Nine Lives by Tom Barber Read Free Book Online Page A

conducting raids. We’re the only unit in the area. It’s our call.’
    Mac sighed with frustration. Since the Firearms Act was passed, whenever a live weapon was reported in the city it was the responsibility of an armed police unit to go and retrieve it.
    He checked his watch.
    ‘Shit. Alright. Chalky, Arch, Port, we’re going,’ he ordered. ‘Let’s take care of it and get back here quick as we can.’
    He turned to Deakins, who had just entered the room.
    ‘Deaks, take over 'til I get back.’
    Deakins nodded; he was used to this. For operational ease, the task force had been split into two teams. Mac was the head of First Team, which was himself, Archer, Chalky and Porter. Deakins was in charge of the other five guys in Team Two, and therefore was the unofficial second-in-command of the squad.
    Mac moved swiftly to the door, Chalky right behind him and both followed Porter outside into the corridor, heading downstairs to the car. Rising from behind the desk Archer went after them, taking one last look at the expensive apartment behind him as he left and picturing the suspect’s face in his head.
    Dominick Farha.
    The leader of the cell.
    ‘Where the hell are you?’ he muttered as he left the apartment.
     
    He was just over ten miles away. In a hotel beside Heathrow Airport, the handsome dark-featured terrorist cell leader stepped outside Room 418, freshly showered and dressed.
    As he clicked the door shut, he glanced either side of him, looking down the corridor which was empty. He knew he was being paranoid, but this close to freedom he couldn’t afford to make any stupid mistakes. Caution was his best friend right now.
    And after the last few days, he couldn’t handle anything else going wrong.
    As soon as he’d realised the group had been compromised earlier in the week, the first thought in his mind had been to flee the country. In any other situation he would have done exactly that. But however tempting the idea was, he’d quickly dismissed it. To stand before Henry with no kind of recompense after what he did would be like signing his own death warrant. He was already in some drastically deep shit, and to screw this whole operation up after all this planning and preparation would be like drying the concrete to his feet himself.
    So, with sudden escape not an option, he’d been forced to consider the alternative. With every instinct prompting him to leave, he’d calmed himself down. He’d contacted the cell by using two of them as couriers and yesterday, had ordered the whole gang to meet at an empty warehouse on an industrial estate near the airport. Face to face meetings like this were extremely risky and dangerous at this stage, but they didn’t have a choice. If they used phone or email, Farha knew the government’s security would be onto them in an instant.
    Addressing the group, Dominick had emphasised the fact the security services and police knew of their plans meant nothing. He’d deliberately kept the list of targets a secret and had never intended to reveal them until the very last minute, just in case of a problem like this. And he’d been damn relieved he had. It was far too late to change the plans now.
    He’d finally revealed the targets, each member informed of their particular role which they’d all agreed to without hesitation.
    Saying goodbye, the members of the cell had turned their backs and departed, going their separate ways, knowing they would never see each other again.
    Farha had stayed at the warehouse, watching everyone leave. He’d arranged a couple of safe-houses for some of them and told the rest not to go home, but he knew that he would be the one the police would be concentrating on. Which gave him a dilemma. There was no way he could ever return to his apartment in Knightsbridge. A guy from a counter-terrorist task force would be there to open it for him.
    But similarly, he couldn’t move around the city. There was too much risk of being recognised and