Exit wound ns-12

by Andy McNab

  I scrambled on top of the cab and jumped onto the wall. I dropped into a stretch of finely powdered sand that had had no way of escaping the compound. One hand on my pistol to keep it in my waistband, I ran to Black. All clear.

  By the time I got back, Red Ken was checking the shutter. The glow from his head-torch bathed its sides and then its base. He scooped away years of encrusted sand. ‘I got fuck-all to get hold of, son. It’s got to be electric.’

  Whoever had closed this down had done so from the inside and then come out via the door in the shutters. Three Chubbs secured that. We’d be here all night trying to defeat them. ‘We’ll have to pull out the frame.’

  Silhouetted against the city lights, Dex stood astride the cab roof with the crane’s control box in his hand. The electric winch whined and the steel cable snaked down our side of the wall. Red Ken grabbed it and started walking towards the right-hand window.

  30

  I helped Red Ken loop the heavy steel hook round the eight bars and back onto the cable. He turned to Dex. ‘All right, mate, let’s do it. Nice and slow.’

  The winch hauled in the cable until it was taut. Red Ken and I slipped round the corner of White and Red to get out of the way. If the cable snapped under tension, the whiplash would tear up anyone in its path, like shrapnel from a mortar round. Dex lay flat on the cab for the same reason. We heard the strain in the steel strands, and then a loud crack and rumble as the whole section of wall came away. It hit the ground with a thump and sent up a cloud of dust.

  There wasn’t time to celebrate.

  Red Ken undid the hook. I turned on my head-torch to constant red and climbed through the hole. I couldn’t see a thing. The red light bounced straight back off the dustcloud, like headlights in fog. The air was hot and musty. It felt like we were breaking into a pyramid. Coughing and spluttering, I began to make out plasterboard walls. I was in an office. I groped for the door. My nose and mouth had filled with grit. I gobbed it onto my shirt. I needed to contain my DNA.

  I carried on through the door. My coughs suddenly echoed. I was in the warehouse proper. I turned towards where I thought the shutters should be and my torch beam hit their metal slats. The operating mechanism was mounted on the side wall. I tried pressing the ‘open’ button just in case. Then I grabbed the chain as high as I could and pulled. It didn’t budge. Years of disuse had seized it up.

  I jumped up, with arms extended, and hung on, then kicked out from the wall like a kid in an adventure playground to apply some weight and traction from another angle. It gave an inch. I went through the same routine again, jumping up and kicking out, until it gradually relented. I sank to my knees as the slats began to concertina. My sweat-soaked face was coated with sand.

  One final wrench and the shutter ascended. I could see Red Ken’s boots in the glow of his head-torch. The hook and webbing straps lay beside them. As soon as the gap was big enough, he rolled under and helped me pull. The shutter came to a complete stop as the inset door hit the top of the roll.

  Dex was still on the wagon, silhouetted against the starlit sky.

  The dust had almost settled. Our torch beams criss-crossed the interior of the building like lasers. The crates lay in the middle of the warehouse. Six feet by four and two feet high, they each stood on an individual pallet. We moved forward. I felt my heart beating faster. I didn’t want these two silly fuckers to be here – and I didn’t want to be here either.

  Red Ken dropped his day-sack on the nearest crate and pulled out a mini-crowbar. We needed to be sure this wasn’t just a bulk shipment from the nearest burqa factory.

  I went out to keep Dex in the loop. ‘Found the boxes, just checking – wait out.’ I ran back inside.

  ‘You need to have a look at this.’ Red Ken was surrounded by tiny white polystyrene balls. They still streamed from the panel he’d wrenched back from the corner of the nearest crate.

  I leant down and did as I was told. A few little white balls still clung to the glimmering sheet of engraved yellow metal inside, but not enough to obscure the familiar moustache and smiling face of Saddam Hussein.

  He banged the slat back into place. ‘This is the one we’re going to have. Fuck checking the rest.’

  We fed the strapping under the pallet, secured it and worked the hook into the side of the webbing strap.

  I ran back out. ‘OK, mate. Gently.’

  There was nothing gentle about his reaction. ‘Pay day, pay day!’

  The electric motor whined as the winch took the strain. The pallet groaned and jerked, then started to creep across the concrete floor towards the exit. Soon it was gouging its way over the open ground. We kept either side of it to make sure it didn’t tip over. We were just metres from the wall. At this rate we’d be fully loaded and out of here within thirty minutes.

  Dex slackened off the cable. We grabbed the hook and moved it to the top of the webbing.

  ‘OK, mate, take it up.’

  All he had to do was lift it over the wall, swing left, and lower.

  Nothing happened.

  I looked up. Dex was on his knees, leaning down towards us.

  ‘Not good, chaps. We have headlights moving towards Black.’

  Red Ken had already grabbed the cable and hoisted himself up to join him.

  31

  I followed Red Ken up onto the cab roof and watched the single set of headlights, maybe two hundred away, career over the wasteground towards us.

  Red Ken drew down his weapon and Dex copied.

  I gripped Red Ken’s arm. ‘We’ve got no blue lights. It’s just one vehicle. Could be taking a shortcut.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Dex said. ‘But it’s going to pass really close. Bound to see us.’

  ‘Skyline!’

  I had already jumped but Red Ken needed to drag Dex down.

  We stayed in the shadow at the corner of White. I could now hear the rumble of tyres over rough ground. The approaching vehicle was hugging the wall on Red, its headlights throwing us into deeper shadow. The vehicle stopped just short of the corner.

  Dex looked ready to lunge. I held him back. ‘We can contain this. Nobody’s got out yet. There’s no doors slamming, no shouting.’

  The headlights died.

  Red Ken was calm. ‘Dex, go play local. We’ll hold back. Keep whoever it is in the vehicle while we check them out.’

  Dex didn’t hang around. Red Ken and I kept a few metres back. I moved away from the wall so we could deploy all three weapons without cutting into each other’s arcs.

  An interior light came on at the rear. The vehicle was big, a 4x4. A dark-coloured Yukon, as big as Red Ken’s Suburban. I moved forward, weapon up, both eyes open. Dex orbited round to the rear cab. The wagon’s suspension shifted as a body changed position inside. Dex grabbed the door handle and pulled hard.

  ‘Don’t hurt me!’ The voice was terrified and female.

  I closed on Dex as he covered her with a brown, swirly-patterned nylon fur blanket so she couldn’t see his face or know he wasn’t alone. The rear cab was littered with carrier bags full of clothes and towels, toiletries, packets of food and bottles of water. Whoever this was, the Yukon was her home.

  Red Ken worked quietly up front in the glove compartment and under the seats. He found her handbag and pulled out a purse. Our three head-torches bathed the plastic card he produced in a rubber-gloved hand. The Canadian driver’s licence told us she was Sherry Capland.

  32

  She had about five hundred dollars’ worth of dirhams in her bag. There were no pictures of kids, just a wedding photo, her in a white veil and him in a tuxedo. She’d had long brown hair back then, permed up. A sob shook the blanket. ‘Please, please, don’t hurt me. Just take what you want.’

  Red Ken tapped Dex on the shoulder and gave him the waffle sign with thumb and fingers.

  He understood. ‘Shut up!’

  Red whispered into Dex’s ear.

  ‘Where’s your husband?’

  ‘He’s in prison. H
e lost his job and-’

  Red Ken sliced his index finger across his own throat.

  Dex slapped the blanket. ‘Enough!’ He slammed the door on her and we got into a huddle.

  ‘She’s homeless.’ Red Ken spoke quietly. ‘It’s like I told you, if you get binned from your job and you’ve got debts you can’t cover, you’re fucked. You can’t leave the country. They fling you in prison. That’s why there’s all those wagons at the airport and the planes are full. If her old man’s locked up, that makes her an illegal.’

  Dex nodded. ‘But what do we do with her?’

  Red Ken turned back to the Yukon and opened the door. ‘Sit up, love. We’re not going to hurt you. It’s OK, so for fuck’s sake shut it, will you? Wrong place, wrong time, that’s all.’

  She sat cross-legged with the blanket around her shoulders. She was maybe mid-thirties, but looked older. It’s difficult not to when your cheeks are tear-stained, you’ve got snot running from your nose and your hair’s plastered all over your face.

  Dex pulled us back again, out of earshot. ‘We’ve got a problem. She’s seen us now. Why did you do that, Red? How do we keep the job secure?’

  ‘Tell you what.’ I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’ll drive her wagon. We’ll just keep her with us until we fly out.’

  Red Ken nodded. ‘Let’s get on with it, then.’

  I held out my hand for the keys. ‘I’ll bring the wagon round. You two can get on with the first load.’

  I opened the back door. Sherry was curled up on the floor, wanting the world to go away. I couldn’t blame her. One eye peeped out from under her arm, like a child’s. Scared people have to be gripped. They don’t hear what you’re saying. They get more confused and more frightened, not less, and more danger to us and to themselves.

  ‘Sherry, listen in. Everything will be OK. You’re going to be with us until the morning. Just do what you’re told and you’ll be fine.’

  Her bloodshot eyes fixed on mine. She nodded quickly, wanting to please me.

  ‘But if you try to run away, scream, shout, or do anything we don’t tell you to do, then all bets are off. You understand?’

  She wiped snot from her nose and nodded some more.

  ‘Climb into the seat behind me. Cover yourself with the blanket.’

  She scrambled over.

  ‘Now get in the footwell. Stay down there.’

  I went round pulling up all the child locks, slamming and checking the handles wouldn’t open. I heard the electric motor kick in once more.

  I got in behind the wheel and swung the wagon round so it paralleled the Tata’s cab. Dex could keep eyes-on while Red Ken and I worked in the building.

  I locked the door behind me just as our crate cleared the wall. Dex manoeuvred it to the rear of the flatbed. Red Ken was already over the wall, heading back in to sort the next load.

  Dex beamed at me. ‘Only five to go.’

  I jumped down into the compound and helped Red Ken rig up the second pallet. ‘She secure?’

  ‘Yep, Dex has eyes-on.’ I put the hook into the side of the webbing and gave Dex the signal. ‘Red, I reckon we keep her all the way to the airport, yeah?’

  ‘Got to, so we know she isn’t gobbing off. But I don’t think she’ll be running to the police. She needs to stay underground and wait for that handsome young husband of hers.’

  The second crate inched out of the warehouse and onto the sand.

  33

  2238 hrs

  The city twinkled far behind in my rear-view. The Tata’s head-lights carved through the inky darkness in front of us.

  Sherry kept her head down and didn’t breathe a word.

  The Tata’s indicators kicked off and it turned to the right. Wooden benches and tables were dotted about the desert. It was some kind of picnic site. The Tata’s headlights raked the length of the white GMC Suburban and then stopped beside it. Dex got out and climbed onto the back of the truck to untie our crate. Red Ken opened the two doors at the back of his wagon.

  I pulled in behind the truck, so Dex could keep an eye on Sherry, and got out to help.

  It wasn’t long before our crate, still on its pallet, was being slowly hoisted into the back of the GMC. A set of headlights moved along the main and swept over us. They kept on going.

  Dex manoeuvred it to just above the level of the rear sill. Red Ken positioned the roller, a short length of scaffolding pole, and we pushed the suspended crate until about a third of it penetrated the boot space. ‘OK, Dex, lower it.’

  The suspension groaned as it took Saddam’s weight. Dex jumped down to help us push it all the way inside.

  Red Ken brought out his cigarettes. ‘OK, order of march. Me, Dex, Nick. Nice and slow, keep within the limits.’ He turned to Dex. ‘Just short of the airport I’ll point out where I want you to park and wait out.’ He sparked up his lighter. ‘Nick, follow Dex and wait out when he parks. I’ll come to you. You then drop me off at the Tata and we move to the airstrip.’ He moved to the front of his Suburban without waiting for a reply.

  34

  The air-con in the Yukon was knackered so I had to keep the window open as we headed back towards the bright lights. The wind rattled through the vehicle as I felt around for a bottle of water among all the crap in the footwell. I didn’t find one.

  Streetlights soon started to glare and traffic-lights held us at every other junction. I continued to follow the five crates on the Tata as we eventually got onto the main drag to the airport. Dex’s right indicator flashed once more. He turned off into wasteground between a strip mall and an apartment block that had become a makeshift car park. I closed up behind Red Ken and we were soon on the elevated approach road, channelled towards Departures for the Emirates terminal.

  We carried on past the brilliantly lit glass-fronted building. The forecourt was almost deserted apart from a couple of taxis, a white Toyota and a blue Mazda, both one up, in the no-parking zone. I powered up the window and stared ahead. I wondered if Checked and White were inside the terminal. The airport was the last of our known locations. They’d be checking to see if we’d changed flights, or were waiting in the departure lounge. They’d be severely pissed off. Not just about losing their targets and not finding out what they were up to, but about looking like dickheads for losing them at all.

  I waited outside the Emirates terminal long-term car park as the Suburban disappeared inside. There was still no noise from Sherry, just movement now and again under the blanket.

  Five minutes later he emerged from the concrete multi-storey. He didn’t come and jump into the passenger seat but waved for me to get out of the wagon and join him by the stairwell. ‘She doesn’t need to know this. It’s on the first floor, row sixteen. The key is on top of the back box of the exhaust.’

  He checked his watch.

  ‘Red, you see the team up at Departures?’

  ‘Fuck ’em. Whatever happens, we’ve got some of what we came here for. Tell you what, son. I can’t wait to get home. There’s the christening in a couple of weeks and a lot of straight talking to be done. I’m ready for it. I’m gonna tell her I’ve been a total arsehole, but that’s about to change. No more work. I no longer need to – and, what’s more, I don’t want to. It’s all about her from now on.’

  ‘That’s good, mate.’ I started heading for the Yukon.

  ‘Nick, listen. I just want to say thanks for coming on the job. Tenny’s death really… affected us… Me and Dex, we were hoping you’d be with us – you know, together again. It wasn’t just the job, it-’

  ‘We’re mates,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t let you two down. I’m here because I want to look after you. Never forget that.’ I turned back towards the wagon. Any more of this shit and I’d have to start pretending I’d got some grit in my eye.

  35

  I dropped Red Ken off with Dex and was soon following the Tata again. Within thirty minutes we were out of the city and on the coastal highway. Before we got as far as Abu Dhabi, we wer
e going to chuck a left and head south, as if for Saudi, less than a couple of hours away. The airstrip lay about thirty K down that road.

  Above the hum of tyres on tarmac I could hear the odd sniffle from behind me. ‘Sherry, sit up. Keep the blanket on your head and sit up.’

  She got up slowly. Her muscles would be in shit state after the hours she’d spent down there. In the rear-view she looked like she was wearing a furry brown burqa.

  I shouted over my shoulder. ‘What did your old man get?’

  ‘Nine months.’

  ‘For having debts?’

  It was a while before she spoke. ‘Bradley has a brain tumour. He’s going to die in there.’

  The brake-lights on the Tata glowed. We came to a halt off the road.

  ‘Sherry.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Get down and stay down. It’s nearly over.’

  ‘You’re going to kill me, aren’t you? That’s what happens.’

  ‘Just keep quiet. You’ve been watching too much TV.’

  Dex killed his lights and I did the same. I climbed out to meet the other two between the wagons.

  The wind was picking up. The sky was full of stars, but there was no ambient light on the ground – apart from round Red Ken, who’d lit his three hundredth B amp;H of the day.

  We were about seven hundred short of the airstrip. We’d wait until we heard the aircraft coming in before we moved in to meet up with Spag. He should already be at his stand-off point.

  I told them about Bradley.

  Red Ken blew out a lungful of smoke. ‘What do you reckon?’

  ‘She’s not a problem to us. She has enough stuff of her own to worry about. I’ll clean her up with the wipes and take her into my room tonight. They’ll think she’s a hooker.’