her body. Then, with calm resolve, she walked ahead of Meredith through the door leading to the toilets.
Further along the platform behind the police barrier Billie watched with Ed, Robin and Helen. The door of the carriage nearest them finally opened, and the bulky figure of the Prime Minister alighted onto the platform. As he stepped forward to shake a hand, the ground shook and shattered glass blew out over the space occupied minutes before by dozens of onlookers.