Page 41 of End Game (William Warwick #8)

William sighed. ‘I apologize, Sergeant. My mind was elsewhere.’ He was still staring at the empty boxes where the Russian and Chinese ambassadors were meant to be sitting and had allowed himself to become preoccupied.

‘Don’t charge him, but don’t release him until the stadium has been cleared this evening. ’

‘Understood, sir. I’m sorry to have bothered you.’

William felt even more guilty.

Boom!

William’s heart missed a beat when he looked up at the screens to see a cannon go off, and moments later a pathetic figure crawled out of the barrel and fell onto the stage in a heap.

The audience screamed with delight when Eric Idle lifted himself slowly off the ground, grabbed a microphone and began to sing ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’, accompanied by a choir of eighty thousand out-of-tune voices.

William was humming along with the rest of the crowd when the door of the Gold Suite burst open to reveal two burly security guards firmly holding onto the last person on earth he’d expected to see.

‘He demanded to see you personally, sir,’ said the senior officer. ‘Claimed it was a matter of life or death.’

The two men faced each other like ancient warriors on a battlefield.

‘What do you want?’ demanded William.

‘To save the lives of countless innocent people,’ said Faulkner, with an urgency that didn’t suggest levity.

William stared at him for a moment, unable to believe what he was hearing. Was this yet another distraction, meant to take his eye off the real danger about to take place in the stadium?

His immediate reaction was to ask the two officers to throw him out of the stadium, which would have given him a great deal of pleasure. But William had to accept that he might later regret it.

He dismissed the two officers with a nod and waited for them to leave the room before he said, ‘Since when have you given a damn about the lives of innocent people? And whatever you have to say, why should I believe a word of it?’

‘Because I was responsible for having Bolt’s and Farah’s urine samples spiked,’ said Faulkner, ‘with the aim of getting them disqualified.’

Such a blatant admission took William by surprise.

He found it hard to believe that a career-hardened criminal could suddenly be wanting to cooperate with him of all people.

But there was something about his demeanour and the tone of his voice that caused William to continue to listen as he pressed the radio button that connected him to his inner team.

‘I also know why two of the Grand Tier boxes are empty,’ said Faulkner. ‘But more importantly, I know what was in the shoebox you never got your hands on.’

William carried on listening, and couldn’t help wondering if this was nothing more than a ploy to keep him fully occupied while others carried out Faulkner’s bidding. He made no attempt to interrupt the witness while he was still confessing.

‘But even I can’t stomach what they have planned for the climax of tonight’s closing ceremony,’ admitted Faulkner.

William looked more carefully at a man he thought he knew. Could it be possible that at this late stage in his criminal career, Faulkner was feeling guilty about a crime not yet committed?

‘If you move quickly, Commander,’ said Faulkner, with an urgency William had not experienced before, ‘you might still have enough time to prevent the worst from happening.’

‘The worst?’ William repeated, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.

‘There could be a terrorist out there among the Chinese athletes,’ said Faulkner. ‘She’s wearing two tracksuits and a pair of Olympic shoes that aren’t exactly regulation.’

‘What’s her purpose?’ demanded William, now almost convinced Faulkner was telling the truth.

‘Just before the firework display begins, she’s going to take off her national tracksuit, while everyone else will be looking up into the sky.

Beneath the Chinese tracksuit, she’s wearing the official Great Britain Olympic team kit.

’ He paused. ‘She’s then going to head towards the British team and when she reaches them, while everyone is still distracted by the firework display, she’ll bend down and untie her shoelaces.

She’s got several ampoules of the nerve agent, Sarin, hidden in her trainers and when she removes them to break the ampoules, the liquid will vaporize and release enough gas to obliterate most of the British team. ’

William didn’t need to be told about the dangers of Sarin and the chaos it had caused on an underground station in Tokyo.

Every officer in the Met had been fully briefed by Interpol and William could still remember being horrified and not just by a senseless, evil act that had caused so many deaths, but the realization that one person could hold in their hands a weapon of mass destruction that could, at any given moment, destroy a dream and replace it with a nightmare from which you would never wake.

His first thought was of his family seated in their box, but they were only part of a much bigger family he was responsible for.

Above them, the crowd continued to cheer long after ‘Always Look on the Bright Side of Life’ had finally come to an end.

‘If what you’re suggesting is true,’ said William, ‘she would be the first to die.’

Faulkner nodded. ‘But you have to remember, she’s a zealot who will happily sacrifice her own life – even those of her countrymen – to achieve her aim.’

William tried to remain calm, aware he was now in the hands of someone he’d never been able to trust in the past. But what choice had he been left with while so many lives were at stake?

‘How on earth can we identify her?’ asked William, as he stared up at the vast Chinese team bunched together, row upon row.

‘Her tracksuit,’ said Faulkner. ‘The moment she takes her top off and begins to walk towards the British team, she will be one blue and white tracksuit amongst a sea of red.’

‘Rebecca!’ shouted William, looking up at the screen.

‘Heard every word, sir,’ confirmed Rebecca, ‘and my entire team is now focused on the Chinese squad in search of a British tracksuit.’

The silence that followed seemed an eternity to William.

He considered his options once again. They were, to say the least, limited.

A tannoy announcement to warn the crowd what was about to happen, followed by an emergency evacuation?

A drill that had been practised several times during the past year, but this time would be for real, not a rehearsal.

Out of the question, William decided. If he were to make such an announcement, Sun Anqi could release the gas before he had completed his second sentence.

And then a clear voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Clocked her.’

‘Are you certain?’ asked William, no longer attempting to mask the anxiety in his voice.

‘She’s taking off her tracksuit, sir,’ said the officer, ‘and, yes, she’s wearing a British tracksuit underneath.’

‘Whatever you do, don’t lose sight of her,’ said William, painfully aware what might happen should any member of his team make one false move.

Twenty-six binoculars stared down from the roof, all of them focused on one person.

‘Count down,’ declared the announcer over the loudspeaker.

‘Is your team in place, Ross?’ asked William over the phone as the crowd began to chant in unison: ten, nine, eight …

‘And ready to strike,’ said Ross, not wasting a word.

‘And have you got her in your sights?’

‘She’s just left her own team and is now heading towards the British contingent.’

‘Sniper team, do you have a clear shot?’ asked William, his calm voice belying his pounding heart.

‘Negative, sir, and I must warn you the bullet could hit an innocent athlete, in front of eighty thousand witnesses.’

Several of the screens now showed a woman moving slowly across the centre of the stadium towards the British team. William hesitated, aware that eighty thousand lives were now in his hands.

‘Sir, can I give the authorization to fire?’ asked Rebecca.

The screens continued to show a joyous crowd of young athletes around Sun Anqi, who she ignored while she kept advancing towards her target.

William made a decision.

‘Negative,’ he said, before repeating, ‘Negative. Ross, how close is the target to you?’

‘About ten yards away,’ said Ross.

Seven, six, five …

‘Don’t make a sudden move,’ said William, ‘because she won’t hesitate if she thinks … Oh my God.’

‘What’s the problem?’ asked Ross.

William was staring directly at Jojo, who was standing just a few yards away from the British team captain, while Sun Anqi continued to move slowly but surely towards Ben Ainslie.

William made another decision – not to tell her father.

‘Nothing important, Ross,’ he said. ‘How far are you from the target now?’

‘She’s just passing me,’ whispered Ross, ‘but as I’m wearing a British tracksuit, she didn’t give me a second look.’

Four, three …

‘And are the rest of your team in place and ready to move?’

‘On your command,’ said Ross.

Sun Anqi’s image now filled several CCTV screens. Ross followed the lone woman as she continued on towards the British team, while the crowd joined in the countdown.

‘How close are you now?’ asked William.

‘Just a few yards, no more,’ he whispered.

‘You’re not close enough,’ said William firmly. ‘Get closer.’

Ross weaved his way through the noisy, boisterous crowd until he was only a pace behind her.

Two, one … the crowd shouted, and suddenly all the lights in the stadium went out, leaving the eighty thousand spectators in darkness.

‘Permission to engage, sir,’ whispered Ross.

In that split second, two thoughts flashed through William’s mind. Am I giving the order to kill an innocent person, as had happened to a colleague when he’d shot Jean Charles de Menezes at Stockwell underground station, or am I saving the lives of countless innocent victims?

‘Granted,’ said William.

‘Repeat the order,’ said Ross, keeping strictly to Queen’s regulations.

William hesitated, but only for a moment. He thought of the eighty thousand people in the crowd whose lives depended on his decision. He thought of his own family, sitting amongst that crowd. He thought about Jackie, whom this woman had murdered without a thought.

Sun Anqi began to crouch down.

‘Granted,’ repeated William without emotion.

Ross took a deep breath and stepped forward. He hesitated, just for a moment – and then he saw the scorpion tattoo on her neck.

He tapped her firmly on the shoulder and Sun Anqi instinctively turned around, a startled look on her face as she immediately recognized Ross.

Ross took her in his arms like a long-lost lover, but that’s where the love affair ended.

Sun Anqi tried desperately to bend down and reach her shoelaces, but a firm arm encircled her slender neck and with a well-practised movement, Ross snapped her spinal cord.

Sun Anqi’s limp body fell forward and she collapsed onto the ground in front of him.

She never saw the blanket of fireworks that lit up the sky.

Four of Ross’s team were by his side within seconds, stretcher in hand. Six more surrounded him as he picked up the dead body and lowered it onto the stretcher.

When Ross looked down at the prostrate body, his only thought was of Jackie and the eighty thousand people she had sacrificed her life for.

···

Jojo turned around to see a stretcher being carried away.

She could have sworn one of the bearers was her father.

Poor woman must have fainted, she thought.

But once they were out of sight, she was distracted by the final burst of fireworks that lit up the sky, with the five Olympic rings in the colours of the five continents to herald the end of the display.

William’s eyes never left the screen as the body was whisked away.

He continued to follow Ross’s progress until the stretcher bearers reached a waiting ambulance parked by the stadium entrance, back doors already open.

The stretcher was eased gently and slowly into the back of the ambulance, supervised by a man dressed in a full HazMat suit.

William listened to the doctor’s firm instructions coming over Ross’s radio: ‘All four of you will have to accompany me to the hospital,’ he told Ross, ‘where you’ll remain in isolation until we can be certain none of you is contaminated.’

Ross climbed into the ambulance, followed by the other stretcher bearers. The doors slammed and the ambulance took off. No sirens, no flashing lights. Never happened.

‘We have a lot to thank you for, Mr Faulkner,’ said William, as he swung around to face his old adversary, but he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Can I ask you a question, sir?’ asked Rebecca over the phone, as the crowd continued to show their rapturous appreciation of the firework display.

William didn’t respond as Jacques Rogge, President of the International Olympic Committee and Lord Coe, the Games chairman, left the Royal Box and stepped out onto the track. They were welcomed by a fanfare of trumpets and a standing ovation as they made their way up onto the stage.

William knew only too well what Rebecca’s question would be, but it didn’t stop her asking: ‘Was that voice I heard in the background who I thought it was?’

William put down the radio without responding as Rogge placed his speech on the lectern and tapped the microphone.

‘London,’ he said to a silent, attentive audience, ‘will be remembered as one of the most successful Games of the modern Olympic era …’