Boy soldier bs-1

by Andy McNab

  She hung up. It was true, George Fincham wasn't happy, and wouldn't be until Fergus Watts had been eliminated.

  Marcie Deveraux, on the other hand, was not unhappy with the way the operation was progressing.

  23

  'This girlfriend of yours-'

  'She's my friend. Can't you just accept that?'

  'All right, friend. She was the one who located my phone?'

  'Yeah, and it was her idea.'

  'Could she do more than that? Like… like listen in on calls?'

  'I doubt it. Why?'

  'We need information, Danny. If we can find out anything, anything at all, about what Fincham's doing, we can maybe stay one step ahead.'

  They were on the way back to the LUP. It had been a long day. After the MSN conversation with Elena they couldn't return to the LUP while people were on site, so Fergus said they should split up for a while. Fincham's team were looking for the two of them. Together. Apart they were less conspicuous. He gave Danny some cash, told him to 'keep his head down and not talk to anyone', and arranged to meet later at the usual RV.

  Danny followed his instructions. He wandered around, got himself a pizza at lunch time and saw a film during the afternoon.

  Fergus drank a lot of coffee and later did a couple of walk-bys of the archway. There wasn't much activity. The first time he saw a man on a fork-lift shifting a few pallets from one place to another while his workmate leaned against a wall and sipped tea from a mug. The second time, just after four thirty, the two men were getting ready to leave.

  There was nothing happening at any of the neighbouring arches, so by five thirty Fergus and Danny were making their way back.

  'What about e-mail?' said Danny. 'What if she hacked into Fincham's?'

  'Could she do it?'

  Danny smiled. 'I bet she'd wouldn't mind having a go.'

  Elena began counting her steps as she started to walk down Magnis Street. She was exactly on time. Under one arm she carried a black plastic rubbish sack, tightly secured with strong elastic bands.

  Inside the sack was an Ordnance Survey map for the area of Norfolk where Meacher lived. His address and telephone number and even his wife's name were written carefully and clearly on a single sheet of paper. Elena had been out and bought the map earlier in the day. Train and bus timetables for the journey to and around the county had been downloaded from the Internet.

  She spotted the rubbish skip and the open archway with the stacked wooden pallets long before she finished the count. But she kept counting. As she came alongside the skip she casually tossed the black bag inside and continued walking, wondering where Fergus and Danny were, and if they had seen her.

  Before leaving Foxcroft, Elena had checked a London A-Z and worked out the quickest route back to the station. She took a left. Elena didn't scare easily, but the gloomy and dismal street made her uneasy. It was empty. Deserted. A couple of battered cardboard boxes lay in the middle of the road. A door to one building was wide open but as Elena glanced towards it she could see there was no one inside. That was the problem. There was no one around. It was like the place had been abandoned in a big hurry. Elena just wanted to get back amongst the crowds.

  Then, ten metres ahead, someone stepped out of a doorway, head down. He turned towards her. Elena tensed but kept walking, ready to leg it if he made a grab at her. He came closer, walking quickly, head still down. They were less than a couple of metres apart and Elena was about to run when he finally lifted his head.

  'All right?'

  'Danny! You… you… dork.'

  'What's wrong?'

  'You had me brickin' it, that's what's wrong!'

  Danny didn't see what all the fuss was about. 'Did you leave the stuff?'

  'Of course – I should have kept it to hit you with.'

  'Look, you might have been followed and we couldn't take the chance of someone seeing you make the drop. And he said if you'd spotted me near the skip you might have panicked.'

  'He's got a really great opinion of me.'

  'You should worry, he treats me like I'm about five. We need you to do something else.'

  They stood by a car with a smashed-in windscreen while Danny explained the plan of hacking into Fincham's e-mail.

  'D'you think you can do it? It's bound to be a secure site – firewalls, the lot.'

  'Danny, I thought you knew by now, nowhere online is secure. I'll give it a go tonight and let you know what I've found when we MSN in the morning.'

  They didn't hear the footsteps approaching. They didn't see a thing. The first they knew of the attack was when Danny was roughly shoved in the back and sent sprawling into the road. Elena felt herself being grabbed around her arms and body and held tightly in a bear-like grip. All the breath was squeezed out of her; she couldn't even scream.

  Danny had taken the weight of his fall on his left shoulder and it hurt like mad. He rolled over, expecting to see a couple of burly MI6 guys standing there with pistols pointing at his head. But they were kids. Three of them. Younger than him by the look of it, but mean looking all the same. And the one holding Elena was enormous.

  Danny tried to get to his feet.

  'Stay down!' yelled the closest of the three, kicking out at him. Danny saw it coming and tensed as a trainer thudded into his ribcage. He tried to roll with the kick, but didn't make it. The pain screamed through his body.

  'Phone!' shouted the kicker. 'Give us your phone, and anything else in your pockets. Cards. Cash. Quick.'

  'I haven't got a phone,' gasped Danny as two of the attackers loomed over him, poised to kick out again.

  'Don't talk shit, everyone's got a phone! Give us it, quick!'

  'It's true!' yelled Danny. 'Someone else beat you to it.'

  The attackers were momentarily thrown. They stared at each other, highly pissed off that other muggers had got in before them. 'Cards then, and you must have cash!'

  'Give it to them, Danny,' shouted Elena, struggling to free herself from the big guy's grip. She was getting nowhere. He grasped her even more tightly and shouted at Danny, 'Do as she says, dickhead. I'm getting bored with this and if I come over there I'll kick the crap out of you.'

  'All right! I'll give it to you! Just don't hurt us.'

  'That's better,' smiled the one who'd done the kicking. 'You know it makes sense.'

  It did make sense. Everything Danny had ever heard about how to react in this sort of situation told him to do exactly as the attackers demanded.

  He didn't do it. He was angry, he was hurting and he wasn't going to give in. Not without a fight. He thought about going for the Leatherman knife in his jacket but forced the idea from his mind. That was a step too far, and anyway, for all he knew his attackers might be carrying weapons of their own.

  'My wallet's in my pocket,' he said, moving one hand towards his jacket. The two thugs closest backed off slightly. As they did, Danny drew back his leg and stamped as hard as he could into the kicker's leg, catching him directly below the knee.

  He went down, fast, screaming, 'Wanker! Wanker!' as he hit the pavement. Danny swivelled and kicked out at his second target. His foot thudded into his victim's thigh, sending him staggering backwards. Danny leaped to his feet.

  'Oh, Danny, no!' yelled Elena. 'No!' But she had to go for it too now. The big bear was holding her off the ground, but his brain obviously wasn't as fast as his hands: he couldn't decide if he should drop Elena and go for Danny. Elena made up his mind for him. She swung her right foot and brought her heel back into his shin.

  He let go, squealing like a pig.

  'Run, Elena!' screamed Danny. 'Run!'

  She was already running. Danny was at her side and two of the attackers were after them. The third was still on the ground, holding his knee and spitting out words of fury. But he wouldn't be running for a long time.

  'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' shouted Elena as they hurtled down the road and into the next on the left.

  The chasers were close, but not gaining, a
nd up ahead was the main road. And people. Hundreds of people. Exactly what Elena wanted.

  They were almost there. Safe among the crowds. Pedestrians passing at the end of the street had turned to stare as the four youngsters came tearing towards them. And then, when they were just metres from the junction, a police officer stepped out from behind the building on the corner of the street.

  He saw the four runners. They saw him. The muggers skidded to a halt and turned on their heels. Danny glanced at Elena, shook his head and went tearing off up the main road, away from London Bridge. Elena came to a standstill.

  'What's going on?' demanded the police officer.

  'They… they… they tried to mug me.'

  The officer looked towards the figures disappearing in two directions and thought about giving chase. Then he reached for the radio at his collar while keeping his eyes fixed on Elena.

  'Name?' he said.

  Elena shrugged. 'I dunno,' she said with a grin. 'I never met any of them before.'

  The officer wasn't amused. 'Your name.'

  Danny stopped running as soon as he was safely swallowed up in the crowd. He felt bad about running out on Elena, but he'd had no choice. The last thing he needed was his name and details fed into the police computer. And he knew Elena would give nothing away.

  He took a long route back to the LUP, and entered the arch by the ladder at the back. Fergus was pleased about that, but less than delighted when he heard what had happened out on the street. 'Where do you keep your brains?' he snarled. 'Combat should always be your last option. You talk your way out of it, or run away, but you never go looking for a fight.'

  'But I couldn't help it, and we did get away.'

  'You got away. What about your friend? She's probably sitting in some nick now telling the nice policeman all about you!'

  'She won't be, and she wouldn't.'

  She wasn't. Elena was on her way back to Foxcroft. She'd given the police officer her name and address, which he confirmed while she waited, and told him a tale about the four boys who'd tried to mug her. She gave accurate descriptions, or as accurate as she could remember, of the real muggers, and then told him the fourth attacker 'looked a bit like that footballer, Will Rooney'.

  'I think you mean Wayne Rooney, don't you?'

  'Yeah, that's the one. He was just like him. Only shorter. And fatter. I'm not sure, really.'

  The officer looked bemused by the description of the fourth mugger, but seemed satisfied that Elena was telling the truth. He warned her of the dangers of young girls going alone into dodgy areas and said they'd be in touch if they found any suspects. Then he let her go.

  She walked back to London Bridge and waited fifteen minutes for a train. She wanted to get back to Foxcroft and her computer. She had no idea if she would really be able to hack into Fincham's e-mail, but she was up for the challenge.

  The journey home took less than half an hour. She opened the front door and saw Dave the Rave standing in the hallway. 'We've been waiting for you,' he said without smiling. 'There's someone here to see you.'

  Elena couldn't believe it. They couldn't have found Danny not after the description she'd given. Maybe they'd traced one of the real muggers.

  'You'd better come with me to the office,' said Dave, and he turned towards the stairs.

  Elena followed Dave upstairs to the office. The door was closed. Dave turned the handle and pushed it open. 'In you go.'

  'Aren't you coming in with me?'

  Dave shook his head. 'I'll wait out here.'

  Elena stepped inside. A man dressed in a suit was standing by the window looking out to the street. Slowly he turned round. 'Hello, babe,' he said with a huge smile. 'Surprised?'

  Elena could hardly believe her eyes. 'Dad!'

  24

  Fergus was impressed when he saw the contents of the black plastic bag. It was similar to a target pack he would have been given when he was in the Regiment. Elena had given them the exact position of the target, with maps and information on how to get there.

  They'd waited until dark before fetching the sack from the skip and then Fergus decided there was no point in taking the risk of hanging around in London for another night. They had everything they needed to locate Colonel Meacher. It was time to move.

  On the late train to Norwich, they took all the operational precautions that were by now beginning to become familiar to Danny. Staying third party aware, travelling in separate carriages until Fergus was confident they were not being followed.

  When he eventually took the seat opposite Danny he nodded but said nothing. The train ploughed on through the night. They didn't speak, but caught snatches of conversation from other weary travellers. The final stop before Norwich was at the small town of Diss. Doors opened and slammed shut and the train moved slowly away. Danny stood up and looked around the carriage. They were alone. He slumped back down onto the seat and felt his bruised shoulder jar, painfully reminding him of his meeting with the three muggers.

  'You told me I should run away from a fight,' he said, shifting in the seat to get comfortable. 'But you were SAS, you didn't run away. You… you killed people.'

  Fergus reached into his bag, took out a couple of pre-packed sandwiches and handed one to Danny. 'The Special Forces aren't all about killing. It happens, but mostly it's about gaining information and destroying strategic targets. Most times, if you get into a contact with the enemy, it's because they're blocking your mission or your escape route and you've run out of other options.'

  'A contact?' said Danny. 'You mean a fight?'

  Fergus nodded.

  'And what then?'

  'Then you react with extreme speed and violence, so they're scared shitless. And you kill them before they kill you.'

  He saw Danny's eyes widen and he smiled. 'You asked, Danny,' he said. 'And seeing me limping around now probably makes it hard to believe. But that's what I was trained to do. Listen, when I was in the Regiment, every soldier I knew would rather dig a hole and hide than get involved in a contact with the enemy. It's all about survival, staying alive – exactly what we have to do. Now, are you gonna eat that sandwich or are you gonna sit there gawping at me all night?'

  Danny finished his sandwich just as the train arrived in Norwich. The station was quiet; the shops and bar were closed. They found a computer phone they could use to go online to Elena in the morning and then made their way out into the night.

  The city lights bounced off the dark river. Hordes of young people headed noisily towards nearby clubland. Girls wobbled along in micro skirts and high heels and shouted even louder than the leering, jeering lads shouting at them.

  Fergus took in the new surroundings. 'We need to find a-'

  'I know,' said Danny. 'LUP.'

  Behind the station was a Big W superstore. At the back was a bin area, filled with plastic wrapping and empty boxes. It would do.

  They went through the security drill before settling down and Danny volunteered for first shift on stag. He was feeling anxious. Uneasy. And when it was his turn to rest he found it impossible to sleep. Eventually he did drift off, but his dreams were troubled and violent, dreams of 'contact with the enemy'.

  As Danny slept, Elena worked at her computer. For hours she'd had to sit and listen while her dad amused and entertained Dave and Jane with his endless stream of jokes and stories.

  Joey was exactly as she remembered him and how her mum had described. Only more so. He was handsome and funny and as charming and cunning as a campaigning politician.

  He said he'd come to England on business. Elena knew what that meant: the business of getting his hands on as much of the money her mum had left her as he could.

  But not immediately. He was far too clever for that. That night was just the beginning of the operation. He was smooth. As smooth as a baby's arse, thought Elena as she watched him give Dave and Jane the full treatment. Carefully flattering. Gently flirting. It was no surprise when they offered him the use of the visitor's room f
or a couple of nights.

  His 'I couldn't possibly put you to all that trouble' was sincerely spoken because he knew full well they would insist. And they did.

  'Well, if you're absolutely certain,' he said with a smile worthy of a television toothpaste advert, 'it would mean I can spend as much time as possible with my darling daughter.'

  Elena wanted to throw up. She got away as soon as she could, saying she was tired. It was gone eleven when she went online. At two thirty in the morning she was still online. And getting nowhere.

  Maybe what she had told Danny was true. Maybe no site was safe, but hacking into the Intelligence Service was proving harder than she'd ever imagined.

  From the outset Elena knew that the Firm would never be accessed through the normal, surface Internet. She had to go to dark corners of the Deep Web to find the information she would need.

  She'd been there before, not as a hacker, but to find facts, to explore, to learn. Elena still had a printed-out paragraph she'd read online a couple of years earlier:

  Searching the surface Internet is like dragging a net across the surface of the ocean: much is caught in the net but much, much more remains deep on the ocean floor. There are more than two hundred thousand Deep Web sites, and sixty of the largest ones contain more than forty times the information of the entire surface web.

  The words had inspired her when she first read them and had continued to inspire her ever since. Elena had her future mapped out. After university she was going to make a name for herself as a computer scientist, but in the meantime she absorbed Internet information like a sponge sucking in water. And that included finding out how hackers operated, the language they used and the tactics they employed.

  She'd visited some websites where hackers receive credits for their successful attacks; and others where details of what's happening in the hackers' dark world and how they have been stopped can be found; and even cybercrime.gov, where the American Justice Department relates its successes in prosecuting hackers.