Tested by Fire by David Costa (the little red hen read aloud TXT) 📗

buy from any newsagents in the city. The beauty of it is you can pass yourself off as a tourist looking for places of interest. Mohammad, you already know the area well, so you won’t need one. Waheed and Imtaz, I want you both to work together and get to know the area well, especially this location just outside the security zone. The final plan is starting to take shape in my head. If the attack is to happen successfully, it will be on Wednesday, 2 October.’

Costello let what he’d said sink in, and then Lyndsey spoke again.

‘We must remember we’ll all be working on the ground of the enemy. This enemy has one of the biggest and most successful intelligence and security organisations in the world. Our own security must be airtight. Mohammad will sweep the room for bugs every time we meet here. Mohammad, you, Waheed, and Imtaz will stay here until the operation day. When it’s over, if we’re still alive and safe, we all make our own ways back to our safe locations whether here in England, Iran, or Ireland wherever. Sean, I’ve booked you a room in the Hilton in the name of Mr Paul Jordan.’

She took an envelope out of her bag and handed it to him.

‘There is money and a credit card in Jordan’s name. I wanted you to be closer to the target area so that you can observe the day-to-day changes to the conference zone. I managed to get you a room looking in the direction of the Conference Centre. I know it’s some distance between the Hilton and the Midland Hotel, but you should be able to view the whole area from the safety of your room. This arrangement will be good for our security with less travelling back and forth between here and Manchester needed. Waheed and Imtaz, you work together for now and carry out your own observations. Sean, no offence to anybody here but a white man walking about with Asian men in Manchester is not usual and could draw unnecessary attention…the kind we don’t want. Sean, is your equipment secure?’

‘Yes, in a secret compartment in the van in the garage.’

‘Good, let’s leave it there until nearer the time. Mohammad can drop us at the Hilton now and collect some Glock pistols from our Iranian brothers for each of you. We will all be armed for the duration of the operation.’

‘I’m OK,’ said Costello. ‘I have my Browning.’ He moved his shirt to let them all see where he’d secreted the weapon when they’d arrived.

‘So, Mohammad, it’s just you, Waheed, and Imtaz for the Glocks. Like Sean, I have my own weapon.’

She then placed a piece of paper on the table with a set of numbers on it and their names beside them.

‘These are your numbers, make sure you save each other’s on your phones. Don’t worry about security. If you do need to talk to each other on the phone, I’m sure you’re wise enough to not be specific.’

When everyone had saved the numbers, Mohammad took the paper to the sink in the kitchen and burnt it.

‘Imtaz and Waheed, your only purpose here is to work on this operation. Mohammad will see to whatever you need. Any questions?’ she asked.

No one answered.

‘OK, we all know our tasks, let’s get to work and we can meet back here in two nights’ time. Mohammad, can you drop us back in the city? Sean, can you get your bag?’

Both nodded agreements. While Costello went upstairs, Lyndsey took Mohammad to one side and whispered, ‘I don’t know what it is, but I have a strange feeling about Waheed. I want you to keep a close eye on him.’

 

 

Chapter Twenty-three

The hop to Manchester in the Puma was uneventful. The noise from the engines made it difficult to hold any sort of conversation. The talk was general with everyone catching up with what each one had been doing and even some chat between April Grey and Joe Cousins on buying property in the Oxford area. Reece was pleased with the team. He knew they were professional enough to know when they could relax and when they needed to be back in the zone.

When they landed at Barton Aerodrome on the outskirts of the city, Reece noticed another Black Puma parked on the grass near to where they touched down. The Aerodrome was just outside Manchester, its two grass runways about five miles from the centre of the city. Reece could see from the banners on the perimeter fencing that it was also the location for private light aircraft and helicopters, and flight training schools.

Now Barton would be their home for the duration of Operation Longshot. They, along with the SAS team allocated to them, would be taking over one of the two large hangers.

When the rotors had stopped, a man approached the team and asked, ‘David Reece?’

‘I’m Reece.’

‘Excellent, I’m Geoff Middleton the Troop Commander. Welcome to Barton. Let me show you where you’ll be staying.’

He was around six-foot tall with a shock of blonde hair; he was clean shaven with dark brown eyes. He looked fit with a slight tan and he moved quietly without effort.

‘This way everyone.’

As they walked towards one of the large dark green hangers, Reece noticed a lot of people about.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ said Middleton. ‘How secure is this place? My thoughts exactly when we arrived this morning, but apparently, they’re used to large numbers of troops and police coming and going in the run up to the Conference, so no questions are asked. The hanger is surrounded by a fence with a secure key padded entrance door. The code is easy to remember: Battle of Hastings – ten sixty-six. My own little joke when I changed the code this morning, I thought what better, after all it