by Andy McNab
I sent Dom to buy some more cappuccinos and went straight upstairs to grab some seats with a view of the street. It wasn't long before the two of them connected on the pavement below me. Mr Green got on his mobile, eyes darting left, right and centre. He wasn't wearing his happy face; he must have been trying to explain how they'd lost us yet again. Then there was lots of nodding; I guessed they were being told to go back to the house. Dom and I had gone in with bags and come out without. Chances were, we'd go back at some point.
They disappeared as Dom arrived with a tray.
I told him about Connor's pinkie, and about the Yes Man and why I knew him. I told him I'd worked for the Firm and been fucked over so many times by the man that I felt like a relation, which was why I knew what he was planning. I wasn't too certain whether it reassured him or not. But, fuck it, he'd wanted to know.
It only took another forty or so minutes before my mobile kicked off. The voice was from the Falls Road again, but this time without the evening classes. 'I hear you want to pick something up…'
'Yeah.'
There was a slight hesitation: he'd pinged – and didn't like – the accent. 'Sheriff Street Estate. Wait outside the Mace mini-market. Someone will pick you up.'
'There's two of us.'
Dom hated being out of the loop. He was straining to listen in, but music was playing, people were gobbing off.
'No fucking way, son. You come alone.' The voice was clipped and abrasive.
'It's two of us or nothing. You know what I'm doing for you cunts. We're both in black jackets and jeans. How far is that from O'Connell?'
'Twenty minutes.'
There was no way we were going to split up now. We had to keep together, and in the open. It was the only way to stay safe.
'Sheriff Street Estate – you know it?'
Dom nodded unenthusiastically. 'Everybody knows it. It's north. I can already smell the burning tyres.'
'Time for another cab, then.'
Five minutes later we were following the route out of town. It was rather nice and clean to start with, but slowly and surely we were getting to the parts the EU subsidies hadn't reached.
The taxi dropped us off at the mini-market and the driver took off like a shot the moment he had his money.
The area was a morass of grimy brown blocks of flats, probably thrown up immediately after the war. They must have seemed like paradise when they were built, but now it was like the Tabard in Bermondsey, a drug-ridden dumping ground.
The Mace store had filthy windows and peeling paint. It was protected by mesh panels and secured with rusty padlocks. According to the poster behind one of the panels, there'd been a drug-related shooting of a schoolgirl there last week and the police were desperate for information.
The burnt-out remains of a Ford Escort stood at the kerb.
Scabby dogs ran along the pavement with scabby kids. Some of them kicked a ball, some just screamed at each other.
Teenagers hung around in threes and fours. They were probably dealing. They looked us up and down like they wanted to know what the fuck we were doing on their turf.
Dom leant against the mesh and tried to make light of it. 'I don't think this'll get much of a look-in on Dublin Let's Go, do you?'
'Dublin Let's Get Fucked, maybe.'
Two women came out of the shop, gobbing away at a million miles an hour. They stopped and stared. Either they didn't know our faces or they didn't like what they saw. They stood there for several seconds, then walked on without a word, their paper bags full of frozen shit in a tray for their tea.
I felt quite at home there. Maybe that was why I'd always got picked to fuck about in places like the Bogside, running round trying to find ASUs and their weapons.
It wasn't long before two older men rounded a corner and came up the road towards us. They wore black leather coats, gold chains round their necks and cupped cigarettes in their hands. They brought them up in unison to take a drag. If synchronized smoking were on the Olympic roster, those boys would have been going for gold.
The closer they got, the harder they looked. They'd lived fucking grim lives and their expressions said they'd be more than happy to share.
The shorter of the two went straight up to Dom. 'You the one looking for something?' It was the voice on the mobile. He sucked at his cigarette, displaying grimy nails and fingers stained yellow.
'No, it's me.' I took a step forward.
'What the fock do you want them for?'
'What do you think?'
The taller one moved in closer, smoke leaking from his nostrils. His hair was greased back and thinning. 'Don't push your luck, son. You focking Brits don't run this place any more, or hadn't you heard?'
I said nothing. I just wanted the weapons.
Little took another drag and looked up at Dom. Then he turned and we followed.
We went past the burnt-out Escort and down an alleyway between two blocks of flats. It was littered with rubbish and graffiti and it looked like we were hemmed in. There were three other guys waiting, younger guys in hoodies and jeans.
Little turned sharply and shoved me against the wall. Dom got the same treatment from Large. The other three waded in and manhandled us through a search.
An old woman snapped her kitchen curtains. She'd have seen this stuff too many times before. I could hear kids screaming and shouting, and the rhythmic kicking of a ball against a wall.
They carried on pushing us along the walkway. Little still led the way; Dom was a step or two behind me, and everybody else followed him.
He was getting a bit chattier. 'I hear this Brit's with British Intelligence and he's got the UDA working for him…'
I nodded. 'You got what I asked for?'
Dom appeared at my side, catapulted forward by one of the hoodies. Little stopped, turned, and jabbed me in the chest. He pushed me up against the wall, eyes burning. 'I'll tell you what else I hear… I hear you're focking SAS.' That was good for another hard poke. 'Friends of mine were murdered by the SAS. Maybe you pulled the trigger…'
It was pointless denying anything. Either way, the guy would do precisely what he wanted.
'Maybe.' I shrugged. 'But right now I'm going to solve a problem for you. It's not like the old days, is it? Gerry says we're one big happy family, these days, and he should know.'
He stopped poking. His skin creased and a smile played across his cheeks. 'You go down to the end of the alley here, and you'll come to some bins. One of them contains what you want. They're wrapped up in black plastic.'
I turned, making sure Dom was with me. Little pulled me back. 'Those weapons have killed twelve focking Brit soldiers between them. Young lads, they were, in their prime. Well, the four I killed were, anyway.'
He kept hold of me a little bit longer, to let me share his enjoyment of the memory.
When we got to the bins, Dom looked back over my shoulder. 'You never said you were SAS.'
'You just asked how I knew the Yes Man. How the fuck do you think I got to work for the Firm in the first place? Now, get stuck into that bin and have a scavenge.'
101
Herbert Park Wednesday, 14 March 0128 hrs I sat well back from the window. The curtains were open but the house was in darkness, and had been since eleven. There had been virtually no traffic for the last half-hour; most of the neighbourhood was tucked up in bed.
They would come for us soon.
Dom sat at the top of the kitchen stairs, gripping the pole of his taser. It was plugged in, but not yet switched on.
Mine leant against the sofa, also ready to go. We both had twenty metres of play.
'Don't forget, mate.' I kept my voice low. 'Just a two-second burst.'
The third taser was on the landing above us, in case there was a total fuck-up down here and we had to stand our ground upstairs. The two AKs were in Dom and Siobhan's bedroom.
They were our last resort. The Yes Man's guys wouldn't come in guns blazing, and no way did I want to use them inside t
he house unless the whole thing turned into a gangfuck. We'd wake up the whole street; the police would have the area sealed off within minutes. And that wouldn't get us any closer to Finbar. We wanted to know what was in their heads, but without spraying it all over the walls.
A shiny BMW 5 Series crawled past the house. The couple inside were dressed up for a night out. I wondered what they'd had for dinner. I was on my sixth brew and third packet of Hobnobs since we'd supposedly gone to bed.
They would definitely come tonight. The Yes Man wouldn't risk any more activity from us, any more phone calls or visits – especially since he didn't know exactly what we were up to. He would have to cut it here and now.
There would still have to be some finesse about the lift. I didn't know whether Mr Green and Mr Black could handle that, but I knew the way he'd want it. No gunshots. No noise. Just lift and go.
And I knew the way I wanted it. Whoever came to give us the good news was going to get zapped, then zapped again and again until one of them came up with the goods.
The BMW finally found a parking place and the couple got out. Her body language wasn't encouraging. She wasn't amused with the driver, not one bit. She stormed off towards a house further along the street while the old boy did the business with his key fob. The lights flashed once and he followed subserviently.
I thought about the weapons upstairs, and what they might have done over the years. They were so ancient the wood furniture had been rubbed bare. They were more than old enough to have killed those lads, and now they were going to be killing some UDA, and hopefully even a Brit. About time too. He needed culling.
Vehicle lights splashed across the road. The Seat cruised past from right to left. Both faces peered into the house.
I let them go and kept perfectly still. 'Stand by, mate, they're here.'
'How many?'
'Just the two of them. But they'll be carrying. They're not going to come in empty-handed. Don't fuck about – give them the good news as soon as I shout, OK?'
I stood up and flicked on the socket switch.
They wouldn't just smash their way in, run upstairs and hope to grab us before we knew what was happening. That left only the doors or windows, at the front or back – and even if they had only two brain cells between them, they'd work out that the back was the better option.
The locks on the downstairs toilet window were still undone – I'd made sure of that – and I'd slid open the catch to make it even easier for them. I wanted them to come in together. We needed to zap them both at the same time. Letting either of them do a runner to fuck up the whole plan was not an option.
Another five minutes crawled by. Mr Black walked past the house from left to right, checking everything out. He had a small day sack on his back. Fuck me, was there a third method of entry? Was he going to blow his way in?
He disappeared down the road. Mr Green would surely be working his way round the back, checking the walls to make sure the one they jumped over really was at the back of the correct house.
Mr Black came back the other way, towards the Seat. I waited for him to get out of sight.
'Won't be long now, mate.'
102
We moved into the kitchen. Dom flicked on the power to his taser.
I grabbed the stick with my free hand and put my mouth to his ear. 'With me, with me…' We moved slowly back to the island and lowered ourselves behind it.
There was a scraping noise at the window below us.
'When I move, you move. Straight in there before he knows what's happening. And once he's down, give him one for luck.'
Low murmurs drifted up from the garden. The toilet window was given a short, sharp push. They knew it was open now. They'd take their time, ease it up slowly.
I gripped the taser pole in my right hand. The forks would be clearly visible above the island, but by the time they'd spotted it, it would already be too late.
I heard feet touching the floor and the toilet-door hinge squeak. There was a rustle of nylon. I put my hand on Dom's shoulder to stop him jumping the gun.
I heard a low whisper, then the first creak on the stair.
I leant round the side of the island. Light glowed dimly in the stairwell.
Mr Green's head appeared above floor level. He paused and started climbing again, very slowly. Mr Black was right behind him.
I kept a hand on Dom until Mr Green had reached the top step and Mr Black was in view from the waist up.
'Go! Go! Go!' I yelled at the top of my voice, and lunged the four paces to the banister. I was aiming for Mr Black, to make sure their escape route was blocked. Dom had to take his chances with Mr Green.
Both tried their best to react, but Mr Black was too slow. I jabbed the taser forks into his shoulder like I was spear-fishing. He didn't even gasp, just fell forward on to the stairs.
Dom and Mr Green were getting up close and personal. There were a lot of grunts and shouts, and the stools beside the island toppled and fell.
I plunged the forks at the end of my broomstick into my target's back and left them there.
Dom's taser was on the floor, inches away from where they grappled. Dom was on top. I grabbed the broom handle as Mr Green arched his back and tried to head-butt him.
I kicked out at Dom. 'Get off him! Get the fuck off!' But Dom was in his own world. He threw a punch at the guy's head. He was well fired up. This guy was about to pay big-time for what Sundance and Trainers had done to Pete.
Fuck it. I touched Dom's back with the forks and he jolted sideways. I pulled him away with one hand and gave the boy on the ground a two-second burst with the other.
'Close the curtains, mate, get the lights on. Go on, go! Go!'
Dom stumbled to his feet.
Mr Green gave an agonized groan. This place smelt like someone had burnt the Sunday roast.
'And turn the power off on mine. I'll use yours to deal with this fucker. Just pull out the plug before we have any more drama, but leave the taser where it is.'
I stood over the guy in the green bomber, ready to give him an extra zap.
Dom tried to orient himself, but he was staggering like a drunk.
'Cancel that, mate – just grab the torch and search this fucker.'
He finally got the message and did as he was told.
I watched as he turned out Mr Green's pockets. He had a mobile phone and a.38 snub-nosed revolver. There was no need to worry about Mr Black suddenly pulling a weapon. He was toast.
Another minute or so and we had the curtains closed, the lights back on. I gave Mr Green a kick in the ribs. 'Sit up!'
He didn't budge. I didn't blame him. In his position, I wouldn't have cooperated either.
I brushed his leg with the forks. His whole body jolted. He dragged himself on to his arse with his hands behind him. He was bowed, but not beaten. He could smell Mr Black; we all could. 'Fuck it. Get on with it then, boy – fry me.'
I looked at Dom. 'Ask him. Ask him what you need to know.'
'Where is Finbar?' He stooped to Mr Green's level. 'Where is my stepson?'
'Fuck you.'
I touched the forks to his shoulder. He saw them coming and tried to duck, but he went down hard. I gave him a good three seconds and he screamed.
He rolled on to his hands and knees and crawled towards the living room. Dom and I followed him across the floor. 'Fucking switch on, mate. We can do what we want with you here, so what are you holding out for? You'll fucking die – you really going to leave the Brit sitting pretty while you take the punishment? Where is Finbar? And where's the Brit?'
I brushed the back of his calf with the forks and he swivelled like a break-dancer. 'Come on, we can do this all night. Dom here's paid his electric bill. It ain't going to be cut off.'
I sparked up his mobile, a cheap old red and grey thing. He had no call history, no address book. Whoever he needed to call, or whoever was going to call him, they knew each other's numbers.
I gave his arse a jab this time.
His body hit the floor like it was trying to melt into it. His breaths came fast and short.
'OK, here's the deal. You tell me who you were going to call once you'd lifted us, and I'll go easy with the cutlery. Let's start from there, yeah?'
His right cheek was pressed to the floor. I brought the forks down level with his left eye.
'What about a jab to the frontal lobe? A couple of seconds of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest treatment. You'd end up barking at the moon every Tuesday. Come on, you're not fucking helping yourself. Where is the boy?'
He closed his eye. 'They'd fucking kill me.'
I touched the forks quickly to his skull and he half gurgled, half screamed. I gave him a Timberland in the ribs for good measure. 'Shut the fuck up. That's not what I want to hear.'
Dom grabbed my arm. 'Nick…'
If he was suddenly trying to play the good guy, fuck him. This was the only way we'd get results this side of lunch-time.
'No, mate. If he doesn't tell us, he's going to die.'
Mr Green opened his eye again to see the forks just inches away. 'All right, then, just tell us who you were going to phone. Who were you going to contact to say you'd got us?'
Snot dribbled from his nose and formed a small puddle of slime on the floor. He sniffed hard. 'The Brit… I was going to call the Brit…'
'And what was the Brit going to do?'
'He was waiting.'
He couldn't control his breathing. The electricity churning through his heart had interfered with the comms system linking his brain and lungs.
'If you don't come up with some answers, the next zap's going to kill you.'
I got down on my knees and leant forward until our faces were level. I wanted to make sure I was close enough to hear if he started to have a heart attack. 'I bet you never thought this would happen when you signed up, eh? Now where's the boy?'
'Dun… Dundalk.' It was scarcely more than a whisper.
'Dundalk?'
He nodded like a drunk on a pavement.
'And that's where you were going to take us?'
He nodded again.