by Andy McNab
Then I explained the problem the Owl and his kind had with us, the real people, and why we needed to sign up with whatever needed to be signed up. They all agreed. Why wouldn’t they? I got Rio to come down off his bed and sit next to Gabriel, and did the same to Jack before gathering them all in really close, to within whispering distance.
‘No way are we putting our lives in the hands of these fuckers. All we’re being offered is words. They mean jack-shit. Even if we do get out of here, who knows what’s going to happen next? Are we really going to put our destiny in the hands of someone who looks like a fucking owl?’
All three exchanged glances. What the fuck is he on about? Rio piped up. ‘Well, yeah, course – but …’
‘Look, I’m not too sure how we can get out of here yet. But I know how we can get out of the town, and then to Longyearbyen. I know where we can hole up and sort our shit out.’
Jack frowned. ‘What shit do we have to sort out?’
‘Let’s get out of the cell first. Then the building. Then the town. Once we’re out of the danger bubble—’
‘Yeah, but what are we going to do? Even if we do get out of the building, we’re not going to tab, are we? And we can’t just flag down that minibus.’
‘We’re going to take a fire engine. They’ve got some Gaz-71s. Not far from here.’
They all knew what they were. Enemy-vehicle recognition and use was drilled into British soldiers pretty much from day one.
Rio had a brainwave. ‘We’ll start a fire. That’ll get a Gaz down here, double-time.’
Gabriel stared at him. ‘Shit for brains – how’re we going to make a fire that’s bigger than something we can put out with a piss? You’re not thinking straight.’
We all heard someone coming in or exiting the main door, followed by the metallic clank of it locking down.
‘We need to get out of here on a rolling start-line. We keep on going till we get to the fire station, and then all the way to Longyearbyen. Who knows? We might even be able to lift a Gaz without anyone knowing. I doubt they have a full-time crew hanging about. Anyway, the only way to find out is by getting out of here, and up that hill.
‘If it goes noisy at any point, we’ll just have to go for it, won’t we? The station is on the high ground behind us. Me and Stedman passed it on the way in. You can’t miss the fucking thing. It’s new, and of course it’s red. Lads, I’ve got nothing else for you because I don’t know anything else – except that if we stay here, we’ve got no control over our wellbeing. So, how do we get out of here?’
Jack grunted. ‘As quickly as possible! But it’s not like we’re the Fantastic Four …’
Gabriel jumped in. ‘I’ll get you sad fucks out of the cell, and then you can get me to the fuse box, or whatever’s out there, and I can attack the main door. I’ll be able to cut the power to it without anybody knowing, no problem at all. So over to you lot. I’m waiting.’
Rio gave his mate a wide grin, then regretted it as his cracked lips took the punishment. Gabriel poked his chest. ‘You’re not taking the piss now, are you? Not fucking heli fuse-box repair man shite now, am I?’
Rio took the jab. ‘Mate, you haven’t got us out of here yet.’
‘So I’d better get to work, hadn’t I?’ Gabriel pointed to the mid-section of the door. ‘Buzz, buzz. The lock’s magnetic, right? I knew a twelve-year-old who defeated one of these things. It was a gate on the security fence, and he was trying to get into Sports Direct warehouse – he was just pushing, pulling up, really quickly in unison.’
Jack had worked it out at the same time we did. ‘Did you get what you wanted?’
Gabriel shook his head. ‘Nah, I couldn’t get in the main building. Just one pair of new Nike Air, that’s all I wanted. I just wanted to be like my mates, know what I mean?’
I shook my head. ‘No, mate. Too much noise. We wouldn’t even make it to the main door without being compromised.’
Gabriel tapped a finger against his nose. ‘Exactly. But I’m a fucking REME fuse-box genius, I know stuff. Fundamentally, that heap of Soviet shite the other side of the door is a classic traction electromagnet. The force between the bonding of the electromagnet and the armature,’ he glanced at Rio, ‘the strike plate, for thick fucks, varies, but based on its size, I’d say that one packs no more than a twelve-hundred-pound holding force.’
He turned to Jack. ‘That’s just over five hundred and forty kilos, for numerically illiterate Ruperts. And for stupid fucks like you,’ it was my turn, ‘the armature and the mag need to be in direct contact for its maximum force. The insertion of anything, any non-metallic material, is going to diminish that force. Even a leaf from a tree, between magnet and armature, can reduce the mag lock’s holding force by about fifty per cent. So it’ll still lock, it’ll still close, but the holding force will be reduced.’
He pointed at Rio. ‘Even you, with your gimpy arm, could push that open – so, you three work out how to get the door open long enough, and I’ll do the rest. Then we’ll just wait for things to calm down. Show me the mains box, I’ll cut the power and we’re off.’
Gabriel unzipped his Gore-Tex trousers and eased his stump from the socket. Next, he ripped the zinc-oxide tape off his dressing, tore it into strips and lined them up carefully on the bed frame.
79
Jack was up for it. ‘You two,’ he gestured at me and Rio, ‘stay where you are, so you’re not presenting a threat. I’ll deal with this. You.’ He pointed at Gabriel. ‘You’ll be up here with me, won’t you? You need to do your stuff.’
‘Don’t you worry.’ He rolled the double r in a way I’d not heard before. He was getting more Scottish by the second. Maybe it came with becoming a twelve-year-old all over again.
Jack checked to make sure it was safe to go and Gabriel gave him a nod. Jack headed for the door and started banging on it. ‘Hello? Please?’ There was real pain in his voice.
Gabriel took up position to his left, the opposite side of the door to the hinges, a strip of zinc-oxide tape in his hand.
It wasn’t long before we heard movement in the corridor, then the buzz and rattle that might be our passport out of there. Beer-gut stood in the frame, with two of the escorts a pace behind him. None of them looked like they’d enjoyed being torn away from the calendar girls.
‘Cigarette? Please? Cigarette?’ Jack was half pleading, half charm, as he mimed the first stage of trying to give yourself lung cancer.
Gabriel nodded and agreed, leaning against the doorframe with his hands behind him, as if he was supporting himself. He’d left the Gore-Tex open, and was showing a bit of prosthetic. Even I was convinced: nobody was going to worry about a cripple. He turned back to us. ‘What’s the Russian for cigarette?’
Beer-gut knew without me telling him. ‘Ah! Sigareta.’
No matter where you were on the planet, the two common bonds were football and nicotine. Anyone who’d experienced the need for a smoke understood it immediately in others. This was Beer-gut’s kind of emergency.
The two heavies powered down now they knew what the door-banging had been about. They hung back in the corridor as Beer-gut muttered something and pulled out a pack, flipped it open and offered Jack one.
Jack added most-grateful-man-on-earth to his list of Oscar nominations.
Gabriel asked for one too. Beer-gut nodded and Jack fished out a second. He put the first into his mouth and did the classic move as the disposable lighter came up. He cupped his hands around Beer-gut’s, as if he was shielding the flame from a force-ten gale, established eye-to-eye with his saviour, took the first drag, then nodded his appreciation. There was immediate bonding, and Jack tried to keep it in place while Gabriel still had his hands behind his back.
Gabriel finally did a big thanks as Jack turned the cigarettes around, lit the other one for him and passed it over. They all stood there, a convention of Smokers Anonymous, the worker bees sharing an emotional bond.
Gabriel took another drag. Beer-gut saw
the leg and couldn’t help his curiosity. He gently touched it with the toe of his boot. ‘Voyna?’
Gabriel looked like every hole in his head was exhaling smoke as he spoke. ‘Afghanistan. Taliban.’ He pointed to Jack’s leg as well. ‘Helmand.’
Beer-gut pursed his lips, as if to say, ‘Life’s a bitch.’ Maybe he’d seen it happen to one or two of his own mates. Afghan had been no fun for them either.
Jack and Gabriel stayed where they were as the door closed, still thanking him effusively as it gave a reassuring clunk, just not as firmly as before. The chorus of thanks had masked it.
We held off talking for a while as they made their way back to the beds. Gabriel picked the zinc-oxide strips from the steel frame and stuck them onto his left arm.
Jack took his last deep drag of the very sweet and strong Russian tobacco that had contributed to the gulag’s signature aroma when we’d arrived. Then he stubbed it out on the wet pitted concrete beneath his foot. ‘That was good.’
Gabriel was ready to do the same. He’d smoked his right down to the filter. There was another hiss. ‘How long?’
Jack went misty-eyed about the good old days. ‘Just over four years. I still miss it.’
Gabriel sighed as he headed back to the door. He jabbed a finger at Rio. ‘Come on then, fuckhead, do your bit. Let’s see if you’ve got enough lead in your Jamaican pencil.’
All four of us moved to it for one last listen.
I gave a final run-through from mains box to Gaz. ‘If it all goes noisy, it’s out of the building the best way we can, turn left, up the hill directly behind us, and you won’t miss the station. First one to get the Gaz started heads down here to pick up any sick, lame and lazy.’
‘Sorted.’ Jack zipped up the last couple of inches of his duvet, like it was body armour and that was all the prep he needed. ‘Apart from a couple of RPGs, of course.’
I had to agree with that. ‘Let’s hope they don’t have any, then.’
80
Rio put his shoulder against the door and applied gentle pressure. Too gentle, from the way Gabriel rolled his eyes and tutted. Rio pushed harder and the door popped open.
Jack grabbed the edge to stop it rattling. Gabriel retrieved the tape from the armature plate, ripped it in half, and put it with the rest of the strips lined up on his arm.
I took control of the door and poked my head out into the corridor. There was no sound, apart from the low murmur of the TV. The voices were mournful and the music full of high drama. The corridor was still as gloomy. The forty-watt bulb was doing its best, and its best suited us just fine.
There was nothing tactical about what we needed to do next, apart from getting on with it and making distance. I moved towards the main entrance until I reached the turn. The noise of the TV had got louder, but it was still muffled. I hoped that meant their door was closed. Why wouldn’t it be? Cold air was whistling through the building, and Beer-gut wouldn’t want to spend the night supplying Jack and Gabriel with cigarettes.
I went into a crouch and checked round the corner. Their door was closed.
I moved along the passageway, the sound of my footsteps masked by love, hate, fear, you name it – all the ingredients of a bad Russian soap. I heard the rustle of Gore-Tex behind me as I took two more paces and stopped by the mains cabinet.
Gabriel bent down and examined the botched DIY job in front of him. Rio was checking the main door. You never knew.
Gabriel carefully lifted cables here and threw switches there, running through his geek routine. Two women started shouting at each other in the room beside us. The guards took sides and joined in. It was sounding less like Eastenders and more like the Champions League.
Gabriel unravelled two cables that had been cobbled together under the cloak of fresh insulation tape. Holding one, he took a couple of paces towards the guardroom to check he had the length, then signalled to Jack to come and hold it. He stooped and peeled off a few strips of the oxide tape, using it to attach the bare end of the cable to the metal handle of the metal door. He went back to the fuse box and threw a switch. With a big grin on his face, he went back to work on the wiring.
The soap went quiet for a second or two, and so did the guards. So why could I hear mumbling? I glanced at Gabriel, and then Jack, but they hadn’t suddenly gone verbal. I held up a hand, then put my index finger to my lips. They went absolutely still.
It was coming from the conference room further down the corridor. Then an unmistakable ‘Jeez …’
The others had heard it too. Jack mouthed, ‘What the fuck?’
I motioned to Gabriel to carry on working, and then to Rio to follow me. As I reached the open door and peered inside, I saw a familiar figure at the end of the room. The Owl had his back to me, arms splayed, staring down at the desk. He was reading something. The two mugs stood at his elbow, beside a red Thermos flask.
‘Oh, Jesus …’
This was something that had to be taken advantage of. All we had in our goodie bag right now was a Jock electrician and a Gaz-71 whose keys we hadn’t yet got our hands on.
He mumbled away to himself, lost in his own troubled world. He wasn’t a happy man but was just about to be a whole lot unhappier. I leaned back and whispered into Rio’s ear, ‘Just back me.’
I crept forward as quickly and quietly as I could, then rushed him once I’d drawn level with the Formica-topped table. He swivelled his owl-like head.
He opened his beak and made a noise that was somewhere between a cough and a gasp.
‘Sssh! Quiet!’ I grabbed his arms and pushed until his back slammed into the wall and I had him sandwiched against it. ‘It’s OK. I’m not going to hurt you. But make a noise and I will. Just listen.’
I held his arms tight against the wall at either side of his body, and pushed against him.
He gave a whimper, but not loud enough to be heard above the faint sounds of the soap opera drifting towards us from the guardroom. He started to shake. I let him settle for a few seconds.
The greeter’s grin had disappeared, that was for sure.
‘Calm down and listen in. We’re going to do you a favour. We’re going to do our own thing. All right?’
He opened his mouth to speak but I didn’t need his input.
‘No. No need. We’re going to make ourselves security blankets. A record of who we know, what we know, where it happened and when. And you know what’s going to happen next, don’t you? They’ll be out there for whenever we get in the shit. They’ll get exposed and the families of the dead will take it from there. Politicians, the media, they’ll be all over you like a rash. All those families who want to know where their loved ones are. And we know exactly where they are, don’t we? Latitude 89.4235, longitude 87.1141.’
He nodded very slowly.
‘Mate, it’ll make WikiLeaks look like a comic.’
I heard Rio behind me, unscrewing the Thermos and helping himself to a brew. He really could have made it to the Pole in shorts and flip-flops. He came and stood beside me.
‘So, here’s the deal. I know that this lot here will come looking for us. Leave them to it. Take a break. Stay in the Radisson. We’ll come and find you. And because we’re about to do you a very big favour, you’re going to want to do one for us.’
He kept his eyes on my shoulder, like I had a tarantula dancing on it.
‘All you’ve got to do is convince the Russians we’re good lads. There’s no way we’re going to be gobbing off about this shit – unless, of course, anyone comes for us.’
I got a nod. The tarantula still gripped him.
‘We also need to get off the island, and get our lives back. You’ll be able to do that for us, won’t you?’
He nodded again.
‘That’s good. Because then you can be sure that none of this shit ever gets out. We don’t want anything to do with it. And for me, no more ice. It’s the Caribbean every time.’
There was no scare in him that had kept him quiet, he just
wanted to make sure I felt in control. He knew it was time to look up and get eye to eye. ‘Nick, how am I going to do that? They’ll think I’m part of it.’
‘That’s easy. You’re about to become a front-room boy.’ I pulled back and took half a pace to my right, but gripped his shoulders so they were as tight against the wall as his chest had been.
‘Rio, drop him.’
Rio threw his forehead straight into the Owl’s face. I wouldn’t normally have delegated, only I’d done enough of that shit recently and my brain hurt.
The back of his skull hit the wall. I kept hold of him as he went down so he didn’t injure himself more than Rio had already.
He started to howl. I’d never heard anyone make so much noise just from a broken nose, even if there was enough blood for him to tell war stories to his grandkids for ever.
Jack appeared at the door. ‘What the fuck?’ This time he didn’t just mouth it. It had gone noisy.
And then some.
81
We charged out into the corridor as the shouts and screams of the guards intensified. But they weren’t going near their door. They wouldn’t make that mistake again.
‘No need to be subtle about it now, is there?’ Gabriel sounded almost pissed off.
He grabbed one wire from the mess of cables and gave it a sharp tug. The lights went out, the soap came to a halt mid-sentence, and there was a hard clunk as the door demagnetized. We surged outside. There was nothing out there, except cold and wind and something that wasn’t darkness and wasn’t really light.
I swung left, skirted the building and started pounding uphill, shoving and kicking my way through the snow to try to carve an easier path for the legless behind me. I checked over my shoulder. Rio had taken the rear and was almost pushing them up the gradient. My throat was dry but my circulation was in overdrive. My fingers and feet were starting to pulse with warmth and energy.