Invasion by Dc Alden

even a sudden, inexplicable urge to live that would turn him from the path he had chosen. No, he consoled himself, nothing would go wrong and today would be the day he died. And that was the reason his hands shook so badly.
    Buried beneath the cardboard packages that filled the rear of the vehicle was a one thousand pound bomb. In addition to the explosives, the cavities of the van’s side panels and doors had been filled with a deadly mix of nuts, bolts and nails. All Target One had to do was to drive the bomb as close as possible to Downing Street and detonate it. This is what he’d been chosen for, he reminded himself. This was his destiny.
    Still, his hands shook with the enormity of what he was about to do. But he wouldn’t be alone, oh no. He was reassured in the knowledge that, at that very moment, there would be others like him around the country, watching their own targets and checking their own watches. Target One took comfort in the fact that they would all meet in paradise in a very short time.
    He glanced at his watch again. Time was short now. He reached down between the seats and retrieved the detonator, a small plastic cylinder with a metal pressure switch on top. A fibre optic cable attached to the bottom snaked away into the device at the rear of the vehicle. Once armed, it worked much like a hand-grenade. If he maintained pressure on the switch the bomb was safe. As soon as he released the pressure, the switch would close and complete a small electrical circuit, detonating the device. He twisted his wrist and watched the minute hand of his watch creep towards the top of the hour. It was nearly time.
    Whitehall was busy. The pavements thronged with commuters and tourists, the roads thick with rush hour traffic. With a deep breath, Target One reached under the dashboard and punched a button, simultaneously depressing the trigger switch with his thumb. A small red LED glowed in his palm. The massive bomb beneath him was now armed.
    With his free hand he started the van’s engine, while his lips began to move in silent prayer.
     

Foreign and Commonwealth Office : 5.56 pm
    The phone rang again as Cooper climbed out of his vehicle, the number blocked. Ali. He breezed past security and climbed the staircase, answering the phone on the fifth ring.
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Ah, Foreign Secretary. It’s me, Ali.’
    Cooper looked around, his voice a harsh whisper. ‘For God’s sake, I said no names.’
    ‘Relax, Geoff,’ Ali chuckled.
    Cooper almost exploded with anger, but he still needed Ali on side. He took a deep breath. ‘You’re right. Sorry. Busy day, that’s all. You have some news?’
    ‘No, not really. Where have you been, anyway? I’ve been trying to reach you for the last hour.’
    Ali sounded faintly amused. What was going on here? Cooper decided right then to cut Ali out of the loop, get Aleema to Cairo, to the consulate, claim asylum. This guy was a waste of bloody time.
    ‘Well, if you’ve no news then why are you ringing me?’ He tried and failed to keep the irritation from his voice.
    ‘Listen, you don’t have much time, Geoff. I’ve sent you an e-mail. You should check it, before it’s too late.’
    Cooper froze, a cold wave of fear suddenly washing over him. ‘What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about?’
    ‘It’s over, Geoff. You, Aleema, everything. You’ve played your part. Now check your email.’
    The line went dead. Cooper stood frozen on the staircase, unable to comprehend what had just happened. He’d been cut adrift, that much was clear. But the manner of it, the tone, seemed so… final. He began to sweat profusely, sick to his stomach, gripped by a sense of impending disaster. He took the stairs two at a time, slamming the door to his office.
    An e-mail icon flashed intermittently on his workstation terminal. His mouth dry, he touched the icon and a digital movie file began to play. Confusion twisted Cooper’s face. What was this? It was a home movie, two