by Andy McNab
The damp from the cold, wet grass seeped through to Danny's skin but he ignored it and focused on his route to the window. He reached the end of the row of shrubs and moved into open ground to cross to the window.
Jimmy and Brian spotted him instantly.
'Stand by. Stand by. That's Danny in the garden. Danny in the garden.'
Deveraux's eyes widened as she heard the words in her earpiece. Fincham was cautiously questioning Mrs Meacher, totally unaware of what was happening outside.
By the bridge, Fran had slammed the car door shut and started the engine on the first 'Stand by'. Ducks squawked and scattered and flew into the air as the Polo hurtled away towards the house. Fran pressed her gearstick pressel.
'Roger that. Marcie, what we doing? Leaving, lifting or killing?'
There was no immediate answer. Fran knew that Deveraux couldn't speak on the net with Mrs Meacher in the room.
'Use click system, Marcie. Repeat, leaving, lifting or killing?'
32
Norfolk was losing its appeal for Eddie Moyes, even though he was feeling a little better. He'd enjoyed a couple of coffees and had even managed a prawn sandwich, just to settle the stomach. But he'd had more than enough of Blakeney, of boats and of sea air. Personally, he'd never seen the attraction of a life on the ocean wave; he liked the feel of solid earth beneath his feet.
It was time to get on with the job. Meacher would be at home with his wife by now. Eddie had given him plenty of time to settle in.
He strolled over to his blue and rust Sierra; the old girl had done wonders getting him all the way up to Norfolk. Eddie was looking forward to returning to London. He'd write his story tonight and then tomorrow he would open negotiations with the tabloids.
The door creaked open and Eddie lowered his bulky body into the driver's seat. Realizing he was puffing and blowing a bit, he decided that he really should start that diet. The Atkins Diet – the one where you eat as much fried food as you like – sounded just the business. Tomorrow would be soon enough, after he'd sold his story.
The car coughed into life at the third attempt and Eddie took his last look at the coast and drove away.
A huge lorry went steaming past the hire car. Elena sighed in frustration; her dad was driving at Sunday afternoon speed. At this rate it would take hours and hours to get to Norfolk.
'Can't we go a bit faster, Dad?
'Faster? Why, sure, darling,' smiled Joey. 'I was just enjoying the view, and these wonderful British roads. Drivers here are so much more courteous. Back home it's every man for himself.'
Joey put his foot down. A bit. He was having a good time. A nice little trip into the countryside was fine by him. He had his daughter's promise of some of her cash, and although they hadn't yet settled on the amount, Joey was confident he could talk her into being generous. After all, he was helping her out in a big way.
'So this friend – Danny? – boyfriend, is he?'
'He's my friend, Dad, my best friend.'
'Mmm,' said Joey as he nodded his head. 'Must be in big trouble if we're going all this way to help him out.'
'He is, Dad,' said Elena softly. 'Big trouble.'
33
Deveraux had given two clicks for 'lift'. It was her only option. The order was clear: lift Danny.
Jimmy and Brian broke cover, ran across a stretch of grass and crunched onto the gravel of the driveway. Danny had slipped from their view as he reached the red side of the house but they knew exactly where he was.
Fergus turned and saw them the moment he heard the noise. His decision was instant. He had to save Danny.
He kicked back at the bung, grabbed the kit and forced his way out of the bush, making as much noise as he could. Leaping to his feet, he made sure that Jimmy and Brian spotted him. Then he ran, as best he could, down the drive.
The two operators instantly changed direction, chasing full speed after Fergus.
'We got Watts on the drive! Watts on the drive! Towards you, Mick.'
Mick had already moved across the road and got into the bushes just off the track. He held his pistol in both hands as he waited to hear the runner on the gravel. He was looking forward to meeting Watts again.
Danny was just to the side of the window when he heard the shouts and then saw Fergus hobbling down the drive as the two men chased after him. He saw the pistols in their hands. Instinctively Danny stood up and started to run to help his grandfather. But he could almost hear Fergus shouting at him: 'Stick to SOPs! Get to the ERV!'
He looked towards the window. A woman was standing there staring at him, the woman who had gone into the house with Fincham. 'Go,' she mouthed at him silently. 'Run.'
She held his gaze for a few seconds more before turning her back on him. But she didn't move away from the window. It was as though she was deliberately hiding what was going on outside to the others in the room. Danny turned and ran. Hard.
They were gaining on Fergus quickly. He strained every muscle and pain jarred through his leg with each stride. But every extra metre meant a few more seconds for Danny.
And then Mick stepped out of the bushes, pistol aimed at Fergus's head. 'Stand still! Drop the kit, hands up!'
Fran's car screeched to a halt at the end of the drive at the same time as Jimmy and Brian pushed Fergus to the ground. She left the engine running and the door open as she sprinted over to the group. 'Leave him!' she shouted to Jimmy and Brian. 'Find the boy. Go, go!'
They went. Without a word. Tearing back towards the house as Mick started kicking Fergus in his stomach. There was nothing Fergus could do but grit his teeth, tighten his body and take the pain. But it didn't last long.
Fran pulled Mick away. 'There'll be time for that.'
Mick covered with his pistol as Fran dragged Fergus towards the Polo. 'Get in the back and cover him,' she shouted to Mick. 'We'll pick your car up later.'
She banged Fergus's face a couple of times against the roof before shoving him into the back of the car. 'Fucking arsehole!'
Danny reached the fence, dived at the cut and pushed himself through, ripping his jacket free as it snagged.
At the same time Jimmy and Brian got to the OP, checked inside and then started following the tracks in the grass that led away behind the bush.
Danny was running towards the road, pushing through brambles and thorns. His jacket snagged again and he tore it free and then he could see the narrow road just ahead. He burst through the final bush and almost fell as he reached the tarmac.
There was a screech of brakes. Danny glimpsed a flash of blue to his left before the car hit him and he was sent flying back into the bushes. He lay there on his back, his head spinning, flashes bursting in his eyes. He wanted to get up but his legs wouldn't function.
Eddie Moyes flung open the door and pulled himself from the driver's seat. 'Oh, shit, shit, shit! I didn't see you, you just ran out and-' He reached the body sprawled on ground. 'Danny! Oh, my…'
Danny's head was beginning to clear. He opened his eyes and saw the panic-stricken face staring down at him. 'Get me in the car. We've got to go, fast – they'll get us.'
Jimmy and Brian were at the fence, having heard the squealing brakes and the shouting. They pushed their way through the gap and started to run.
Danny was on his feet. He shrugged off Eddie's helping hands and dragged open the passenger door. 'Come on! We're dead if they get us!'
Eddie didn't argue. He ran to the driver's side and jumped into the car. His trembling right hand reached for the ignition key: the car had stalled at the moment of impact. He turned the key. The engine didn't start.
'Come on!' yelled Danny.
Jimmy was ahead of Brian. They were both gasping for breath as they heard the vehicle start at the second attempt. But they were close now.
Eddie revved the engine and shoved the car into first.
'The other way,' yelled Danny. 'The way you came.'
Eddie puffed and panted and started a three-point turn. The car stall
ed again on the third turn and Danny thumped down on the dashboard. 'Stop flapping! Come on!'
As Jimmy and Brian pushed through to the road the car skidded off the way it had come, with dark smoke pouring from the exhaust. Jimmy could see Danny looking back as the car made distance.
'That's Danny in Moyes's car! They're heading away from the river!'
There wasn't a flicker of emotion on Fran's face as she hit the gearstick pressel.
'Fran's checking.'
She was approaching the bridge. She stood on the brake and clutch at the same time and the car skidded to a halt in a cloud of burning rubber. The ducks scattered in terror as Fran put the car into reverse, left hand across the passenger seat as she craned round. Right hand on the wheel, she released the clutch, and the tyres smoked again as the Polo screamed backwards. She slammed both feet on the brake and clutch again, this time yanking the wheel all the way to the right. The front of the car span round to the left as the rear wheels stayed where they were. As the car turned completely she jammed the gearstick into first and hit the accelerator.
A couple of minutes later she was racing past the driveway to Meacher's house, passing Jimmy and Brian as they ran back for their vehicles. In the back of the Polo, Mick was controlling Fergus with his 9mm stuck into his mouth. Blood from Fergus's nose was dripping onto the top slide. Mick smiled at his prisoner. 'Looks like we'll have the boy soon as well, eh?'
Fincham and Deveraux had said their farewells to Mrs Meacher and were getting into the Mercedes. Fincham started the engine and heard its gentle and reassuring purr. 'You dragged it out somewhat, Marcie. It was obvious early on that she knew nothing.'
'I did realize that, sir,' replied Deveraux. 'But there was a spot of excitement out here in the garden. I thought it best that Mrs Meacher remained unaware.'
Fincham was about to slip the car into gear but he turned and looked at Deveraux. 'Excitement?'
'We have Watts, sir,' said Deveraux calmly. 'Shall I tell Fran to take him to the nearest safe house?'
Fincham stared. And then he smiled.
34
The sweeping, tree-lined driveway, the elegant lawns and garden, the brand-new Range Rover parked close to the beautiful double-fronted red-brick house were all very impressive. Joey sat back in the driver's seat of the hire car and nodded. If this was the sort of place where Elena's friends were to be found then his daughter had obviously inherited many of his own ambitious characteristics.
It was a perfect picture of peaceful English country life. Joey guessed that probably the most exciting thing that ever happened in this garden was a gentle game of croquet followed by high tea in the shade of one of those huge shrubs that sprawled across the lawn.
Elena was standing at the front door, having told her dad to wait in the car. Joey didn't mind; he reckoned that once the house owners learned they had driven all the way from London to find his daughter's friend, they'd be invited in for 'refreshments'. And then maybe asked to stay the night. The English were famous for their manners and hospitality.
The front door opened and a youngish man appeared and began talking to Elena. Joey saw him look over in his direction so he smiled broadly, raised his right hand and gave a friendly wave. The man ignored him and went back to talking to Elena. Joey wasn't disappointed. He knew the man was just following the rules of proper, polite etiquette and was waiting until they were formally introduced.
Joey was partly right. The man was being polite but there was no chance of an introduction. 'I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said to Elena. 'The only visitors here today have been… have been official visitors. And the police.'
Elena felt her heart thud in her chest. 'The… the police?'
The man took a deep breath and Elena could see that he was struggling to hold back tears. 'My father died last night, a boating accident. So if you'll excuse me, I must get back to my mother. I hope you find your friend, but I'm afraid we can't help you.'
'I… I'm sorry.' It was all Elena could say.
The man nodded and closed the door. Elena turned away and walked slowly back to the car. Meacher was dead. A boating accident. It had to be too much of a coincidence. They'd killed him. They must have. Before Fergus and Danny could get to him. But what had happened to Danny and Fergus? Where were they? Elena could only hope they had seen the police at the house and got away quickly.
'What's going on, darling?' asked her dad as she fastened her seat belt. 'We not staying for tea?'
'No, Dad,' said Elena softly. 'Danny's not here, and he won't be coming now.'
'Not even a cup of tea? What happened to English hospitality?'
Joey started the car. 'So what now?'
'We find somewhere to stay for the night. I might be able to contact him online in the morning.'
Joey sighed. At the end of the driveway he turned right onto the narrow road. The car crossed a small bridge across the river and a few minutes later they passed a derelict brick and flint barn set well back from the road.
'Where are you, Danny?' whispered Elena.
Danny was in the barn, his back pressed against the wall as he glanced out through a broken window and watched the car as it passed. That was all that mattered to Danny. The vehicle kept going. It didn't stop. No one jumped out to check the barn.
They'd been at the ERV for over three hours and Danny was determined to stay there, as instructed, for three more. He knew there was little chance of his grandfather having escaped, but he was going to stick to SOPs. His body was battered and bruised; he hurt everywhere, but he ignored the pain. He knew it would go.
Somehow, and it was purely down to luck and had nothing to do with Eddie's driving skills, they had shaken off their pursuers. At the first T junction Danny had shouted, 'Left!' Minutes later, Fran skidded to a halt at the junction, instantly weighed up the fifty-fifty choice and chose to turn right. It was a crucial error and gave Eddie and Danny the time they needed to twist and turn their way through the countryside and eventually reach the ERV.
They hid the car out of sight of the road and then staggered, exhausted, into the barn.
Eddie was a total wreck. Shaking and sweating and pacing around and blurting out that they had to go to the police for protection.
Danny told him that if he wanted to stay alive he'd better sit down and shut up.
'Don't tell me what to do!' yelled Eddie. 'You nearly got me killed back there! I'm just a reporter, this is nothing to do with me.'
'That's what I said at first,' said Danny calmly. 'But you're in it now, Eddie, and believe me, there's no way we can go to the police. My granddad made a plan, we have to stick to it. We wait for him here for six hours. If he doesn't turn up, then I tell you everything.'
'Six hours,' groaned Eddie, glancing around the derelict building, 'but-'
'You don't have a choice,' said Danny. 'I promise you, if you leave here now, you're dead.'
The safe-house compound was like a concrete island, enclosed on all sides by a tight-mesh steel fence, seven metres high. It was surrounded by an open area of ferns and drainage ditches; about eight hundred metres further out in every direction, the dark mass of Thetford Forest blotted out the skyline.
The compound was in the MoD training area, but no squaddies ever went inside and it wasn't marked on any map. It was reached via a mud track leading from the main road into the training area. The track forked to the left and then went through the forest before breaking out into the open area, where the first of many signs gave the stark warning: DANGER KEEP OUT. MOD PROPERTY. DANGEROUS BUILDING.
Eight hundred metres away, along a cracked concrete roadway, were the imposing double gates to the compound. They were as tall as the fence itself. More signs, on the gates and on every side of the towering fence, warned off unwelcome visitors. These ones read: DANGER. UNSTABLE BUILDING – KEEP OUT.
The compound was entirely surfaced with concrete. Straggling weeds grew from the cracks. A drainage ditch ran along the right-hand
side of the compound, outside the fence. It cut across the open ground and went back towards the forest.
The safe house sat at the centre of the concrete island. Every window of the two-storey building was covered by the same tight-mesh steel. There was only one door into the building, in the centre, at the front. Behind the main building, and to the right, was a large Nissen hut where the vehicles were hidden.
The steel door opened and Marcie Deveraux emerged, just as a pair of American fighter jets passed overhead as they made their landing approach to the base at Lakenheath.
Deveraux pulled the door shut and stood for a moment breathing deeply. Then she walked behind the Nissen hut and made sure she was out of sight of any of the windows. She took out her mobile phone, checked again that she wasn't being watched, and then punched in a number. It was answered almost instantly.
Deveraux spoke softly. 'Fincham doesn't like the sight of blood so Fran and Mick have had the first crack at Watts. He's not talking yet, sir. It's a pity he was taken this early on in the operation.'
Another pair of jets passed overhead and Deveraux waited until the noise of their engines had died away. 'No, I haven't seen him myself, but Fincham's going to speak to him before he goes back to London for the MPs' reception at the House. He's as determined as we are to find out who else outside the Firm knows that Watts was operating as a K. But if Watts doesn't talk I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him alive, sir, not without compromising my own situation.'
She checked out the windows and door as she listened to the voice at the other end of the line. Then she nodded. 'Yes, sir, that was my thought too. At this stage it's worth trying.'
Deveraux ended the call and then took a piece of paper from her jacket pocket. A mobile phone number was written on it.