Line of Fire:

by Andy McNab

  I’d cut a small slit in the tent’s inner and outer fabric and it worked well. The only trouble would come if anyone in the real world spotted it so close to the play park with an eye behind it. I could just make out the back of the van in the shadows cast by the lighting along the road. If it moved, I would know. With a bit of luck, I might get to see Yulia in a vehicle’s headlights as she approached it.

  Gabe was doing a walk-past of fiftyfive and fifty-six, and I hoped – there was that word again – he’d remembered what I’d told him about keeping to the shadows. The big prize for us would be Gabe having a positive sighting of a skinny Belarusian.

  As Rio fought with a nylon sleeping bag that didn’t react well to just one hand pulling it about, Gabe appeared from the dead side of the VW camper van. There was a red glow and a trail of smoke as he sucked in his fix. He’d probably cut across the grass between the caravans after initially passing them on the road. I wondered where he was vulnerable if he was the snide. I didn’t know too much about the situation with his wife, so all I could think of was his kids. I didn’t feel he would have folded as easily as Rio if his kids were threatened. He would probably have done his fizzy Coke trick and overreacted by climbing aboard the Owl. Gabe did live his life on loud. Then again, it might have been carrot not stick. There was always the sweetener of a better life for the family, better education, social mobility, who knew? Almost certainly Gabe had a couple of skeletons lurking in his cupboard, like all of us, it was just his cupboard wasn’t as transparent as Rio’s.

  It wasn’t long before the zip was pulled down behind me and Gabe struggled inside, smelling like a teenager who’d had a smoke in the garden and thought his parents would never know. I wasn’t going to look back: I had the trigger.

  Gabe wrestled his way past the other body behind me. At least he spoke in low tones rather than a whisper, which would have carried. ‘There are lights on in both caravans, but the curtains are pulled. No sign of Yulia. The antenna has been taken in.’

  At last Rio had control of the mass of nylon and the zip was pulled – but not for long.

  ‘Okay, Rio, you take the trigger. I need to check out the women’s washroom.’

  It took far longer than it would have done had there been the correct number of arms and legs in the tent, and on top of that there was Rio huffing and puffing as he tried to kick the rest of the bag off his legs while still keeping the trigger, but I eventually got out and headed off.

  What the fuck had Jack been doing all this time? I had an idea, but needed to know for sure.

  The washroom was divided in half for the sexes and the male side looked and smelt exactly as I’d expected, that damp scent of shampoo mixed with Lynx, and a wet but practical concrete floor. A couple of shower cubicles were in use, just beyond the row of toilets. The doors had generous gaps at the bottom to let the water flow away when they were hosed down.

  I bent down to check the only toilet that was occupied and saw Jack’s black Clarks boots. They weren’t swamped with jeans – in fact, some of his high-tech titanium leg showed because his jeans were still pulled up.

  I took the next cubicle and did what you were supposed to do. There was nothing from next door. I sat and listened. The only sound was a coughing fit from one of the bodies having a shower. Finally there was movement in the next cubicle. Jack’s door opened and he left. No paper pulling, no zipping up, no flush.

  I resisted the urge to do a Gabe and burst out to grab his throat. I gave him enough time to exit the block.

  Gripping Jack wouldn’t do us any good. For now, it didn’t matter what the Owl knew because we were doing exactly what he was paying for. Jack could wait – I’d sort him out later. Maybe he’d fuck it up himself and the other two wouldn’t have to be persuaded he had betrayed them by easing the way for the Owl to make them very dead.

  Besides, I needed his help. We didn’t have enough arms and legs to sort ourselves out in a tent, let alone lift someone.

  I gave it another couple of minutes before zipping up and leaving the building to the shower boy, who needed to see a doctor about his lungs.

  I poked my head into the tent just as Gabe ripped a crisp packet out of Rio’s hand and started to munch. The tent amplified the noise.

  ‘Everyone, stay where you are and I’ll climb over and take the trigger.’

  I scrambled over flesh and metal as Jack tried to help by moving a little. ‘I had a walk round, seeing if there’s somewhere one of us could trigger Yulia going for the washroom. Might be worth a punt in an hour or so, midnight.’

  As I took over, Rio moved back, disrupting the set-up. Gabe had even more than that to honk about. ‘You see ’em, Nick, those fuckers stuck in front of the TV watching Brexit shit? They’re supposed to be on holiday! What’s wrong with these people?’

  I hated Jack even more for thinking he was getting away with being part of the group when he said, ‘It’s because it’s important, isn’t it, where the country goes from here? Don’t you think?’

  Gabe didn’t. ‘I don’t give a shit. The only time I’ve ever voted was for independence from you lot.’ He took a breath. ‘We were so fucking close to winning. But I’m voting again. I want out. Fuck the English, fuck the French, and fuck the rest of them. Just leave us alone.’

  Rio laughed. ‘What you doing down here, then, Braveheart?’

  Gabe wasn’t having any of it. ‘You can shove the EU. Which way you going to vote, Jack? You’re the only one with a few brain cells in this fucking tent.’

  Jack didn’t miss a beat. ‘Stay in, of course. Better the devil you know. We need to stay in for economic reasons – and social. I feel European.’

  Rio wasn’t going to be left out of this. ‘Me, I don’t care. They don’t give a shit about me so why should I give a shit about them? No matter which way it goes, I’ve still got to live, work and play. Who gives a fuck? I don’t believe either bunch of bullshit. Everyone’s going to vote to stay in anyway, aren’t they? What about you, Nick? You in or out?’

  There was no time for an answer, not that I had one. I’d never voted so had never had to think about what I was supposed to be voting for. I kept it low to stop anyone getting excited: ‘We have movement around the camper van. Just one voice now – mine. Listen in. Rio and Jack, get to the cars. Don’t start them yet. Gabe, stay and listen.’

  They moved a lot quicker exiting than they had coming in.

  I carried on with the commentary to Gabe. ‘I’ve got three big bodies at the front of the van. Too big for Yulia. There’s more bodies coming but I can’t see them in the dark. Wait. Wait. They’re all now unsighted on the other side of the van. Wait. Wait. That’s a door open, cab lights on. I’ve got two bodies getting in. One behind the wheel. The rest of them are now on the dead side of the van, the sliding-door side. That’s lights on. Lights on.’

  Decision time. Did I leave someone here to keep a trigger on the caravans? I didn’t know if Yulia was in the van, but I also didn’t know if she was in one of the caravans. The only thing I did know was that she was last seen at the van in the cove car park. Fuck it, stay with the van.

  ‘Okay, here we go.’

  I turned and scrambled over him. He didn’t need to be out and heading for the Beamer as quick as I did for the Jeep. Jack and I had swapped vehicles because of its low-tech lights.

  Jack fired the ignition as soon as he saw me and the headlights stayed off. I jumped in and the interior lights didn’t come on. I had pulled them out. My nostrils filled with the nicotine embedded in the seat fabric as I saw the reversing light of the VW camper van cut out and its headlights begin to carve their way up to Reception. Jack was bent forward in his seat, his face almost against the windscreen.

  ‘Okay, let’s go – lights off for now.

  Watch out for kids.’ ‘What do you reckon, Nick? Maybe they’re off clubbing.’

  We passed their parking area and I glanced across at their caravans. All the lights were off. ‘We’re about to find out.�
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  31

  We neared the reception area hardstanding. Jack wasn’t too pleased about driving with the lights off, maybe because he was nervous about hitting somebody. I was going to have to talk him through everything. It would have been easier if I’d taken the wheel but there might be some running about to do if they went foxtrot.

  ‘Jack, no brake lights. Just the handbrake if you need to slow.’

  As we turned left into the parking area by Reception I could see the glow of brake lights from the VW about thirty metres ahead, about to move out onto the main.

  I shoved the second plug into my ear as I hit Gabe’s number. ‘You mobile?’

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Great. The van’s at the exit onto the main. No indication yet. Wait. Wait. That’s now mobile, that’s left towards Land’s End. Gabe, keep well back, mate.’

  The van disappeared onto the main. I kept it very clear, very simple. I wanted everyone to know who I was talking to.

  ‘Jack, lights on, let’s go.’

  We exited onto the A30 and I could see the VW’s lights about a hundred ahead. They were higher than the average car’s, so that was a good VDM. At this time of night there was hardly any traffic, which was good – we could find the van quicker if we screwed up – but bad in that it could make us stick out.

  ‘Gabe – that’s still the van towards Land’s End. No – wait. The light’s disappeared left. He’s turned left. Gabe, he’s taken the first junction left. Signed Minack Theatre.’

  Gabe also knew to keep it short and sharp. ‘Roger that, Nick. We’re now on the main.’

  ‘Jack, turn left, get your foot down. Don’t worry, you won’t hit anything. It’s a straight line. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Just use the van lights ahead as a guide. You’ll know when there’s a bend. If you get too close I’ll tell you.’

  He needed to get into the zone but it wasn’t happening. ‘Jack, open your window, stick your head out, get your bearings from the hedge.’

  For some people, a windscreen was a psychological barrier. So, too, was the spotter giving too much detail on a follow. Road names, details of houses or junctions don’t work – too much information to take in and, on the move, it immediately changes. A simple picture for Gabe and Rio was best.

  Jack needed to get a grip because the VW wouldn’t wait for us.

  ‘Gabe – that’s brake lights on. Wait. Wait.’

  Jack wobbled the Jeep a little as he tried to keep it in a straight line.

  ‘Jack, foot off the gas. Let it slow on its own.’

  Jack brought his head inside the Jeep. I kept my eyes on the lights in front.

  ‘Gabe – that’s now left. It’s gone left. Wait. Wait.’

  We covered the last twenty or so to the junction.

  ‘Gabe – we’re at a T-junction. He’s gone left. Now towards Penzance. It’s a B road.’

  Gabe was still backing us. ‘Roger that.’

  I gave the VW another couple of seconds’ distance before we had to continue. ‘Jack, let’s go – lights on now.’

  The road meandered. No light either side.

  As the VW’s lights disappeared to the right without braking, we did the same. ‘Jack – slow down now. It’s open country. Let them get away and use their full beam. As long as we can see it, we’re good.’

  We passed a marker for the Beamer to use.

  ‘Gabe – now passing a junction right. Signed Trevilley. The van’s still towards Penzance on the B road.’

  Their beam was about a hundred metres ahead of us when the rear lights disappeared.

  ‘Jack – speed up. But remember, no brakes.’

  It’s difficult to judge headlights at night, especially how far behind you they are, and especially in rear-view mirrors. It’s even harder when the road is winding. Brake lights, however, are a big giveaway. They give direction, distance and position much more than headlights because they’re not constant so catch the eye. We had come to another marker for the Beamer.

  ‘Gabe – that’s now a sharp right-hand bend. Now a sharp left. Still on the B road to Penzance.’

  We rounded the final corner and Jack almost jumped out of his skin. ‘Shit! Fuck!’ He hit the brakes. The VW was now moving at a snail’s pace and the driver hit the left indicator.

  ‘He’s letting you pass. Just do it, normal stuff.’

  We overtook them on the narrow road. This wasn’t good. They now had our reg and make, if that was what they were after.

  ‘Gabe – hold off, hold off. They’re trailing in the road, we’ve just had to overtake them. I don’t know what’s going on.’

  ‘Roger that.’ He sounded bored, but that’s how the military are taught. If your voice gets fast and excited, it’s an infection that spreads. It can instil panic and you start stumbling over your words. Next, you’re stumbling over your actions.

  I was the same to Jack: monotone, reassuring. ‘Jack. We’ll carry on and look for a place on the left to turn off.’

  We passed a junction signposted Skewjack Farm. ‘Too close. Keep going. Take the bend.’

  As we came out of the S there was a junction to the left. ‘In there.’

  It was the entrance to an industrial unit.

  ‘Stop. Engine off, lights off, handbrake on.’

  I pulled off my neck wallet and my earphones. My USB was already in the wallet. I had to go sterile.

  ‘Jack, stay where you are. Keep looking back to the road. You should see my silhouette. I’m going to find out what the fuck they’re up to. If I have a drama, you’ll see. Come down and back me.’

  I leapt out of the Jeep and passed the entrance to the industrial unit, legging it to the junction ten metres away. A vehicle was coming from the right. Its lights zigzagged through the S, and I threw myself into the hedgerow and waited.

  A burst of red light bathed the trees either side of the road as the vehicle slowed for the bend. I stayed perfectly still, just one eye open as I buried the side of my face deep in the grass.

  The VW slowed to a snail’s pace again. Two lights shone from the open side door, searching the tarmac road. The van passed directly in front of me, and I could just make out the shapes of the torch bearers. One was kneeling, and there was a different set of arms below him, lying and holding out what looked like a mobile with its light on.

  The van passed and I jumped out of the hedge and ran after it. The van crawled along the road, both lights still illuminating the tarmac to the side. It went another sixty or seventy metres, then its engine note rose and its full beam cut faster through the night sky.

  I turned, sprinted back to the Jeep and jumped in. ‘Lights on, let’s go. Turn left, follow them – no brake lights.’

  We hit the road. I necked my wallet and jammed my earphones in. The VW’s beam was in the distance and over to the right.

  ‘Gabe – get to Skewjack Farm. It’s signposted on the left. See what they were checking on the tarmac. Then do the same for the next junction left, by an industrial building. From that junction, go past for another sixty to seventy. That make sense?’

  ‘Yup, roger that. What the fuck they doing?’

  ‘I think I saw them taking pictures or videos of the road. What I didn’t see was Yulia.’

  32

  As we followed the lights I lifted the mic to my mouth. ‘Gabe, you there?’

  ‘Yup. Still checking the road.’

  ‘The van’s still on the main towards Penzance. We’re at a village called Polgigga.’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘P-O-L-G-I-G-G-A. You’ll see a minor built-up area and warning signs for ducks crossing – coming to a sharp left-hand turn with a mud track on the right. Just past the duck sign.’

  We were about to take the left-hander when Jack sparked up. ‘They’re at it again!’

  ‘Pull over on the left, lights out.’

  We bumped up onto the pavement between two cars parked outside a row of small stone cottages. We sat and waited as the red light
s crawled along the road about 150 ahead.

  ‘Gabe – I’ve got another for you to check out.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  I could hear Rio close to Gabe. ‘You want pictures of these ones?’

  I didn’t have time to ask what he was on about. The torch lights went off and the VW began to move.

  ‘Jack – let’s go for it. No lights until we’ve lost them on a bend.’

  The Jeep bounced off the kerb.

  ‘Gabe – stand by. We’re still on the main to Penzance, and there’s a sign for Trethewey. Okay, marker for you, a lone stone bungalow on the right, nothing on the left, just fields.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  The VW was making distance and the Jeep swerved as Jack tried to manoeuvre in the dark.

  ‘Jack, don’t rush it. You can see their lights. Keep it in the middle of the road.’

  His fists clenched the wheel as I got back to the Beamer. ‘Gabe – now passing a war memorial on the right. There’s a big gravel parking area.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Rio was still in the background. ‘Just doing one more.’

  I left them to it as we had two problems ahead of us. ‘Jack, cars coming up. You seen them?’

  Two sets of lights were coming towards us. I wasn’t sure what he had seen so far.

  ‘Jack, foot off the gas, let it slow down under its own steam. Throw yourself left and park up. Only the handbrake.’

  The two sets of white lights got closer and the red ones got further away after we had pulled in behind a couple of Transits. We had now lost the VW.

  I jumped out and climbed onto the roof. What I hoped to see in the middle distance was a bubble of moving light. Instead, all I could see was a pinprick to my right. There was a minor road and we’d have trouble passing each other, but we had no option other than to follow.

  I jumped back in the Jeep and pointed. ‘To the right, lights on.’

  I could see where we were going now and got my earpiece back in and mic to my mouth. ‘Gabe?’ I got nothing but the sound of the Beamer’s engine and the tyres rumbling over the road. ‘Gabe?’