He listened to the reply.

‘Good,’ the Mahdi said. ‘Good. And how about the phone? Are you all set to record?’

The Mahdi smiled when he got his reply.

‘Excellent,’ the Mahdi said. ‘I am proud of you, my son. Proud of both of you. Now do as I have instructed. Everything exactly to plan. I will be watching, as will He. You go with God. You do this for His glory.’

This time the Mahdi would not have to imagine the rest. He had instructed one of the former Goulburn jail inmates to record the attack on his mobile phone and live-stream it on another WhatsApp account – the world would see it unfold through the eyes of the attacker wearing the bomb and guarding the door at the back of the cathedral. The Mahdi had been too cautious to attempt anything like this during the first six attacks, but now, following the recent developments, he felt it was a risk he could take.

The Mahdi had suspected that the Goulburn link would be exposed. Having established that both Charlie Haddad and Mike Evans had been inmates there, the investigators would probably also work out that the dead Australian found decapitated in a suitcase in Russia was part of the St Petersburg plot. Three of the attackers coming from the same place was too much of a coincidence.

So, knowing that the prison would be put under surveillance and swarming with spies, he’d enacted his backup plan. He’d instructed Mahmud, his co-conspirator and recruiter, to lead the copycats on – to plant the idea with the freshly convicted terrorists, still hungry for jihad, and give them the blueprint. He knew that would get them talking about the plot, in meetings and on their ASIO-issued mobile phones, make them the obvious suspects. And all had gone to plan – the dummy cell even blowing themselves up as ordered.

The Mahdi could take more risks now, as the men in custody would be blamed for whatever came next. Their denials would mean nothing. The authorities would assume the cell was still running autonomously. The only one who knew what was really going on was Mahmud, and he would die before saying a word. In fact, he would kill himself as soon as he got the chance.

And even if the authorities thought the mastermind was still at large, which wasn’t likely, they couldn’t look any harder at the jail than they already had. They’d given it their all – bugs, phones, secret agents – and he was still there. And now, for the first time, he was about to witness the terror he’d sown, the carnage and the deaths, the glory of his plan.

He smiled when he heard the screams. He smiled even wider when he saw the blood. But he frowned when his screen turned to static, as the feed went dead following a flash.