Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2) (6 page)

Bradley nodded. 
“
I froze in the field.  I was with Agent
Hopkins, trying to find intel on a target.  We were investigating an old
warehouse when a group of men drew on us.  I froze and was too late shouting a
warning.  If it wasn
’
t for the
strike team with us, Howard probably would
’
ve got shot.
”

Sarah shrugged. 
“
It happens, kid.  Especially the first time.
”

“
It was my second time.  I
’
ve frozen twice when
it matters.  I
’
m going to get someone killed if I don
’
t
leave.  I
’
m just waiting for the clearances; today should be my last day.
”

Sarah almost felt sorry for Bradley. 
The kid had a moral centre clear for all to see, but obviously lacked any
confidence in himself.  Maybe his father was an overbearing bastard as well. 
“
How did you ever end up in this place?
”
she asked him.

“
My
father.
”
 

Sarah rolled her eyes. 
“
I figured.
”

“
He was a physicist, worked on some of Britain
’
s first nuclear power plants.  He wanted me
to do physics, too, so I did
–
even got into Cambridge.  I specialised in nuclear physics and
wrote a paper on the application of nuclear components for the purposes of
terrorism.  Long story short, the paper raised some questions with the
Government
’
s counter-terrorism
officers and I was headhunted to join MCU as a theoretical consultant.  At
first I thought I was going to be like James Bond, but it soon became pretty
obvious that the last thing I am is a hero.
”

“
There
’
s no such thing as heroes,
”
Sarah told him. 
“
Heroes exist in storybooks to convince us that humanity isn
’
t made up of selfish pricks.
”

Bradley shook his head. 
“
I don
’
t believe that.  Deep down, I don
’
t
believe you do either, Captain.
”

Sarah stared at the kid and
couldn
’
t help but laugh at his defiant positivity. 
“
All I have deep down is an ulcer.  You should stop trying to find
the best in people.  An attitude like that won
’
t
do you any favours.
”

Bradley shrugged. 
“
You
’
re probably right.  At least I
’
m
getting out of here soon.  You
’
ll make a good replacement.
”

Sarah blanched. 
“
What?
”

Bradley shrugged. 
“
I assume Howard brought you here to replace me.  Today is my last
day and they
’
ve got you here. 
I don
’
t imagine it
’
s a coincidence.
”

“
I came here to help out with a single matter.  I don
’
t plan on giving you people more than an afternoon of my time.  You
’
ll have to forgive me if working for the Government isn
’
t exactly an appealing prospect to me.
”

“
Maybe I
’
m wrong,
”
said Bradley. 
“
To tell you the truth, nobody
’
s
told me anything since I decided to leave.
”

Sarah
’
s
expression softened, at least as much as her scars would allow.  She knew how
it felt to be abandoned by superiors. 

Director Palu and Howard
re-entered the room, taking a seat at the table.  When Palu realised someone
was missing, he frowned. 
“
Did Dr Bennett introduce herself before leaving?
”

“
Yes,
”
Sarah said,
“
she showed me pictures of all her cats.
”

Palu chuckled. 
“
Yes, Jessica certainly does love her cats.  Her little children, she
calls them.
”

Sarah grinned.  
“
So, are you going to tell me why you dragged me here like a bunch of
cold war spies, or am I going to have to beat it out of someone?
”

“
Don
’
t think that worked out too well for you last time,
”
said Howard, mocking her. 
“
How many times did I
knock you down?
”

Sarah chuckled. 
“
I like to go a few rounds before knocking the other guy out.  You
’
ll learn that about me,
Howie.
”

Palu let his meaty hands drop
to the table, capturing their attention. 
“
Perhaps
we should get to the main thrust of things.  You
’
re
no doubt curious as to why we brought you here, Ms Stone.
”

“
Your powers of deduction astound me.  I can see why they put you in
charge.
”

Palu sniffed and a brief
glimmer of frustration shimmered across his face.  Sarah smiled, pleased that
she was getting on his nerves so easily.  She couldn
’
t
help but prod at authority.

“
You
’
re aware of the explosion in Knutsford this past Sunday,
”
Palu said.

Sarah nodded.

“
The man responsible is an ex postal worker named Jeffrey
Blanchfield.  It is believed he had some sort of grudge.  He was recently
widowed, losing his wife to a massive heart attack.  Police reports suggest
Jeffrey and his wife were having ongoing issues with their neighbours and local
youths.  There were reports of vandalism, threats, and regular noise
complaints. 

“
After Jeffrey
’
s wife
died, he blamed the local youths for her death and confronted them.  They
responded by cracking his jaw and leaving him with a broken hip.  Six months
later Jeffrey blows up a village fete two miles from his home.
”

“
Good for him,
”
Sarah said, but immediately regretted it.  It was a
stupid thing to say.  Even Bradley moaned at the insensitivity of it.

Palu stared at her.
“
Forty people dead, Ms Stone.  Another eighty injured.  It was one of
the worst terrorist attacks in our country
’
s
history.
”

Sarah almost apologised, but
decided there was little to be gained from it. 
“
An
old man with a vendetta does not a terrorist make,
”
she
said. 
“
He wanted to cause pain and suffering, not invoke terror.  He had no
agenda other than revenge.
”

“
That
’
s where you
’
re wrong, Sarah,
”
Howard said.

Palu nodded. 
“
I think you better watch something we received this morning.
” 
He produced a tiny remote control from the breast pocket of his
shirt and pointed it at one of the television screens.  The TV blinked to life
and a grainy video started to play.  A man with good, yet accented English
spoke.  He was flanked by two others: a stocky man with hairy arms, and a smaller
figure hiding in the shadows to the left.

“
People of the United Kingdom, today you have been struck by a
warrior.  A martyr in the battle for humanity, itself.  Through Jeffrey
Blanchfield
’
s sacrifice, all of you have been given a chance to cleanse your
souls of impurity.  Reflect upon your depravity and the degradation of your
nation before it is too late.  Today, many of you have been taken, and soon
more, but if you seek the holy path, all may not yet be lost.  My name is Al
Al-Sharir and Allah has given me a divine mission to save you from your own
moral annihilation.
”

Sarah stared hard at the
screen.  The video feed was grubby, possibly from a VHS cassette tape, or perhaps
filmed on a low-spec mobile phone.  The man who was delivering the message was
wearing
shalwar kameez
—
loose pajama-like trousers beneath a long tunic.  He
was also wearing a red and white
shemagh
—
a
checked head scarf.  His right wrist was emblazoned with a symbol of a
scimitar, inked in henna so as not to permanently alter the temple of his
flesh.  The symbol of the sword was something all members of
Shab Bekheir
wore. 

Sarah turned to Palu and
shrugged her shoulders. 
“
They
’
re just trying to capitalise on a tragedy.  It
’
s terrorism 101.
”

Palu shook his head. 
“
Just keep watching.
”

“
In twenty-four hours,
”
the man on the video
said,
“
your nation will be hit again.  Jeffrey Blanchfield was a hero,
avenging his dead wife, killed because of your decadent ways.  The next attacks
will be greater, and we will not stop until Prime Minister Breslow denounces
the people of the United Kingdom as heathens and sinners.  Only then may you
all be saved. 
Shab Bekheir
will show you the way
.
”

Howard tapped his fingertips
against the glass desk. 
“
The videocassette was sent to Downing Street from the Knutsford
postoffice.  The postage date was two days before the attack.
”

“
I tried to track down the sender,
”
explained
Bradley,
“
but the postoffice doesn
’
t
have CCTV and the fee was paid in cash.
”

Sarah leaned back in her chair
and let out a long, lingering sigh.  There was lots to think about, and many
things that didn
’
t make sense.

“
What are your thoughts?
”
Howard asked her. 
“
The reason I brought you here is because you
’
ve
dealt with Al-Sharir before, first hand.
”

“
Yes,
”
Palu said. 
“
What do you make of
the videotape, Ms Stone?
”

Sarah chewed at the side of her
cheek. 
“
My first thought,
”
she said,
“
is that it
’
s a fake.
”

“
W
hat do you
mean it
’
s fake?
”
cried Howard, apparently angered by her assertion. 
“
I verified it myself.
”

“
Do you people do this for a living?
”
she
asked them. 
“
No wonder terrorists think they can win.
”

Howard glared at her, but Palu
took over the conversation before an argument erupted. 
“
Why do you think it
’
s a fake, Ms Stone?
”

“
I don
’
t think it, I know it.
”

“
How?
”
asked Bradley. 
“
It looks pretty real to me.  We
’
ve
identified the accents as Pashto, which is consistent with members of
Shab
Bekhier
.  Their origin is the southern regions of Afghanistan, where you
served, Captain.
”

Sarah, for a brief second,
doubted herself.  It had been a long time since she
’
d
been in the game, and a long time since she
’
d
been in Afghanistan.  Did she really have cause to be so confident? 

“
The first thing that tells me this isn
’
t
Al Al-Sharir,
”
she said,
“
is
the fact that the red and white headscarf is more common to Jordanians. 
Al-Sharir and his men operate in Afghanistan.  They would wear
Pakol
or
Lungee.
”

“
That
’
s a bit of a stretch,
”
Howard said in a
voice patronising enough that she wanted to punch him.

“
Fair enough,
”
Sarah said. 
“
How about the fact
that the man standing to the right of the frame is white?  His hands and wrists
are visible and you can see tufts of fair hair on his forearm.  Al-Sharir might
take advantage of a grieving old man to blow up a village, but I doubt he would
work directly with a westerner.  He
’
s too much of an
extremist.  To him, we
’
re different species, two different animals fighting for supremacy. 
He wouldn
’
t work closely with someone he considered part of the other tribe.
”

“
That
’
s a jump,
”
said Palu. 
“
The white man could
be a Muslim of mixed birth.
”

Sarah nodded. 
“
You might be right, but the main reason I know that the man delivering
the message is not Al Al-Sharir is because the scimitar on his wrist is
pointing the wrong way.  The tip should be pointing at him, not away.
”

Howard huffed. 
“
It
’
s a henna tattoo.  I
’
m sure Al-Sharir pays very little attention to a bit of ink on his
arm.
”

Sarah groaned. 
“
That only proves how incompetent these impostors are, and how little
you people know about the man you
’
re blaming for this. 
That tattoo means everything to the members of
Shab Bekheir
.  Al-Sharir
would only ever have the scimitar pointing at himself.  It signifies his
willingness to die for Allah.  It signifies him being a martyr.  Having it
point the other way, at his enemies, would signify that
they
are the
ones dying for a righteous cause.
” 
Sarah folded her
arms in front of her chest. 
“
You
’
ve been played.  This whole thing is some kind of dupe.  The small
details are the ones that matter most.
”

Palu remained still.  He
seemed more willing to believe her now, but there was still a certain degree of
obstinacy tin his tone. 
“
How can you be so sure about all this?
”

“
How can I be so sure?  Maybe because I
’
ve
met Al-Sharir and I know his way of doing things.  He pays too much attention
to detail to be the guy in that video.  I don
’
t
know who
’
s behind the attack on Sunday, if it really was more than just an
angry widow, but I
’
m telling you that it was not Al-Sharir.
” 

Palu rubbed at his forehead,
and then stood up. 
“
Okay, let me go and check a few things out.  Howard, Bradley, a
moment, please?
”

All three men left the room.

Sarah was left alone for almost
an hour.  For all she knew, they were planning on leaving her there for another
hour.  Unfortunately patience wasn
’t a virtue of hers, so she decided to
interrupt them.  She had a life to be getting back to —
a shitty, lonely life, but one she
preferred to waiting for a bunch of government asshats to take her seriously. 
She’d already helped out more than she’d intended to.

When she
’
d thought there had been a chance to help take down Al Al-Sharir, or
even just stymie him in some way, she had been willing, perhaps even eager, but
it looked like things had been a wild goose chase all along.

Sarah headed in the same
direction that they
’
d all left, and found that the door they
’
d
all entered was unlocked.  She stepped into the following corridor and realized
there was another half-dozen rooms leading off to both sides.

The sound of voices led her to
the second door on the left.  Sarah was about to shove her way inside, when she
realized she could make out the conversation from the corridor.

“
She
’
s a liability,
”
Palu said. 
“
It was a mistake
bringing her here, Howard.  I should never have authorised it.
”

“
I know,
”
said Howard glumly. 
“
I
assumed she
’
d jump at the chance to get away from her pathetic life, but she
’
s done nothing but fight me.  She
’
s
not the woman she was in the Army.  She
’
s
a mess.
”

“
Guys, you
’
re missing the point,
”
Bradley said. 
“
Captain Stone was right; the man in that video isn
’
t Al Al-Sharir.  You brought her here to offer her expertise on Shab
Bekhier, and that
’
s exactly what she
’
s done.  I think she
’
ll make a great replacement for me.  You need someone that
’
s faced these monsters on their own turf, someone with real
experience.
”

Palu grunted. 
“
What are you talking about, Bradley?  She
’
s
not going to replace you.  We needed her expertise and we
’
ve gotten it.  The sooner we send her on her way, the better.
”

“
Oh, so who
is
going to replace me, then?
”

“
No one,
”
Palu said. 
“
The cost to train
another Officer is too high.  To tell you the truth, it
’
s
unfortunate things didn
’
t work out with you, Bradley, as we
’
re
going to be left even more shorthanded now.
”

“
Sorry.
”

“
Nothing that can be done about it now.  Your clearances have come
through and you
’
re free to leave as soon as we finish with Ms Stone,
”
said Palu.

“
Captain Stone,
”
Bradley corrected. 
“
I
think if you showed her some respect she
’
d
be more helpful.  She
’
s given up a lot for her country and has nothing to show for it. 
Asking for her help isn
’
t enough, we need to earn it from her.  She was a Captain in the
British Army and she was wounded fighting for our country, facing the very
enemy we
’
re trying to stop now.  Don
’
t you think her help
will come in handy?
”

Howard disagreed. 
“
We don
’
t need her help.  It was a mistake me bringing her here.  She
’
s been nothing but a pain.  I thought she
’
d
be
…
different.
”

 
“
You
mean you thought she
’
d be grateful,
”
said Bradley. 
“
That
’
s the problem.  You
’
re acting like you
’
re the one doing her a favour, when really it
’
s the other way around.
”

“
Let
’
s get back to the conference room,
”
Palu
said. 
“
We
’
ve already been too long.
”

Sarah flinched away from the
doorway.
 
She thought quickly and decided to rush back to the conference
room rather than betray that she
’
d been listening. 
The more she knew, and the less they did, the better.   

The office door opened.  Sarah
slipped back into the conference room just as Palu and the others stepped into
the hallway.  By the time they got to the conference room, Sarah was sitting
with her boots up on the desk. 
“
You chimps finally
finished your tea party?
”
she said.

Palu cleared his throat and
remained standing. 
“
It appears that you were right
…
Captain
. 
We have accessed existing surveillance footage of Al-Sharir and reviewed
previously verified footage of Shab Bekhier.  You
’
re
right, the details don
’
t match.  Based on that, we
’
re assuming that
Sunday
’
s attack was the work of someone else.  Perhaps the videotape itself
is the act of terror, hoping to put us all on high alert.
”

“
Probably,
”
said Sarah. 
“
If a suicide bomb in
Lancashire wasn
’
t enough.
”

Palu sighed.  “With all of our technology and
surveillance, the one thing we can’t do is police every person on the planet. 
The fact that the bomber was an elderly white man meant we were entirely
unprepared.  He didn
’
t
exactly fit our profile of an extremist.
”

“
One
thing I know about crazy,
”
said Sarah,
“
is
that it doesn
’
t
wear a uniform or keep set hours.  You can
’
t
profile hate.  It can infect any of us.
”

“
Do
you think there will be further attacks, Captain?” asked Bradley.  “What’s your
gut feeling?”

Sarah pulled her boots down off the desk and
looked at them.  “I’m not sure.  If the men in the video were organised enough
to be behind Sunday’s attacks, then perhaps there
’
s
still a threat, but why would they hide behind a charade, pretending to be Shab
Bekhier?  If the real Al-Sharir finds out somebody’s using his name, they’re
signing their own death warrants within the terrorist community.  Best case
scenario, it’s somebody trying to exacerbate an already distressing situation. 
Maybe a small group of extremists talked Jeffrey Blanchfield into blowing
himself up.  Perhaps that’s all there is to it.”

“I hope you
’
re
right,
”
Palu
said. 
“
Needless
to say, I thank you for your assistance, Captain.  It was enlightening.
”