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“Now you can sod off.”
Most of the MI5 missions were cooperative assignments with MI6. Domestic terrorism was on the rise, necessitating a combined effort with the international section.
We were in our morning briefing with one of the senior MI6 agents, Rile, when Z Alexander stepped into the room. “Wilder, repeat what you’ve just told me.” He put the call on speaker so we could all hear.
“There are reports coming in that there have been five simultaneous explosions in the underground. Stepping Square, Kensington Street, Lawrence Road, Chancery, and Hampstead stations. Multiple fatalities.”
Z nodded at the collective group, and we began mobilizing into predetermined teams. MI5 would lead the action since the attacks occurred within the UK. Additional resources would be arriving; our number-one priority would be to get bomb squads out to as many stations as we could, as quickly as possible. That there would be more explosions, more fatalities, was an imminent threat.
“You okay?” asked Edge as we donned tactical gear.
I looked behind us to see if anyone else was in earshot. “I don’t know.”
My expectation was that I would “enter a zone” and do what needed to be done. However, if another explosion occurred within range, I honestly couldn’t predict what my reaction would be. There wasn’t another living soul I’d admit that to. Edge knew that, and I trusted him.
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and followed him out the door.
Each team was sent to a different station. I went to Arnos Grove; Edge, to Warren. As I rode in the transport vehicle, thoughts raced through my mind. I put my hands on my head, feeling a migraine coming on like those I suffered when the memories of the explosion became unbearable.
This was the true test of whether I was capable of performing the duties for which I’d vowed. If I failed, I doubted I’d be able to live with myself.
I reached into my pocket and rubbed the stone that had become my talisman. It had been in my right trouser pocket the day I came as close to dying as a man ever should. Given the men triaging me had to cut the clothing from my body, the fact that the stone had been recovered was a testament to its power.
I closed my eyes, allowing myself to picture Pia the last time we were together. She’d given me a gift, and no matter whether we were ever able to find our way back to each other, I’d remain eternally grateful to her for bringing me back into the light.
The transport pulled up to the Arnos Grove station, and our team exited the vehicle. Something was about to go down here; I could feel it in my bones.
As Rile directed the team to unload the bomb dogs, officially known as explosive detection canines, I turned in a slow circle, surveying the scene and getting a read on my surroundings.
A double-decker bus full of tourists was headed in our direction. So far, the bombings had been in the underground, not out on the street, but there was just something nagging at me. I spun around and whistled at Rile, who was headed down into the tube.
“Hold up!” I shouted, pointing at the bus.
He nodded and called after another team member. They were headed my way when we heard it. An explosion tore the roof off the double-decker, sending debris flying through the air. In horror, I ran toward the scene. Before I could see well enough to start pulling out victims, the top level of the bus collapsed into the bottom.
This was it. The first test of the kind of man I was. There were people inside that bus, bodies on fire the same as mine had been.
Without further hesitation, I raced in and began pulling the victims, both dead and alive, from the rubble. Beside me were the team I’d arrived here with along with countless other civilian volunteers.
At final count, sixty-three people died in the bus explosion, including some who were hit by flying debris. The explosive device had gone off on the rear of the top level. The majority of casualties had been seated in that area and had suffered burns ranging from seventy to ninety percent of their body.
Hours later, the bomb dogs had found ten more undetonated devices in a van parked one block from Arnos Grove.
The casualty count from the tube explosions hadn’t yet been verified, given the number of locations and the difficulty in body recovery. Injury counts were in the thousands.
“Three weeks mandatory l
eave,” Z said when he called me into this office after the final briefing on the terrorist attacks.
“Unnecessary,” I countered. In fact, that Z thought I needed it, really brassed me off. I’d done my duty without hesitation, even in the face of something that might’ve cut me off at my knees.
He looked up at me and scrunched his eyes. “Did you not hear the word mandatory?”
“Is anyone else on forced leave?”
Z stood and rested both of his hands on the desk in front of him. “Yes.”
