by Andy McNab
Elena had suggested the meeting place when Danny had contacted her online earlier. She knew that he would want to check she was OK after their encounter in the Voyager the previous night. She also knew that the MSN conversation was most probably being monitored, so she kept it brief, even though she figured that they would be expecting them to meet up anyway.
They were in a ground-floor, open-plan coffee shop inside the Lewisham shopping mall. The complex was busy, but not as busy as it would usually have been. Many people were staying at home, or at least avoiding busy places, but there was still a big enough crowd to get lost in, which was what Fergus wanted. That, and the choice of exit routes and doors leading to car parks.
Fergus was on stag, on the first floor of the shopping drag, perched uncomfortably on one of those seats specially installed in malls to ensure shoppers don’t sit down for too long. He could see Danny and Elena and they could see him, and he also had a great bird’s-eye view of the area.
Danny and Fergus had slept rough at the back of a Currys superstore, bedding down in a skip amongst the discarded cardboard and foam filler. Danny was exhausted after the long flight from Spain; he slept soundly and woke feeling a little guilty as he realized that Fergus had allowed him to sleep through instead of waking him for his stag.
They moved out early, not wanting to be discovered or tipped into a rubbish cart, and went separately into a McDonald’s for breakfast. They had plenty of cash: the brown envelope handed to Fergus the previous evening contained?400 in used small notes.
They sat about six tables apart while they ate and then, one after the other, went into the toilet to wash and clean up. Third party awareness dictated that they needed to look as normal as possible: people who sleep rough don’t shop in malls.
As soon as the shops were open they bought two pay-as-you-go mobile phones and some food and other gear, which they shoved into a sports bag. The phones cost?160, but Fergus said it would be worth it for secure communications. Then Danny went online to Elena.
Now they were together again, attempting to look relaxed and natural, even though they both kept their heads down to avoid the all-seeing CCTV cameras.
Fergus was watching as they leaned close together and spoke softly. As always he was being cautious. At the first hint of trouble he would get up and walk away. Danny would know it was the signal for him to walk off in another direction and for Elena to take a third route out.
The RV would be at London Bridge Station, a place they all knew well. Once they had met up there, they would have to decide whether it was safe for Elena to return to Foxcroft. They were gambling with her safety, but Fergus needed whatever information she could give them about their mysterious helper.
‘She’d been monitoring our MSN talk,’ Elena told Danny. ‘Then she fooled me into thinking it was you online. I thought you were back, and when we met she…’ She paused as the memory of the pistol roughly jammed into her mouth came back. She could almost taste it again. ‘I thought she was going to kill me, Danny.’
She reached out and picked up the Coke standing on the tabletop. She took a long gulp, as though she was trying to wash away the taste of metal and oil.
‘You OK?’ asked Danny.
Elena nodded and then told him everything about her terrifying meeting in the alley: the threats, the warnings, the orders, and about Joey being released from prison. ‘But I couldn’t tell you when I was online to you in Spain. I knew she’d be reading whatever I wrote.’
Danny glanced up towards the first floor and saw Fergus look at him and then tap his watch. ‘What about now? How do you contact her?’
‘She’s set up a Hotmail account. Spoofed name. She said she’d e-mail me if there was anything to pass on to you and your granddad.’
‘What about your dad – what’s happened with him?’
Elena thought back to the tearful farewell at the airport. ‘I saw him off at Heathrow yesterday. He’ll be back in Nigeria now.’ She smiled. ‘At least I won’t have to worry about him any more. Just you.’
Danny leaned even closer to her. ‘I’ve really missed you.’
‘Me too. And I wish we had time to talk properly. But what happens now?’
‘All I know is that we’re going to see one of my granddad’s old mates.’
‘Who?’
Danny glanced up at Fergus again. ‘He won’t say. You know what he’s like – operational security, all that stuff. If I were to be caught, I might tell. Same goes for you. So basically I’ll find out where we’re going when I get there.’
Elena finished her Coke and stood up. ‘You’d better go. I’ll go online as usual, but remember, our friend could well be reading whatever you write.’
‘We thought of that,’ said Danny, reaching into his jacket pocket and taking out the new mobile phones. He handed one of them and a charger to Elena. ‘Brand new, bought them first thing. Forget your old one – we’ll use these to communicate.’ He passed Elena a piece of paper with a number written on it. ‘That’s my number. Put it in your phone as soon as it’s charged and then get rid of the paper. And when we speak or text, we never use our names or any other names, even Fincham’s.’
Elena slipped the phone and charger into her coat pocket. ‘Why not? No one knows we have them, right?’
‘Right. But he said no names. There’s a lot of stuff he knows that he doesn’t talk about. So it’s got to be no names. And forget MSN from now on, just text. That way she won’t know what’s happening.’
Up on the first floor, Fergus was watching their every move. Danny stood up and glared at him. ‘Can’t even say goodbye properly,’ he said. ‘He’s always watching me.’
Elena smiled. ‘Then I’ll do it.’ She leaned forward and quickly kissed Danny on the cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ she said and then hurried away.
16
Danny knew they were going to Hereford, the hometown of the SAS; that became obvious when Fergus handed over his train ticket. But that was all he knew. Information was being divulged on a ‘need to know’ basis.
As soon as they boarded the inter-city train at Paddington, they went into their standard anti-surveillance drill. Fergus settled into one seat and Danny moved further down the carriage to find a window seat of his own.
The buffet car was out of order so there was nothing to do but remain in their original seats all the way to Newport. Danny took the opportunity to charge his new mobile phone in one of the power points provided for laptop users. At Newport they had to change onto a local train to Hereford. They waited on the platform separately, and when they boarded the train, they took the same carriage but sat a few seats apart.
The train was quiet and Fergus was reading a newspaper. In the aftermath of the teenage suicide bombings new theories were still dominating the headlines, and journalists were searching for a connection between the two boys. But still the only link to be established beyond any doubt was that they had used identical explosive devices.
Fergus was deep in thought, considering the options the Security Services would be exploring, when he heard the voice. ‘I don’t believe it. Watty!’
He cursed himself silently. He hadn’t seen or heard the woman approach as she made her way towards the toilet; now his defences were down. Usually, at the sight or sound of a third party approaching he would have lifted the newspaper so that it masked his face from view. But it was too late for that now: he had to try to bluff his way out.
Slowly he lifted his head and looked at the woman standing in the aisle and smiling down at him. He knew her instantly but his face betrayed no trace of recognition. ‘Sorry, were you talking to me?’
The woman frowned. ‘Blimey, I haven’t changed that much, have I? You must remember me. It’s Rita. Rita Stevens. You know, Gerry’s wife. Or ex-wife. We got divorced; two-timing bastard made a fool of me once too often.’
Rita hadn’t changed much. They’d called her Lovely Rita in the old days, after the Beatles song. Now she looked a little
heavier, there were a few lines etched into her face and her hair was dyed blonder and cut shorter. But Fergus remembered Rita well, and her exhusband Gerry.
He had joined the Regiment some time after Fergus. They were never close mates, but everyone got to know Gerry and Rita Stevens. They were famed as a hard-drinking, constantly-rowing husband-and-wife double act. Gerry had a reputation as a womanizer; Rita was known to have had her moments as well.
She was flashing that same old flirtatious smile as she looked at Fergus. ‘It must be ten years or more. You on your own? I’ll get my bags and sit with you.’
Fergus spoke softly: he wanted this over as quickly as possible. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The name’s Frank.’
Rita stared hard at him for a few moments and then said more quietly, ‘You’re having me on. Aren’t you?’
This time Fergus spoke abruptly, prepared to insult or offend Rita if it meant getting rid of her. ‘Look, I’m really not whoever it is you think I am. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish reading my paper.’
He turned back to the newspaper but could feel Rita’s eyes boring into him for a little longer before she moved on.
Danny had heard it all, but had not looked back to draw even more attention to the brief, embarrassing meeting. But as Rita walked past his seat he heard her mumbling to herself, ‘Don’t care what he’s calling himself now, that’s Watty.’
When they got off the train at Hereford, Danny followed Fergus out of the station. Neither of them spotted Rita again but Danny was well aware of the damage the chance encounter could have caused. ‘What do we do now?’ he asked as soon as he caught up with his grandfather. ‘She knew it was you – I heard her saying so as she went by.’
‘Nothing we can do,’ answered Fergus with a shrug. ‘We just hope she forgets all about it. We have to stick to our aim. The fundamental principle of any action is always to maintain the aim.’
‘What?’ said Danny, feeling as confused as he looked. ‘You’re just baffling me with army talk again.’
‘I mean we do what we came here to do.’
‘And what is that? It’s about time you told me. I don’t suppose it’s for a regimental reunion.’
Fergus smiled. ‘Of a sort. We’re going to see my old mate Kev Newman. He lives here.’
‘Big Kev? The bloke I saw last year at the Victory Club?’
‘That’s him. Until you turned up, Big Kev was my only link with the old world. He’s in danger too now, but he also might just come up with something I’ve not thought of.’
‘Why is he in danger?’
‘Later, Danny – we need to get away from here.’
Danny was suffering the usual frustration of being kept only partially informed. ‘So do we call to tell him we’re on the way?’
Fergus shook his head. ‘I’ve thought of Kev, so someone else could have done the same thing. It’s too risky to call. This is going to be a surprise reunion.’
They were well away when Rita finally emerged from the station toilets with her lipstick freshly applied. She was always particular about her appearance.
She went out of the main entrance, looked around, then sighed with irritation and headed for the taxi rank. With a cigarette in one hand and a mobile in the other, she called a friend and moaned that she’d forgotten to pick her up. ‘Oh, and you’ll never guess who I saw on the train,’ she added once she had finished complaining. ‘Watty. You know, Fergus Watts. You remember him…’
17
Brecon Road is one of the main drags out of Hereford. Fergus knew it well: it leads to the Brecon Beacons and the Black Mountains in Wales, the area used by the Regiment for selection courses and fitness training. It was also the road where Kev Newman lived, close to the edge of town.
It was after last light. Fergus walked casually along one side of the road; Danny was on the other, holding back by around a hundred and fifty metres and watching for the moment when his grandfather disappeared into the darkness.
Smart detached houses with nice prim gardens and large estate cars in the drive lined the road. Danny had the sports bag slung over one shoulder; he kept his head down as he walked.
As Fergus passed the Wyevale Garden Centre he turned left and melted into the darkness. Danny crossed the road, walked past the garden centre and its car park and fencing and slipped into the same dark area. His grandfather was three metres off the road, waiting beneath a tree. He pointed towards a black mass about ten metres further along the road. Danny could just make it out as a building. ‘That Kev’s house?’
‘No, it’s our OP.’ Fergus started to move, using a line of bushes as cover.
Danny knew the drill without being told. Follow Fergus and do exactly as he does. If he freezes, freeze. If he kneels down, kneel down. If he runs, run, but in a different direction. They had set the ERV for outside the local swimming pool.
They clambered carefully over a crumbling brick wall into an overgrown back garden. The lights from the garden centre broke through the trees just enough to expose the top half of a once grand but now derelict Victorian house.
Instead of heading towards the building, Fergus moved deeper into the garden, taking his time to ensure he made no noise as his feet found the mess of empty cans, plastic bags and ripped bin liners spewing out their rubbish.
He sat down on a pile of fallen bricks and Danny sat next to him, watching and listening for any signs of life from inside the building. They were tuning into the area; despite Danny’s moans and groans over the past few months he had learned to become a team player: together he and his grandfather looked for shadowy signs of movement behind torn curtains, or a burst of light from a window. They listened for muttering voices or a single cough.
Danny reckoned that Fergus was thinking there could be kids inside, using the house as a place to drink or take drugs; or maybe some homeless guy preparing to settle down for the night.
The minutes slipped by. Fergus was always cautious, but he seemed to be watching and waiting for an unusually long time. Eventually he leaned towards Danny and spoke softly. ‘OK, we’re going in. If there’s a drama, it’s back to the ERV. OK?’
‘Why did we wait so long? D’you think maybe there’s someone asleep in there?’
‘No,’ answered his grandfather. ‘There could be Regiment guys in there. Be very careful.’
‘Regi-?’
But Fergus had already started to move, and as Danny followed he was left wondering what possible reason SAS soldiers could have for holing up in a derelict house in their own town.
They edged their way up the garden and reached a smashed window. Out on the road, a couple of trucks bombed out of town towards Wales. Fergus had stopped to listen again, and as the roar of the truck engines died away, Danny could hear the sound of his own breathing.
When Fergus was ready, he climbed in through the window and waited while Danny clambered in after him. They waited for their night vision to kick in and then moved slowly from room to room over floors strewn with rubbish, checking they were the only ones on the ground floor, and then they climbed the stairs to check the bedrooms.
The house was clear. Fergus led Danny back to the main bedroom and pointed through the window to a house across the road, where two cars and a concrete mixer stood in the drive. ‘That’s Kev’s place. I’ll take first stag; you get your head down in the corner. We’ve got a lot to do once there’s enough light to move around properly. I don’t want to use a torch – we’re too close to the road.’
‘But you said Regiment guys might be in here. I don’t understand.’
He could just see his grandfather’s slight smile as he replied. ‘We used to use this place for OP training for Northern Ireland, that’s how I know about it. The locals never had a clue we were watching them. Big Kev always had his eye on the house over the road. It was a bit run down then, but he reckoned it had potential.’
‘And now you reckon Kev’s in danger. But why?’
&nbs
p; ‘Because he knows I was a K. Not officially, but he knows.’
‘So you’re gonna ask him to help us get Fincham?’
Fergus looked through the window towards the house opposite. ‘No, Danny, I’m not. For a start, Kev only knows because I told him everything when I got back to the UK and made contact. Which means he’s in real danger because he’s of no use to our friend with her so-called case against Fincham.’
‘What d’you mean, so-called case?’
‘I don’t believe her – not a word of it – and I’ve got no intention of falling in with her plan. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t.’
‘But… I don’t understand.’
Fergus moved over to one wall and eased himself down to the floor. ‘You’d better sit down for a minute.’
Danny followed his grandfather across the room and sat next to him.
‘There’s no one else who knows, Danny, not now that Meacher is dead, I’m certain of that. Fincham’s already got what he wants, he just doesn’t realize it. There’s no one else for them to worry about.’
‘So why are we here then?’
‘Fincham and the woman are a lot closer to the truth than I ever thought they would be. They could even be monitoring my closest former contacts, waiting for me to get in touch. And that’s Kev. His phones could be tapped, so I have to see him to warn him. I owe him that. But then we’re on our own, Danny.’
18
The Pimlico safe house was starting to smell. Cleaning, tidying, washing up, taking out the rubbish – it was all part of the job for operators on a long-term surveillance. But it was the part of the job that was rarely tackled; not until there were no more clean mugs or plates, or the smell became unbearable. That moment was fast approaching.
Curly and Beanie were on the day shift and had been on duty for a couple of hours. They were sitting in front of their TV monitors. The tabletops were littered with dirty mugs and plates, chocolate bar wrappers, empty Pot Noodle containers with the congealed remnants stuck to the inside, and an ashtray overflowing with stubbed-out cigarette ends. The air was thick with the mingled smell of food and stale cigarette smoke.