by Andy McNab
Fergus was an accomplished liar; it had long been part of his life and part of his trade. Operating covertly in the Regiment and afterwards as a K, he had found that his life had often depended upon his ability to tell completely believable lies.
He had taken on many new identities; they were all fabrications, lies. He had become so good at lying that even when challenged in a life-threatening situation, he almost believed the untruth he was telling.
That ability had spilled over into his personal life. As a young man, he had lied to his wife during their brief marriage. Sometimes it was just easier to tell a lie, as long as he remembered that lie when the time came to tell the next lie. He had lied to his son. He had lied to mates; sometimes it was necessary for their safety as well as his own. And now he had lied to his grandson.
It had always been easy for Fergus to lie because, until very recently, he had never cared enough about anyone for it to bother him too much. But now it did.
They had made their escape, heading north through Central Park, and they didn't stop travelling until they reached Canada. At first Danny was too deeply shocked to even speak. He just allowed himself to be led like a small child by his grandfather. Neither of them mentioned Elena's name.
Fergus rented the cabin and made sure they were secure, and then he contacted Deveraux; he had to – they needed money. He reminded her that if anything happened to himself or Danny, the FBI would get every one of the sit reps he had downloaded from her laptop. A few days later the cash was transferred into the bank account that Fergus had set up.
It should have been a new beginning, but it wasn't.
Spring had moved well into summer, and most days were warm and bright. But now the weather had turned; it was raining and the sky was leaden and heavy.
Danny sat against a tree trunk, getting little shelter from the rain. He reached into his jacket and took out the alias passport Fergus had got for Elena. He always kept it with him. Her name would have been Elena Higgs, according to the passport. But names didn't mean a thing. He opened the back page and looked at her photograph, and then he let his head tilt upwards against the tree trunk so that the raindrops could mingle with the tears running down his face.
When he got back to the cabin, Fergus was brewing coffee on the stove. He put two mugs and the coffee pot on the wooden table and then sat in the chair opposite his grandson.
'We need to talk, Danny.'
Danny looked hard into his grandfather's eyes. 'Do we?'
'It's about… the future. What we do. We can't stay here for much longer and the money we've got won't last for ever.'
The rage that had been building inside Danny suddenly exploded like a bursting dam. 'The future! How can we talk about the future when we've never talked about the past?'
Fergus looked bewildered. 'What?'
'Why didn't you tell me Deveraux killed Joey? You owed it to me, and you owed it to Elena.'
It was out in the open. At last.
'I… I didn't know until near the end. It was too late to do anything about it then and it didn't make any difference as far as the-'
'As far as the mission was concerned!' yelled Danny. 'Is that what was most important?'
'No! Keeping you and Elena safe was what mattered most!'
'Well, you failed in that, didn't you?'
Danny grabbed one of the coffee mugs, stood up and hurled it with all his strength at the wall behind his grandfather's head. It shattered and coffee dripped down the wall.
Fergus hadn't moved a muscle. 'How did you know?' he said quietly. 'About Deveraux?'
Danny slumped back down onto his chair. 'Black Star told Elena, and Elena told me just before Deveraux killed her.'
They were silent for a few moments, both deep in their own thoughts, and then Fergus got up, fetched another mug and filled it with coffee.
'I'm sorry. When it was over, I should have told you. But I thought there was no point in you knowing now. Sometimes it's better to…'
'Lie?'
'To… to just not tell the truth.'
Danny shook his head. 'Yeah. And look where it's got us.'
'We've got to move on, Danny. Not to forget about Elena-'
'I don't wanna talk about Elena!' said Danny his face furious again.
'But we have to talk about the future. About what we're going to do. I can't be certain we'll be safe here. We need to work, get jobs.'
'What jobs? Another burger bar? What else could you do? And what could I do? All you've ever taught me is how to lie.'
He grabbed the coffee and took a gulp. 'Oh, yeah, and I also know a lot about killing now.'
Danny pushed back his chair and it scraped noisily across the floor. 'I'm going for another walk,' he snarled. 'It'll give me time to think about my career options.'
Fergus knew there was no point in arguing. They would talk more later, when Danny had calmed down. He watched his grandson go to the door, open it and step outside, leaving it open.
The cabin stood at the end of a long mud track, which rose gradually for about a hundred and fifty metres before descending again and winding on towards the town.
As Danny left the cabin, he glanced to his right. At the top of the rise in the track sat a stationary black 4?4. Danny could just hear the throb of its running engine.
'Granddad,' he said quietly, without moving back into the cabin. 'We've got company.'
.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-c8ce08-a849-9445-4b88-b899-fd5c-b4ca48
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 29.11.2010
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