by Andy McNab
The six hours were almost up. Danny was outside the barn and Eddie was reading through his notebook when his mobile rang. There was no number displayed on the screen, and without thinking he answered the call.
'Mr Moyes, don't speak, just listen and write this down. Do you have a pen?'
'What? Who is this?'
'I said don't speak. Are you ready?'
Eddie fumbled for the pencil in his coat pocket. 'Yeah, I'm ready, but-'
'Fergus Watts is being held near Thetford. Land-ranger Map, sheet one-four-four. Grid reference eight-two-five-eight-two-five. I'll repeat that once more, Mr Moyes, write it down.'
Eddie scribbled down the map reference as the words and numbers were repeated.
'Read that back to me, Mr Moyes.'
'Landranger Map, sheet one-four-four. Grid reference eight-two-five-eight-two-five.'
'That's correct. It's unlikely that Watts will be alive tomorrow morning, Mr Moyes. You do understand that this isn't a police matter, don't you?'
'Yes, I understand,' said Eddie as Danny walked into the barn.
'Eddie, no. Hang up! Hang up!'
But the caller had hung up even before Eddie moved the phone from his ear.
'It was a woman. She told me where they're holding your granddad. She said he'd probably be dead by the morning. Now, I want some answers, Danny. Why do they want to kill him, and what the hell is going on?'
Danny looked at his watch. The six hours were up. 'Sit down, Eddie. I'll tell you why.'
He told him everything, exactly as Fergus had ordered. About his grandfather's true role in Colombia and Fincham's treachery, and all that had happened since his first meeting with Fincham at the army RCB board. Eddie listened, incredulously at first, but slowly realizing that it all made too much sense to be a lie. All the missing pieces fell into place.
'It's got it all,' he murmured, already seeing the headlines and world exclusive by-line blazed across the Sun. Or the Mirror – it didn't matter. 'Drugs, death, cover-ups, corruption in high places. I won't just get a job with this, I'll win awards.'
'Yeah, but not yet, Eddie. First, we're gonna get my granddad out.'
'What? Are you mad? That call was a set-up. They can't find us and they're using your granddad as bait. If we go there, they'll kill the lot of us.'
'No,' said Danny urgently. 'The call must have been from the woman who saw me at Meacher's. She told me to get away. She helped me then, and I think she's trying to help us now.'
'You think! You think! You're asking me to risk my life again because you think someone is trying to help us? I may look stupid, Danny, but I'm not fucking crazy. Let's get in the car and go back to London before they pick us up.'
'If they'd wanted to pick us up they could have done it hours ago.'
'Yeah, how?'
Danny pointed at the mobile that was still in Eddie's hand. 'I should have thought of that before. They can be located to within a few metres – I did it myself to trace my granddad. Look, Eddie, you'll have a much better story if you help me rescue Fergus.'
'You're a brave kid, Danny,' said Eddie, shaking his head. 'But I'm no hero. I'm a coward, son, always have been.'
Danny sighed. 'Will you at least drive me to Thetford, so I can get close?'
Eddie delved into his coat pocket for his car keys. 'Yeah, I'll drive you to Thetford. It's on my way.'
'And can I use your mobile? I need to phone a friend.'
35
From the outside the safe house looked derelict, but inside, the building was clean but basic. The concrete floors, walls and ceilings were all painted white. Stairs leading from the entrance door led up to two interrogation rooms situated behind closed steel doors on either side of the stairwell.
The interrogation rooms were bare, apart from a couple of chairs, a desk and a wooden pallet. In one corner was an exposed toilet.
The building was not designated purely as a safe house for interrogation; it could also double up as an FOB. The hard-standing outside, with sufficient space to land a helicopter, meant it could be used to house Special Forces in the event of a terrorist incident in the area.
The entire compound was protected by a sophisticated security system. Along the mud access track, UGSs were buried at hundred-metre intervals. Their warning sensors could be set for vehicles or for people. Those in the track were set for vehicles; the lighter setting could easily lead to them being tripped by forest wildlife.
More UGSs were buried at fifty-metre intervals in the ditch running alongside the compound. These were set for humans: no deer would walk the length of the ditch, only someone using it as cover to get close to the house.
The UGS wiring was also buried and ran back to a monitoring system in the ground-floor, left-hand room of the house. The room was equipped with little else – just a sink, a kettle, portable electric heaters, an electric student hob and camp beds. The room opposite had further camp beds, rolled up, and a shower and toilet.
Fran's team were in this room. Jimmy was preparing an instant meal of Pot Noodles, sliced bread and cheap, thin ham, to be followed by muesli bars.
Fincham and Deveraux were in the room opposite.
Jimmy poured boiling water onto the Pot Noodles just as the door opened and Fincham and Deveraux appeared.
'Grub's up, sir,' said Jimmy to Fincham. 'Sure we can't tempt you to one of these? We usually throw in a dollop of brown sauce and some Branston pickle to spice them up a bit.'
Fincham made little attempt to disguise his look of distaste. 'Thank you, but no. I'll eat later in London.'
'Won't be anything like this though, sir.'
Fran and Mick were sitting on camp beds. They shared a smile. Everyone knew exactly how uncomfortable their boss was in these surroundings and Fran couldn't resist joining in the wind-up. 'There's extra camp beds in the other room, sir. You could always doss down with us if you'd rather stay.'
The suggestion was ignored. 'I'll see Watts now. Brian, bring some of that… food. We won't starve our guest to death.'
Brian grabbed one of the Pot Noodles and followed Fincham up the stairs, winking at Deveraux as he passed.
Fergus was in the room to the left of the stairs. Mick and Fran had enjoyed themselves interrogating him and he wasn't a pretty sight. His face was a swollen, bloodied mess. Blood that hadn't dried into his stubble had dripped over his shirt and onto the floor. His lips were split and fresh blood ran from his nose into his mouth. He was blindfolded with photographic blackout material and he wore no shoes. Both wrists were plasticuffed to the pallet and his hands were swollen where the cuffs had cut into the skin.
Fergus heard footsteps on the stairs and the key turning in the lock before the door opened. He felt his legs being dragged sideways and back towards his body and his feet were plasticuffed to the pallet. Only then did Brian free his hands and rip the blackout material away from his eyes. Fergus flinched and then squeezed his eyes tightly together; the glare of the fluorescent light was dazzling.
The door closed and Fergus heard footsteps going back down the stairs. Slowly he opened his eyes. As they gradually adjusted to the light, a figure sitting on a chair a metre away came into focus.
Fergus and Fincham were face to face for the first time in years.
'It's been a long time,' said Fincham quietly.
Speech came painfully for Fergus. 'Not long enough.'
Fincham indicated the steaming Pot Noodle on the floor next to Fergus. 'My colleagues assure me that it is edible.'
Fergus knew the tactics. Fincham in control, relaxed, sitting back in the chair, watching silently while he dug pathetically at the food with his fingers. All meant to increase his sense of despair and humiliation. But he didn't care. He was hungry, despite the beating he'd taken, and he knew he had to eat and keep his strength up to have any chance of survival.
Fighting back the pain as the hot spices burned into the cuts on his lips, Fergus swallowed the food as quickly as he could, just in case Fincham chose
to kick it away and get on with the interrogation. Fincham watched in silence as Fergus tipped the container up to his mouth to make sure every last scrap went down his neck.
At last Fincham leaned forward in his chair. 'I'm going to ask you this just once. Who else knew you were operating as a K?'
'Even if I knew I wouldn't tell you,' said Fergus through a mouthful of noodles. He forced a smile. 'Maybe there are others. You'll have to sweat it out, Fincham, like I have for all these years.'
The room smelled stale and fetid. Fincham got up and walked to the window. The metal frame would open only a few centimetres before hitting the steel mesh fitted on the outside. But Fincham needed what fresh air he could get. The smell of blood offended him just as much as the sight of it. He stared through the mesh towards the forest. 'You're going to die, Watts, you realize that, don't you?'
When Fergus didn't reply Fincham continued without looking back. 'Of course I should have had you killed in Colombia, but after you'd ruined my little operation I quite enjoyed the thought of you rotting away in squalor. And I didn't anticipate the jailbreak. That was remiss of me.'
'You won't have the balls to kill me yourself, Fincham,' said Fergus, spitting blood and noodles from his mouth. 'But before your trained monkeys do it, I'll make sure they know what you really did in Colombia.'
Fincham took a deep breath of fresh air, turned away from the window and went back to the chair. 'The last desperate ramblings of a man who knows he's about die and will say anything to save his life. You'll be wasting your final breaths, Watts. But I am going to give you a chance.'
He saw Fergus squint at him through bruised and half-closed eyes. 'Oh no, Watts, not to live, your death is inevitable now. No, I'm going to give you the chance to not have to watch your grandson die.'
Fergus felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. 'You really are an evil, sadistic bastard, Fincham. But you won't find Danny, he's long gone.'
'Oh yes, I'll find him,' said Fincham calmly. 'Tomorrow, or the next day. And he will have to be eliminated. But you won't have to watch, Watts, not if you tell me what I need to know.'
He stood up. 'Think about it. There was Meacher, and he's no longer a problem. Who else was there?'
When there was no response, Fincham glanced at his watch. 'I'm expected at the House for a reception. Goodnight, Watts. I'm sure my friends will look after you.'
He left without looking back. A few minutes later the Mercedes purred into life and Fincham drove away from the compound.
Fergus heard the clang of the gates as they were closed. He glanced towards the window, desperately hoping his grandson had followed his orders.
36
'So where exactly are you?'
'Place called Sheringham; it's not far from where you are.'
Elena and Joey had booked into a B amp;B and were walking around the seaside town when Danny called Elena's mobile.
When she answered and heard Danny's, 'It's me,' Elena couldn't stop herself from screaming, 'Danny!'
Half of Sheringham turned to stare and Elena realized she needed to be just a bit more discreet.
Before making the call, Danny told Eddie he wanted to find out if his friend had managed to hack into Fincham's e-mail. He figured any information at all might be helpful as he prepared for the rescue attempt. What he didn't tell Eddie was that, despite his brave words, he was totally petrified at the thought of what lay ahead and he desperately needed to hear Elena's voice before he set out.
Elena listened as patiently as she could while Danny told her what had happened at Meacher's house and in the hours since.
'You know Meacher's dead, don't you?' said Elena, unable to stop herself from interrupting. 'They killed him before Eddie Moyes or your granddad could speak to him.'
Danny turned to Eddie to relay the news. 'Meacher's dead. That must be why the police were at the house.'
He went back to the phone and Elena explained what she'd discovered online and how she'd made her dad drive to Norfolk in the hope of warning Fergus and Danny off.
'But I was too late. I stayed here because I hoped I'd get you online in the morning.'
'Elena, I'm gonna try and get my granddad out.'
'I knew you'd say that. I'm coming with you.'
'No, you can't.'
'Don't argue with me, Danny. You can't do it alone, and if that reporter bloke won't help, you'll need someone.'
Danny glanced towards Eddie, who tapped his watch, indicating that he was anxious to get on the road.
'But… but what about your dad?'
Joey was sitting on a bench, looking perfectly content as he sat in the late afternoon sunshine and smoked one of his cheroots. Elena moved a little further away and spoke quietly into the phone. 'I've been to the building society and got him five hundred quid. That's just for a start – I had to order the rest to collect tomorrow. I'll tell him I'm staying the night with you and… and your dad. He won't care; it'll give him a chance to start spending his money.'
Danny hesitated. 'Are… are you sure. It'll be-'
'Dangerous. Yeah, I guessed that. Where do we meet?'
'I'll ask Eddie. But can you go to the shops for me first?'
'Shops?'
'There are a few things we might need.'
They rendezvoused just outside Sheringham. Joey was happy enough to let his daughter go off for the night, especially after listening to Elena's elaborate lie about how Danny and his 'dad' had got back together after a long separation – 'just like we have'.
'You see, that's what I was worried about. Danny had come all this way to Norfolk and there was a message at Foxcroft saying his dad couldn't see him. But everything's fine, now they've met up.'
'Mmm, I understand, darling,' said Joey, lighting another cheroot. 'But that other place we visited, what was that all about?'
Elena thought quickly. 'That was… that was where I thought Danny's dad was living. He's a… he's a vicar, just started at a new parish. But I got the wrong village.'
'A man of the cloth, eh? Well, that's fine then, darling. I couldn't leave you in safer hands. So, we meet back in London tomorrow and-'
'And go to the building society, yes, Dad. I'll be there.'
While Elena bought the things Danny had ordered, Joey sat in the car and thought about the different ways he could enjoy making inroads into the five hundred pounds burning a hole in his pocket.
They met Danny and Eddie in a lay-by soon after. Joey pulled the hire car to a standstill and walked back with Elena to where the old Sierra was parked.
'Evening, reverend,' said Joey, extending a hand to Eddie as he got out of the car.
'This is my dad, Joey,' said Elena, spotting Eddie's bemused look. 'I told him all about your new parish, Reverend Watts.'
'My new-?'
'Travelling incognito, are you, vicar?' smiled Joey.
'Incog-?'
'No dog-collar,' said Joey. 'Well, I'm all in favour of the modern ways.' He glanced over at Danny, who was looking equally confused, and then turned back to Eddie. 'Glad to see you and the boy have made things right, reverend, just like me and my darling Elena. And I can see the family resemblance. He's the image of you.'
'Well, we'd better get off, then,' said Elena hurriedly. She went to Joey and kissed him and then nodded to Danny to get into the car.
'Right, bye then,' said Eddie, as he climbed back into the driver's seat. 'And, er… God bless you.'
'Praise the Lord,' called Joey as the Sierra stuttered into life.
Elena waved through the back window as the car pulled away from the lay-by and then turned and smiled at Danny.
'Don't ask,' she said.
37
They were on their way. At last. Eddie counted the miles taking them closer to the target and worried about the suicidal rescue attempt, while Danny and Elena sat in the back, packing Elena's purchases into a day sack.
They were animated, excited. Elena's arrival seemed to have given Danny fresh conf
idence and assurance. Eddie drove in silence, partly cursing himself for his own cowardice and partly thinking that he should just head straight for London without stopping. But he knew it would be pointless. Danny was so set on trying to rescue his grandfather, he would probably fling open the door and leap from the car.
Danny had given Elena a long shopping list which included two hand-sized blocks of wood, a hammer and some five-inch nails.
He took one of the blocks and started hammering a nail into it as Elena watched, and Eddie looked in his rear-view mirror to see what was going on.
'I didn't ask why when you said you wanted this stuff,' said Elena over the sound of hammering, 'but, er… why?'
'Shit!' said Danny, as he missed the nail and hit his thumb with the hammer. 'I'm making climbing dumars. My granddad told me how to do it.'
'Climbing? Danny, you may not have noticed, but this is Norfolk. There's no mountains.'
Danny ignored her and hammered a nail into the second block of wood. When both nails were all the way into the blocks, with their heads flat against one side, he took out his Leatherman knife and pulled out the pliers attachment. He bent over the ends of the two nails to form hooks, leaving a straight section of nail between hook and wood block.
Next he took two orange nylon straps, the sort normally used for securing things to roof racks, from his day sack. He wrapped one end of each strap around the straight part of each nail. Then he formed one-metre loops and wound the other end of the straps around the nails and secured them with the buckles. The dumars were finished.
'I think that's right,' said Danny, as he packed them carefully into the day sack.
'If they don't work you could always hit someone with them,' said Elena. 'They look lethal.'
Just outside Thetford they pulled into a filling station. Danny told Eddie to park off the forecourt because of the security cameras and then went into the garage shop in search of Landranger Map 144.
'Can't you get him to give up on this stupid idea?' said Eddie to Elena as they waited in the car.