by Andy McNab
'Look, you need me. You know you do. We're already down one, without Lee. Phil's got to stay here and go after the DMP. And you haven't got anyone else.' Outside, the coach engines revved and one of the drivers gave the horn a short burst to hurry them up.
'Give me one more chance and I promise you, I'll never let you down again. Never.'
Fergus sighed, then looked into his grandson's eyes searchingly. At last he nodded. 'All right. But if you go off SOPs one more time, that's it. First plane out of there. Got it?'
'Got it,' nodded Danny.
Fergus paused for a moment. 'There's something I want you to take care of when we reach Barcelona – you're going to need this.'
He reached into the holdall he was taking on the trip, got out a small black camera bag and handed it to Danny.
'What is it?' asked Danny.
'A handy cam, and there's a miniature PC with a G3 mobile. I'll explain later. Just make sure that you know how the kit works and don't let anyone see you with it.'
Danny stowed the camera bag in the rucksack he'd brought with him.
There was another impatient burst on the horn from the lead coach driver.
'Let's go. You're in the second coach with Will. Stick with him. Stay sharp and—'
Danny interrupted: 'Keep to SOPs, I know!'
His grandfather wasn't amused. Danny's grin vanished.
'And Danny . .. ?' Fergus continued.
'Yeah?'
Fergus looked down at the rolled-up circle of plastic on the dashboard. 'What about that? What have I told you?'
Danny reached over and picked it up. He opened it out and smiled. 'Always take out everything you take in.'
24
The clients were settling in comfortably for the first short leg of the journey, across country from Manchester to the seaport of Hull.
They were mainly late middle-aged or older men in groups of two or three. A few had brought their wives along; Barcelona is famed for its fabulous architecture, its museums, its sights and its shops as well as for its football.
The trips were designed to be a mini-holiday, lasting up to five days, with the football match as the highlight. Before that there was a leisurely cruise across the North Sea, with a gourmet dinner and few hours in the casino, followed by a drive through the most picturesque countryside, another stopover, and then a luxury five-star hotel at their destination.
There was no rush – at least on the way there. The return trip was usually quicker, with the clients given the option of returning by plane. Those who were in no hurry to get back, or who didn't like flying, stuck with the coach.
A few passengers were still at work, checking e-mails or talking on BlackBerrys, but most were taking the opportunity to unwind and relax. Some drank coffee or Earl Grey tea; a few sat back and sipped Taittinger champagne. The whole package was designed to be as flexible and luxurious as possible.
Fergus was at the back of the lead coach in one of the seats reserved for staff. Sitting across the aisle at the far window from Fergus was Albie's replacement on the trip, George, a lank-haired, paunchy twenty-something.
Like most of the twins' hired muscle, he was a man of few words. In fact, he'd said nothing at all since boarding the coach but had spent most of the time with his head buried in the Sun. When that became a little too taxing, he just stared out of the window.
That suited Fergus; he was taking the opportunity to make a study of Storm in action, trying to figure out whether she knew what the twins were really up to.
There was no doubt about it – she was good: she moved around elegantly and charmingly, never in anyone's face but instantly ready with a word here or a brief chat there. Nothing serious – she didn't come over as too intellectually challenging. She refilled cups or glasses without spilling a drop – nothing was too much trouble, and it was always service with a smile.
Teddy was not in the same sparkling form. He was still coming to terms with the news of Albie's demise. Fergus had told the twins as soon as he got back to the yard. The twins reacted with a mixture of relief and horror as he described how Albie had met his death.
The traffic was flowing smoothly and the first part of the journey was going without a hitch. When everyone was settled, Teddy came back and sat down next to Fergus.
He saw Fergus watching Storm. 'She's an absolute treasure,' he told him. 'I don't know what we'd do without her.'
Fergus nodded. 'The people on the other coach are missing out.'
Teddy's face still bore signs of the bruises he had received during his unscheduled encounter with the late Siddie Richards and his associates, but he managed a smile from behind his sunglasses. 'Not for long. We always operate this way. Storm switches from one coach to the other each time we make a stop. It gives the customers something to look forward to and stops them from getting bored.'
'So right now Will's handing out the drinks on the other coach?'
'It's not exactly difficult. We're hardly noticed; Storm's the one they're interested in – the guys at least.'
Fergus glanced over at George, who was having another go at the Sun. His index finger travelled slowly along underneath the words as he read, stopping occasionally as he struggled over one with three syllables.
'What about Mastermind in the corner there? What's his role?'
Teddy spoke quietly. 'We always bring three like him. They have nothing to do with the clients, although officially they're here as security. Their real job is to transfer the Meltdown from the coaches to the vehicles of our European contact. That's the only bit of the operation they're party to.'
'And when do you get to find out where the delivery is to be made?'
'Through a phone call after we arrive,' Teddy told him.
Fergus nodded again. It was all extremely slick and efficient, right down to the last detail – including the performance of the lovely Storm, who flashed him one of her sensational smiles as she noticed him looking in her direction. Fergus had a gut feeling that there was more to Storm than met the eye, but he hadn't worked out what just yet.
He looked across at George as he heard the newspaper slip from his lap onto the floor. George had been defeated by the intellectual challenge of the Sun. His head rested against the tinted window and his mouth gaped open. He was snoring softly.
Fergus thought about the operation again. He now knew how the drugs were distributed, but he still had no clue to where or how they were made. Nor did he know who the twins' contact was.
He turned back to stare at Teddy. He looked terrible.
'You're still worried, Teddy. That's why you've got me here. It's not just the Manchester gangs frightening you and Will, is it?'
Teddy hesitated for a moment. 'Everything grew so quickly, perhaps too quickly. And recently . . . the attacks on the yard . . . Siddie Richards . . . Albie. It feels as though it's all slipping out of control.' He sighed. 'I'm just glad you're here with us.'
25
The trip was no longer going quite so smoothly, but it was nothing to do with bad organization or planning; it was simply down to the weather.
The wind was howling, rain was lashing down and the North Sea had turned nasty. The ferry was an impressive modern vessel, designed to stay stable in rough seas. But even the latest technology couldn't control the full force of the pitching and rolling as one mountainous wave after another pounded against the superstructure.
The furious sea had meant the clients' gourmet dinner had gone untouched by many of them, and the visit to the onboard casino was cut short when the spinning roulette wheel only increased everyone's feelings of nausea. Teddy, Will and Storm flitted around doing their best to raise everyone's spirits, but they all knew they were fighting a losing battle.
Fergus stayed close to the twins until most of their clients were either asleep or settled in somewhere for the duration of the voyage. Then, before Will and Teddy could retire to the cabin they were sharing, he took them to a quiet corner of the lounge at the back of the ferr
y.
'If I'm going to do a proper job for you, I need to know more about the situation we're going into.'
Will started to shake his head even before Fergus had finished.
Fergus made it clear that he was irritated. 'Don't be a bloody amateur! You're paying me to do a job, so this is how it goes from here. I'm going to tell you what I need to know then you tell me. You decide what to leave out – it's your choice. You can keep your precious secrets. But when your guts are spilling out on the floor' – he looked at Teddy – 'and I'm not there to save your skin because you're too fuck-witted to tell me something important, just remember that it was your choice.' He got up and started to leave.
'No, Watts!' said Teddy. He glared at Will. 'We'll tell you what you need to know.'
Will glared back but said nothing. Teddy was still in charge.
Fergus took another quick look around the lounge. It was virtually empty now; no one was close by. He sat down again and lowered his voice.
'OK. Let's do this right. First, this man you deal with – who is he?'
Teddy's face was shuttered for a moment. Then he sighed and leaned forward.
His voice fell even quieter, little more than a whisper now. 'We can't tell you his name. But you don't need that.'
'OK. How well do you know him?'
'Hardly at all. We've only ever met him once. He stays in the background, we just deal with his people.'
'So how did you find him?'
'We didn't – he found us, soon after we started. Less than a year ago. We never discovered exactly how he found us, but he was impressed with our set-up, he had a European market ready and waiting and he was prepared to invest some of his own cash from the outset. He got that back long ago. He helped us with some security matters too – and gave us some tips on staying clear of the law.'
Fergus raised his eyebrows, knowing that he had to tread carefully. 'And you've never worried that you know nothing about him, when somehow he just found you?'
Teddy shrugged. 'We do know that he's a Bosnian Muslim and he fought in the war against the Serbs. He's a self-made millionaire with business interests all over Europe. Not really our sort' – Teddy looked at Will and smiled – 'but he knows his stuff.'
Fergus could hear the note of admiration in Teddy's voice. 'And how do you know all this?' he asked.
'He told us, of course, when we met him.'
I bet he did, Fergus thought to himself. The twins' naivety was astounding. Clever enough to conceive an almost fool-proof way of concealing a DMP from the expert security services but dumb enough to fall like ripe plums into the hands of someone who was probably a major player on the international drugs scene. They were way, way out of their league.
'And you think you can trust him?' Fergus asked.
Will appeared to have decided that now that his brother had given away some of their secrets, there was no harm in emphasizing exactly how clever they were. 'We've been making a fortune, for us and for him,' he said confidently. 'He needs us more than we need him. We control the manufacture and supply. Why should we worry?'
Fergus decided not to push the questioning any further, and soon after, the twins went below to sleep. Fergus settled down on stag in a lounge chair close to the gangway leading down to the twins' cabin. He hated boats of any shape or size. To take his mind off the pitching and rolling, he used the time to plan what he and Danny were going to need to cover in Barcelona. He'd got some info out of the twins but it wasn't enough. He was going to have to get closer to the European operation of the twins' mysterious millionaire.
Danny was looking for Storm. He knew she wouldn't have gone to her cabin while some of the customers were still up and about, so she had to be around somewhere.
If the sea hadn't been so rough, he would have guessed she'd gone out to get some air or even to be sick. But passengers had been warned that it was too dangerous, and there were crew members watching all the external doors to prevent lunatics from taking the risk.
Danny had been hanging around for hours, hoping to have a word with her, but they hadn't been alone together for more than a few minutes as they swapped coaches. He wanted to talk to her again after their high-speed departure from the club, check that she was OK. He didn't even know if she'd been told that Albie was dead.
As Danny wandered around the ferry, he realized that most of the twins' customers had retreated to the safety of their cabins to ride out the storm. Only three men remained in the bar, clinging to their brandy glasses and their chairs as they tried to prove to each other that they were real sailors. But none of them was saying much, and as the minutes passed, they were all turning a more vivid shade of green.
Throughout the ship, passengers unfortunate enough not to have cabins sprawled on seats, many vowing that they'd never travel by boat again.
But not everyone was trying to sleep.
As he rounded a corner by the ferry's shuttered café, Danny spotted Storm by the port window, staring out into the storm-lashed night. She had her back to him, but as he moved eagerly towards her, he realized that she was talking earnestly on her mobile phone. She hadn't seen him and he got close enough to hear her say something fast and emphatic in a foreign language before she turned slightly and caught sight of him approaching. Her eyes widened, but a moment later the sweet smile he was beginning to know so well returned. She quickly finished the call in Spanish and flipped the phone shut.
'Danny,' she said, coming close to him. 'I've been looking for you. I've got most of them sorted out and sleeping. It's just those last three in the bar – then we can sit and chat, if you like.'
'You'll be lucky! I think they've settled in for the night,' Danny said. 'Who were you talking to?'
Storm looked puzzled by the question.
'On the phone,' Danny explained.
Her frown cleared. 'Oh, that?' she said, laughing. 'Just some arrangements with the hotel in Barcelona. One of the clients with a special request he'd forgotten to mention before we set off. Normal stuff.' She smiled. 'Now let's go and see if we can get the Brothers Grimm to go to bed.'
Danny laughed as they walked back to the bar, but inside his thoughts were racing. Danny was no linguist, but he and Fergus had lived long enough in Spain for him to recognize the language when he heard it. Storm had certainly finished the call in Spanish, but before that she'd been talking in a completely different language.
They reached the bar and saw that the three men were still clinging onto their chairs. Storm turned to Danny, sighed and then raised her eyebrows. Danny smiled back at her, thinking that maybe she'd been talking in Swedish to a member of her family. Maybe, but that would mean she'd lied to him and that worried Danny. A lot.
26
Fergus and Danny were sitting on a circular wooden bench that dominated the centre of the reception area in the luxury Hotel Casa Fuster, where the twins and their clients were staying during their visit to Barcelona. They watched Storm glide like a catwalk model across the highly polished, dark marble floor. Only when she had stepped into the lift and the doors had closed did Fergus turn to Danny. 'You have to hand it to her, she looks the part.'
Danny agreed. 'But what part is she playing?' He didn't feel good about the way he somehow mistrusted Storm despite liking her a lot. But there was a job to do and he had keep his personal feelings out of it. He had to prove to Fergus that he could stay professional and focused.
