Wallace poured the remaining Picpoul de Pinet into his new wife's glass. "A toast", he said, "to our future together".
Philomena raised her glass and said "To us !!"
In four days the newly-weds would be returning to their jobs in Cambridge; Philomena was a research fellow at the Fitzwilliam Museum. She specialised in portable antiquities, with a particular interest in carvings.
Wallace was a senior Inspector in the CID based at Parkside police station.
The happy couple had both been married before. The first Mrs Wallace had left her husband for her Feng Shui consultant.
Philomena's husband had been killed in a road rage incident five years previously.
Wallace and Philomena had first met thirty years ago when they were both undergraduates at Cambridge University. They had briefly been lovers in those far-off days.
Wallace had one daughter, Morwenna, from his first marriage. She was now 19 and had just completed the first year of her degree at Girton College. Philomena's son Darius was in his second year at The Queen's College Oxford.
The students had both attended the recent wedding in the chapel of Trinity, Wallace's old college.
The three week honeymoon had gone some way to help Wallace deal with the trauma of his most recent case; a multiple kidnapping & homicide by a gang led by an insane burger cook [ see http://athincurtain.blogspot.com ].
Traditionally August was a quiet month for serious crime in East Anglia; even criminals needed to take a break. Wallace had asked his deputy, Sergeant Babbage, to contact him if anything important turned up while he was away. So far Babbage had not been in touch. With any luck the remaining four days would also be trouble free. Wallace had an eerie feeling that he was tempting providence...
An hour or so later after some leisurely jig-a-jig in the large bedroom of the villa Wallace and Philomena made their way down the steep cliff path to the pebbly beach below. The Mediterranean reflected the late afternoon sun in shades of mottled gold. They were the only people on the beach; soon they were frolicking naked in the warm water which caressed them with an oily silkiness....or was it a silky oiliness ?
Wallace was in pretty good shape for someone on the cusp of the big 5-O. Each morning he performed the secret exercises which one of his colleagues had taught him many years ago. They were originally developed by the monks of Shaolin who were renowned for their amazing feats of physical and mental endurance.
Wallace's regime was far less intensive than the Chinese monks' but still kept him fitter than most twenty-year olds. Philomena was delighted with his staying power and lean physique. Wallace refused to divulge the secrets that Inspector Cowie had shared with him in Scotland; he told his new wife that the exercise regime was invented by the Norwegian Army.
When they returned to the villa two hours later the sun was near the horizon. Soon their favourite restaurant Chez Emile would be opening for supper in the village square.
The honeymooners had steadily worked through the menu, and looked forward to tonight's offerings with the keen appetite brought on by swimming and shagging.
While his wife was showering the salt off her tanned skin Wallace quickly checked his smartphone which he had left at the villa all afternoon. There was a new text. From Babbage.
Philomena leant her damp head over his shoulder and read the news which was to bring their idyll to an abrupt close:
"Most urgent: return to Parkside immediately on orders of Chief Constable. Code 19".
Wallace explained to his wife that Code 19 meant an imminent terrorist threat. He would have to leave France right away.
Philomena sadly agreed that she would stay at the villa for the remaining few days of the honeymoon. She drove Wallace to Narbonne Airport and watched as the EasyJet whisked him northwards.
A police driver picked up Wallace from Luton airport and they drove at speed to Cambridge with a blue light, taking 35 minutes for the 40 mile journey. Wallace's uniform was neatly folded on the back seat. He changed into it as they sped through the Bedfordshire countryside.
Arriving at Parkside at 10pm Wallace quickly made his way to the Major Incident Room on the second floor. The meeting was already under way as he slipped into the back of the room, and sat down next to Sergeant Babbage who had saved a chair for him.
The Chief Constable and his deputy, Chief Inspector Dawkins, were present, as well as most of the CID guys. Some serious looking types were probably MI5.
One of the spooks was pointing to a large projected image of a young bearded man of middle eastern appearance.
"This is Faizal Al-Meghrabi", said the agent. "He has been on our radar since his second year at Homerton College, where he was studying electronic engineering. He spent several vacations in Afghanistan where he has relatives, but we believe he was attending jihadi training camps.
He was tracked yesterday from Pakistan to Frankfurt but then he shook off the tail on the autobahn heading towards Belgium".
Wallace wondered how this pimply youth had managed to wreck his honeymoon. He soon found out.
"The target changed his appearance at Frankfurt airport. He shaved off his facial hair in the rest room. I am sure that you are aware that this is very significant in the context of his jihadi activities".
Wallace and the others in the room were well aware that those preparing for martyrdom would shave off their beards and other bodily hair if possible.
"We have issued a Europe-wide alert to all police and other relevant agencies but the trail has gone cold. I will now hand over to the Chief Constable". The sharply-suited MI5 man sat down and fiddled with his laptop.
Chief Constable Darwin stood up and addressed the assembled officers:
"We must prepare for the worst case: that Al-Meghrabi has returned to Cambridge to carry out an appalling suicide outrage in the city. We have not alerted the public yet to avoid panic. The University authorities have been discreetly informed and all the college security staff have this photo". The Chief clicked a button and a photograph of a clean-shaven Al-Meghrabi appeared on the screen at the end of the room. This was the same photo as before but digitally altered to remove his facial hair.
"All police leave is cancelled until further notice. I apologise for the great inconvenience that this has imposed on you all", he nodded directly at Wallace," but I am sure you realise that this man must be caught before he can inflict any damage on the City, the University and the innocent people of Cambridge". "I will let Chief Inspector Dawkins update you on operational details".
The Chief walked out of the room, followed by the MI5 officers.
Dawkins stood at the lectern and smoothed the few remaining strands of hair across his shiny pate. He was several inches shorter than the Chief and far less charismatic. His daughter Gracie was in the room; she was a press liaison officer for the Cambridgeshire force.
"We have raised the terrorist threat level to Bikini Amber 3. That is the second highest possible. As we speak the main tourist sites in Cambridge are being patrolled by armed officers. All the colleges have closed to visitors. Our colleagues in the Transport Police are providing extra patrols at the railway station. All incoming passengers are being scanned on arrival since 8pm." Dawkins referred to the portable scanner which could detect minute quantities of explosives and radioactive material.
"We will have to go public tonight... Gracie has arranged broadcasts by local TV and radio stations in the next hour".
"All of Al-Meghrabi's known contacts in Cambridge are being watched closely. He spent a lot of his spare time in the Mill Road area mixing with the local Arabic community. We have saturated Mill Road with uniformed and undercover officers. MI5 and Special Branch are doing their best to pick up his trail, but he has good fieldcraft and has not surfaced yet".
"We will meet again at 7am unless there are urgent developments." Dawkins brought the meeting to a close and went over to talk to his daughter.
Babbage and Wallace crossed the road and walked across Parker's Piece towards Hobbs' Pavilion. The temperature was still a comfortable sixty degrees.
Babbage apologised for rudely interrupting Wallace's honeymoon. He reassured her that they were almost at the end of the holiday and had really enjoyed themselves.
Babbage herself was unmarried; she shared a small house in Comberton with her aged mother and several cats.
It was really too late to drive back the twenty miles home to Huntingdon, so Wallace spent the night in his office on the camp bed provided for these eventualities. He heated up a Pot Noodle in the microwave which Philomena had bought him for his 49th birthday. It was his favourite flavour; Bombay Bad Boy.
He rang Philomena at the villa in France. She did not press him for details of the operation and bade him a wistful goodnight after making him promise to visit Morwenna the next day.
He decided not to contact Morwenna until the morning as she was probably asleep.
Morwenna Wallace was enjoying the long University Vacation. She had done extremely well in her first year Mathematics examinations. Her first meant that she was now a scholar at Girton College. This entitled her to receive a cheque for £36; she was required to read grace once a term in Hall. She was also allowed to graze sheep on the College lawn...
Morwenna was house-sitting for her father and his new wife whilst they were away for their three week honeymoon in the South of France. She had enjoyed being on her own for the first time in the pleasant detached house on the outskirts of Huntingdon. A couple of times she had invited college friends over for a meal.
This morning her friend Kate had texted to ask if she could come round that night with her new boyfriend. Morwenna had been delighted to hear from Kate and agreed to cook dinner for her and her companion.
Her friend was studying archaeology and was supposed to be away on her own visiting ancient sites in northern Iraq until the end of September. Kate had not dated since starting at Cambridge so Morwenna was thrilled that she had found a boyfriend and looked forward to meeting him.
She explained that the house was free for the next few days so they were welcome to stay over. Kate confirmed that they would arrive just before 11pm by motorbike.
Morwenna wondered if she should tell her father about inviting Kate to stay but decided not to. Instead she texted her brother who was sailing around Scotland with some of his Oxford friends. A decision that she would soon regret.
The powerful inline four engine of the stolen Harley Davidson throbbed provocatively between Kate's thighs. Faizal opened the throttle further and they sped up the A14 towards Huntingdon, setting off all the speed cameras along the way. The tickets would never be paid, as Kate and Faizal would soon be in paradise, enjoying the favours of doe eyed houris and pearl toothed ephebes.
At the turn-off for Huntingdon they slowed down and looked for a layby to stop. Kate texted Morwenna asking her to have the garage open ready for them to drive into. Morwenna replied that she would do that, although she thought the request slightly odd.
She opened the garage and opened a bottle of wine ready for the arrival of her guests.
A few minutes later Morwenna heard the throaty roar of a motorcycle and went to the front door. The powerful machine glided into the garage where Morwenna had cleared a space next to her battered Clio and the two leather-clad riders dismounted.
Morwenna embraced Kate, who was holding her helmet in one hand. Kate introduced her to Faizal, although she called him Alan. Morwenna was too polite to wonder why this Middle Eastern man had an English name. Perhaps it was like the Chinese students in Girton who adopted a name like Tommy or Chardonnay to fit in when they came over here. Morwenna carefully locked the garage door and showed the new arrivals the way in.
The guests sat down at the dining room table and Morwenna brought in a steaming bowl of pasta . She offered her guests the Jacob's Creek merlot she had opened earlier. Faizal and Kate exchanged glances. Faizal nodded. Kate struck Morwenna on the temple with the helmet which she was holding in her right hand. Morwenna was momentarily stunned but came up fighting. She was no match for her two opponents and was soon overcome, but not before raking Faizal's face viciously with her fingernails and getting in a good kick to Kate's stomach.
Kate tied Morwenna up with rope from the garage while Faizal disconnected the phone and turned off all the interior lights. Kate searched Morwenna and confiscated her mobile.
Faizal drew the lounge curtains and switched on the telly. A worried looking policeman was making an urgent broadcast on the local station, flanked by several colleagues. They managed to catch the end of his statement: "please think if you have seen anything strange in your street in the last few days. Any new faces ? In particular if you see this man contact us immediately. On no account try to approach him yourself." A large picture of Faizal without his beard appeared on the screen. An emergency freephone number was displayed below.
Morwenna was appalled to recognise her dinner guest. She was unable to comment out loud due to the tight gag which Kate had applied.
Faizal went out to the garage and collected the two large panniers from the bike. He carefully placed the contents of the first on the dining room table, sweeping all of the carefully arranged dinner items onto the floor. The bottle of wine shattered and the tablecloth was dyed deep purple.
Morwenna was no expert on advanced weapon technology but she realized that the gadgets on the table were very sinister.
Faizal addressed her: "Kate will remove your gag if you promise to stay silent. Any noise and it goes back on. OK ?". Morwenna nodded.
Kate slipped the hateful gag off and Morwenna gasped.
"Now I must apologise for our abuse of your hospitality. However we are at war and these things are inevitable. If you are sensible no harm will come to you or your family. Any attempt to escape or alert the authorities will be fatal. Do you understand ?" Morwenna was about to say yes but then remembered to stay silent and just nodded.
"Good girl. I think that you deserve an explanation. Kate has told me that you are a decent person, although an unbeliever. We are not psychopaths; as soldiers of Islam we have a code of conduct which we adhere to. Kate and I have been selected for martyrdom. By tomorrow morning we will be in paradise. The authorities are on our trail as you have seen from the television. They are expecting an attack in Cambridge. Our actual target is twenty miles away at RAF Brampton. This is where the British infidels plan their murder attacks on behalf of the Great Satan. It is second in importance only to your GCHQ in Cheltenham. The blood of millions of Iraqis, Afghanis and Libyans is on their hands. Our duty is to obliterate RAF Brampton from the face of the earth. With the blessing of Allah we have the means to do this here", Faizal indicated the equipment on the table in front of him.
"You may ask one question. But make it brief please."
Morwenna turned to Kate and said "Why are you involved Kate ? You are not Arabic or anything..."
Kate replied "My grandmother was from Deir Yassin in Palestine. She fell in love with a British officer during the mandate. Soon she became pregnant with my mother. They married and returned to England. Granny died soon after my mother was born. The English officer, my grandfather, remarried and my mother was brought up with several step brothers and sisters.
She has never forgotten her Palestinian roots and made me aware of the terrible injustices facing the people of Palestine. I vowed to help them in any way I could. Faizal has given me the chance to strike a mighty blow on their behalf".
Morwenna realised that "Faizal" was none other than "Alan" but did not say anything.
Faizal resumed "the equipment we have brought is a tactical nuclear weapon. A smart bomb if you like. It will obliterate the RAF Station in an instant. All personnel within a kilometre of the bomb will die. There will be limited radiation after effects. It is quite a humane device really".
Morwenna was inclined to disagree but kept silent. She knew that many of the houses on the base had been sold to civilian families; the base was scheduled to close as part of the government cuts. Faizal's intelligence did not seem to be very accurate.
"In order to ensure that the device functions correctly I will remain with it. Kate will provide cover for me using the other weapons." He opened the second pannier to display various small arms and explosives.
"We begin our operation at 0300. The bomb will detonate at 0330. Now we must rest for a few hours. You and Kate can sleep upstairs. I will remain here to assemble the device and initiate the timing mechanism."
Morwenna stumbled up to her room. Kate followed her in. "Where are the keys to the Clio ?" she asked. Morwenna indicated the top of her dressing table, next to her framed family photos.
Kate picked up the keys and then snatched up the nearest photo. It showed Kate's father in uniform attending her brother's matriculation ceremony at Oxford the previous year.
"Your father is a cop ... wait a minute I recognise him. He was on the telly just now".
Kate dashed downstairs and conferred urgently with Faizal. Just their luck to end up in the house of the very person who was tracking them down... it would have been amusing in other circumstances.
Faizal stormed upstairs and shook Morwenna. "Where is your father now ? Is he coming here ?"
Morwenna sobbed and shook her head "He is in Cambridge; he has a bed at the police station".
Faizal grabbed Kate and they conferred angrily on the landing.
Faizal returned to Morwenna's room and informed her "The operation has been brought forward. We cannot risk this policeman returning and finding us here... we go in half an hour at 0100. Detonation at 0130 . Allahu Akbar !!"
Morwenna realised that she had 30 minutes to save the lives of over two thousand innocent people on the RAF base. She glanced out of the window. All of the neighbouring houses were in darkness... except one. A lamp glowed dimly from the upstairs window of a nearby house.It was the house where Andrew Prosser lived. He was a teenager with severe Asperger's who had fallen in love with Morwenna two years ago. He would stand naked at his bedroom window and flash morse code messages to her with his torch. She only hoped that he was still on voyeur duty. Morwenna managed to slip her left hand out of the rope bindings. She scrabbled around in her chest of drawers and managed to find her small torch. Please please let the battery not be dead she implored.
She opened the curtains and began flashing the torch at her admirer's window. To her amazement he replied. The only morse code Morwenna could remember was ... --- ... for SOS.
She frantically flashed the message over and over to the autistic teenager. He was clearly excited at seeing her. She did not understand the morse code he was sending. As a last desperate gamble Morwenna lifted up her shirt to expose her generous breasts. Andrew started banging on the window. The main light in his room went on and his father rushed in. He saw Morwenna exposing herself to his son and decided to ring the police. His son was shouting "She says SOS, she says SOS". Morwenna made obscene hand gestures to Andrew's father and waved her breasts energetically. As she licked the window she heard footsteps on the staircase and retreated to the bed after quickly pulling the curtains.
The police control room operator did not immediately allocate a high priority to the call. It was unusual for females to flash, especially in the middle of the night, but there were other demands on the force at present given the hunt for an Al Qaeda terrorist in the city. However when the boy's father told the operator that the offender was Morwenna Wallace bells started to ring.
Fortunately the operator was one of the sharper tools in the control room box and she recognised that this was Inspector Wallace's daughter at his home address.
An armed response unit was immediately despatched from the nearby Huntingdon police station. An urgent message was sent to Wallace at the Parkside HQ. He was roused from the campbed and within minutes was being driven at high speed towards Huntingdon by armed officers.
The helicopter, which was already airborne, was made ready to attend the scene if required.
Morwenna turned off the torch, pulled her shirt down and wriggled her hand back into its bindings. A few seconds later Kate burst in and slapped her viciously around the face. "Daughter of the infidel. You are coming to Brampton with us... you are driving the car. We leave in five minutes, get ready".
Morwenna knew that she would have to play for time. If Andrew's father had contacted the police they would take some time to arrive even if the incident was given a high priority. She realised that they might not arrive until the next day... all she could do was hope, and try to delay the terrorists.
She begged Kate to undo her hands so that she could use the toilet. Kate agreed and cut the rope with a sharp combat knife. Morwenna spent as long as she could in the bathroom but Kate grew impatient and forced her at knifepoint to descend the stairs.
Morwenna pretended to stumble and fell painfully down to the landing half way down. Kate dragged her to her feet and helped her to complete the journey.
Morwenna pretended to stumble and fell painfully down to the landing half way down. Kate dragged her to her feet and helped her to complete the journey.
Morwenna collapsed on the floor sobbing "Please don't make me take part. I am not a murderer" she begged. Faizal placed the barrel of his Uzi against her temple. "Don't be silly Morwenna. Kate cannot drive and I have to look after the bomb. Now it is assembled and primed it is very sensitive and must be carefully protected. If you do not drive us to the base I will detonate the device here." Morwenna realised that this would be even more appalling than destroying the RAF base; the housing estate was full of young families with children. The local hospital was less than a kilometre away.
Reluctantly she agreed to drive. She opened up the garage as slowly as possible and started the elderly Clio. On this occasion the engine started smoothly as if to spite her. On many occasions it refused to start at all, but not today. The two terrorists carefully loaded the bomb onto the back seat. Small red and green LEDs winked cheerfully on its front facia. A digital readout showed how many minutes were left to detonation. Morwenna saw that it was due to explode in 17 minutes at 0055.
Wallace read the time on the powerful Volvo's dashboard as it screamed northwards. 0032. They shot through Fenstanton . Five miles to go. The lights of the helicopter were visible in the distance.
The Huntingdon armed response unit had reached the end of Morwenna's street and was waiting for Wallace to catch up. At 0038 the Volvo parked alongside. Wallace scurried along the street until he could get an eyeball on his house. He was alarmed to see Morwenna preparing to reverse the Clio out of the garage. He was sure that the male in the back seat was Al-Megrabhi.
He dashed back to the police cars ... they just managed to pull out of sight as the Clio drove out of the estate and headed to the main road linking Huntingdon and Brampton.
Wallace instructed the helicopter to follow at 600 feet without lights. They tailed the small white hatchback in the direction of Brampton. Wallace was in the lead car.
An urgent message was sent to the guard room at RAF Brampton to expect an imminent attack.
"Shoot out the tyres" Wallace ordered as the Clio slowed down at the roundabout where it would turn left onto the run up to the RAF Base. The armed officer in the passenger seat fired his Heckler & Koch but the range made it difficult to get an accurate shot from the moving vehicle.
The Clio turned left. The front passenger window opened and an Uzi sprayed bullets towards the police cars without hitting their targets.
The second armed unit shot past and attempted to ram the Clio as it sped past the Church. The police driver lost control and crashed into the Black Bull pub killing both officers and the landlord's daughter. Now there were only 500 yards before the gates of the RAF Station. Unexpectedly the car swung right into the narrow Brampton High Street.
Wallace realised that it was heading for the lightly protected rear gate of the camp on the other side of the village. It continued past the shops and approached the speed bumps by the village green. Here it was forced to slow down to avoid setting off the bomb. Wallace grabbed a machine pistol and opened up praying that he would not harm his daughter. The rear windscreen disintegrated and Kate's head exploded in a red mist. Wallace did not have time to celebrate. Morwenna flung open the driver's door and hurled herself from the moving car. Al-Megrabhi scrambled for his Uzi and loosed a volley of shots. He did not bother with Morwenna but managed to hit the engine block of his pursuers' Volvo and killed the police marksman in the passenger seat. The driverless Clio was still moving and crashed through the wooden fencing of the village green.
Wallace ordered his driver to stop and provide cover. The time was 0053.
The Clio came to rest in the middle of the village green, which had until 1960 been a large pond.
As he approached the crippled car Wallace saw that Al-Megrabhi was fiddling with some equipment on the back seat. He fired twice; the second shot blew the terrorist's brains out. The time was 0054.
Reaching the Clio the final initiation sequence had begun, although Wallace was unaware of the exact nature of the threat. The last minute was counting down from 60 to zero.
Wallace emptied the rest of his Steyr's magazine directly into the device.
The bomb was fifteen seconds from detonating when a bullet tore through the CPU of its control unit, fatally disrupting the detonation sequence.
The conventional explosives surrounding the inner sphere of uranium exploded randomly without compressing the kernel and initiating the deadly chain reaction on which the nuclear weapon depended.
Wallace was hurled off his feet and lost consciousness for a few seconds.
When he came round Morwenna was hugging him and the surviving armed officer was directing the helicopter in to land on the green.
SIX MONTHS LATER
Philomena stretched luxuriously on the satin sheets. She had not really believed those women who said that sex was so much better after 50. Wallace had convinced her on this second honeymoon, paid for by the Chief.
She reached over and affectionately tweaked his love truncheon.
"Emile will be expecting us darling. Couscous ?" Wallace preferred the Fruits de Mer. It would be quite a while before he could face anything Arabic again.
Morwenna was waiting on the terrace for the middle aged lovebirds.
She had delegated the house-sitting duties to her brother this time.
She opened up the rented Citroen Xantia. Andrew was sitting in the front playing silently with his Gameboy. She gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. He reddened and carried on blasting aliens.
THE END
