/News/Astronomy/23.06.98/London, England: Professional and amateur astronomers across the UK, Europe, and Scandinavia gazed upon a welcome sight last night: a star, shining brightly in a sky that has been inexplicably empty for nearly a week. First spotted to the west of central London around 1AM, the star may be a sign that the night sky will soon return to normal. However, astrophysicists aren't so sure.

"I'm hesitant to call it a star at all," said Dr. Andrew Novartis, University of Cambridge professor and president of the Royal Astronomical Society. "For one thing, its position hasn't changed with the rotation of the Earth, suggesting that it is rotating with the Earth, like a geosynchronous satellite. Secondly, it can't be seen at distances greater than about 1950km or so from London. If you do the math, that puts it at an elevation of 300km - somewhere between the level of the ionosphere and thermosphere. That is to say, still within the Earth's atmosphere. The true stars are light years away."

When pressed as to whether this new 'star' could have extra-terrestrial origins, Dr. Novartis said, "We have no evidence either way at this point."

When Brigid opened her eyes she was lying in an unfamiliar bed. She stared up at a white ceiling with dull fluorescent lights, trying to understand where she was and why. There was an antiseptic scent to the air. Hospital?

Brigid didn't feel ill, and nothing hurt; she was just a little tired. She pushed herself up in the bed and looked around the room: off-white walls with cheap artwork, a heavy curtain that could be pulled around the bed, a respirator sitting silent in the corner. Definitely a hospital room. The pale light of morning streamed in through half-closed blinds.

"You're awake!"

Brigid turned towards the door as a man rushed to her bedside; he dropped the paper shopping bag that he had been holding and gripped her hand tightly in both of his.

"How do you feel? Hang on, I'll call the nurse." He reached across her and pressed a button beside the bed. Brigid watched him, impassive. There were dark circles under his eyes that his earnest expression didn't quite mask, and a cut on his lip. She felt as if she ought to know this man, but her mind was strangely foggy.

"Brigid?" he said, squeezing her hand. "Talk to me, please." There was a pleading note in his voice. Talk to him? About what?

A soft knock sounded from the door, which swung open to admit a nurse in blue scrubs. "Good to see you awake, Mrs. Drury." The woman smiled at Brigid and the man. "Your husband hasn't left your side all night."

Husband? "I'm not married," she said, though that name jogged something in her mind.

"Oh? I thought…" The nurse frowned at the man who was still holding Brigid's hand.

The man was frowning too. "Brigid, what are you saying? We are married," he said, turning to the nurse. "Three years."

The nurse gave Brigid a significant look. "Husband or no, I can ask Mr. Drury to leave the room if you like."

Drury…she knew who the man was. James. That's right, they'd pretended to get married three years ago for the business; but they owned the pub now, so it didn't matter whether they said they were married or not. "He can stay if he wants," she said, not caring either way. "Why am I here?"

"You fainted," James told her. "In the garden - remember?" He squeezed her hand again; it was uncomfortable. Brigid pulled her hand away. James gave her a sad look, but didn't try to stop her.

The garden. She'd been arguing with James and Dillon, because James was going to leave. Last night it had been so important that James stay, but she had no idea why. It didn't seem important now.

The nurse checked Brigid's vital signs, talking as she did so. "The doctors couldn't determine an exact cause of your dizzy spell. Mr. Drury said that you'd been arguing before you collapsed?"

"Yes."

"And you passed out last week, after another argument?"

Brigid nodded.

The nurse scribbled something on her chart. "Well, everything looks good now; I'll ask the doctor to come have a look before we discharge you. But you need to be careful about getting too overexcited; you have the health of your baby to think about."

"But it is alright, isn't it?" James asked the nurse worriedly. "The doctor said there weren't any problems?"

"No problems," the nurse assured him. "But stress can have very serious effects on a growing fetus - it's best to err on the side of caution. You both should make an extra effort to stay calm, and avoid arguments."

James nodded, but Brigid said, "Baby?"

She'd forgotten about that. The thought of another life form growing inside of her, living off of her like a parasite was distasteful. Not to mention unnecessary. How had she been so careless as to let that happen? "I don't want a baby. Can you take care of that here?"

"Yes," the nurse said slowly, looking from her to James.

James was giving her a stunned look. "Brigid, why? I know you're upset, but can we talk about this first?"

"Talk about what? I don't want it."

"I think that the two of you should take some time to talk this over together before making any decisions," the nurse told them. "You have a few weeks still to decide. I'll go fetch Dr. Sawhney so we can start processing your discharge. Are you sure you don't want to get that looked at?" That last was directed at James; the cut on his lip had split open while he'd been speaking.

"What?" He reached up and dabbed at the blood. "No, it's fine."

The nurse pursed her lips, but left the room.

James took Brigid's hand again. "Look," he said softly, "I know we're not exactly in a good place right now. I'm still angry with you, and I don't know if I can forgive you for lying to me. But when you collapsed, and we couldn't wake you up…" He was squeezing her hand so tightly it almost hurt. "I can't lose you. I love you; I want to make a life with you. And our child. Let's go home and talk about this."

Home…The rest of the previous night flooded into Brigid's memory. "The job," she said. "We need to finish it. What time is it?"

James looked at her blankly. "Didn't you hear what the nurse said? You have to avoid getting overexcited - blowing up a building is not avoiding excitement!"

The clock on the table next to the bed read 9:22AM. There was still time. The baby problem could wait, but her deal with MI-6 couldn't.

She pulled her hand from James' grasp. "You don't have to be there, but I need to leave as soon as the doctor discharges me."

His face clouded. "Last night you were ready to quit the Cause, now you can't wait to go back? What's going on with you - did you decide that you prefer Fitzgerald after all, is that it? Brigid, I swear if you go back to that man, you and I are done!"

Brigid considered. She didn't need James, not for the job or anything else. She'd been on her own for eight years before meeting him, after all, and had done just fine. But as her mind ran through her plan, she realized that there was a new kink in it: it would have been hard enough to convince the others that she ought to go in Patrick's place, as if being pregnant somehow made her fragile and feeble; but after having collapsed and been in hospital, it would be even more difficult. She could use James.

"I'm not going back for him," she said. "I'm going to disarm the bomb. I couldn't sabotage it with Patrick there, and Dillon will probably want to check it this morning anyway. I have to wait until we're en route and away from other eyes.

"What? Have you been planning that all along?" James asked, his voice low. "Is that what you meant last night, when you said not to worry about anyone getting hurt? But Patrick will be riding in the van, not you."

"I laced his food with laxatives last night; he'll be too ill this morning to go along. It'll have to be me."

James gave her a long, hard look. "If the mission fails, they'll just try again another time, and Fitzgerald will try and recruit you again. Will you be able to say no?"

"There won't be any more missions. MI-6 is going to arrest Dillon today."

He was gaping at her now, as if what she'd said was hard to understand. It wasn't; she'd been perfectly clear.

"How do you know that?" he asked slowly.

"I've been giving them information," Brigid said flatly, "in exchange for amnesty for myself. And you," she added. That little detail should help convince him; he was always worried about his student days catching up with him, though she couldn't say why - he and his friends had been at child's play compared to what she'd done with the Cause.

James ran his fingers through his hair. "You've been working with MI-6. To arrest Fitzgerald. How long has this been going on?"

"There was an agent at the pub the night Dillon stopped by; he told me that he knew who I was, and that he'd arrest me unless I helped him capture Dillon. So I agreed."

"Why didn't you tell me this?"

Brigid shrugged. "You didn't need to know." There had been another reason why she hadn't told him, one that had seemed to make sense before; now she couldn't think what it had been.

"Then why all the flirting?" he demanded.

"I had to convince him to trust me. You weren't supposed to see; I know how jealous you get." She didn't remember purposely deciding to do it, but she was glad that she had; it made sense.

"So -" James began, but then the door to the room opened to admit Dr. Sawhney.

"Mrs. Drury," the doctor said. "You're looking well. A bit pale still, but much improved."

The doctor fussed over her chart, discussed potential causes for her collapse, and spent twenty precious minutes admonishing her to be more careful 'considering her condition'. Brigid listened impatiently. She was sure that there was nothing wrong with her, but when she explained that to Dr. Sawhney, he just smiled indulgently and went right on with his little speech. She didn't even bother asking about terminating her pregnancy; that would have to wait for now.

When the doctor at last gave his permission for her to be discharged and left the room, Brigid climbed out of bed. She was a little unsteady at first, but quickly regained her equilibrium, shaking off James' proffered hand.

"Are you sure you want to go through with the job?" James asked, looking worried.

"I'll be arrested if I don't. Either that, or have to go on the run. Finishing the job is the rational thing to do."

James let out a sigh. "I can't believe you kept this from me this whole time. Last night…" he hesitated. "Last night, you promised that you would talk to me. That you would stop keeping secrets. You'll be honest with me from now on?"

"Of course," Brigid lied, then turned to leave the room.

"Brigid, wait."

She paused, her hand on the door handle. "What?"

James held up the paper shopping bag that he'd brought into the room. "Your clothes. Gwen brought them by earlier."

Clothes? Brigid looked down at herself; she was wearing the shirt that she'd put on last night and nothing else. She shrugged. "I'm fine. It's supposed to be warm today."

"They won't let you out like that," James told her, then combed his fingers through his hair again. "What is up with you today?" he muttered, mostly to himself it seemed. He was probably right, and anyway it wouldn't do to attract attention to herself. Brigid took the clothes.

~~~~o~~~~

An unexpected scene greeted them in the nearly empty emergency room waiting area. Tim was facing down Dillon, who was pressing an ice pack against his eye and gesturing angrily with his other hand. Gwen appeared to be sitting calmly in one of the plastic blue chairs, but Brigid could see her hands twisting in her lap.

…"no business being here," Tim was saying. "You need to leave well enough alone."

Dillon brought the ice pack down, revealing a swollen black eye; Brigid didn't miss the smug expression that crossed James' face. "Everything that happens to my crew is my business," Dillon said, trying in vain to keep his voice low. "The job isn't over until it's over; until then -"

At that point Gwen looked up and saw Brigid and James. "There you are, sweetie, how are you?" she asked in one breath, rising to give Brigid a stifling hug. Why did people do that? It was so purposeless. Brigid removed herself from the other woman's grasp as quickly as possible.

"Fine," she said, then turned to Dillon. "Why are you here, it's too risky - you could be seen by the police."

"Tim's been telling me the same thing for the last half hour," Dillon said with an irritated frown. Was there relief in his voice? "Sure, and I don't need to hear it from you too."

"We don't have time for this. And you're attracting too much attention." The couple of other people who were waiting in the lobby were studiously not looking towards their little group, but the desk clerk kept glancing up at them, and Brigid could see the nurse who had checked over her chart watching them with disapproval. Brigid didn't wait for a response from Dillon, but strode towards the automatic doors of the exit, James tagging along beside her.

Outside the hospital, it was a warm, sunny day. Brigid was mildly irritated that she couldn't have stayed dressed in just the t-shirt, it would have been far more comfortable than the skirt and blouse that Gwen had brought for her. But James had been right; she would have stood out too much. She dismissed her irritation as pointless.

Dillon caught up with them quickly, Tim and Gwen right behind. "Has Eddie picked up the van yet?" Brigid asked the group at large as they made their way toward the nearest Tube station.

"Not yet," Dillon said, his voice brisk and businesslike, as it usually was during a job. He tossed his ice pack into a nearby bin and took a ball cap out of his back pocket, then pulled it low over his eyes. "Your boy wouldn't give us the keys to your place until you were awake." He shot James a look, but James didn't rise to the bait. Brigid was glad that she'd told him about her deal with MI-6; it would help them avoid arguments and keep things running smoother. Stupid that she hadn't explained everything earlier.

"Well I'm awake now," she said. "Have Eddie meet us at the pub."

Dillon raised an eyebrow at her. "You in charge now, love?" But he signaled to Tim, who pulled out a mobile phone and dialed Eddie.

They paused outside the Tube station lest the signal get lost while Tim spoke. Gwenith took the opportunity to give Brigid's shoulder a squeeze. "Are you really alright?" she asked softly. "We can do this another day, when you're feeling better."

"No, we can't -" Dillon began, but James cut him off.

"The doctor said that there's nothing wrong; if Brigid feels well enough to go ahead, then it's no problem."

Dillon glared at the two of them; angry with Gwen for suggesting postponing the job, angry with James for reminding him of his claim on Brigid, Brigid mused. If he didn't keep a lid on his temper, things would quickly go awry. Emotions were so destructive.

Fortunately, Tim ended his call and stepped in before Dillon could say anything incendiary. "Eddie's headed over, but we have another problem," he said as the group made their way down the stairs into the underground station.

Dillon swore under his breath in Irish. "What now?"

"Pat's still feeling, uh, indisposed. He doesn't think that he'll be able to make the trip in the van."

"Shit." Dillon glanced at Brigid. "I don't like the idea of having no one on hand who knows how the device works - so much can go wrong during transport."

"I can go."

Although Dillon looked quite satisfied by Brigid's pronouncement, Tim and Gwen were both vehemently against the idea; Brigid's health was far too fragile. It wasn't until James spoke up in support of her that they finally conceded. She knew that she'd been right to get him on her side.

The train to Chiswick pulled into the station. As the brakes hissed, the others turned to head back to the townhouse. Dillon tossed Brigid a wink. "Right then," he said, "see you after."

"Dillon, wait."

He turned back at her words. People began to file onto the train; James hovered at her elbow.

"Where will you be?"

A cheeky grin spread across Dillon's face; evidently he was pleased at the idea that she would want to find him right away. "North Colonnade, across from the park. Green Anglia - Eddie nicked it earlier this morning. We'll wait for you."

North Colonnade; that would be their quickest route off the Isle of Dogs. She'd told Simon their rendezvous points just in case, but she hoped that the police would arrest Dillon before he had a chance to run. It would be much simpler that way. Brigid nodded at him, then allowed James to pull her onto the train.

"I thought you said that Fitzgerald would want to check the device himself," James said in a low voice as the train doors hissed shut.

Brigid shrugged. "He must trust me."

~~~~o~~~~

Eddie was just pulling the white British Gas van into the alley behind the garden when Brigid and James arrived. "Bridey!" he exclaimed. Jumping out of the van, he ran up and swept her up in a strong hug. "Glad you're well; we were all so worried."

"No need," Brigid said, disentangling herself from his unnecessary enthusiasm. "I'm fine. Come help James with the device, we can't be leaving the van out here in the open for too long."

Eddie seemed slightly abashed by her curt tone, but he helped James carry the large red tool chest that housed the device down the stairs and into the back of the van. It wasn't heavy, but it was delicate, and Brigid didn't want it handled awkwardly. While they were doing that, Brigid changed into jeans, throwing a blue windbreaker on over her shirt. She wished that they'd had time to steal actual British Gas uniforms; but hopefully no one would have a chance to see that her and James' clothing wasn't quite right.

On her way back downstairs, she retrieved the switch and the mercury from the dining table. It took a minute to find the mercury; the little vial was hidden behind a canister of gunpowder. She frowned slightly at the mess; it was cleaner than how she'd usually worked in the past, but still far too disorganized for such dangerous materials.

The men had gotten the device stowed without any problems. Brigid climbed into the van and opened the lid of the tool chest. She connected the ends of the switch wires to the timer, then unscrewed the electrode cap from the glass tube of the switch. With the eye dropper from the mercury vial, she carefully added a few drops of the liquid metal into the bottom of the tube. Even more carefully, she replaced the cap; the electrodes were bare centimeters from the surface of the mercury.

"It's live," she said, gently nestling the switch amongst the wires and plastic explosives. "We have eighty-one minutes, plus however long it takes for the switch to flip."

Eddie and James both eyed the device nervously. "Guess I'm off then," Eddie said. "We're already running late."

Brigid handed him a small plastic object, about the size of a bottle cap. "You remember how to use this?"

He nodded. "It ignites in water. Drop it into the radiator tank, and boom! Instant car fire." The idea made him grin. Brigid didn't really care if he managed it properly or not.

Canary Wharf was more or less an island, with only four major entrances by car. Eddie's role was to feign engine problems in the middle of Upper Bank, a one-way street onto the wharf. Pretending to check under the bonnet, he would set the car aflame and thus block traffic. Gwen would pull a similar stunt on India Avenue (but without the fire; instead, she would play the idiot woman driver card for all it was worth), while Tim used a lorry to jam the South Colonnade and Upper Bank intersection. Thus emergency responders would have no access to Canary Wharf, while the Cause had a clear exit route via North Colonnade.

But Jack Simon knew the whole plan: the police would already be in place around the square. As soon as Brigid pointed them to Dillon's location, it would all be over.

Eddie left on his own, to get into place before the device arrived. Brigid settled herself in the passenger seat of the van; James started the engine, but he didn't put it into gear.

"What are you waiting for?" Brigid asked. "We're on a schedule."

He reached into his work shirt's breast pocket and lifted out a string of wooden rosary beads. A battered black and white feather was tied alongside a worn wooden cross. "Here."

Brigid looked at the thing blankly. "What?"

"They needed to take it off at the hospital. I thought for sure that you'd want it as soon as you woke up; with everything going on I suppose you forgot about it. But I know how much you'll hate going into a job without your good luck charm."

She didn't move to take it. "It's a pointless superstition; I don't need it. Anyway, the feathers always itched."

James frowned. "What? Brigid, you've worn this rosary every waking moment for the past four years!"

"I don't know why."

He gave her an incredulous look; when she still didn't take it from him, he replaced it in his pocket. "Well, it's here when you want it," he said quietly, then shifted into drive and pulled out of the alley.

James was quiet for most of the nearly hour-long drive across the city. "You're sure it won't blow early?" was the only question that he asked.

Brigid nodded. "I wouldn't be here risking myself if I wasn't sure." Even so, she kept a close eye on the dashboard clock.

Traffic grew progressively heavier as they entered the heart of London, but nothing worse than what Brigid had already accounted for. At last, James turned onto India Ave. The pyramid-topped tower of One Canada Square, London's tallest skyscraper, loomed high above the other office buildings, dead ahead of them. As they passed a parking lot, Brigid saw Gwen's car pull out into the street. Brent had ensured that he was on traffic duty today; he would respond to Gwen's call to the police about car problems and keep traffic tied up for as long as they needed.

India Avenue split into North and South Colonnade, the streets forming a long loop around the central office complexes; James kept the van to the left as they drove through a canyon of glass and steel. The DLR station was on the western, nearer flank of the tower, but Brigid reminded James that they had to make the full loop, to cue the others. "I know," James said tersely, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

As they passed under the shadow of the tower itself, Brigid spied a forest green Anglia, idling across from the park on the east side of the tower - right where Dillon had said he would be. James turned right onto Bank Street, following the one-way traffic around the square and onto South Colonnade. There was Tim's lorry, just turning off of Bank. Brigid glanced at the clock: Eddie would be starting up his diversion any minute now.

The van swung onto the access road beneath the elevated train tracks. The platform and main entrance to the tower, domed over with sparkling glass windows and red steel girders, were above them, reachable by a row of escalators. The station was packed with a steady stream of office workers heading to and from lunch, and shoppers visiting the retail shops in the tower lobby and the surrounding area. Brigid saw several suspiciously idle men who must be plainclothes policemen; she'd warned Simon that any hint of a uniform would tip Dillon off.

There was nothing particularly extraordinary about a utility repair van. No one paid them any attention as James pulled the van alongside the base of the building - except for a security guard coming out of a booth next to the tower's ground entrance.

James tensed visibly; Brigid eyed the guard, her mind racing through dozens of potential stories and explanations for their presence. She found herself regretting that she hadn't taken Dillon up on his offer of a handgun yesterday. Although a knife would be better; less noisy.

Then the guard looked up, and Brigid recognized Michael. He winked, tapped the side of his nose, then strode off towards the main road. James let out a sigh of relief, but then he frowned. "Wasn't Michael supposed to pull the fire alarm? How will we evacuate the area?"

"I'm sure everything is in hand," Brigid said as she climbed into the back of the van. "Set out the cones."

"Right." James didn't sound convinced, but he did as she asked, setting three squat, orange cones around the van to keep people back. Not that that would protect anyone from the blast; but it would keep busybodies from glancing into a window and seeing anything suspicious. While he was doing that, Brigid flipped open the lid of the tool chest. The timer was at eleven minutes, six seconds, and still counting down. Plenty of time.

She reached into the chest to disconnect the switch - and paused. Simon didn't want the device to go off for fear of looking sloppy to his supervisors. But surely an actual terrorist attack would carry a heavier sentence, and thus more accolades for apprehending the perpetrator, than merely an attempted attack. Her amnesty would be more secure.

Brigid withdrew her hand, and replaced the lid of the tool chest.

"Were you able to disarm it?" James asked when she joined him outside of the van.

"Of course."

She walked briskly towards the escalators at the end of the platform, James at her side. That man in the brown suit jacket pretending to read the financial pages was surely a policeman. Brigid let him get a clear look at her, and made sure that she remained in plain sight as they headed up to the first floor and into the lobby of the tower. Any other time, she would have said something to keep James from nervously looking from side to side - it was a dead giveaway. But she wanted to be followed today.

By the time they exited into the grassy park on the other side of the building, Brigid judged that no fewer than four men were on her tail.

"Where are we -" James began when an explosion ripped through the air behind them. Glass shattered, metal screeched, people screamed. The ground trembled beneath their feet.

"What the - Brigid, what happened?!" James was somehow whispering and shouting at the same time as around them, people ran in panic, some crying, some screaming. A fire alarm was wailing.

Brigid risked a glance over her shoulder: smoke billowed out through the glass doors of the tower; two of her followers were racing back into the building, the other two were nowhere in sight. "Damn it," she muttered. Well, there was nothing she could do except continue with the plan. Maybe she shouldn't have set the bomb after all; it was too distracting.

Unexpectedly James grabbed her arm. "Come on!" He pulled her at a run into a crush of frightened, confused people in the park and towards the street.

"Wait," she tried to say. Didn't he remember the plan? He was panicking. She attempted to remove her arm from his grasp, but he was quite a bit stronger than her and didn't even seem to notice. When they reached the sidewalk, the green Ford whipped across three lanes of traffic, barely stopping long enough for James to hop into the back seat, his grip an iron vice on Brigid's arm as he tugged her in behind him.

Eddie was behind the wheel, his face pale but eyes bright. In the passenger seat, Dillon was laughing. "Brilliant, Bridey, absolutely brilliant!"

"Michael never pulled the fire alarm," James said. "What happened?"

"Didn't he?" Dillon shrugged. "Well it never goes perfectly, does it."

The car sped away from Canada Square; other vehicles were following suit, while most of the traffic had come to a screeching halt, their drivers staring in horrified awe at the plumes of dust and smoke.

Eddie glanced down Bank Street as they crossed the intersection against the light. "Is that Tim?" he exclaimed.

The others looked as well. James was holding Brigid tightly against him; she pushed away to get a clearer view. Down the end of the street, two army trucks had converged on a red lorry, same as Tim had been driving. They were too far away to make out what was going on, but something certainly was.

"Army?" Dillon muttered to himself.

Eddie's eyes were wide. "Should I go back?"

"Of course not!" Dillon snapped. "Keep on to the rendezvous; we'll reassess then."

They turned onto the A1261 to head back to the pub in Chiswick. It took constant reminders from Dillon to keep Eddie from flooring it and attracting the attention of any police who weren't tearing towards central London. When Dillon wasn't admonishing Eddie, he was on the phone with Kelly - the staff sergeant was armed with a police scanner as well as the army's radio codes, and was keeping track of the authorities' movements. Simon would be in an unmarked car; hopefully he knew enough to keep off the police broadband.

"Damn it!" Dillon swore for the fifth time. "How did you not hear a word of this? Fine, it doesn't matter - meet us at the rendezvous." He snapped the mobile phone shut with a scowl.

"What is it?" Eddie asked.

"Tim was nabbed. Gwen too."

Eddie's face grew even paler. Dillon continued, "And Kelly says the radio chatter makes it sound as if both the police and army anti-terrorism units were tipped off ahead of time."

James stiffened beside Brigid, while Eddie said, "How?"

"Just drive," Dillon said, his jaw tight.