by Andy McNab
He was using crutches, for stability and for speed, as he moved down the corridor towards Marcie Deveraux's room at the hotel. He reached the door and gently turned the master key in the lock. One of the first things Fergus had done when they arrived in Oxford was to get hold of a master key and make a copy.
Deveraux's room was the best in the hotel. There was a king-size bed and velvet curtains, and several pairs of expensive shoes were neatly lined up against one wall. A Louis Vuitton suitcase rested on a stand by the window overlooking the garden. Everything was perfectly in place.
Fergus knew exactly where he wanted to go. He rested his crutches against the bed and went directly to the large, dark-wood wardrobe built into a recess opposite the bed. He opened the double doors; there was no need to worry about tell-tales because hotel staff cleaned the room daily. But the safe fixed to the wall at the back of the wardrobe needed to be handled with the utmost care.
The safe was one of the newer types, wide enough to hold a laptop computer. There was an electronic push-button pad for access. Each time the door was opened or closed a four-digit PIN number had to be used. The PIN could be changed as often as required.
Fergus examined the front of the safe within the gloom of the wardrobe, using one of the two small key torches he had on a key ring.
He had been here before and had learned that, exactly as he had expected, Deveraux always put a tell-tale on the safe. Today was no exception. As Fergus checked the front of the safe with the white light from the torch, he saw that one of Deveraux's thick black hairs was stuck across the tiny gap between the door and the safe itself.
It was a tried and trusted method. Deveraux had pulled the hair from her head and then licked it; the spittle providing the adhesive necessary to stick the hair to the metal of the safe. If the door was opened, one half of the hair would break free or it would fall away completely and Deveraux would know that someone had tampered with the safe.
Fergus checked the exact position of the hair and then carefully pulled it free and placed it on a shelf.
He turned on the second small torch. It shone black light, invisible to the naked eye. Fergus had bought the small ultra-violet counterfeit-note detector from a shop in Oxford. And the UV light not only identified counterfeit banknotes and credit cards, it also detected invisible UV ink.
Deveraux's illuminated ink fingerprints were all over the pads of numbers 2,5,7 and 8. They were the numbers she had regularly used when locking or unlocking the safe.
Fergus knew the combination by heart; he had been coming to the room since day one of the operation. The sequence Deveraux used was 8725, but Fergus was always aware that she might have changed it. If that was the case, he would have simply kept hitting different combinations of the four digits until he got it right, just as he had when originally discovering the PIN. It had taken some time to hit on the right number.
But Deveraux had stuck to her usual sequence. The safe's electric lock whirred, the door sprang open and Fergus lifted out Deveraux's neat black laptop.
He smiled as he plugged his iPod cable into the USB port and turned on the laptop to begin downloading the contents of the hard drive. It was no wonder the MoD and large commercial companies had banned iPods from their offices. This was so easy. No hacking into the secure intranet that the security services used on their laptops was necessary to transfer information. The iPod could just bypass it all. Fergus had learned far more than how to download music when Danny had explained the capabilities of the iPod.
The entire download was completed in less than a minute, and Fergus slipped the computer back into the safe, tapped in the PIN and closed the door. He wiped down the keypad with his shirt cuff to remove his own inky fingerprints and then retrieved Deveraux's hair from the shelf. He licked the hair and then stuck it back in its original position. Job done.
Fergus grabbed his crutches, hobbled to the door and listened for any movement in the corridor. There was no sound. Cautiously he left the room, locked the door and then took a small can of UV ink from his pocket. Quickly he sprayed some ink onto the door handle.
He did it daily, always after the chambermaid had cleaned the room. That way, Deveraux always had invisible ink on her hand when she went to the safe. And that way, there were always fresh prints for Fergus to check when he paid his visit.
He headed for his own room. Time to make a coffee and then read the daily sit reps that Deveraux had sent to Dudley.
13
Dave and Jane were delighted to see Elena again, although it didn't take Jane long to remark to Elena that she thought she was looking 'peaky'.
The house was quiet; all the kids had left for school, just as Deveraux had expected. But Jane was full of questions, most of which Deveraux either skilfully deflected or ignored altogether.
Deveraux had an ACA of her own organized. It was a house that she rarely visited, with an impressive-sounding address on the outskirts of Oxford. As far as Dave and Jane were concerned, Elena was living there with her Aunt Marcie.
When Jane asked about schooling, Deveraux explained that she had decided to pay for private tuition for Elena for the time being, rather than enrolling her at a new school. 'Just while- we decide on what the future holds for us both,' she said with a convincing smile.
'Oh, but isn't it a bit lonely for you, Elena?' said Jane as she poured herself a second cup of tea from the huge brown teapot that Elena remembered so well. 'Not having any schoolmates around you?' She turned to Deveraux. 'She's always been such a sociable girl.'
Deveraux smiled more broadly than Elena had ever seen her smile before. She knew the smile was false, fake, but then so much about Deveraux was false and fake.
'It's just a temporary thing,' said Deveraux. 'And anyway, Elena and I are spending most of our time getting to know each other.' She looked at Elena, who didn't miss the hint of warning in her eyes. 'Aren't we, Elena?'
Elena's smile was a lot less convincing, but she did her best. 'Mmm.'
'That's why we decided on taking this little holiday together. To get to know each other even better.'
Dave Brooker was leaning against the old range cooker that dominated the kitchen. Both his hands were wrapped around a huge blue and white striped mug. 'Where was it you said you were going?'
'I didn't,' said Deveraux quickly. 'But we're going to Paris and then on to Rome. Rome is so beautiful at this time of year, don't you think?'
Dave took a mouthful of his tea and swallowed noisily. 'Oh, yeah, beautiful,' he said with more than a hint of sarcasm. 'Smashing.'
Dave didn't go in for bullshit, but he saw the look that Jane flashed towards him. He knew it well: it meant 'Behave!' He took another sip of tea and then asked another question. 'What was it you said you do?'
'Do?'
'For a living.'
'Oh, I'm in publishing.'
Dave didn't look impressed, but Jane did. 'How exciting.'
Deveraux shrugged modestly, as if it were no big deal. 'Not really.'
'Have you heard anything from my dad?' said Elena, looking directly at Jane and avoiding Deveraux's stare.
Far more was being said by looks and stares in the Foxcroft kitchen than by words.
'No, darling, I'm afraid we haven't,' said Jane, leaning forward to give Elena a comforting squeeze on the arm. 'Dave and I think he must have gone back to Nigeria. It's a shame for you, I know, but he's probably happier there. And what about Danny – have you heard from him? You two were so close.'
This time Elena did pick up Deveraux's warning look and she shook her head.
'He could be anywhere,' said Dave. 'We haven't heard a word since he went off with his granddad. What was it, six months ago?'
'Seven,' said Jane. 'We do miss him. I often wonder what he's up to.'
At that moment Danny was standing across the road from the back wall of the Foxcroft garden and staring up at the second floor and his old bedroom window. The curtains were open and he could just glimpse a vividly coloured pos
ter on the bedroom wall. He couldn't see clearly enough to make out what was on the poster, but the colours told him that it wasn't one of his.
He couldn't have expected it to be. Someone had taken over the room that had been Danny's for so many years and made it his own. That was right. Things move on and change, but for Danny the change had been almost total; there was little of his old life to hang on to now.
Only Elena. He forced back the waves of nostalgia and concentrated on the future. Elena had done so much for him and his grandfather over the past seven months. Now it was his turn to do as much for her.
Danny recognized that some of what Elena had written online to Black Star had been for real. Genuine. She was hurting. She hadn't got any family to turn to. It was up to him to look after her.
He took a final look at his old bedroom window and then turned away from Foxcroft and began walking back to the car.
Deveraux had decided it was time for her and Elena to make their exit. She finished her tea. 'Well, it's been lovely seeing you both but we need to make our way to the Passport Office. The traffic in Victoria can be awful.' She held the passport application form towards Dave. 'If you wouldn't mind . . . ?'
Dave picked up a pen lying on the kitchen worktop. When he had signed the application form and one of the photographs, Elena stood up, went over to Jane and hugged her.
'Here's your birth certificate,' said Jane, handing it to her. 'Enjoy your holiday. And please be careful.' She turned to Deveraux. 'All these terrible bombings going on in the world. You don't know where they'll strike next.'
'I know,' said Deveraux, taking one of Elena's hands in hers. 'But don't worry, I'll look after her.'
They left quickly and Deveraux said nothing more until they were well away from Foxcroft. 'You were supposed to avoid mentioning your father.'
Elena shrugged her shoulders but didn't reply.
They turned a corner into the street where they had parked the car. Up ahead, they could see Danny standing on the pavement.
Deveraux sighed. 'Why do both of you find it so difficult to obey simple orders?'
It wasn't until they got much closer that they spotted the look of panic on Danny's face. Instinctively Deveraux's hand went towards the 9mm Sig pistol that was in the side pocket of her handbag.
But then, as they reached Danny, they saw exactly why Danny was panicking.
The Nissan. It was gone.
14
Elena was scared. For the first time it looked as though she was really starting to crack under the pressure of the past few weeks. 'Black Star, he's found us.'
'Shut up!' hissed Deveraux. She turned angrily to Danny. 'What happened? Tell me. Quickly!'
Danny knew there was no point in even attempting a lie. 'I just wanted to have a look at Foxcroft. It's been a long time. I was only gone fifteen minutes. Twenty max.'
'And you left the keys in the car?'
'No, I've got them.' Danny held up the key fob. 'Had them with me all the time.'
A blue Vauxhall Corsa slipped into the space until recently occupied by the Nissan. The young driver switched off the engine, got out of the car and pressed his key fob. The Corsa's rear lights flashed, the doors locked and the driver walked away quickly.
Deveraux was still glaring at Danny. 'You did lock the vehicle before you left?'
Danny didn't reply. He didn't need to: the look on his face told its own story.
'Bloody amateurs,' growled Deveraux and glanced at Elena. 'And you! Pull yourself together!'
'Look, I'm sorry,' said Danny quickly. 'I know I messed up—'
'Messed up!' hissed Deveraux. 'You're a disaster. I should never have agreed to you being part of this operation. I cannot depend on you and that means you put the entire mission at risk. You're out!'
'No!' Elena moved to Danny's side and grabbed his arm. 'If he doesn't go, then I don't! No way! I'm not going without Danny!'
Deveraux said no more. She just punched a number into her Xda to arrange for a replacement vehicle to be delivered to her.
They took a taxi to the Passport Office. Elena was just in time for her appointment, and while she went through the form-filling procedure with an inquisitive official, Deveraux finalized the arrangements for returning to Oxford.
Danny hung around, saying little, looking as guilty as he felt and anticipating the lecture on sticking to SOPs he would no doubt receive from his grandfather when they got back to the hotel.
By early afternoon they were on the M40, heading out of London in a dark blue Vectra. The atmosphere was tense; hardly a word was spoken.
At around 2:30 Deveraux took a call informing her that the Nissan had been found wrapped around a lamppost in Wandsworth.
'Joyriders,' she growled, looking back at Danny.
Danny smiled weakly. 'At least they got it back.'
Deveraux didn't even bother to reply.
15
Pointer kept a silver-framed photograph of his late son Chuck by the side of his computer.
In the head-and-shoulders shot Chuck looked every bit the conventional all-American boy. His body was angled slightly to the right, but his head was turned back towards the camera so that his strong and confident gaze was directed straight at the lens.
His fair hair was parted neatly. His eyes sparkled with humour and good health, and his broad, winning smile was a tribute to the wonders of the dental brace and the expert work of the family's orthodontist.
Chuck looked great. A real picture of health.
Pointer had just pinned another photograph to the wall behind the computer. It was of Elena.
Pointer had had little difficulty in hacking into the UK Passport Service's computer system. It was a relatively simple exploit for a hacker with his skills. As always, he had spoofed his ID and then, with his formidable expertise, had gained root access of the system. Firewalls were no barrier to an expert hacker like Black Star; he had written his own scripts to negotiate his way through or around them.
He found the most recent passport applications and then scrolled through the alphabetical list until he found Elena's, and with it the photograph that had been scanned into the system. All the information was speedily downloaded onto his own computer. Along with the photograph.
It was good for Black Star to study the face of his latest Angel, even though the photograph itself was far less impressive than the one of his son.
Passport photographs rarely did the sitter much justice, and this one was no exception. Elena was staring directly into the camera, her face expressionless, giving little away.
But Black Star felt he already knew everything he needed to know about his latest Angel.
And he knew exactly what to expect the next time he was online with Elena.
I'M SORRY, I HAVE TO WAIT A WEEK TILL MY PASSPORTS DELIVERED.
NO PROBLEM, GOLA. THINGS THIS SIDE TAKE A LITTLE ORGANIZING. BUT EVERYTHING WILL BE READY FOR UR ARRIVAL!!!
This side!' said Deveraux. 'He's talking about America!'
'Not necessarily,' said Dr Jacobson. 'Could be Europe.'
Deveraux was sitting next to Elena. 'Ask him.'
CAN YOU TELL ME WHERE I'M GOING?
NOT YET, GOLA, BUT I PROMISE U, UR GONNA BE FAMOUS!!!
'Bastard,' breathed Danny.
Elena typed in her next question without waiting for further instructions.