by Andy McNab
I ran back to the large room and into the haze. Add that to the bare walls and fluorescent lighting and the space was straight out of a 1970s office drama, even if the technology on display was not. The eighteen-inch HP laptop on another table against a wall looked new. The impression might have been of some ramshackle command and control centre, but it worked, as Jack’s empty bank account testified.
Gabe had moved the two standers next to the guy I’d dropped. They were on their arses, their hands in the air.
‘No English! No English!’
Gabe wasn’t buying it. He bore down on them with his lump of steel. ‘Shut the fuck up! We want our fucking money back!’
All three were maybe early to mid-thirties and overweight, two bald, one with a long beard. Their stomachs strained against their shirts.
‘No English! No English!’
Gabe slammed his bar into the upper arm of the one nearest him. ‘You’d better fucking learn some quick, then! We want our money back! Give us the money! You fucking speak English. Give us the money.’
Yulia was already sitting in a worn wooden dining chair and hitting the laptop’s keys.
72
After the initial burst of excitement and mayhem, things were settling down. All I could hear was begging and sobbing, and the rattle of computer keys. Rio was outside the fire-escape door. The best way to protect us was beyond us – or the first we’d know of any drama heading our way was when it came bursting in.
I became aware of the faint sound of music and traced it to a little CD player off to the left. They must have turned the volume down when they heard the mad woman banging on the door.
Jack picked up one of the mobiles. ‘This is me!’ The name of each victim had been Sharpied onto silver duct tape and stuck to the trestle table beneath the phone. The paperwork was the play sheets, A4 printouts that were curling at the edges and stained with mug rings. I could imagine the fat fucks sitting back with a coffee and a cigarette as they texted messages of love to their victims. Two Costa cups overflowed with butts.
Jack went to read his play sheet.
‘Mate, don’t worry about that. It’ll only get you sparked up. That’s history now. Don’t go back to it, all right? We’ll take all these mobiles and the laptop. Make sure they can’t fuck over anyone else. First, let’s see if she can get the money.’
But he couldn’t resist looking down at his love life, which had been reduced to a couple of sheets of A4, a series of boxes ticked off as they went down the list in readiness for the next part of the rip-off. He shook his head again. ‘They were going to go for the new bank account.’
‘Mate, bin it. Just get a grip of what we need to do. We’ve got to keep focused. We—’
We both spun round as three screams came in quick succession. Gabe rained down a flurry of blows. ‘Money! We want the fucking money! Where’s the money?’
The begging and sounds of pain were overboard. Of course it was hurting them, but Gabe was exercising restraint. If he’d brought his weapon down with real intent they would never have screamed again.
They carried on with the don’t-speak-English thing but their eyes swivelled calculatingly between Gabe and Yulia, who had her back to them on the wooden chair as she continued to tap away.
Jack had found himself a bin-liner and was busy disconnecting the mobiles from their chargers and throwing them inside. Yulia stopped tapping and sat back, deep in thought, her elbows on the arms of the chair and her fingers together on her chin.
‘You found something?’
Gabe shouted over the tables, not that it was needed, ‘You got the money?’
She nodded very slowly, still staring at the screen as I went and stood next to her, bending down to look at what she had found. The screen was empty, just a solid wall of light blue.
‘Yes, I found it. I know where they have sent it. ’
She didn’t sound as excited as I’d thought she might. She leant forward and hit a command.
A video hit the screen, loud stirring Arabic music as bodies dressed in black paraded with weapons and jumped over burning tyres. A small black flag with Arabic lettering fluttered in the wind, top right of the screen. Then, dubbed in a northern English accent, a very angry and very young lad told the youth of the UK to join the jihad and attack whatever and whoever they could.
And, of course, to send donations.
She turned down the volume and the three held by Gabe had gone just as quiet.
‘This is all about terrorism, Nick. This is all about funding ISIS. They’re scamming for ISIS.’
Jack dropped the bin-liner and picked up his weapon, taking strides towards Gabe. ‘Did you hear that? Did you hear where my money’s gone? I’m bankrolling fucking jihadis! I’m paying for IEDs to blow legs off!’
Gabe looked stunned. He leant down and lifted the hem of his jeans to expose his prosthetic to the three lads. ‘This was from fighting, you fucks.’
As one, they burst out laughing.
And then, finally, the English flowed. ‘Fuck you! Fuck you, kafir!’
Gabe didn’t need any further invitation. He let go of his jeans as Jack took the final step and thumped his weapon hard on the nearest of the three, getting him on the side of the trunk, right over the kidney. I heard the solid thwack from several metres away and then the gasp of agony as he went down.
The other two went straight into Islamist mode. ‘Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!’
They stared up at Gabe defiantly, preparing for death, willing him to bring that bar down on their heads. He looked as if he was about to oblige. I had to get a grip. ‘Stop! Don’t kill them! Fuck them up but don’t kill them! Leicester, not Libya, lads. They’re better alive – information! We find a way to hand them over to get more of the fuckers!’
I let that sink in for a couple of seconds.
‘Let’s pack the kit, then get them and it into the van.’
The bodies on the floor restarted their chorus. ‘Kafir! Kafir!’
It might have been the biggest insult a Muslim could hurl at anybody, but it was water off a duck’s back to those two. They’d had enough of it in Afghanistan to last a lifetime.
Gabe and Jack exchanged a look of agreement with me but still wanted at least to fuck them up. They turned and brought down the steel rods on their collar-bones to turn their chanting back into sobs. Why not? I wasn’t going to try to stop them because it just wouldn’t happen. They were in their own zones, their own personal battle spaces, thinking about their own fucked-up bodies and the mates who were no longer with them. I turned up the music to block out the screams for Yulia.
I continued to gather up the evidence and throw it into the bin-liner as Yulia continued to stare at the wall of light blue, not wanting to turn round.
‘Get all the plugs and leads out, Yulia. We’re taking it with us, yeah?’
She nodded, but she looked as if she was going to faint.
Gabe and Jack took a moment now, standing over the blood-soaked bodies on the floor. They were breathing; there was movement from two, anyway.
‘Right, we’re ready.’
I shoved the bag to Yulia and she gathered up the laptop and placed it with the mobiles. ‘Look at me, Yulia. Keep looking at me. Just close your eyes and I’ll take you to the door, okay?’
As I started to lead her, Rio burst through the fire-escape door. ‘We got drama! Two vehicles coming down the alley!’
The fattest of the three turned his bloodied head towards us, suddenly all smiles and very happy. He started hollering, with blood spraying out of his swollen mouth.
‘Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!’
73
I leapt down the stairs, stumbling and skidding as my feet landed on wet metal. Speed and aggression were our only help now that we had lost surprise. I had to take the fight to them, to draw the fire so Rio and Yulia could get away with the kit. She and that laptop were now as important as each other; both had to be got to the Owl, and that mea
nt I had to get to the vehicles before they could stop and unload their bodies.
I needed to do my very best, with whatever I was about to get into the fight with, to give Gabe and Jack the chance to catch up and also start fighting like dogs. Those two would be bringing something else to the party, too. They would bring anger and a thirst for vengeance. There was more than enough of that behind me to compensate for the lack of legs.
I could hear their pounding boots above me, even over the thunder of rain on the fire-escape landings and the roofs of the vehicles below. I jumped the last half-flight and crashed into a deep puddle next to the Galaxy. Weapon up, no time to think, I ran straight at the first vehicle’s headlights as it rolled to a stop. They would have seen us by now and this was happening whether they liked it or not – whether we liked it or not. The only way out of a corner, mentally or physically, is to fight.
The vehicle pulled in behind the Galaxy as I closed. The other was still on the move, its lights bouncing up and down on the uneven alley, strobing the rain as it cut through the paddling pools and threw up mini tidal waves.
My eyes were fixed on the passenger door and it was just starting to open. Nothing else mattered: what was happening behind me, what was happening to my half-right with the other car. Just one target at a time. And after that get on to the next before they had time to react or even to breathe.
With my last stride I flung my body against the door and it slammed shut. He hadn’t even got a leg out. I stepped back and swung the lump of steel against the glass like a baseball bat. It shattered into a thousand fragments.
I yanked the bar back but this time, instead of bringing it down in a swinging action, I used it like a knife and stabbed it through the shattered window into the side of a head. I stabbed again and connected again, but it was the third blow that did the damage. It caught him in the neck and blood gushed like a burst water main. He was fucked. He was leaving the fight.
Gabe and Jack shot past me on their way to the other vehicle, which had now stopped. I ran round to the driver’s side of my vehicle. The door was opening. In the headlights behind I could see it was an MG saloon, and the driver was trying to break the world record for a vehicle decamp. He knew it was that or he was going to be joining his mate. He took one look at me and changed direction, now leaning across the central console to try to get out over the passenger.
I ran back to the passenger side and lunged in through the smashed-out window frame, grabbing his arm with my left hand and heaving him towards me over the mess that was now collapsed in the passenger seat. With the same stabbing motion I brought the steel into the top of his head. He fell forward onto the other body and I took my weapon as high as I could in the roof space and chopped hard into the back of his skull. Bone crunched and, moments later, his very long beard glistened in the headlights behind as blood and grey matter cascaded from his brain cavity.
As I pushed myself out of the window frame I cut my hand on the remaining glass. I heard more pounding feet and turned to see Rio and Yulia coming past the Galaxy. Rio was in front, his good arm around her, pushing her head into his chest as he worked at averting her gaze. ‘Keep looking away! Keep going! We’re going to turn right! All good, mate, all good.’
They hurried past me, Rio concentrating on her as she clutched the black bin-liner to her chest.
I was already at the second vehicle. There was a body on the ground behind it and I could see a couple of big shapes bearing down on it. It had to be one of the team. I caught a glimpse of prosthetic and heard a familiar growl. Gabe was taking the pain. Jack was virtually inside the vehicle. I could hear his screams – good or bad, I couldn’t tell.
All I could do was charge at these shapes, aiming for the head, aiming for the face.
I took the three paces towards them, brandishing my steel like a claymore. I closed in, ignoring the one further back. The one I wanted was closest, his hand reaching inside his jacket. His face didn’t register surprise or fear, just anger, and then he raised a knife.
My eyes were fixed on his face as I swung the steel downwards, and the point of contact was just above the cheekbone. His skin folded over below his eye, then split open. He fell with a scream, his body banging against my legs on the way down.
I heard, rather than saw, the dark shape from the right that was almost on top of me. Not bothering to turn and look, I lashed out wildly. The steel hammered against his skull twice, both times with such force that my arm jarred to a halt. I continued to rain blows onto the top of his head as he went down. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew I’d lost it, but I didn’t care. I was remembering the way, seconds ago, this fucker had been trying to kill my friend.
Three more times. There was a crunching, cracking sound as his skull gave way.
I raised my hand, ready to hit again, but stopped myself. I’d done enough. Thick blood oozed from his head wounds. He had lost function in his eyes and had a vacant stare, wide open and dull, pupils fully dilated. The blood spread beneath him, joining the puddles.
I turned to check the first guy. The knife was on the ground, and so was he, curled up, holding his face and moaning to himself. His legs flailed weakly.
Gulping air, trying to re-oxygenate, I didn’t immediately see the one coming from behind me, but I took a swing. He jumped out of the way and swayed on his feet, another big guy. ‘Fuck you, kafir! Fuck you!’
Jack materialized behind him and brought down his steel with both hands to force it into the back of his head. The crack resonated round the alley and he fell. No way would he have survived a hit like that.
We had bodies on the ground, some still moving, but they were no longer a threat.
‘Come on, let’s go! Let’s go!’
I grabbed hold of Gabe with an outstretched arm to drag him out of the large puddle he was lying in, only for him to pick up his weapon and start beating the body nearest him. ‘Fucking arsehole!’
‘Mate, we’ve gotta go! That one’s dead. There’s no movement in the cars. This one, mate, you finished him. We’ve gotta go.’
Gabe stood there.
Jack did the same.
Neither moved, heavy rain falling from their faces and rinsing the blood from their weapons as they just stared down at the bodies about them. We needed to move.
‘Lads, the agreement, one voice. Come on – Rio and Yulia, in case they’re in the shit. We’ve got to make sure they’re okay.’
The thing about command and control is that once you’re fighting for your life, your senses narrow down to confront what is immediately in front of you. There can’t be total control. The secret is to make sure control is regained once the fight has been won or you’re losing it and need to get out of danger.
Both of them knew it, and Jack was the first to stir and follow me. He passed Gabe, who gave him an almost pastoral tweak of the face as he also turned and joined us. We ran as fast as we could with only four legs between us.
74
We could only move at the speed of the slowest man, and in this particular exfil it was Gabe. He’d taken a battering and was limping even more than usual.
As we hugged the wrought-iron works on our left and the van came into sight, there was still no sound of engines behind us or thunder of footsteps. I doubted anyone left behind was capable.
We came into the middle of the road to make sure Rio saw us and the engine was gunning as we crossed. As Gabe and Jack clambered into the back I ran up to Rio’s window. ‘Mate, I’ll drive – both hands.’
He got that, and we swapped as I sucked a chunk of MG window out of the web of my right hand – it was catching on everything I gripped. My jeans stuck to me as I climbed into the driver’s seat, soaked with rain and blood. My face was drenched with sweat and the downpour that hammered into the van’s roof.
As I threw the vehicle around in a three-point turn to get us heading back to the crossroads, I could hear heavy breathing behind me and the clunk of steel as weapons went onto the floor. There wa
s a lot of sniffing and the noises of people generally sorting themselves out, but one thing there wasn’t was celebration. We all knew we still had a lot to do.
I jerked my head round while feeling for our kit under my seat. We’d sort that out once we were safe. ‘Rio, we got the laptop?’
‘Yeah. And the phones.’
‘Yulia?’
‘What?’
‘That’s all I need to know.’
As we reached the left-hand bend with the pub on the right, I had to swerve hard over and bounce up onto the pavement as vehicle headlights in fast convoy cut the corner.
Everyone sparked up in the back as they took the bouncing of the van. ‘What the fuck!’
I counted them past. ‘We’ve got three vehicles. Hold on, we’re going for it.’
The van rolled off to the left as it came off the pavement and I put my foot down. I looked in the mirror and saw a red haze of brake lights, then white as the first vehicle spun round.
I put my foot to the boards as Rio powered down the window and stuck his head out, his hand gripping the seat, trying to get a view behind.
‘They’re coming!’
I kept my foot down all the way to the lights, then hit the brakes hard. Rio was flung against the front of the window frame he was half hanging out of. The lights were telling me to wait but I strained my neck both ways and swung the wheel left.
The windscreen wipers were going mad; the rain hammered on the roof; the tyres roared on the road. I had to holler at the top of my voice. ‘Listen in!’ The gears crunched their way up. ‘We need somewhere dark to lose them or we have to take them on. Stand by for the fight.’
Rio was still hanging out of the window, his face getting pebble dashed with rain. ‘I’ve got lights coming up to the junction.’
I put my foot down and screamed past Lidl in search of darkness. Gabe had wedged himself between the two front seats. I could see forward in the middle distance the other side of the roundabout. It was more habitation. I looked half right, the other side of the cash-and-carry, and spotted inky blackness. Once in it I would keep moving.