by Andy McNab
‘Four million dollars! But that’s nowhere near my total investment!’
Curly frantically began hitting panic buttons in what he knew was a virtually hopeless attempt to get a fix on the mobile or pick up the call. ‘He’s calling his broker! There’s a broker laundering the money. Find him and we’ve found the cash!’
But when the broker spoke again, his words were heard by Fincham alone. ‘Mr Davies, as you know, your investment covers many areas. Gold, property, oil. All guaranteed to bring you a considerable return. But for that, your commitment is long term, as we have discussed before.’
Fincham breathed hard. ‘And if I chose to change our arrangement, call in my total investment? How long would it take?’
‘Perhaps… six months. But there would be a significant loss of interest; probably of the capital figure also. Your business partners depend on you, just as you depend on them.’
Perhaps. Perhaps. The word ‘perhaps’ was occurring too many times for Fincham’s liking. ‘Very well, I’ll get back to you. Thank you for your time. Goodnight.’
He ended the call and threw his mobile onto a beautifully upholstered sofa. ‘Bastard!’
In the surveillance house Beanie was feeling equally pissed off. He ripped off his headphones and threw them down on the tabletop. ‘Shit. We’ll never find out who he called.’
Curly was still staring at the monitors, watching Fincham pace angrily around his apartment. ‘Maybe there is a way,’ he said. ‘If he calls again, I reckon we’ll have him.’
28
Danny was running along the tarmac road towards the fir tree plantation where his grandfather was hiding.
It was nearly first light. Fergus had told Danny to dump the Discovery in the reservoir a couple of miles down the road and then get back under the cover of darkness, before being spotted by early drivers using the route through the Brecon Beacons.
In the semi darkness he could just see the peak of the mountain behind the forestry block. This area was like nothing he had seen during his time in Spain. There, the long mountain ranges had rolled and stretched across vast areas of land. Here, everything seemed more compressed, compacted into one dark, ominous mass of towering peaks and dark forest.
He jogged off the road at a large lay-by, his marker, and then jumped a stone wall and plunged into densely packed fir trees. They were like giant Christmas trees, their branches drooping almost to the ground. There was barely enough light for Danny to see where he was going. As he made his way towards the centre of the plantation, he could feel the pine needles that had worked their way down the back of his neck sticking to his sweat.
Everything usable had been stripped from the Discovery before Danny drove it away. Rubber mats laid on top of the pine needles formed a waterproof seal and the carpeting made lying down a little more comfortable for Fergus, who was still in a lot of pain.
The wound was weeping, but he knew better than to take off the sweatshirt dressings. By now scabs would have formed between the material and flesh; taking off the dressings would rip off the scabs and start the heavy bleeding again. More dressings and more pressure were needed to completely stop the blood flow from the GSW, but while Danny was away all Fergus had been able to do was use his hands to press down on his thigh.
The wind had got up and was rustling through the branches, but Fergus was being kept warm by Kev’s green fleece and an old Barbour on top of his own jacket. They had lost most of their kit in the contact at the golf club. All that remained was the PE and detonator, which had been in separate inside pockets in Fergus’s jacket, and a little money. Very little: Fergus had been carrying the?60 in notes in his jeans pocket and they were soaked in blood.
Fergus heard Danny approaching, then saw him crawling into the hide. He handed him a roll of gaffer tape taken from the Discovery. Danny could see well enough now to bind the sweatshirt dressing tightly around the wound. He started to rip tape from the roll as Fergus turned cautiously onto his side.
‘Wagon sink OK?’
‘Yep. Rolled down the hill no problem.’ Danny slowly but firmly wrapped the tape around the wound. ‘I reckon there’s a few more down there – it sounded like it landed on another car.’
Fergus grimaced as Danny fixed the tape, but then smiled as he remembered a night many years earlier. One of the rusty wrecks sunk beneath the water had belonged to Kev. They had dumped it when the battered Renault 5 failed its MOT, and then Kev reported it stolen and cashed in on the insurance. It paid for a few golf balls.
‘It’s deep enough,’ was all he said.
A vehicle pulled into the lay-by and Fergus saw Danny’s anxious look. ‘Don’t worry – it’ll be the first of the dog walkers or hikers. We’re at the bottom of Pen y Fan.’
‘You mean that mountain?’
Fergus pulled himself up against a tree trunk so that he could just see the activity going on in the lay-by. ‘Part of selection for the Regiment is getting over the top of that thing, down the other side and back to the lay-by again in under four hours. With a sixteen-kilo bergen on your back.’
Danny thought back to the towering peak he had just made out as he ran back to the LUP. ‘Bloody hell.’
A tailgate slammed, and through the branches they spotted a multi-coloured jumper as a hiker went stomping off down the roadway towards the mountain path. ‘Some people do it for pleasure,’ said Fergus.
‘What do we do now?’ said Danny. ‘We can’t stay here for ever, and your leg needs attention.’
‘I can sort it, with the right stuff. I’ve been trying to think what happens after that.’
Another car door slammed in the lay-by: it looked as though it was going to be a busy morning on the mountain. Fergus shifted slightly to try to get himself more comfortable. ‘Big Kev said something to me about a place just before the contact. I didn’t get the chance to ask him what he meant.’
Danny suddenly remembered that Kev had barked out an order to him as he dragged him away from Benny’s body the previous evening. ‘He said something to me – told me to tell you.’
‘Tell me what?’
‘It was numbers or… or letters. Yeah, it was letters.’
‘Think, Danny, you’ve got to remember.’
Danny had been doing his best to force from his memory everything that had happened during those few horrendous moments. Nightmarish images came back to his mind, but he made himself concentrate on the last few words Kev had shouted at him.
‘It was something like PD or PQ. And mainframe. He said mainframe.’
‘PJHQ mainframe?’
‘Yeah, that’s it,’ said Danny excitedly. ‘That’s exactly what he said. I was meant to tell you but-’
‘It doesn’t matter, Danny.’
Danny saw his grandfather’s look of disappointment. ‘What? What’s wrong?’
‘Big Kev only came up with something I’d already thought of, but it’s a non-starter.’
‘Why? What does it mean, this PJHQ?’
‘It’s Northwood, the Permanent Joint Headquarters, a command centre. It’s just up the road from Northolt. What Kev was saying is that there must be some record of me as a K on the mainframe computer. Evidence, Danny, official evidence. If there is anything, it makes perfect sense for it to be at Northwood, and every mainframe in the country can be accessed from there.’
Danny jumped to his feet and a shower of pine needles cascaded down as he crashed into the overhead branches. ‘So we go there. We get in and find out what we need.’
Fergus wiped pine needles from his face. ‘Impossible, Danny. I could never get over the Northwood fences. Even before yesterday, I couldn’t have done it, but now-’
‘I can do it!’
‘No! No way!’
‘If it’s our only chance, I’ve got to try. And maybe Elena can hack into the mainframe. She got into Fincham’s e-mail before.’
‘Danny, it’s one of the most secure places in the UK. We’d never-’
‘Look!’ said D
anny, bringing down another shower of pine needles. ‘People have hacked into the Pentagon, and NASA. If there’s nothing else, we’ve got to try it.’
Fergus nodded. He’d been turning over the idea of breaking into Northwood ever since the flight into Northolt, but had abandoned the idea because of the old injury to his leg. The fresh wound made any attempt by him a total impossibility. But maybe Danny could do it – if he was prepared to let him try.
‘We need to sort ourselves first. Cash, medical aid, change of clothes and transport. Spark that phone up.’
Elena answered the call almost immediately. ‘What’s happening?’
Danny smiled: that was Elena, straight to the point as usual.
‘There’s a bit of a problem – my friend was hurt yesterday. Quite a bad leg injury.’
‘Hurt? But last night he said-’
‘I know. We didn’t want to worry you.’
‘You’re always doing this!’ Elena was furious, as well as worried. ‘Lies, or half-truths.’
‘Yeah, look, I’m-’
‘Just tell me what you want me to do.’
‘I’m going to hand the phone over now and you need to listen carefully. Got that?’
‘Yes,’ said Elena curtly.
Fergus came on the line. ‘We need you to come to Abergavenny. We need some cash – quite a lot, so that we can get back and sort a few things.’
‘What things?’
‘It’s better not to talk about that now. Get the train from Paddington to Newport and change there for Abergavenny. Come out of the station, walk to the main road and turn right. There’s a cafe in the bus station car park. You two can RV there. You won’t need to stay. Get a return ticket, and we’ll liaise with you again when we get back. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Text your progress. Thanks – bye.’
The line went dead.
‘And thank you so much for all your help and support, I don’t know what we’d do without you,’ growled Elena as she pressed the disconnect button.
29
Even at weekends there was a virtually constant stream of traffic passing Foxcroft throughout most of the day. But there were fewer buses, and realizing there would also be fewer trains running, Elena went online and worked out a schedule for her journey.
She also needed to come up with a plausible cover story for Jane and Dave Brooker because she had made a decision of her own. If Danny and Fergus thought she was going to raid her bank account, travel all the way to Wales, hand over the cash and then wave goodbye, they could think again. She was going to help. She was going to stay, for at least one night. And anyway, if Fergus had a serious leg injury, they would need her help, not just her cash.
It wasn’t unheard of for Elena to spend a night or two with one of her friends, and as far as the owners of Foxcroft were concerned she had always been completely truthful. She was their model resident: straight-As student at school; polite; responsible; considerate; mature. She had coped with the disappearance of her best friend Danny six months earlier and had philosophically accepted that her failure of a father had let her down yet again and been packed off back to Nigeria.
And besides, Elena was at an age when she had to be allowed some freedom. It was part of growing up, and Jane and Dave had to judge when they could allow the kids in their care to start preparing for their life after Foxcroft. With some kids that could be a big problem, but not with Elena. She was straight, honest and trustworthy.
So when Elena told Jane a pack of lies, Jane believed every word.
‘I’m staying with Alice tonight, maybe tomorrow as well. We’re working on a project together and it’s easier at her place than here. Her mum says it’s OK.’
Jane smiled. She’d met Elena’s school friend Alice and liked her. ‘That’s fine, love. Should I call Alice’s mum, just to have a word?’
Elena arched her eyebrows as if to say, Jane, please! Don’t embarrass me. Don’t treat me like I’m a child.
It was a risk. If Jane made the call and discovered that no such arrangement had been made, then Elena’s credibility would be blown for good. But Jane trusted Elena. Completely.
‘You have a lovely time. And call me this evening.’
‘I will. Thanks, Jane.’
Elena felt bad as she went back to her room, but lying had been her only option. She threw some clothes into a bag, and then slipped in her laptop as well, knowing she had to be contactable on the Internet. She made sure she had her building society debit card, and then hurried downstairs and went out to catch her bus.
As soon as she stepped out of the front door, she was followed.
Elena had no reason to believe anyone would be tailing her. If the woman – whose name she still didn’t know – wanted to make contact it would be done by e-mail. That was the arrangement, and Elena had checked her messages before leaving. There had been nothing. So she walked towards the bus stop thinking about Danny and meeting up with him in a few hours’ time.
As she reached the bus stop she felt the hand on her shoulder. She froze, and the memory of her terrifying encounter in the alley behind Foxcroft came back to her. At least here in public nothing like that could happen: although there was no one at the bus stop, there were people around and cars passing, and for a moment Elena thought of calling out or running back to Foxcroft. But that would only lead to unwanted questions, and at the very least a delay in getting to Danny.
Slowly Elena turned round and her eyes widened in shock.
‘Hello, babe.’
It was cold in the forestry plantation. The wind had grown stronger and was whipping through the fir trees. Danny was wearing Kev’s Barbour and Fergus had the green fleece around his shoulders.
‘We ought to talk about it.’
‘What?’
‘You know what I mean, Danny.’
Danny felt the fear return. ‘Kev?’
Fergus nodded. ‘I know you’re thinking about him; so am I. And I saw what happened.’
‘I don’t want to know the details.’
‘I wasn’t going to give you the details. But we do need to-’
‘Deal with it?’ snapped Danny. ‘That’s your answer to everything. Something terrible happens, someone gets killed, and you just say deal with it! Well I can’t, not this time!’
Danny had tears in his eyes. He was hurting, and angry, and afraid. And as much as he mourned the death of Big Kev, one look at his grandfather lying slumped against the tree, his face grey, his leg covered with congealed blood, told Danny that it could just as easily have been Fergus who had died.
And Danny couldn’t bear the thought of that. The events of the last few hours had shown him just how much his grandfather meant to him now. But that wasn’t easy to explain, not to a man like Fergus Watts; a man who seemed to have spent his entire life keeping his emotions in check.
Danny stood up. ‘I’d better get going; it’ll take a while to get to Abergavenny.’
‘Wait,’ said Fergus, pushing himself up a little further. ‘We’ve never really talked about this sort of stuff – and you’re right, I’m not great at it. But Kev was a good mate; you’ll be lucky if you find two or three as good in your whole life. He was the last of mine, and I’ll miss him. And I’ve got to live with the fact that if we hadn’t turned up, he’d probably be starting another game of golf right now.’
‘But how do you? How can you live with it?’
Fergus paused before answering. ‘I’ll think about the laughs we had. The good times. And I’ll remember that he died to save us. Paid me back for saving him all those years ago.’
Danny couldn’t hold back what he wanted to say. ‘And what if it had been you? I’m sorry about Kev, really sorry, but… but I don’t want you to die. It took me seventeen years to find you and… and…’
‘I know, Danny,’ said Fergus gently. ‘And I’m not planning on dying just yet. I don’t want to lose you either…
‘You’d better get going,’ he ad
ded after a long pause. ‘And be careful.’
‘I will.’
As Danny turned to go, his grandfather wiped away a single tear that was rolling down his cheek. He felt embarrassed, stupid, and he was glad that Danny hadn’t seen it. Fergus Watts didn’t do this sort of thing. He had no idea who the tear was for. For Big Kev? For the grandson he had come to love? Or for himself?
He heard Danny moving through the branches and smiled. ‘You won’t get rid of me yet,’ he whispered.
Elena was desperate to get rid of her dad. ‘No way! You are not coming with me!’
‘But I got nowhere else to go, darling, and no money.’
Once Elena had recovered from the shock of seeing Joey standing there beaming at her, they had moved into the bus shelter, and they had been arguing for a full five minutes since then.
‘You should have gone back – I thought you had gone.’
Joey sighed. ‘Yeah, well, there’s something I didn’t quite get round to telling you about, darling. I can’t go back to Nigeria – bit of a misunderstanding with the police.’
‘What did you do?’
‘Some money went missing, quite a lot of money. It was nothing to do with me, darling, honest. But once you get a reputation like mine-’
‘And a record like yours!’
Joey breathed hard. He’d been living rough for the past couple of nights and it didn’t suit him. He was tired, hungry and broke, and he was certainly no Fergus Watts. Prison had been bad enough, but surviving out in the open, sleeping on benches – it was more than he could handle.
‘The truth is, babe, if I go back home they’ll lock me up and throw away the key. And prisons in Nigeria are a whole lot tougher than here. I won’t survive.’
Elena looked at her watch. She was going to be late.
‘Where is it you’re going anyway, darling?’ asked Joey.
There wasn’t time to think up a convincing lie. ‘To see my friend, Danny. He needs my help.’
‘Him? Again? That boy’s always in trouble.’