FireWall ns-3

by Andy McNab

  I looked at the sky. The cloud cover was now more or less total.

  Tom soon lost interest in the ice ball, hunching once more into a fetal position, knees up by his chest, hands deep in his pockets and head down. His body was starting to shake, and I had to agree with him; I'd had better days out.

  Now that we'd cleared the danger area and were resting for a while, it seemed the right time to ask him a few questions. I hoped it would help take his mind off the shit we were in. I also needed some answers.

  "Why didn't you tell me you knew Valentin? I know you were trying to access Echelon at Menwith Hill for him."

  I couldn't see his reaction, but there was movement in the hood. "I'm sorry, mate," he mumbled. "She's got me by the balls. I'm sorry, I really wanted to, it's just that you know "

  His hood dropped down as if his neck muscles had lost control.

  "You mean threats? Some kind of threat to you or your family?"

  His shoulders jerked up and down as he fought to contain the sobs.

  "Mum Dad and I've got a sister with kids, know what I mean? I wanted to tell you, Nick, honest I did, but well, you know.

  Listen, it ain't Valentin doing this shit, mate. It's her; she's freelancing. He don't know a thing about it; she's just using his name, letting you think you're working for him."

  He didn't need to say any more. Things were suddenly making more sense to me than they had in a long time. That was why she'd been able to say yes straight away to the three million. That was why she'd insisted there was to be no contact with anyone apart from her. It even explained why she didn't want me to have a weapon: She probably thought that if I found out what was happening I'd use it against her.

  "How did you get sucked back into all this?"

  I waited for him to try to compose himself.

  "Liv. Well, not her to begin with, but this guy Ignaty he came and saw me in London. The day before you did."

  Where had I heard that name before? Then I realized. He was the underwriter; it had been his name on the piece of paper in Narva. So maybe Liv wasn't the only one of Val's people to be going freelance.

  Now Tom had started babbling it was important not to ask the sort of questions that might suddenly make him realize he was saying too much.

  I just said gently, "What happened then, mate?"

  "He said Liv had a job for me and that I'd be going to Finland. That someone would come and persuade me and all that stuff. I shat myself when I found out it was Echelon again, but I had no choice, mate. My sister and what have you Nick, you gotta help me. Please, she'll kill everyone if I don't sort this shit out. Please help me.

  Please."

  He wept into his hood.

  "Tom "

  He didn't register. Maybe his sobs were too loud for him to hear me.

  "Tom. She wanted you dead. She will think you're dead if I tell her."

  His hood came up. "You were going to kill me? Oh fuck, Nick.

  Don't please don't "

  "I'm not going to kill you."

  He wasn't listening. "I'm so sorry, Nick. She made me ask those questions. You know, in the train station. She wanted to know if you were gonna stitch her up or what. I had to do it. She knows everybody's addresses and everything. The guy showed me pictures of my sister's kids. Honest, Nick, I wanted to tell you what was happening but " His hood dropped back down as a new spasm took hold of him.

  I felt like a priest in a confession box. "Tom, listen. Really, I'm not going to kill you. It was me who got you out of there, remember?"

  There was a small nod from within the hood.

  "I'll make sure that you and your family are looked after, Tom, but we have to get back to the U.K. first. You'll have to talk with some people and tell them exactly what's been happening, at Menwith and here, okay?"

  I sensed an opportunity for everything to work out whichever way this went. I wasn't exactly sure how, but there had to be a way that Tom could get a new life and I could get my money. And if the money didn't materialize, at least I could still work for the Firm. I could come up with enough bullshit to make it sound as if I'd known all along what was happening, but couldn't tell anyone because of the security risk of someone printing off the information I'd told them in Russia.

  Liv need never know that Tom was alive, and I could still pick up my money and then go to Lynn. I knew it was flimsy as plans go, but it was a start-assuming she didn't shaft me.

  What was more important was getting out of Estonia. After that, I'd sit down with Tom, get the full story and sort my shit out.

  "Why didn't she just tell me that it was you coming with me, rather than getting me to try and talk you into it? You were already coming, right?" His babbling before hadn't exactly explained it clearly.

  "Fuck knows. You'll have to ask her. That's why I shat myself when I saw you. I thought your lot had heard about it. She's weird, mate.

  Did she talk as if it was all coming from Valentin?"

  "Of course."

  "Well it isn't, she's talking about herself. It's all her own plans, mate, I'm telling you. If Valentin knew he'd cut her in half, know what I mean?"

  Well, not quite in half, but I bet he'd have her watching a few squirming eels before he'd finished with her.

  For all that, there was a part of me that admired what she was doing.

  Maybe the man from St. Petersburg was her feed in Val's set up, leaking her information to set this whole thing up? What was in it for her? What was her goal in all this? Maybe Tom was right, it was everything that she had talked about? Question after question leaped into my head, but the snowflakes hitting my face made me remember that there were more pressing matters to attend to.

  We had no shelter, no heat and now no navigation. The cold was getting to me as the sweat on my back began to cool rapidly now that we had been stationary for a while. Tom shivered badly where he sat curled up on the snow beside me. Both of us had inherited a layer of snow. We had to move, but in which direction? The marker would only be good for a hundred meters or so; after that, and with out Polaris, we'd get disoriented and spend the rest of the night walking round in circles.

  I looked at Tom and felt him shivering in almost uncontrollable bursts.

  His brain was probably telling him he must start moving, but his body was begging him to stay where he was and rest.

  I lifted the cuff of various layers of clothing and had a quick look at the Lion King. Just under twelve hours to go until we should RV with the train. Even if I knew which direction to take, trying to cover that distance in these conditions without navigation aids would be madness. Visibility had worsened; it was down to about fifteen feet.

  In any other circumstances we should have been digging in for the night and riding out the storm, but we didn't have the luxury of time. Quite apart from making it to a train, I didn't know what sort of follow-up the Maliskia would go for, and I didn't want to find out. Trying to think of a positive, I finally dredged one up; at least the snow would cover our trail.

  Tom mumbled under his hood. "I'm really cold, Nick."

  "We'll get going in a minute, mate."

  I was still racking my brain for some sort of navigation aid. It had been years since I'd had to use or even remember any survival skills.

  Scrolling through the pages of crap in my head, I tried hard to call up what I'd learned all those years ago. I'd never been one for all that hundred-and-one-uses-for-a-shoelace stuff; I'd just got on with it and only did the snow-hole and trapped-rabbit routine when I had to.

  I put my arms around him. He wasn't too sure what was going on and I felt his body stiffen.

  "It's a snow thing," I said. "We've got to keep warm."

  He leaned in toward me, shivering big-time.

  "Nick, I'm really really sorry, mate. If I'd told you the truth we wouldn't be in this shit, know what I mean?"

  I nodded, feeling slightly uncomfortable. It wasn't all his fault.

  I'd have tried to drag his granny over that fenc
e if it would have given me half a chance of pocketing 1.7 million.

  "I'll tell you the best thing I've found to get over all this cold stuff," I said, trying to sound as relaxed about it as possible.

  From under the hood came a muffled, "What's that, then?"

  "Dream, mate. Just think to yourself that this will all be over soon.

  This time tomorrow you're going to be in a hot bath with a huge mug of coffee and a Big Mac with extra fries. This time tomorrow you'll be laughing about all this shit."

  He kicked his heels into the snow. "That's if these poxy trainers stay on."

  "Don't moan," I said. "They're better than those fucking stupid daps of yours."

  He started to laugh, but it turned into a cough.

  I looked up and saw nothing but blankets of white tumbling down at us out of the blackness. If I'd had access to a genie at that moment, the one thing I'd have wished for was a compass.

  Jesus, a compass. A compass can be made from any iron metal. It should have been so simple, but it seemed to take me for ever to work it out: Tom had a faceful of the stuff in the rim of his parka hood.

  Could I use it? And if so, then what? It was like trying to remember the ingredients of a particularly complicated cake I'd been shown how to bake twenty years ago.

  I tried hard to visualize the process, closing my eyes and thinking back to all those times when I'd got so bored making shelters, traps, and snares with bits of string and picture wire.

  Tom had other ideas. "Let's go, Nick, I'm cold. Come on, you said..

  ." He was clinging to me like a baby monkey on its mother's back. It was good, I needed him to warm me just as much as he needed me for reassurance.

  "In a minute, mate. In a minute."

  Something had to be in the memory banks somewhere. We never forget anything; it can all be brought back to the surface if you press the right button.

  It happened. The trigger was remembering being given a silk escape map in the Gulf, with a needle pinned in it.

  "Tom, are you still wearing those silk thermals?"

  He shook his head. My heart sank.

  "Nah, just the top. I wish I did have the bottoms, I'm freezing. Can we go now? You said to tell you, Nick, and I'm telling you."

  "Hang on a minute, mate, I've just had a great idea."

  I unwrapped my arm from him. As I moved, I was forcibly reminded of the awful discomfort of my wet clothing. My jeans clung to my legs and my T-shirt was cold and clammy.

  I removed my glove, holding it in my mouth while I pulled out the Leatherman. Opening the pliers, I put the glove back on before the skin of my hand was exposed for too long.

  "Look at me for a sec, would you, mate?"

  The parka hood came up and the snow that had collected on it fell onto his shoulders.

  Feeling around the frozen ring of fur with my gloved hand, I located the wire, then trapped it in the jaws of the pliers and squeezed until I felt it give. Teasing apart the material at the site of the cut, I exposed the metal, gripped one end of the cut with the pliers and pulled, grasping the exposed wire in my hand. I made another cut and put the two-inch strip inside my glove for safe keeping.

  I thought Tom might have been interested, but he was concentrating one hundred percent on feeling cold and miserable.

  Bending down some more, I peered into the darkness behind his hood. "I need some of that silk, Tom."

  He shrugged. "I don't have to take it off, do I?"

  "Just unzip your coat a bit more so I can get a hand in. I'll be as quick as I can."

  His hands slowly came out of his pockets and fumbled for the zip. In the end I shoved both of my gloves between my teeth so I could help him; then, having battled with numb fingers to open the blade of the Leatherman, I felt under his shirt.

  He sat there like a tailor's dummy as I pulled at his clothing. I didn't have enough feeling in my hands to be gentle about it, and he flinched as my freezing fingers gripped the silk and came into contact with his skin.

  My nose was streaming as I grabbed a handful of the undershirt and started cutting, pulling so hard that I nearly lifted Tom off the ground. I wanted to make sure the material ripped, so there were loose threads dangling.

  The knife jerked as it made its final cut. Tom yelped as the tip of the blade flicked into his chest. He sat there with an exposed finger over his little cut, the snow settling on his hand.

  I said, "For fuck's sake, Tom, keep the heat in."

  He pulled his clothing together, shoving his hands back in his pockets, and dropping his head. "Sorry."

  "I tell you what," I zipped him up once more, "I'm going to be a couple of minutes doing diis. Why don't you do some exercises to get some heat going?"

  "I'm all right. How much longer do you reckon to the train, Nick?"

  I dodged the question. "Come on, move about, it'll warm you up."

  He started to move as if he was snuggling under a comforter, but the only thing covering him was snow.

  "No, Tom, you've got to get up and get your body moving. Come on, we haven't got that far to go, but we won't make it if you start seizing up." I shook him. "Tom, get up."

  He hauled himself to his feet reluctantly as I brushed the snow from his shoulders. His fur rim was now a white ring of snow framing his face.

  "Come on, with me."

  Hands in pockets, we started to play aerobics with his back to the wind, squatting down and standing up again, elbows out, flapping like demented chickens.

  I kept my head down, protecting it from the wind as I got him to keep in time with me. "Good stuff, Tom, now keep going, I won't be long." I got back on my knees and into cover.

  It was gloves-off time again as I lay them in the snow. I crouched over to protect myself from the snowstorm; my hands were so numb that I had to pull threads from the silk with my teeth. Once I'd teased out a decent bit about five inches long I put it between my lips and fished out the needle-sized length of wire from my glove. Tying the loose end of the silk shakily around the middle of the metal, I finally managed a knot on the fourth attempt.

  Richard Simmons next to me grunted and groaned, but was sounding a bit happier. "It's working, Nick. I'm getting warmer, mate!" He beamed, blowing out the snot from his nose.

  I muttered encouragement through gritted teeth as I held the thread and wire, shaking the snow off my gloves and quickly putting them back on.

  My hands were now so wet they stuck to the inners.

  After trying to get some blood circulating by clapping them together for a while, it was gloves-off time yet again. As I bit on the free end of silk thread with my teeth, it seemed to take forever to grasp the dangling wire in one hand and the square of silk in the other. At last I began stroking the wire along the silk, repeating the motion over and over, always in the same direction. After about twenty strokes I stopped, making sure there were no kinks in the thread that would affect the balance of the metal once I let go.

  I fished in my pocket for the flashlight, switched it on and put it in my mouth. Still crouching over it to make sure the wind wouldn't affect the thread and needle, I let go and watched it spin. The short length of wire eventually steadied, just moving slightly from side to side. I knew the direction of the North Star from my snow marker, which was now quickly disappearing in the storm, so all I had to do was identify which end of the wire, magnetized by the silk, was pointing north. I could tell the difference between the ends from the way the Leatherman had cut them.

  The huffing and puffing went on behind me as I shivered and worked out what I was going to do next. Getting through this weather tonight was going to be a nightmare, but we absolutely had to be at that rail track by morning. In theory, moving cross country in these conditions was a huge blunder, but fuck the rules, it was too cold for them now. I didn't care about leaving sign; I needed roads to make distance, and besides, if Tom, or I, for that matter, started going down with hypothermia, we were more likely to find some form of shelter near a road. My new th
ought was to go west until we hit one, then hang a right and head north for the train track. One of the few things I knew about this country was that its main highway, and the one and only train track, ran east to west between Tallinn and St. Petersburg. The roads on either side were bound to make their way to it eventually, like streams toward a river.

  Nobody was going to see the flashlight in this weather so I turned it on again and looked down as I let the metal drop and had another check to make sure it still worked. As the compass needle oriented itself, I realized that the wind was doing its bit to help. It seemed to be prevailing from the west, so as long as I kept it in my face I would be heading the way I wanted.

  I was ready to go, gloves back on, the silk in my pocket, the compass thread and needle wrapped round my finger. I turned to Tom, who was squatting up and down with a vengeance, his arms swinging wildly.

  "Okay, mate, we're off."

  "Not long now, Nick, eh?"

  "No, not long. A couple of hours, tops." ii The gale had become a blizzard, bringing close to white-cut conditions.

  I was having to stop every ten or so paces, rubbing the needle again with the silk to reactivate the magnetic effect before getting another navigation fix. In this visibility there was no way I could keep us moving in a straight line. We were vaguely zigzagging west, still hoping to hit a road.

  We'd been going for about forty minutes. The wind was still head on and its stinging cold made my eyes stream with tears. I had nothing to protect my face with; all I could do was bury my head into my coat for a few moments' respite. Freezing flakes blasted their way into every gap in my clothes.

  I still led the way, breaking the trail, then stopping, though no longer turning, to allow Tom to catch up. When I heard him move up behind me I'd go on a few more steps. This time I did stop, turning my back to the wind, and I could just make him out coming toward me in the storm. I'd been so concerned about navigating that I hadn't noticed how much he was slowing down. I crouched over on my knees to protect the silk and magnetized the wire while I waited.