Tested by Fire David Costa (ereader with android .txt) 📖

get back to you. Is there somewhere you can lie up in the meantime?’

‘I’ll keep two at a time in the car parked in Peter Street with a view of the front door. The rest of us will return to the security suite at the Conference so we can speak more securely.’

‘Roger, Alpha One, call me when you get there.’

‘April, you’ve been out in the cold for some time so go and get in the car with Joe. Steve, you come with me and Mary back to the suite. Alpha Two, can you park up with Alpha Three in Peter Street with a good view of the front door?’

‘Roger, Alpha One, on my way,’ replied Cousins.

Less than a minute later the BMW parked in the ideal spot to observe the building’s front door. Grey joined Cousins in the car leaving the other three to walk back to the Conference suite.

 

 

Chapter Fifty-six

Mohammad had made himself a cup of tea and joined Lyndsey and Costello in the apartment sitting room. Both had been watching Sky News concerning the day’s activity at the Conference. The pictures also showing the Prime Minister alighting from his car when attending a lunch with businesspeople in Manchester. The news reader then made a comment on what was expected in his speech to the Conference tomorrow.

‘He might have to speak through a hole in his head.’ Costello laughed.

‘Not might, will,’ said Lyndsey.

‘I’m just glad to be in from the cold for now,’ said Mohammad. ‘I’m thinking of tomorrow…how are we set up?’

‘No change. Sean does his bit and Waheed and Imtaz do theirs. In the panic and inevitable lockdown, we leave by different routes. Sean is going to set up in the morning, you get into the Midland, and if you can give us a heads up when the Prime Minister is heading towards the back door, then Sean has some warning which will help. His conference speech is pencilled in for 11.45 so we can expect him to walk over around eleven so be ready from 10.45 onwards. I’ll get the van and we’ll drive out of the area which, if we’re quick enough, should be easy to do in all the panic.’

As she was speaking, Costello went over to the dining room table where he’d left the sports bag sitting on top. Unzipping the bag, he reached in and removed three large parcels of bubble wrap and began to unwind the wrapping from the objects inside. Mohammad and Lyndsey silently watched him produce the rifle barrel then the shoulder stock then the breech and trigger mechanism. Next, he took a smooth dry cloth and wiped down each of the parts before assembling each part into the whole. Finally, he attached a tripod stand and sniper scope. When he’d finished, he placed the completed weapon back to stand on the table the barrel almost the same length as the rest of the rifle. Pointing to the rifle he turned to speak to the two silent watchers.

‘This, ladies and gentlemen, is a TRG 22 Rifle with a match sight mounting set and foldable bipod for stability when using. It’s one of the most accurate rifles around and one of the best sniper rifles in the world and in the hands of someone who knows how to use it, such as myself, a deadly killing machine. I’ve spent time zeroing the rifle in before I came here, so I’m ready to play my part.’

‘I know you’ve had something to eat, Mohammad, but Sean and I could do with something. Could you phone somewhere for a delivery?’ asked Lyndsey.

‘I’ll check Google; what do you fancy?’ replied Mohammad.

‘I’m in the mood for some Indian food. What about you, Sean?’

‘Sounds good but not too spicy.’

‘That’s great. I know a good Indian down near the station I could go and get a carry out from there, be back in about twenty minutes. I’ll get a bit of a mixture with some rice, that should be OK for both of you?’

‘Suits me and some chips,’ said Costello.

 

 

Chapter Fifty-seven

In his suite in the Midland the Prime Minister loosened his tie and kicked off his shoes as he pushed himself back further into the leather armchair. The almost finished speech lay on the coffee table between himself and the two other men in the room. Sir Martyn Bryant and Sir Ian Fraser sitting in similar chairs opposite both had a crystal glass of malt whisky in their hand. Peter Brookfield took a long sip from his own glass of the same refreshing spirit. The lighting in the room was low adding to a relaxed atmosphere. Sir Ian had returned after his meal with Jim Broad and had updated both men in the room with the latest movements of Tourist One and the subsequent phone calls.

‘So, Sir Ian, you believe you have these people tied down to two locations…one of them quite close to here. What now?’ asked the Prime Minister.

‘We’re happy we have at least two under control at the house in Irlam. We don’t know if there’s anyone else there, so we’re moving in closer later tonight to confirm one way or the other.’

‘What then?’ interrupted Bryant.

‘We don’t know what weaponry they have inside the house or how many to use it. Either way we need to keep them confined to that location without giving them the opportunity to blow the whistle on us to the rest of their friends, who we now think are somewhere in the apartment block not far from here.’

‘And where are we with that end of things?’ asked Brookfield.

‘As I’ve said before there may be at least three in there, Tourist One surveillance observed going in. There is an unknown woman inside, possibly Sharon Lyndsey, who buzzed Tourist One into the building and we now believe from intercepted text