Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [101]
“Roger that,” replied Harvath, who now realized how they were going to navigate traffic and all enter Piccadilly at the same time. It was not only extremely low-tech, it was incredibly creative. This method had been used in both Pakistan and Afghanistan. People rarely gave bike messengers or bike riders a second glance. While police would be keeping their eyes out for backpacks, bicycle-borne bombs could very well escape their scrutiny. They could weave in and out of traffic and park just about anywhere. Not only would it work well in London, where riders with their heads down could obscure their faces from surveillance cameras, the tactic would be brilliant in bicycle-choked Amsterdam. “Do you see any bikes?”
“Affirmative. There’s a roomful across the hall.”
“Don’t move any of them. They could be packed with explosives too,” cautioned Harvath, who pictured bike shrapnel in addition to the ball bearings in the bags tearing people apart.
“Roger that.”
“Are the bags armed?”
“Checking,” said Casey as she examined one of the bags more closely. “There are wires leading to some sort of reflection beacon. I’m assuming that when the beacon gets turned on, that’s when the bags blow.”
“We’ll leave that for the bomb technicians.”
“Affirm—” began Casey but then her voice broke off.
“You’re breaking up. Repeat, please.”
“The bags are hot,” she said. “All of them.”
“Are you talking about the beacons?” replied Harvath.
“Negative. Each bag has a chicken switch. They’re wired to cell phones and the cell phones are powered up.”
Harvath looked at Ashford and Marx sitting in the van next to him listening in. “Any way we can jam cell phone signals from entering that mosque?”
“We don’t have any jamming equipment with us,” replied the MI5 agent.
“How quickly could we get it?”
Marx looked at her watch. “Ours would probably take at least an hour.”
“How about MI5?” Harvath asked Ashford.
“Probably the same amount of time depending on where the nearest gear is.”
Casey’s voice came back over the radio. “What do you want us to do?”
It was clear the jammer route was closed. They’d have to do something else. “Can you describe the setup to me?” Harvath replied.
“It looks like the phone from the undetonated device in the 2004 Madrid bombings. Same stuff they have been using in Iraq. There are two wires protruding from the interior of the phone to a small circuit board taped to the front of the phone with clear plastic tape.”
“How’s the signal strength?”
“Three bars.”
That was not good news.
“The circuit board appears to be wired to two detonating caps,” she continued. “I’m assuming the entire set-up leads back to the phone’s ringer. As long as that’s not a booby trap, we should be able to snip the wires and deactivate that secondary trigger.”
“Was Rafiq Wadi injured in the assault?”
“No, he just rode the bull.”
Turning his attention back to Casey, Harvath said, “Get him away from the others and ask him what he knows about the bombs. After that, I want you to verify the primary and secondary targets.”
“Roger that.”
The terrorists had been bound hands and feet with EZ Cuffs, gagged with duct tape, and made to lie facedown on the floor. The barbed Taser probes were then pulled from them as they each had their pockets emptied and the contents placed in piles so that the Athena members could ID what belonged to whom.
Next to the bombs’ being detonated, Casey’s biggest concern was that there could be more terrorists upstairs who might be on their way down now that the service was over. She dispatched Rodriguez and Cooper to make sure the upper door was locked and to cover the stairs. Ericsson was left to watch the prisoners. The two men who were bleeding out would not be given medical attention until the situation was completely under control.
Casey walked over to the terrorists. They looked up at her