‘The helos fired on a police vehicle, fella.’
‘That’s NOT a police vehicle, that’s X-Rays.. I give up.’
They looked at each other. The nearest one’s Airwave set chattered on his shoulder and he answered it. I carried on. ‘Guys! A petrol tanker with a mocked up chase car! They’re driving it to a mosque and it’s coming!’
‘OK fella. You lot Army?’
‘Yeah. Kinda. The helos are Regiment.’
Calamity had exited our car and walked up to my left. She squeezed my shoulder and gave me a low whistle. She was holding a pistol and the ARV crew noticed.
We all looked back and up, at the growling MH-6 in the distance. To our left, a West Midlands Police helicopter was hovering impotently. The cop gave us a final glance and spoke.
‘Alright. Let’s get moving, we’ll set another roadblock.’
There was a crackle of small-arms fire over the way. A green flare shot into the air, way over by the railway station. The cops jumped in their ARV and got moving. Behind us Sadie stepped out of the car and shot a flare into the sky with a whoosh… crack… it burst over our heads in a brilliant red glare, and arced down behind the lockups. She shrugged as I looked enquiringly at her. ‘Radios not good enough?’
‘Nope.’
I waved my hand like a baseball referee. ‘Enough of this! Do any of you lot know what’s going on? Why are we all firing flares and who is shooting down there?’
Another apologetic shrug went round. Behind us, a mushroom cloud of smoke erupted south of the Bullring and an explosion rumbled across the rooftops. Car alarms started going off in the street below. My BlackBerry rang. Duckie’s operational phone number came up. ‘Riz. I’m at the head of the marches. Yep Tommy’s here. Say hello. OK Listen. The Infidels march is going for Green Lane Mosque, that’s GREEN LANE, not Birmingham Central. Can you hear me?’
I could, just, over the roar of the crowd. ‘Got that Duck. We’re moving.’
I rang Fuzz. ‘Fuzz. It’s Green Lane Mosque.’
‘Moving, bhai.’
‘OK. Let’s go.’ Calamity jumped back into the driver’s bucket seat. The car engine coughed and roared.
I hashed the Binatone radio pressel twice and raised Roadrunner. ‘Blackeye Three what do you have. Are they contained?’
‘Riz do you read, I’ve got ‘em. I’ve got ‘em. Shall I light ‘em?’
‘I don’t know, Roadrunner. What can you see?’
I could hear the crunch of metal and plastic and then several sharp bangs. Shots. More tinny screaming. ‘Four….no, three pax in an upside down chase car, lots of dead civvies. Can’t see Lionheart. A stinger took out my tyres. Pax one has dropped the submachine gun. Light them?’
I hit the radio. ‘Yes. Roadrunner. Light them.’
‘OK. Going forward.’
I heard the tinny clack-clack of a bolt being drawn back and released. There was a flurry of gunfire and broken glass on the net.
‘Roadrunner. They dead?’
‘Yep.’
‘Move to Green Lane Mosque if you can.’
‘Have that.’
Calamity shouted at me. ‘Riz! Tanker’s onscreen going south on Glover Street, if we floor it we can cut them off here-’ she tapped the laptop screen- ‘Bordesley Circus.’
She handed the laptop to me.
‘Floor it.’ The tyres squealed.
We howled into the junction towards the Hotel Ibis car park and then the car screeched in a 180 as Calamity handbraked it to face north from Bordesley Circus. I hit the secure radio.
‘Cope. What d’you have?’
‘Tanker is southbound to you on Red Two-Four, ETA two minutes. Crew can’t get a clear shot. Handing off to you, and good luck.’
Calamity and I flung the doors open and we got ready. Sadie jogged heavily to the edge of the roundabout and threw her sniper rifle into the aim, bracing herself on a street lamp. I got the binos to my eyes. The smell of burning tyre rubber hung in our nostrils. The truck came into view, huge in the binoculars lenses, scattering traffic as it came roaring down the wrong side of the dual carriageway. I called it in. ‘Target truck range 800 feet and closing speed 55 miles per hour…’ I looked for wind indicators. Flag there outside the industrial estate…
‘Wind about 10mph from our left. Hurry it Sadie.’
‘Slow is smooth and smooth is fast’, Sadie said, more for her benefit than mine. She breathed out and squeezed the trigger.
The first shot hit the truck grille in a mess of sparks.
‘Shit.’
‘Low six feet, target 600 feet closing 55 miles per... ’
The second shot punched half the windscreen in and a spray of blood flew around the interior. The truck began to veer and jink but kept coming, front tyres squealing. It smashed a small car out of the way. The car banged off the side of the industrial estate and window glass flew. The truck shook like an animal and accelerated.
‘Low three feet, target 400 feet… 300 feet, HURRY!’
‘OK. API loaded.’ Sadie breathed out. ‘API loaded…’
My panicked eyes flitted from the roaring petrol tanker to her trigger-finger.
The rifle bucked and smoked. The cartridge case spun skywards and caught the sun. The bullet streaked into the front of the tankage -
A bright spall of sparks erupted from the gas tank. The truck shuddered and skidded.
A blinding flash and a searing oven blast of shockwave rolled over us as we dropped down. On both sides of the road every window for a hundred yards blew in and pieces of metal dropped and clanged on the roundabout and a wall of dust rolled out. I picked up Sadie, who was laughing and trying to clear one ear. ‘Sadie, this is ridiculous, you’ll lose that thing. Come on. Back to the car.’
We made our way back along the road, back towards the Cosworth and its opened doors, as Calamity revved the engine in sharp barks and a flaming truck tyre arced overhead and hit the front of the Hotel Ibis. I called it in. ‘Tanker is neutralised, all callsigns fall back to Green One. I repeat, fall back to Green One. Out.’
42
The outside of Green Lane Mosque looked like the fall of Saigon as we pulled in. Our car was coughing in miasma of burnt clutch and Calamity grimaced. ‘I think we’ve blown a bearing.’
Some demo crowd barriers had been erected then abandoned. There was a line of police standing near some Transit vans trying to deal with the crowds and some MDL protestors. We parked the vehicles in the best counter-ambush order we could think of. A Sky News TV crew was milling about trying to film things and generally getting in the way. We pushed their microphones out of our faces and went looking for our leaders.
In the rear of the car park Bang-Bang was setting up a petrol-driven helicopter drone. It looked like something out of the Terminator films. Black and evil. She smiled at me. ‘Hello my love. Look at this for bloody ridiculous. Now the imams are insisting we take our shoes off. How am I supposed to fight when I haven’t done my nail varnish. Honestly.’
Then she placed her internet glasses over her eyes and flipped a switch on the controller. The engines on the drone roared into life and blue exhaust jetted, and the blades tousled her hair as it shot skywards. Bang-Bang held out a small netbook and tapped little tags indicating our firing positions in the building and labelled areas of the mosque. ‘I’ll be carrying this netbook on me at all times in me haversack. If I get shot, take it off me. Sasha and Kiki also have a feed to the drone and they’re plotted up in the mosque office where they can run all their CCTV. No one’s going to sneak up on us today. OK here are our firing points. West tower covers the eastern approaches, that’s Sadie. Boiler house accommodation, we’ve put the Shrike and the RPG in there to cover the car park. Looking northwest up Little Green Lane we’ve put the PKM on the first floor. Oh by the way, I don’t know why, but our SAS friends left us two fire axes “just in case”.’ She nodded at two nasty-looking axes on the ground.
There was a commotion outside the entrance. Fuzz came outside flicking the blood off her knuckles. She was wearing a tan, wide-brimmed floppy hat, which she tipped in our direction as she spoke. ‘That was a step too far.’
‘What was?’
‘That imam called me a tattooed harlot.’
Bang-Bang giggled. ‘I’m saying nothing.’
‘YOU can talk.’
‘Slutty and proud, Fuzz. By the way, can y’all look up and wave for the drone cam.’
We looked up, and waved. Bang-Bang nodded. ‘OK, got that. We’re live.’
More shouting emanated from the door over the heads of the refugees. Fuzz looked ready to kill. ‘Now he wants us to be wearing headscarves. I swear I’ll shoot the prick.’
Sadie came over and cast her eye over the netbook schematic. ‘Hello ladies. Does our Imam not realise the seriousness of our predicament?’
‘Apparently not, Mrs Hayak. You or I?’
‘I.’
She slung her Dragunov. ‘What did he say, Bang-Bang darling?’
‘Sillybollocks was trying to quote chapter and verse at me about women running about with guns. I replied with Hashiyat ad Dussuqi: Jihad becomes Fard Ayn on everyone, even women and children, upon a surprise attack by the enemy. I left the bit about husbands and creditors out though.’
Sadie grinned and met the protesting Imam half-way in the car park. We gave a cheer as he walked into her throat-grip and she gave him the news with a slap that echoed round the car park like a pistol shot. He fell to the ground and that was it. The yelling was epic. We shrugged. Fuzz looked the other way. ‘Hey. He walked onto it.’
The Brummie girls giggled. Behind us, the crowds grew. Everyone was scared of the EDL and the Infidels, and everyone wanted refuge in the mosque. A woman was trying to hand her toddler to us. She was pleading in some language none of us understood and a policewoman was trying to hold her back. We were minutes from complete chaos here. I raised my voice.
‘
Chicas
. I’m gonna walk the perimeter, get the fire teams in. If this is going to be the siege of Khe Sanh, let’s get it right.’
Fuzz nodded as Sadie went to find her sniper’s nest. ‘OK Rizbhai. Right you lot, let’s do a last check.’ They racked the bolts on their weapons. Fuzz checked those with the precious body armour. Calamity and Mishy picked up a fire axe each. Fuzz tapped my arm. ‘I’m gonna take that mosque minibus there and back it up against the western entrance doors. Seal it off. I’ll be in touch.’
I suddenly noticed she was carrying a short samurai sword laced onto her waistband. She registered my look and nodded at it. ‘If I have to use this, we really are in the shit. See ya in a bit.’
As I ran up the staircase into the first floor I rang Duckie again. Something was nagging at me. The phone rang, and rang, and… I could hear more crowd noise, chanting. ‘Duckie! Can you… yes it’s me. Have you seen ANY Sikhs Versus Shariah on the march?’
‘Sikhs Versus Shariah? No. They’re not here. None of them. I can see local Sikhs turned out against the march, but… no.’
‘Where’s Tommy?’
‘He got in a fight and got dragged away. It’s all Infidels now.’
‘OK Duck. We’re pulling you out. Get here to Green Lane Mosque ASAP.’
I looked out of a window, over the road to Morrisons. Nothing yet. I made my way back downstairs. The Brummie Blackeyes were giggling again as they loaded their AKs. The mosque deputy was looking at them helplessly. ‘OK girls, what have you done with the imam?’
Kiki pointed. ‘We put him in the store cupboard.’
The deputy shrugged apologetically and we shook hands. He spoke. ‘Salaam aleykum. I’m Nadir. Are we going to be OK?’
I didn’t know what to say. I ended up with ‘I’m Riz. Just follow me, Nadir.’
I methodically checked each fire position in the cavernous building. Years ago it had been the local municipal baths. I’d been here once, in my long-distant jihadi days, but it had changed since then. The mosque deputy clucked after me, apologising for his boss. I gripped his shoulder as we went through the library on the first floor. ‘Look. Nadir. Akhi. It’s OK. But I want you to do something for me. Do you have floorplans of the building?’
He nodded nervously.
‘Good. I want you to photocopy them, at least five copies, and bring them to all of us. Can you do that?’
He nodded again and got to it. My radio bleeped. ‘
Rizbhai
.
Bus
is
against
the
main
doors
.
But
we’d
better
batten
down
the
hatches
.
I
can’t
see
anything
but
I
can
hear
shouting
…
chanting
.
They’re
coming
.’
‘Have that Fuzz. Get into position and good luck luv.’
43
The second-to-last fire position was covered by Sadie, in the tower facing west down Little Green Lane. She was sitting crosslegged and the livid bruise on her right eye was showing up nicely. The slit window was open giving a clear field of fire down the road back into town. Directly below us was the minibus, jammed up against the western doors. Sadie was reciting something under her breath as she laid loaded magazines, one after the other, before her on the carpet.
‘And this you can see is the bolt. The purpose of this
Is to open the breech, as you see. We can slide it
Rapidly backwards and forwards: we call this
Easing the spring. And rapidly backwards and forwards
The early bees are assaulting and fumbling the flowers:
They call it easing the Spring.’
She looked at me and smiled. ‘You know that bit in Four Lions where the emir tells them his cousin died defending a masjid in Bosnia?’
Sadie was carefully loading rounds into the last magazine, turning and rolling them in. Each round had a different tip denoting tracer, armour-piercing… ‘Well my uncle, God grant his soul peace, actually
did
die in a shootout outside a mosque. In Bosnia. And now look. Here we are defending a mosque. In Britain.’
She finished loading the mag, slapped it into the magazine well, shouldered the rifle and checked her scope sight picture. I placed my hand on her shoulder. ‘I know. It’s a bad situation all round.’
She smiled at me again and tapped the open copy of the Quran on the windowsill before her. ‘Surah Âl 'Imran 3:54. And they planned, but Allah is the best of planners.’
‘Ameen.’
‘But Riz, would you look at this shit?’ She gestured to a burst-open British Army ration pack behind her. ‘I could be up here for days and is any of this halal?’
I inspected the packages. ‘Some of it is. Pot luck.’
‘Oh brilliant.’ She placed the rifle on a seat cushion on the window sill and tracked left and right. I started to pick at the rations, trying to guess which were and which weren’t halal.
‘Sadie. In all the excitement, I forgot to ask. If you survive this, what are you calling the kid?’ I nodded at her swollen belly.
She was squinting through the telescopic sight. I knew she was taking the time to calculate distances to landmarks using the scope’s built-in rangefinding reticle. She looked from her scope to her handwritten dope charts, and back. ‘Well. After that last-minute fizzer at the roundabout, I reckon I’ll be calling him Zidane.’
‘Ha. Good one. So it’s a boy then?’
‘Yep. Mashallah, it’s a boy.’
‘Welcome to the war, Zidane.’
The last fire position was covered by Calamity’s Shrike machinegun and the RPG-7, waiting on the carpet for Armageddon. It faced east, over the abandoned car park and the deserted pub. Well, mostly abandoned. Unbelievably, the Sky News crew were doing a piece to camera.
I looked though my binoculars. I tracked left and right. Nothing yet. I handed out the last photocopy. Calamity lit a cigarette and looked at the printout, then back to the outside world.
I went to the offices, picking my way round the nervous knots of refugees, and looked in on Sasha’s team. They’d started up all the building’s security cameras and her laptop had a feed from the drone hovering several hundred feet above us. She toggled through the channels and Kiki and Lana checked their radios. Nothing on the Airwave, nothing on the Bowman. Lana was puzzling over the Bowman’s rather old-school display.
‘Hold it.’ Sasha put her hand up. ‘Camera Five. What was that?’ She zoomed in to the pub up the road. I craned my neck to look and squinted. Did I see something moving? Some white blur. I didn’t know.
Sasha took one last look. She stood up and shook her head. ‘I think we’re OK just for-’
Suddenly there was an explosion outside and I could hear the yammering of the Shrike. They were here. I ran into the womens’ area and looked over the huddled refugees. Calamity was firing the Shrike, pak-pak-pak it spat. She stopped firing and turned back to give a thumbs-up to me. ‘Targets down!’
I checked chamber on my weapon and ran in the other direction, calling Bang-Bang on the radio.
She answered. ‘Hello babe. Drone cam sees multiple hostiles heading towards us from every road. That was a grenade you heard, the Shrike team got them outside the pub though. But the main lot are nearly here. We’re about to get hit. You’ll have them in sight in two minutes, see you at Sadie’s.’
Sasha hashed in my walkie-talkie earpiece. ‘OK you lot, they’re here. Watch the approaches and watch the exits. Mark ‘em.’
I ran back to Sadie’s position. Bang-Bang was there and had had her internet glasses over her eyes. We looked out of the window. I had my binos. We looked. Nothing. Sadie was marking ranges on a card. This wasn’t right and I said as much. ‘This ain’t right. Doll. Think like a terrorist. You two - look at this building.’
They thought. Bang-Bang looked down, readied her AKS-74U, looked up, and spoke. ‘OK. Brick building on a convergence of two roads, perfect interlocking fields of fire. Good heavy structure. Small windows. This building practically defends itself.’
And she blanched. ‘Shit. You’re right. I wouldn’t hit it. From the outside-’
I raced downstairs. Stairs. Kitchen. Office. And grabbed the mosque second-in-command and I already knew what was coming. I pushed him against a wall and a Hajj tours calendar fell to the carpet. ‘The strangers! Point me out the strangers!’
‘What?’
‘People who don’t normally pray here you dipstick!’
‘Oh. Well we have some new men from Eastern Europe. And some nice Asian men who I haven’t seen before… they were very polite.’
We looked at each other. He looked like he was about to cough something up and finally spoke. ‘…Oh my God.’
I hit my radio pressel. ‘Holly, Fuzz, main level they’re already in here! Sikhs V Shariah and some white guys and... ’
Below us, inside the mosque, the shooting started.