Free The Bombmaker by Stephen Leather

not the IRA, then who? The Protestants? The Ulster Defence Volunteers? The Ulster Volunteer Force? The Ulster Freedom Fighters? Or maybe one of the fringe terrorist groups, the Orange Volunteers or the Red Hand Defenders. The Protestant groups were less able to mount major bombing campaigns because they didn't have the IRA's technical expertise or access to equipment. Was that what this was all about? Did the Protestants want her to build a bomb for them? Or was someone else behind the kidnapping? Someone else who wanted a bomb built in England.
    A very big bomb, Green-eyes had said. Andy wondered how big. As big as the bomb the IRA had used at Canary Wharf m !995. the bomb that had caused almost a billion pounds of damage? Is that what they wanted from her? And if it was, could Andy do it? Could she give them a bomb in exchange for Katie?
    Andy lost all track of time as she sat on the floor, holding Katie's curls next to her cheek. Eventually the door to the office opened and the two men walked across to where she was sitting and grabbed an arm each. The bigger one she thought of as the Wrestler, while the thinner man with the gleaming white Nike trainers was the Runner. Both were still wearing the blue overalls and black ski masks. The Wrestler had put on a black nylon shoulder holster from which protruded the butt of a large automatic.
    'Okay, okay,' said Andy. 'You don't have to be so rough.'
    Her captors said nothing, though the Runner dug his gloved fingers even deeper into her flesh. Andy pulled her arm away and shoved the handful of hair into the pocket of her jacket. The men pulled her through the doorway and along the corridor to the main factory area. The woman was already sitting at the far side of the table, her arms at rest, her gloved fingers interlinked.
    She watched with unblinking green eyes as the two men pushed Andy down on to the chair then stood behind her, arms folded.
    There was a notepad and pen in front of the woman. Next to the pad was a pistol, the barrel of which was pointing towards Andy. The woman picked up the pen and began to tap it on the pad. 'So, Andrea, have you had enough time to think it over?'
    'You're crazy,' said Andy. 'You're asking for the impossible.'
    The green eyes seemed to harden fractionally. 'Let me be quite clear about this, Andrea. You are not the only option. If you don't want to co-operate, we'll use someone else.' She paused for effect. 'But you'll never see Katie again.'
    Andy said nothing. The woman sighed, then pushed back her chair and began to stand up. 'No . . .' said Andy. The woman sat down again. She waited for Andy to speak, the pen poised in her gloved hand.
    'Look, it's not as easy as you seem to think,' said Andy eventually. 'It's not just a question of mixing a few chemicals.
    There's specialised equipment . . .'
    'We can get everything you need,' said the woman.
    'But even if you were to make the explosives, you still have to detonate the bomb. It's not like setting off a firework - you don't just light the blue touch-paper.'
    'Don't patronise me,' said the woman, coldly. 'I've set bombs before.'
    'Then why do you need me?' asked Andy quickly.
    The woman tapped the pen on the notepad. She looked up at the Wrestler. 'Take her back to . . .'
    'It's okay, it's okay,' interrupted Andy. 'I'll do it.'
    The woman stared at Andy for several seconds, then nodded slowly. 'What will you need?' she asked. Her pen was poised over the notebook.
    Andy swallowed. Her mouth was unbearably dry. She didn't want to do this but she had no other choice. If she didn't cooperate,
    if she didn't tell them what they wanted to know, then she knew without a shadow of a doubt that they'd carry out their threat. Katie would die. She swallowed again. 'What sort of bomb are you talking about? A letter bomb? A car bomb? What are you planning to do with it?'
    'We want a fertiliser bomb. A big one.'
    'How big?'
    Green-eyes said nothing for a few seconds. She tapped her pen on her notepad.