Countdown to Terror

Chapter 26

The next morning, on Friday 29th June, Monroe called before nine o’clock.

‘We’ve got a break: Samir’s just phoned. They’re in Sainsbury’s Whitechapel again, going to have breakfast and then do the shopping. You’ve met him, haven’t you? We need somebody who he knows to pass on some kind of message that we got his call and are now onto them and looking out for him. Think you can do it?’

‘Yes, as you know I’ve met him, so once he sees me he’ll realise what we’re doing. Have you got a plan of what you need me to do?’

‘By the time we pick you up and get there, we will.’

‘OK, I’ll get down to the car park pronto.’

‘Ten minutes at most,’ Monroe muttered.

The power of a police vehicle: traffic parted as soon as drivers spied them in the rear-view mirror, and they were there in no time. Parking in a side street invisible from the store, Monroe outlined the plan. New specific details of email and phone numbers were to be passed over, committed to memory, and then disposed of. The house would be under surveillance at all times, and they would be monitored whenever they left the house. If the job was on, he was to run both of his hands twice through his hair as he left the house. In the supermarket, the idea was for him and a female detective to act as Sainsbury-uniformed merchandisers testing a new cheese and biscuits with a small glass of wine if customers wished.

The Gent commented tersely, ‘Aren’t they supposed to be Muslims? Where does the wine come in?’

Monroe was convincing, ‘The intention is to create some kind of a diversion, a conversation, so you can get eye contact with Samir and pass him the note, maybe on the plate as you give it to him.’

‘I guess it’s almost plausible, though on the hoof as it is. Will the note mention Sulamain? He’s bound to be wondering.’

Monroe was thoughtful. ‘I haven’t got that far.’

‘That gives us all of five minutes,’ the Gent responded sarcastically.

Monroe looked apologetic. ‘I know, I know. Do you think he could handle it? It’s a pretty tall order: ‘oh, by the way, your uncle’s dead, but you just act normal.’’

They were certainly in a quandary. If it went wrong, Samir and his friends were for the chop: literally. Time was running out. They looked like they were finishing breakfast.

The Gent went for the diplomatic option. ‘We stall, play for time, even if he were able to ask, it would not only put his but many other lives at risk, not to mention the whole operation having to be aborted.’

Monroe was relieved, ‘Exactly what I was thinking.’ They parked out front and made their way round to the back door, which was already open, where the manager stood waiting with uniforms at the ready. The plan was that because he knew Samir he would approach him first in order to keep him back, while Jenny followed the others to distract them should they stop or turn around. One minute later an undercover female detective and a gentleman walked the floor, entrapping unwary punters with a tray full of free goodies. They saw the group of five Asian men starting down aisle 4, stocking cereals and branded bread, crackers, etc. As they began to turn round into the next aisle, with Samir at the rear, the Gent picked his moment.