The Bombmaker by Stephen Leather

Author:Stephen Leather [Leather, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2010-03-25T00:00:00+00:00

'Trevor was her code-name.’

There was another burst of laughter from the neighbouring table, then the uniformed policemen stood up and filed out of the canteen.

'This is unbelievable,' said Martin.

'I'm afraid it's all too real,' said Patsy.

Martin held his mug in both hands and stared at the remains of his tea. The milk had curdled slightly and oily white bubbles floated on the surface. 'That's what this has all been about, isn't it? Her bomb-making skills?’

Patsy reached out and gently touched Martin's wrist. 'That's why we're here, Mr Hayes. The fact that your daughter's kidnappers wanted her to fly to London suggests that . . .’

'. . . they want her to build them a bomb. Here.’

Patsy nodded. 'Exactly.’

'Can she do it?’

'Oh yes,' said Denham. 'She can. There's absolutely no doubt about that.’

Andy wiped the perspiration from the back of her neck with a cloth. Her shirt was damp with sweat and stray locks of her hair were matted to her face. Green-eyes was at the table next to her, scraping hot fertiliser into a Tupperware container. 'Nearly done,' she said.

'A couple of hours, I reckon,' said Andy. She nodded towards the offices. 'Okay if I get a sandwich? I'm starving.’

'Can't you wait? Best to get this stage finished, then we'll take a break.’

Andy tried to hide her disappointment. She wanted another go at the briefcase locks. 'I could do with a coffee. I'm flagging.’

Green-eyes sealed the lid on the container and straightened up. She looked across at the Runner and the Wrestler, who were both bent over their woks. Despite the air-conditioning being full on, the air was full of alcohol fumes and the stench of the fertiliser. 'I guess the boys can hold the fort,' she said. 'Okay, let's take a break.’

Andy forced a smile. 'I'll get one for you.’

Green-eyes looked suspiciously at Andy. 'Are you up to something, Andrea?’

Andy shrugged carelessly. 'I don't know what you mean.’

'You're not deliberately dragging your feet, are you? Trying to slow us down?’

'I just want a coffee, that's all. If it's too much trouble, forget it.’

Green-eyes looked at Andy for a few seconds, her lips pressed tightly together. It was an eerie feeling, being scrutinised by someone in a ski mask, and Andy forced herself to smile as naturally as possible. Eventually Green-eyes nodded.

'Come on.’

Andy followed her down the corridor and into the office.

Green-eyes poured two mugs of coffee and they sat down at the long table. Green-eyes clicked sweetener into her mug. 'You always drink your coffee without sugar?' she asked Andy.

'Since I was at university,' said Andy.

'Worried about your weight?’

Andy sipped her coffee. 'Not really. I gave up salt, too. And cigarettes.’

'Some sort of penance?’

'Maybe. I don't know.' She put her mug down. 'Why are you doing this?’

Green-eyes didn't answer. She stirred her coffee and stared at the ripples on its surface.

'People are going to die if this thing goes off. A lot of people.’

'You're a fine one to talk,' said Green-eyes. 'I could ask you the same question. You made bombs for the Provos.

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