Payback

  36

  The shutters of the other units had been closed and locked and the final vehicles had driven away. It was dusk and Fergus wanted to keep the lights in their unit off at all times. There was enough spill from the security lighting in and around the industrial estate to provide them with sufficient illumination.

  The others had listened silently while Fergus explained what they had to do in the event of the PAD being initiated. All the while, Joey’s expression grew more alarmed and his eyes opened wider.

  Before Fergus began, Joey and Danny had lugged three tall fridge-freezers and a heavy old cooker up the stairs. The PAD was fixed at the window at the left-hand corner of the room, so the old white goods had to provide protection on two sides. The cooker and one of the freezers were placed between the PAD and the socket that would be used to initiate the device. On the other exposed side they stood two freezers, and the old sofa was moved there too; together they would provide some protection if the device had to be detonated. That was the theory at least, but Fergus knew they would need luck as well as planning.

  ‘And remember,’ he added, as he finished his briefing. ‘Whoever detonates the PAD needs to take a quick look round to see that everyone has taken cover, then keep your head down and your mouth open, hit the switch and hope for the best.’

  Joey’s mouth was already open. It was gaping like a goldfish frozen in ice. ‘Mouth open?’ he managed to gasp.

  ‘With such a big explosion, so close, the pressure wave can break your jaw if you clench it tight. Better to keep it loose and your mouth open.’

  Joey’s mouth dropped open again. He glanced nervously over at the disguised PAD and then edged his way cautiously across the room, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the device.

  It was time to move on – Fergus knew that keeping everyone busy was the best way of countering their nervousness. ‘So let’s look at the footage of the CTR.’

  They gathered around the camcorder to view Danny’s filming of Northwood. The edges of the screen were a little blurred and the picture was jerky, but the target could be seen clearly and Fergus seemed pleased. ‘I’ve seen worse.’

  Danny smiled. Coming from his grandfather, that was a compliment. He kept the sound low – it consisted mainly of rustling noises as the bag moved and the roar of passing vehicles.

  Fergus froze the picture at a point where it showed the fence line at the front of the camp. ‘See those signs on the fence? They’re warning that dogs patrol the perimeter along that gravel pathway there – look, between the fence and the line of trees.’

  Danny knew all about the dogs; his mind went back to his encounter with Rover.

  Fergus let the film run again and gave a running commentary on what he was seeing. ‘That’s a four-metre fence and it isn’t barbed wire at the top. It’s something far worse: razor wire. If you look above the fence there are CCTV cameras covering the whole length of the gravel path and the top of the fence. The minute anyone tries to get over the fence, the guards will be out with the dogs let loose in front of them.’

  The film showed the MoD police car passing and the MP5s on the two officers in the vehicle. Fergus was worried. ‘Those guys will shoot first if you get caught climbing over that fence, Danny.’

  The flags came into view above the tree line, masking most of the buildings. ‘Those flags, Danny – the building they’re on is the one you have to get into. That’s the one.’

  Danny’s hunch had been correct; he had recognized the most important building. He kept his eyes on the camcorder as the jerky picture moved on. ‘There’s a better view of it soon.’

  The pond and guardroom came into view, and then the female guard and the dog handler with his friend Rover. The sound of Danny’s shout to the dog was just audible and he held his breath as he waited for his grandfather’s bollocking.

  ‘You can’t resist it, can you? Always got something to say.’

  ‘I was using my initiative,’ said Danny quickly. ‘If I’d just kept my head down and hurried away they might have been suspicious.’

  Fergus let it go; there was too much more to worry about without dwelling on one mistake. And besides, he didn’t want to put Danny down for using his initiative, even if it had been misplaced.

  They got a better view of the main building, and as the film moved on, Fergus pointed out the few possible places for an attempt at getting over the fence. One was at a corner on the fence line, where two CCTV cameras were mounted back to back, with a gap of less than half a metre between them. ‘There’s a blind spot in the camera coverage – you have to go for that. The best way is to lay a folded blanket on top of the razor wire and roll over it. The trouble is, it takes ages to pull it off. You’ll have to leave it there and that could compromise you once you’re inside.’

  The film stopped suddenly, and then picked up instantly at a point soon after Elena had joined Danny for the second part of the CTR at the rear of the complex.

  ‘There,’ said Fergus, pointing at the tiny screen. ‘Those buildings are the married quarters and the gate in front of them is your way out, Danny. There’s a simple tube handle that only works from the inside. Just stick your hand in and turn it. They never bother about people getting out; it’s stopping them getting in they’re interested in.’

  When the film ended, Joey took out one of his small cigars and lit it. The blue smoke curled around the room. ‘Looks bad to me – maybe impossible.’

  ‘No, not impossible,’ said Fergus, ‘but I’m not happy with it. We need more time to properly recce the camp and check out those possible climbing points. There’s too many things that could go wrong right now.’

  Danny had been afraid that his grandfather might attempt to delay the operation. ‘But we don’t have time. It’s got to be tonight. Look at the state of you – you should be in hospital.’

  He was right, of course, but Fergus wasn’t thinking of himself. ‘Time spent in recce is seldom wasted.’

  ‘I’ve heard all that a hundred times,’ snapped Danny. ‘All your clever SAS sayings don’t mean a thing now. We have to go for it tonight. I know how bad that wound is – I’ve seen it.’

  There was a stunned silence. For the first time since Fergus had met his grandson he suddenly felt he was no longer in sole and total control of proceedings. He sighed. ‘But getting you over the fence is only part of it. What about phase two? That isn’t sorted.’ He glared at Joey. ‘Or is it?’

  Joey took a final puff of his cigar, dropped it onto the floor and ground it out with his foot. There was a growing collection of butts strewn across the room. ‘Everyone chill – you’ll give yourself headaches. I can get you a pass.’

  While Danny and Elena had been doing the CTR of Northwood, Joey’s recce had been in a pub, but he had been following Fergus’s instructions. He blew out the last of the smoke and nodded. ‘You were right, there were RAF guys from the camp in there. Should be even busier tonight, and that’s what I need: a crowded pub with everyone having a good time.’

  Phase two of the operation involved getting hold of a Northwood security pass for just a few minutes, so that a duplicate could be made. If Danny did, somehow, make it over the fence, there was no way that he could then just walk into a secure building, or even attempt to break in. He would need a security swipe pass for the main door and any internal doors he might encounter. And Fergus had devised a possible way of getting one.

  Elena had bought a card swipe reader when purchasing the camcorder. And she’d learned how to use it by linking the reader up to her computer via a USB.

  The grey plastic box was about 10cm long, with a groove running along it for swiping the card and reading the magnetic strip on the back. The readers are cheap to buy and are sometimes used by unscrupulous restaurant waiters, who copy the card details from unsuspecting customers and then sell them on to crooks, who make duplicate cards.

  All Elena had to do was swipe the security pass through the reader and the details wou
ld appear on her computer screen. Then she could burn those details onto the magnetic strip on the back of her own Halifax card.

  Originally Fergus had intended to go into the pub close to Northwood Hills tube station, which he knew was popular with RAF personnel from the camp. His plan had been to get chatting with some of the RAF guys and then lift one of their passes, which would then go out to Elena, who would swipe the details. It was risky and dangerous, but no more so than every other element of the hastily conceived operation.

  But once Fergus realized that he could no more fly to the moon than walk casually into the pub and stand chatting as he waited for exactly the right moment, he’d had no option but to turn to Joey for help once again. He didn’t like it, but there was no other way, and he felt slightly better when Joey laughed and told him that it wouldn’t be the first time he’d picked a pocket. Not by a long shot.

  Now, after watching the camcorder footage and seeing for himself the full dangers awaiting his grandson, Fergus was reassessing the whole plan. Ultimately the final decision on the go-ahead was still his. It all went completely against the maxim which he had followed since his first days in the Regiment: the famous seven Ps – Prior Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Piss Poor? This plan wasn’t even that good. It was fucking crazy. But it was all they had, and as the nagging, constant pain seared through his leg, making him want to scream in agony, he knew that Danny was right. He wouldn’t last long enough to come up with a Plan B. It was now or never.

  Slowly Fergus nodded and then spoke quietly. ‘All right, we go tonight.’ He looked at Danny. ‘If Joey gets the pass.’

  Joey stood up, wandered over to the window and stared out through the bars. ‘Oh, I’ll get you your pass. I’ve had more than enough of being cooped up in this place. I need to spend some time with the lovely Joyce.’

  37

  It was raining. Just a light drizzle, but enough to dampen Danny’s spirits as he leaned against the back wall of the pub and waited for Joey to complete the first part of the operation.

  Danny felt uneasy. He could depend on his grandfather and Elena completely. He would trust either of them with his life. But Joey? Unpredictable, unreliable Joey? Even the thought of it was scary.

  The strange thing was that ever since they’d driven away from the industrial unit, leaving Fergus to wait and worry alone, Joey had seemed to find a new confidence and sense of purpose. Maybe it was because he was at last doing something familiar; something he felt he was in control of. Or perhaps it was just that he was looking forward to getting the job done and re-establishing his relationship with Joyce.

  Joey’s greatest skill was his ability to mix and get on with people. He could be anyone and everyone’s friend, and with the cash that Elena had provided in his pocket he intended to make a few very good friends tonight. So long as they were in the RAF.

  He parked the car and told Danny and Elena that it might take a little while and that Danny should wait by the small frosted window at the back of the pub. On his recce earlier Joey had discovered that the window in the gents toilet could be opened. He would lift the security card and then pass it out to Danny. Elena was waiting in the car on the far side of the car park with her laptop powered up waiting to swipe the card and burn a copy.

  Everything depended on Joey, and as Danny stood in the drizzle his thoughts drifted back to another apparently unreliable character he had depended on once before – Eddie Moyes.

  Danny hadn’t dreamed or even thought about Eddie in a while – too much had been happening – but as the raindrops dripped from the peak of his baseball bat, the nightmarish vision of his dream returned.

  Eddie is running from the gunman and Danny is running towards him, trying to save him but knowing it’s hopeless. Getting closer and closer as the pistol slowly rises in the gunman’s hand.

  He hears Eddie shout; always the same words: ‘Danny, help me! Please, help me!’ He hears the words again. ‘Danny, help me! Please, help me!’

  And then suddenly the words are different. This is new, strange, bewildering; even the sound of the voice has changed. It’s still urgent, but not desperate, and the words are not shouted, but hissed in a loud whisper. ‘Hey, come on, Danny, help me out here. Danny!’

  Danny shook his head to free himself from the confusion of the dream.

  ‘Danny, what’s wrong with you?’

  It was then that Danny became aware of the hand dangling from the window just above his head. Joey was glaring out at him. ‘Come on, take this card. We ain’t got all night.’

  The thoughts of bad dreams and Eddie Moyes were instantly thrust from Danny’s mind. He reached up and grabbed the security pass. ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘Sure, no problem. But I can’t hang around in here too long – my friends back in the bar are waiting to hear another fascinating episode from my life story.’

  Danny went running across the car park to the hire car. He jumped inside and gave Elena the security pass. She swiped it through the reader and the details instantly appeared on her laptop screen.

  87492820187633537840NH92826 2980

  Elena pointed at the screen as she handed Danny a pen. ‘The last four figures – it’s the pin number. You’ll need it, so write it down.’

  As Danny wrote the numbers on his hand, Elena tapped the figures into her computer in preparation for burning the security pass details onto her own Halifax bank card. She needed to keep the security pass for a little longer just in case the burn didn’t work and she had to start again.

  Danny was impatient to get the pass back to Joey before its owner discovered it had been taken. ‘Come on, Elena, we haven’t got all night.’

  Elena didn’t reply or even look away from the screen. She continued with the job calmly and carefully, concentrating on getting it right first time. Once she hit the burn icon, her own card would be gone for ever as the details were erased. That was why she had withdrawn the maximum she could take out in any one day from a cash point on the way to the pub.

  The card was ready to be burned. Elena hit the burn icon and swiped her Halifax card. Twice. Once to erase her details and then again to burn the security pass details.

  She smiled. ‘It’s done. Now go, go!’

  Danny leaped from the car and ran back to the window, where Joey was still waiting. He snatched the security pass from Danny. ‘All done?’

  ‘Yeah, we’ll be waiting in the car. Quick as you can, eh?’

  ‘Sure. But I got to pick my moment to get this pass back where it belongs. And I do believe it’s my round.’

  Marcie Deveraux had spent a highly frustrating day and her evening had been little better. She hadn’t appreciated receiving Elena’s brief, insolent e-mail, and with Fincham becoming increasingly twitchy she knew that the time Dudley would allow her to complete her mission was running short,

  She was in a foul mood as she walked towards her very exclusive members club for a late supper. The discreet ringtone of her Xda sounded and she answered the call with a bark, reminiscent of Fincham’s telephone manner. ‘Yes?’

  Curly was sitting in front of the monitor in the Pimlico safe house, and if he noticed Deveraux’s impatient and aggressive tone, it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He was about to make her day. ‘We’ve found the money! We know who the broker is! Fincham called him again to say he’d take whatever money he could. He’s going over to get it, on the morning flight to Moscow, eight-thirty. We picked up everything: the conversation, the broker’s number, the lot. It means you can get the money back, and I reckon I should be in line for a decent Christmas bonus.’

  Curly had every reason to feel proud of his achievement. After Fincham’s first call to his mysterious broker, he had programmed the numbers he had used to identify himself into the Firm’s satellite ECHELON computer system. It meant that within seconds of Fincham giving his pass numbers again, they had been recognized and identified and Curly and Beanie were locked onto the call to Moscow.


  ‘You’ve done well,’ said Deveraux. ‘I’ll make sure it’s mentioned.’

  ‘Yeah, he thought he’d be safe using another new pay-as-you-go mobile, but I got him. And that’s not all – Fincham also called Northwood, said he needs to check some files. Maybe he wants to see if there’s anything on the mainframe that could help trace him after he does a runner in the morning.’

  ‘What’s he doing now?’

  ‘Going though his papers, destroying stuff.’

  ‘That won’t save him. Let me know when it looks as though he’s ready to leave.’

  Deveraux ended the call and opened her e-mail, and as the club concierge opened the wide glass doors and she swept into the building, she re-read Elena’s old message.

  All alive and safe.

  Deveraux smiled. The end of the operation was close now; so close she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. She had figured all along that Fergus Watts was the key to flushing out Fincham and recovering the money. And he was. In his panic to avoid exposure, Fincham had made a fatal error.

  The money would easily be recovered now. Deveraux would phone Dudley and tell him that a team should be sent to Moscow to read the broker his horoscope and terrify him into handing over the cash. With full interest. Then, of course, he would meet with an unfortunate accident.

  Fincham could be taken at any time before making his bolt for the airport, and Watts, Danny and Elena could be brought in. Deveraux would e-mail Elena that Watts was in the clear now that Fincham had implicated himself. All they had to do was turn themselves in, and after a debriefing they would be free to get on with their lives. Just as she had promised.

  Deveraux had until 8.30 a.m. to catch up with Fincham. She would allow him to go into Northwood. She knew exactly what he was planning, but it would all be in vain. He wouldn’t get to SECRET: ULTRA, where the real information on him was stored. Only the heads of the two intelligence services and the Prime Minister knew the access codes. Each had his own code; no one had all three.