Chapter 56
UNDER A SPITTING rain an unseasonal fog crept west up the Thames to meet the river bus as it sped past the Isle of Dogs, heading towards the North Greenwich peninsula and the Queen Elizabeth II Pier. The boat was packed with latecomers holding tickets to the team gymnastics finals, which were just a few minutes from starting.
Knight’s attention, however, was not on the other passengers; it roved off the bow of the ferry, looking towards the brilliantly lit O2 Arena dome coming closer, feeling strongly that it could be the scene of Farrell and Daring’s next strike.
Beside him, Lancer was talking insistently on his phone, explaining that he was on the way with reinforcements for the security detail, which he ordered to be on highest alert. He had already called Scotland Yard’s Marine Unit and had been told that a patrol boat was anchored off the back of the arena.
‘There it is,’ Jack said, pointing through the mist at a large rigid inflatable craft with dual outboard engines bobbing in the water south of them as they rounded the head of the peninsula.
Five officers in black raincoats and carrying automatic weapons stood in the boat, watching them. A single officer, a woman in a dry suit, rode an ultra-quiet black jet ski that trailed the river bus into the dock.
‘Those are primo counter-terror vessels, especially that sled,’ Jack said in admiration. ‘No chance of entry or escape by water with those suckers around.’
Security around the actual arena was just as tight. There were ten-foot-high fences around the venue with armed Gurkhas every fifty yards. The screening process was tough. There was still a long line waiting to get in. Without Lancer it would have taken them at least half an hour to clear the scanners. But he’d got them inside in less than five minutes.
‘What are we looking for?’ Knight asked as they heard applause from the entryway in front of them, and a woman’s voice on the public address system announcing the first rotation of the women’s team finals.
‘Anything out of the ordinary,’ Lancer said. ‘Absolutely anything.’
‘When was the last time dogs swept the building?’ Jack asked.
‘Three hours ago,’ Lancer said.
‘I’d bring them back,’ Jack said as they emerged into the arena itself. ‘Are you monitoring mobile traffic?’
‘We jammed it,’ Lancer said. ‘We figured it was easier.’
While LOCOG’s security chief gave orders over his radio to recall the canine-sniffer bomb squad, Knight and Jack scanned the arena floor, seeing teams lining up near individual pieces of gymnastics apparatus.
The Chinese were at the south end of the venue, preparing to compete on the uneven parallel bars. Beyond, the Russians were doing stretching exercises beside the balance beam. The UK contingent, which had performed remarkably well in the qualifying rounds thanks to gutsy performances by star gymnast Nessa Kemp, was arranging gear near the floor-exercise mat. At the far end of the arena, the Americans were preparing to vault. Guards, many of them Gurkhas as well, stood at their posts around the floor, facing away from the competitors so they could scan the crowd for threat with zero distraction.
Knight concluded that an attack on one of the athletes down on the floor was virtually impossible.
But what about their safety back in the locker rooms? Or on the way to and from the Olympic Village?
Would the next target even be an athlete?