Century of Jihad Read online

  The man now in overall charge of what had become an investigation into a suspected terrorist outrage, was Deputy Assistant Commissioner (DAC) George Braithwaite, Head of the Metropolitan Police Counter Terrorism Command (SO15). SO15 had been set up as a unified command structure to better combat the new wave of global inspired terrorism. It replaced the old Metropolitan Police Special Branch and Terrorism Branch. The DAC in charge of SO15 was also the National Co-ordinator for Terrorism Investigations.

  DAC Braithwaite visited the emergency services’ Forward Operations Base at Regent’s Park Underground Station soon after the explosion. The media were present in abundance as he arrived at the police cordon, which was blocking access roads around the station. He determined to make every effort to avoid them.

  ‘I won’t be speaking to the news hounds just yet, Ian. Go straight to the station Entrance,’ the dour Scot instructed his driver.

  By the time of his arrival the rescue operation was well underway. The station, surrounding streets and nearby Regent’s Park were a hive of activity. In the air was the clatter of the rotor blades of police helicopters and those of the London air ambulance, which were utilising Marylebone Green at Regent’s Park as a landing pad. Regent’s Park, situated just across Marylebone Road from the station entrance and no more than a couple of minutes by ambulance from the scene of the incident, was being used to evacuate by air the worst of the casualties, to allow prompt treatment and avoid any delay which may have been incurred in the congested traffic.

  Marylebone Road was backed up onto the A40(M) with traffic and the other roads in the busy West End were also gridlocked. All London Underground train services were stopped and the stations closed. Emergency service vehicles were coming and going from the scene all the time, ferrying casualties to hospitals throughout London and bringing in more teams to bolster the rescue effort and investigation. The numbers of the emergency medical personnel in attendance were swelled by doctors attending a conference at the nearby headquarters of the Royal College of Physicians, located at Regent’s Park. These doctors, along with other medics and nurses from private hospitals and clinics nearby, including the world famous Harley Street, made an invaluable contribution to the lifesaving effort in the immediate aftermath of the attack.

  DAC Braithwaite was keen to establish some clarity for himself. Speaking with senior police officers, forensics investigators and other participants in the ongoing rescue effort, he caught up with events, enabling him to set out the immediate priorities and direction of the investigation and organise his teams.

  One of those he spoke to was Sergeant Dave Price, the Transport Police officer who had been a passenger on the train. Sergeant Price recalled his experience on the crowded underground train immediately before the explosion and his participation in events after the attack.

  ‘The train was crowded as always at that time of the morning. Nothing unusual as far as I could see. However, the seat of the explosion was at the other end of the carriage from where I was standing and we were all packed in like sardines in a can. It was difficult to see anything much except faces and outstretched arms hanging on as the train started to move.’

  On his way out of the underground station, DAC Braithwaite noticed the tiling on the walls of the station. It was reminiscent of an earlier time – the Victorian era or some such period. ‘Late nineteenth; early twentieth century,’ he mused. A time of terrorist activity by anarchist refugees from Eastern Europe. ‘Only the names seem to change,’ he thought.

  After his visit to the scene of the outrage, DAC Braithwaite returned to Scotland Yard to give a briefing to the Commissioner and other senior Metropolitan Police officers and civilian staff at a meeting of the Management Board, the Met’s most senior decision- making body. He also prepared to begin liaising with other law enforcement agencies. This included the Regional Counter Terrorism Units and security and intelligence agencies, as it was likely that the investigation would not only be national, but international. The Met would also be requesting manpower and resources from other police forces to assist them in their investigations, with enhanced security measures and to help them maintain effective routine policing in the capital in the aftermath of the incident.

  As the liaising began, the forensic teams and explosives experts at Regent’s Park scoured the train wreck at the start of their detailed search for much needed evidence. Police photographers photographed the scene from every angle, not only to aid the investigation, but also for use as evidence at any subsequent trial. Material evidence and human remains were examined at the scene prior to removal for further analysis in the forensic science laboratory and mortuary. The evidence gathered would allow investigators to identify parts of the remains of the bomber and the constituents of the bomb – several kilos of home-made high explosives, created from a mixture of hydrogen peroxide and pepper, detonated by a 9 volt battery.

  This painstaking work was carried out in appalling and hazardous conditions in temperatures reaching over 100 degrees Fahrenheit.

  Police detectives embarked on the daunting task of putting together the moments leading up to the explosion and interviewing witnesses. In the following days and weeks many hours would be spent minutely examining hours of CCTV footage in an effort to identify the bomber and any accomplices. Pathologists would conduct autopsies as the dead still had the story of their final moments to tell.

  And then there was perhaps the most daunting task of all, contacting friends and relatives of the deceased and injured and dealing with the phone calls from concerned members of the public. All this was made much more complicated by the cosmopolitan nature of the great metropolis that is London.

  CHAPTER 3

  ‘Shit!’ murmured Detective Sergeant Ed Malone as he put his phone down.

  ‘So the bastards have slipped through the net again.’

  Ed looked over his desk to his young subordinate, Detective Constable Stuart McDonald.

  ‘Stuart, grab your coat. We’re on. There’s been an explosion on the tube at Regent’s Park.’

  The two SO15 officers walked in silence to the bank of lifts located just outside their open plan office. They descended to the vast underground car park. As they walked briskly to Ed’s old car, the chill of the air in the concrete labyrinth made them shiver, the smell of petrol fumes assailed their nostrils.

  Ed was 50 years of age, 5’11, of stocky build and with a rugged look about his face. His thick crop of red hair made him stand out in a crowd. He had been in the Metropolitan Police for thirty years and a detective engaged in counter terrorism for many years now. Ed was a seasoned officer of the old school. He believed in investigating crime and arresting criminals heedless of any political dogma; that justice should be blind. He had sound intuition and a dogged determination. An honest and hard working cop who just wanted to get on with the job.

  Ed had been brought up in a fairly conventional Irish Catholic background in his home city of Glasgow. His parents insisted on regular church attendance on Sundays and other designated Holy Days. As a child he used to dread these attendances; standing, kneeling and sitting. The congregation choreographed, as if by some unseen hand. During the sermons, as the priest spouted fire and brimstone, his mind would wander to some far distant place. In church and at home he heard enough to understand the malign influence religious scriptures could have. More to the point, how people would use religion and interpret its scriptures to their own ends. This understanding had helped him in his early days as a young detective attached to Special Branch in Northern Ireland.

  ‘You know, Stuart, there’s a fundamental lack of appreciation of the influence of religious beliefs, or nationalism, amongst most of the English. Except when it comes to football. Beliefs which are so fundamental to people’s lives throughout the world. As a Scot, you know what I mean! This lack of appreciation is a serious chink in the nation’s armour, especially when combined with the institutionalised desire to appease, which prevails amongst the nation’s ruling el
ite.’

  Stuart groaned inwardly. He could feel his sense of hearing switching off as Ed’s voice droned in the background. Ed was well known for his rants. The terrorist threat, the education system, the state of Scottish football. You name it, Ed had strong opinions.

  Political correctness, or thought control as he called it – the subject of many a rant – had in fact had no apparent influence on his thinking and he wasn’t scared to voice his opinions.

  Ed was now in full flow. ‘This combination only serves to encourage extremists. The mindset, ‘I don’t support terrorism but I can understand the reason behind it’ forms the bedrock on which extremists flourish, whether in Northern Ireland or amongst the Islamic community. Government in Westminster claiming only a small part of a community supports violent action doesn’t wash when opinion polls taken within that community show a large group of people having an understanding of the motives behind such action. This was the case amongst many in the Catholic population of Northern Ireland and now it is happening once again, this time on the British mainland. While it is essential that people in our line of work understand what lies behind the terrorists’ warped vision, all too often when members of the public say they ‘understand’, it results in a place of sanctuary for psychopaths. The misguided policies, long favoured by the ruling elite, of a multicultural society where immigrants have been allowed to settle but not integrate, along with mass immigration, have led to significant and growing numbers of Brits supporting many of the policies of, if not voting for, fringe political parties – some of which harbour potentially dangerous individuals. There is a growing feeling among many, not just amongst the Muslim community, of disenfranchisement from the decision-making process. This is hardly surprising when eighty per cent of the laws in the country are introduced by the unelected European Commission in Brussels – an organisation favoured by the British political elite because it allows them to strut around on the world stage as part of something big; post-Empire Britain being too small in many of their shallow minds. Self service as opposed to service being uppermost to too many of, our so-called representatives.’

  Stuart wondered what it was about Ed’s generation. His dad was the same, going on about everything and anything.

  Ed continued, ‘The country’s diminished status has also adversely impacted on the confidence of the population at large. There’s a lack of British identity. The education system has failed the population. It has failed to impart historical and cultural awareness. The internationalist and non-judgemental opinions of the trendy left have dominated for far too long and done untold damage. Everything has been turned inside out and upside down. Without social norms there is no society. This is the intention of the followers of Antonio Gramsci.’

  Stuart found himself blurting out, ‘Who the fuck is Antonio Gramsci?’

  There was a moment’s silence. Stuart sat horror struck. What genie had he unleashed? Through his horror he was aware of Ed’s voice droning:

  ‘He’s the father of modern day Marxism. He was the man who set out the agenda being followed by the sixties radicals who now hold power in the west. No wonder half of Britain’s Muslims want to live under Sharia law. The long term solution for all this pent-up frustration amongst the population at large is for the politicians and the ruling elite within the country to listen to the people. The ruling elite don’t have the will to engage problems head on, preferring to tinker with the issues around the edges, continuing with the social policies which have created the problems in the first place. After all, these failed policies are those of all the main political parties which have more in common than divides them. Vested business and minority group interests hold sway. When the public choose not to vote at elections, because they feel it’s pointless bothering, those same politicians criticise public apathy. And what of minority parties who appear to be offering the public what they want? Well, these parties are labelled intolerant extremists or crackpot and, by default, the many decent voters who feel forced to vote for them are presumably the same and therefore not worth listening to. So it goes full circle. Mark my words, there will be more and more direct militant action from individuals and groups as increasing numbers of people feel they are ignored. The problem is our leaders are never truly held to account. It’s a joke the British government telling foreigners how to run their affairs; about democracy and free speech.’

  As Ed pontificated they sped onwards towards Regent’s Park underground station on that bright and sunny, but cold, Monday morning in early December.

  Ed parked his battered Ford Fiesta amongst all the other vehicles scattered on the road outside the station. The two officers walked over to the entrance, showing their police credentials to a police constable standing guard before heading down to the platforms below.

  On the platform, Ed found the other members of his team already at the scene, sipping from steaming mugs of coffee. The atmosphere was intense as rescuers and investigators hurried about their work. The other team members had made their separate ways to the incident. His boss, Detective Inspector (DI) Russ Ward, a short man in his early thirties, was speaking animatedly to a young uniformed police constable.

  Ward had been born in the northern city of Manchester. Of slim build, with dark brown hair and pale complexion, he didn’t fit everyone’s image of a police officer. A university graduate, he had gained a law degree before joining the Metropolitan Police in London. During his initial training at the Police College in Hendon, North London, his abilities had earned him the coveted Baton of Honour award for best student. However, his subordinates saw him as someone more interested in pursuing his career than pursuing criminals.

  DI Ward turned to acknowledge Ed’s arrival.

  ‘Nice of you to join us. I hope we didn’t interrupt anything.’

  This was typical of Ward’s sarcastic approach to subordinates.

  ‘OK people,’ Ward continued, addressing his assembled team. ‘I have just spoken with DAC Braithwaite. All the indicators are that what we have here is a suicide bombing of the type we have seen here in London before and in other parts of the world. The bomber boarded the train and detonated his device in the tunnel, either intentionally or by accident. Judging from the injuries to passengers, initial forensic examination of the scene and eyewitness accounts, it appears an IED, improvised explosive device, was either being carried by the bomber or worn under his outer garments. It would appear to have been an anti-personnel device, as the explosion itself was comparatively small but a large number of projectiles – ball bearings – have been projected from the device. Colleagues in other teams and from the Security Service are checking on the movements of known and suspect extremists from around the country. CCTV footage is being collected. Ed, I want you and your people to interview passengers here. Somebody may have seen something that may give us a lead. Other teams have been assigned to interview potential witnesses already removed to hospitals.’

  With that DI Ward unceremoniously turned away from the group to talk to a passing member of the forensic team.

  Ed and his team left the platform and climbed the stairs into the daylight and the intense activity outside the station entrance. They immediately commenced the interviewing of passengers from the train still present at the scene. The interviews had to be handled with great sensitivity due to the traumatic events these people had just been through. Most of these potential witnesses had seen nothing untoward in the moments leading up to the explosion, travelling in their own little cocoon as many commuters do. Not seeing, not hearing. However, one young, dishevelled woman, in an obvious state of shock, gave Ed an account of something that had made her uneasy just before the blast.

  ‘There was this young Asian guy. He was standing no more than three feet from where I was standing. It was a real crush. There were other people crammed in between him and me. He was staring right at me. But he seemed to be looking straight through me. His lips were moving constantly, rapidly. It gave me the creeps. I just wanted to
get to my station and get away from him. I remember thinking, I hope he doesn’t get off at my stop. Then there was a bright flash. This sudden rush of air, like the train door had opened. I felt something hit me, it sent me hurtling backwards. The next thing I knew I was picking myself up from the floor of the train. It was dark. I could hear the sound of creaking metal; things falling. There were groans. Some people were speaking in hushed tones. I couldn’t stop coughing. I couldn’t catch my breath. I didn’t know what had happened. I thought there had been a crash in the tunnel.’

  ‘Can you give me a description of this young man? Height, build, what he was wearing? Was he carrying anything? Was he on the train before it got to Regent’s Park?’

  ‘He entered the station just ahead of me. He’d just got out of a taxi. I think he was about five feet six, quite short. He was chubby. He wasn’t carrying anything. He was wearing a blue anorak and black jeans. That’s all I can remember. Look, I have to call my mother. Let her know I’m OK.’

  ‘One last question. Do you think you would recognise the man again?’

  The young woman looked at Ed for a moment. She seemed to tremble.

  ‘I can’t see his face clearly, only those eyes staring straight at me.’

  Ed took the young woman’s name and address, and thanked her for her assistance. He told her he would be in touch to take a formal witness statement. The young woman turned and slowly, painfully, walked away from him. He watched as a paramedic placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her into one of the tents that had been erected to provide shelter and medical care. He stood for a moment, staring, feeling helpless, as the woman disappeared from view.

  Ed shook himself out of this moment of self-indulgence and walked over to his team. They had completed their task at the station. ‘One hell of a start to the day!’ muttered Ed. ‘OK team. Let’s get back to the factory. We have a lot of TV to watch!’