be of benefit to their cause in the long run, but he wasn’t interested in that. His focus was on the short term. And the increase in security would make it more difficult to do what he had promised to do.
He got into the van.
‘Are we good?’
‘We are. Just smile and relax.’
He started the engine again. The policeman gave him a nod of recognition as his colleague raised the barrier and lowered the ramp. Ibrahim put the gearbox into first and pressed down gently on the accelerator. The van bumped over the exposed lip of the ramp and was swallowed by the narrow tunnel.
Chapter Twelve
I sabella bought a ticket to Heathrow from the machine, used it to pass through the gate and joined the queue that was shuffling toward the escalator. It hummed as it carried her down the long shaft to the vestibule below.
Aamir took the Victoria Line to Green Park station and then changed to the southbound Jubilee Line to Westminster. The carriage was full and he had to stand.
The Jubilee Line was newer, and the trains and the stations were all much sleeker and more modern than the others that they had used when they had scouted the capital last month. Westminster, in particular, was an impressive vaulted space, a cavern that had been carved in the earth at the side of the Thames. It was one of the main stations that served the offices of government around the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall. Many of these men and women waiting patiently for the train to carry them to their destinations were puppets of the state, putting into effect the pernicious policies that had led to decades of misery for their brothers and sisters in the Middle East.
Had they seen the effects of those policies, as Aamir had?
Mohammed had told him to watch the YouTube videos of the atrocities that had been carried out in the name of civilisation and democracy, the bombed schools and hospitals.
The dead children.
The families wiped out by drone strikes and five-hundred-pound bombs dropped by cowards from ten thousand feet.
He looked at the men and women around him as they read their newspapers and listened to their music. They were oblivious. They had no idea what he could do to them with just a simple click of the trigger in his pocket.
And yet, as the train rushed through the dark tunnel, the doubts returned. These people were not soldiers. They did not drop the bombs. They had families. They were mothers and fathers, not so different to the brothers and sisters in Iraq and Palestine and Afghanistan and the other Muslim lands.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what the imam had said to him. The words of the sacred Qur’an.
Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for Allah loveth not transgressors. And slay them wherever ye catch them, and turn them out from where they have Turned you out; for tumult and oppression are worse than slaughter; but fight them not at the Sacred Mosque, unless they fight you there; but if they fight you, slay them. Such is the reward of those who suppress faith .
He could almost hear the cadence of Alam Hussain’s deep, sonorous voice. He closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the verse play through his head.
Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you.
And slay them wherever ye catch them.
Such is the reward of those who suppress faith.
The weight of the rucksack brought him back around. The strap was cutting into his right shoulder, so he carefully transferred it so that it was slung across his left. The bag itself was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around it so that he could cradle it and reduce the downward pressure from the strap. He thought about what was inside the bag and what it would do when he detonated it.
What it would do to him, and all these people.
The train eased into Westminster station. The screen doors on the platform opened first, and then the doors to the train.
This was where he had agreed to detonate the bomb. Right
He got into the van.
‘Are we good?’
‘We are. Just smile and relax.’
He started the engine again. The policeman gave him a nod of recognition as his colleague raised the barrier and lowered the ramp. Ibrahim put the gearbox into first and pressed down gently on the accelerator. The van bumped over the exposed lip of the ramp and was swallowed by the narrow tunnel.
Chapter Twelve
I sabella bought a ticket to Heathrow from the machine, used it to pass through the gate and joined the queue that was shuffling toward the escalator. It hummed as it carried her down the long shaft to the vestibule below.
Aamir took the Victoria Line to Green Park station and then changed to the southbound Jubilee Line to Westminster. The carriage was full and he had to stand.
The Jubilee Line was newer, and the trains and the stations were all much sleeker and more modern than the others that they had used when they had scouted the capital last month. Westminster, in particular, was an impressive vaulted space, a cavern that had been carved in the earth at the side of the Thames. It was one of the main stations that served the offices of government around the Palace of Westminster and Whitehall. Many of these men and women waiting patiently for the train to carry them to their destinations were puppets of the state, putting into effect the pernicious policies that had led to decades of misery for their brothers and sisters in the Middle East.
Had they seen the effects of those policies, as Aamir had?
Mohammed had told him to watch the YouTube videos of the atrocities that had been carried out in the name of civilisation and democracy, the bombed schools and hospitals.
The dead children.
The families wiped out by drone strikes and five-hundred-pound bombs dropped by cowards from ten thousand feet.
He looked at the men and women around him as they read their newspapers and listened to their music. They were oblivious. They had no idea what he could do to them with just a simple click of the trigger in his pocket.
And yet, as the train rushed through the dark tunnel, the doubts returned. These people were not soldiers. They did not drop the bombs. They had families. They were mothers and fathers, not so different to the brothers and sisters in Iraq and Palestine and Afghanistan and the other Muslim lands.
He closed his eyes and tried to remember what the imam had said to him. The words of the sacred Qur’an.
Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for Allah loveth not transgressors. And slay them wherever ye catch them, and turn them out from where they have Turned you out; for tumult and oppression are worse than slaughter; but fight them not at the Sacred Mosque, unless they fight you there; but if they fight you, slay them. Such is the reward of those who suppress faith .
He could almost hear the cadence of Alam Hussain’s deep, sonorous voice. He closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the verse play through his head.
Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you.
And slay them wherever ye catch them.
Such is the reward of those who suppress faith.
The weight of the rucksack brought him back around. The strap was cutting into his right shoulder, so he carefully transferred it so that it was slung across his left. The bag itself was against his chest. He wrapped his arms around it so that he could cradle it and reduce the downward pressure from the strap. He thought about what was inside the bag and what it would do when he detonated it.
What it would do to him, and all these people.
The train eased into Westminster station. The screen doors on the platform opened first, and then the doors to the train.
This was where he had agreed to detonate the bomb. Right
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