‘…which is why I am willing to give my life, to die a martyr on the cross of justice, knowing that my death will bring down the Muslims, the Jews, the blacks and the foreigners who are contaminating our glorious country and tainting the Aryan blood. My sacrifice is the start – we will attack all those who oppose us – the Muslims and the white traitors.’

Gabriel felt the blood draining out of her face. For a second, she was paralysed. Then, the adrenaline surged, her heart began to pump. The timing of this release was not coincidental. It meant only one thing.

‘Get me Gold Command, now,’ she barked. The face of Gold Command, the chief superintendent running the day’s operations, came on the screen. ‘Sir, the National Resistance Force have uploaded a new video – it’s a version of the Gareth Fletcher video from Chilton Park. He’s talking about martyrdom. There’s a clear threat that a second attack is imminent – and the timing of this release strongly suggests the march is a target.’

#

St James’s Street, London

‘Cavalry’s here,’ said Skeffington as a police van pulled up and officers emerged to reinforce the cordon.

The shouts from the far-right counterprotesters were angrier now. ‘What you going to do?’ yelled the woman with blue hair.

‘Pigs,’ shouted the man in the grey shirt.

‘How stupid are they, sir?’ Campbell said under his breath to Skeffington.

‘How long have you got, Campbell?’

And then, above the yelling and shouting from the antifascists and the neo-Nazis and peace protestors and Socialist Workers, there was a sudden movement as an Asian man in his twenties wearing a duffel coat broke away from the main march and walked purposefully towards the counterprotest. The man’s face was contorted with rage, and he was holding a grey rucksack in his left hand. It banged and swung around his legs but didn’t seem to bother him.

‘Bloody hell.’ Campbell heard Skeffington’s curse. The man was around ten metres away now. He slowed down and stopped, bent double, panting so loud that Campbell could hear him.

Campbell was torn – should he run towards him or keep his distance? An armed response unit was close by and had spotted the man. Two officers began to advance, but a clean shot was impossible.

The world seemed to slow. Campbell momentarily felt himself floating above his body, watching the street. There below him were the far-right demonstrators, on the other side the main march, in between the police. And there was the man, reaching inside his coat, pulling something out.

His mind was filled with the thought that the man had a vest – and that it was about to explode, sending shrapnel towards the protesters and police. Campbell was frozen as the man’s hand dug deeper into his coat and then pulled out something white. He threw the white object into the air, and it scattered into tiny pieces of paper. They were leaflets. The guy was throwing leaflets at the far-right protest. Oh, thank God for that, thought Campbell. One of the uniformed police approached the man and the armed officers lowered their guns.