by Andy McNab
My face was covered with sweat by the time I dropped the extinguisher and headed outside. The Lexus was ticking over smoothly. I turned off the ignition and lights and pocketed the keys. Back in the hallway, I slammed the door behind me and bolted up before hitting the light switch.
Flynn and Bitch Tits lay prone on the concrete. They’d taken a battering but their chests still pulsated.
I gave them both another slam into the back to keep them immobilized before checking for weapons. They were clean.
Legging it as best I could, I went through the door into the silo to retrieve the Bergen. I lifted it on one shoulder. My feet were heavy. I was fucked. I gulped huge mouthfuls of air. Adrenalin was going to keep me going here. Adrenalin and blind fucking rage. I had to get back to them before they had time to recover. I needed to control them.
Dutch voices had taken over the TV above me now. I dropped to my knees beside the bodies and took off the Bergen. I unpacked the gaffer tape. The one eye that Flynn could still open was fixed on me.
They gave no resistance as I grabbed their hands. I taped them behind their backs, and then I did their ankles. I wrapped a strip over their mouths. I kept it as tight as possible. I wanted them to have to fight for every molecule of oxygen.
I taped open two out of the four eyes that weren’t broken or swollen. I didn’t want them to miss a thing.
19
I slid down the wall and sat there, totally fucked, fighting for breath. The two of them were starting to recover a little. They tried to beg and reason with me via muffled, gaffer-taped moans.
I didn’t want to get up. But I had to.
I staggered to my feet and opened the windows and doors of the two ground-floor offices that faced the silo, then did the same in the three upstairs. The news was still on. A female anchor with sculpted blonde hair was getting highly excited about the football results. Robot hadn’t moved an inch.
I stumbled downstairs. Grabbing Flynn’s bound feet under my arm, I dragged him into the silo. He kicked out as best he could, but his weight was more of a problem. I dropped his feet just past the door and kicked into both of them. It wasn’t about control: every time I looked at these guys I kept thinking about the green house.
Picking up his feet once more, I finished dragging him into the centre of the main building. I left him with his back against a heavy desk, then went back and fetched Bitch Tits.
I put my ear to the girls’ door. They’d heard the fight. Their voices were high and agitated. Some of them cried. I heard one of them speaking only centimetres from my head. She was probably doing the same as me, ear to the door, trying to work things out.
I hit the light switch by the main entrance and checked the Facebook picture, then unlocked the door and pushed it open.
‘Lilian Edinet?’
The girls were all wearing jeans and sweatshirts. They had nothing on their feet or above their eyes. They cowered by their mattresses, some holding hands, expecting the worst.
‘Lilian?’
I looked at each face, the blonde ones first.
‘Yes, I am Lilian.’
The girl who stepped forward had been standing in the far left-hand corner, by the slop bucket and piles of grease-stained pizza boxes and plastic sandwich wrappers. Her hair was longer than in the picture, and matted. Her expression was defiant.
I moved towards her, my hand outstretched.
‘Come on. Move!’ I knew I should be treating her to the full Mother Teresa number, but I didn’t have the time. None of us did.
I had to grab her arm and pull her all the way out of the room. I slammed the door shut and threw the bolt.
Under the lights in the hallway, her resolve crumbled. Tears cascaded down her cheeks. She was trembling. She tried to hide it, but wasn’t having much success.
‘Please, please …’
I took her face in my hands and moved it up towards the light.
It was her all right. The Goth vampire look had faded, but you couldn’t mistake the fire in her eyes. Whatever they’d done to her, they hadn’t yet broken her spirit.
I let go of her and pressed the picture into her hand. ‘Who is that? What is his name?’
The paper shook in her hands. Teardrops hit the page. ‘Viku.’
I grabbed her by the arm once more. ‘I’m taking you home.’
I dragged her to the office opposite and pushed her inside.
‘Turn the light on. Stay here. I’ll come back soon. Do not leave this room, OK?’
She nodded.
I closed the door. This one also had a key in it. They probably all did if this place was being rented out. I gave it a turn. It would put the frighteners on her again, but I didn’t want her to see what I was getting up to next.
Everything I needed was squared away. All the girls, and the two fucks next door, were contained, and I had Lilian. Now I could sort out the device.
I hoisted the Bergen onto one shoulder and headed back into the silo. Flynn and Bitch Tits thrashed their legs about, their heads jerking in unison as they tried to shout out at me through the gaffer tape. The pleading had stopped. They were just pissed off big-time.
Three thick, cast-iron heating pipes ran from beneath the concrete, through evenly spaced brackets up the wall, all the way to the floor above us. I gave them an exploratory tug. They didn’t give an inch.
My body ached, my feet were getting heavier and I was gagging for water, but nothing could detract from the glow of knowing these two were going to watch my every move and then work out exactly what was going to happen to them. And to make sure that happened unimpeded, I dragged each of them across the floor and ran the gaffer tape around their heads and the pipes, and then did the same with their chests and waists. Their legs stretched out in front of them. They were going nowhere. The show was about to begin, and I wanted them to have ringside seats.
The offices above me spilt enough light for me to see what I needed to see and do what I needed to do. Whatever was on the TV, it was now in Dutch.
I removed the freezer bags: two with the yellow picric acid crystals, and two with the shotgun propellant. The fuel container came out next. I laid them all in a line. I had to do this methodically or I might fuck up and forget something.
The pair of them had stopped moving about. They had one good eye each and they were fixed on me like laser beams. They were trying to work out what the fuck was happening. They’d know soon enough.
First I had to assemble the two explosive charges. I unsealed a bag of picric, inserted an open pack of dark grey propellant into the middle of the yellow crystals, and put them to one side. I exposed one end of my home-made fuse with my teeth and shoved it into the second pack of propellant, then gaffer-taped the two securely together before repeating the process. I taped the second picric bag too.
I moved across to where the remnants of the flour had drifted like snow against the wall that joined the silo to the admin building. Dropping onto my hands and knees, I scooped as much as I could of it to one side so the twenty-litre fuel container could sit directly on the concrete. My nose and mouth were soon full of fine white powder, and so were my eyes.
I placed the container in the space I’d cleared, and taped the second IED on top of it. The fuse snaked off to my right.
The flour began to mix with the sweat running down my cheeks and gathering at the back of my neck. I must have looked like a cross between the world’s most enthusiastic coke head and the Pillsbury Doughboy.
I grabbed the components of the first IED, which was to be the kicker charge. I dug deep into the flour that I’d just helped bank against the wall. I had to make sure of two things: first, that I placed the kicker charge higher than the firebomb; and second, that it went as deep into the flour as I could manage. These bags still weren’t sealed. It wasn’t their time yet.
I checked the fuse leading from the petrol bomb to make sure it was within easy reach of the kicker charge, and that it didn’t touch the fuel at any point.
That was why the kicker had to be higher - so the fuse flowed easily into the picric.
I picked up the Bergen and moved away from the two devices. The TV news was still blaring away. They’d have something right on their doorstep to talk about in a couple of hours.
I took out the mosque alarm and the bulb, lifted the batteries out of the back of the clock and reinserted them the right way round.
20
I unwrapped the gaffer tape protecting the bulb and gave it a quick test. Perfect. I closed it down before the filament got hot. I set the alarm for two hours. That would be enough for me to get back and shower all this shit off me before I went anywhere near the airport.
I moved back to the device and gently pushed the bulb into the open propellant bag of the kicker charge. I bit away the free end of the fuse and shoved that alongside. I made sure both were sunk deep into the propellant before sealing them in place. I wrapped some more tape around both the wire and the fuse and made sure it was all nice and tight.
The timer gave a gentle green glow as I started scooping flour on top of the kicker charge. The clock would spark up the bulb. That, in turn, would set off the propellant in the bag, and at the same time ignite the fuse. The fuse would start burning towards the firebomb. The propellant inside the kicker charge would generate a fuck of a lot of heat. The picric acid would explode. And since it was against the wall, the force of it would push up, down and forwards into the building.
The pressure wave would force out the flour in a fine mist at supersonic speed. There’d be a massive amount of pressure, because this place was so enclosed. There were no windows, and the building itself was sealed. The pressure wave would have nowhere to exit. So as it bounced and rattled around the building, it would take the cloud of flour and dust with it. The cloud would fill the building.
All the while, the fuse to the kicker charge would be burning down to the propellant inside the main charge. It would also explode, and detonate that lot of picric, creating another massive pressure wave. That was why there had to be an air gap between the fuel and the explosive. You need to give the wave a little time before it hits the fuel. If it’s physically touching, it can sometimes just explode and kick out fluid at supersonic speed instead of flame.
What I wanted was flame. It would ignite all the particles of flour, and that would create even more pressure. The wave would burst its way round the entire building in a couple of seconds.
Flynn and Bitch Tits looked like they were going to explode all by themselves.
I finished burying the kicker charge and laid the Bergen next to the fuel but kept the remaining gaffer tape in my hand. I’d almost done it. The last bit was the hardest of all, and that was the wait. But it had benefits, I supposed. Flynn and Bitch Tits also had to wait.
They’d gone noisy again. I wasn’t sure if they were begging, trying to cut a deal, or just giving me their final thoughts on my mother’s sexual history.
I knelt down beside them and rolled all the remaining gaffer tape around both sets of legs.
I fished around in Flynn’s smart leather coat for the main door keys. Flynn fixed his eyes on mine. He knew what I was thinking and accepted he was going to die. Bitch Tits wasn’t following his dad’s example. He continued to flap. That was good for me.
I turned and went out, leaving the door to the hallway wide open.
21
She was standing in the far corner of the empty office, her back firmly against the wall. If she could have burrowed her way into it, she would have done.
‘Come on, hurry!’
She didn’t budge.
I ran across the room. Her arms came up to protect herself.
‘For fuck’s sake, calm down. I’m not here to hurt you.’
She wasn’t responding.
I touched her on the shoulder as gently as I could. She recoiled like I’d hit her with a Taser. I lowered my voice, kept it as calm as possible. ‘Listen, Lily. I’m here to help you. But you must help me, OK?’
I took her arm and headed for the main door.
‘Mister - my friends … ?’
I turned to see her pointing at the only remaining closed door.
‘Mister … ?’
I opened the front door just enough to check outside, then closed it again.
I turned to face her. ‘Listen in. You tell them that they are going to be free, OK?’
She nodded, concentrating hard to make sure she understood every single word.
‘Tell them that I will show them a way out. And they must not come back here. Do you understand?’ You didn’t need even two brain cells to know that this was the last place on earth they should be, but the big wide world might have seemed an even more frightening prospect.
‘Yes - but where do they go?’
‘They are in Amsterdam. I will show them, once we get out of here.’
She wasn’t with me.
‘Fuck it, just get in there and tell them to follow me.’
I opened the cell door and almost threw her back in. ‘For fuck’s sake, hurry up.’
They gathered by the main entrance.
I moved outside and held them there while I locked up. I still had Flynn’s fob. But I wasn’t touching the car. We couldn’t all fit inside, and it was another bit of kit to connect me with the job. I didn’t want any last-minute complications. We were all better off on foot.
I turned right, and switched into Pied Piper mode. I started across the wasteground towards the rat run. I had to stop every now and then to give the girls time to catch up. Their bare feet weren’t making life any easier. I took them around the edge of the crater so they didn’t fall foul of the junkie pick-up sticks.
About ten minutes later I shepherded them, one by one, through the gap in the railing. I held them on the other side until everyone was through, then headed along the fence line. I passed the ferry point and followed the road towards the canal, throwing both sets of keys into the bay to join the Passat.
I pointed in the direction of the lights across the water. ‘Amsterdam.’
Lily passed on the message and there was a murmur of understanding, dread and excitement.
22
jog, pulling Lily behind me. The rest followed like a gaggle of refugees.
There was no time to talk - no reason to either. When the silo exploded, they’d throw up cordons. I needed to be away from here and on my way to Russia. That was the only thing on my mind now. I brushed my clothes as I went. The Doughboy look was not what I was aiming for.
I slowed to a walk as we approached the bridge. I gathered up the girls and told them to be quiet. Lily translated.
We were soon in the land of the white prefabs. The girls were out of breath. Lily pulled at my arm. ‘Please, slower …’
I gripped her hand and pulled a little harder. We had to make distance.
The housing estate was alive. TV screens glowed behind net curtains. Kids played football under street-lamps. All the shops were open, their bright lights flooding the pavements.
I was gagging for water but it was going to have to wait. I checked my watch. Thirty minutes had gone. I had to get a move on here. With luck I could have the wheels turning by about 22.15. The device would kick off just after 22.30. By then we’d be on the A10 to Schiphol.
I stopped short of the roundabout and waited for my ragtag band to join me. We got stares from passing drivers, but I was past caring. There were more important things to think about.
I pointed down the road towards the taxi rank. ‘Lily, tell the girls to cross the road and keep walking. Tell them to go to the Islamic cultural centre, the mosque - you get that?’
She nodded, then gobbed off at the frightened faces.
‘Tell them the people there will help them.’
She did as she was told and I started to move them on.
‘Tell them not to say where they’ve come from. They don’t know - it was near the motorway.’
She gobbed off again and I had to phy
sically turn them in the right direction.
‘Go on, fuck off, go!’
Lily started to move with them.
‘Not you.’
I hooked her arm and guided her across the roundabout towards Papaverhoek.
That was me fucked with Tresillian yet again, but so what? I was fucked anyway. He’d have to find me to grip me. As for the target building, fuck it. It was going to be a while before they found out where the girls had come from, even if they told the truth straight away.
I couldn’t get Lena’s friend involved. It was too complicated, and there wasn’t time. But at least the girls were safe. They’d be fed and watered and given warm shoes and a place to rest before someone remembered to ask the police if they might like to find out where they’d been held, or about the man who’d saved them. By then it would be too late.
Lily was hobbling now, but she’d live. FilmNoord XXX was doing a brisk trade. Four cars were parked up, their drivers browsing the shelves. A woman in her late forties and not exactly box fresh smoked a cigarette and scoped for business. She didn’t give us a second glance. She was more interested in the lads with back seats than a guy who’d already found what he was looking for.
I approached the safe-house from the opposite side of the road. Everything looked OK. I checked the telltales, unlocked and closed the door quickly behind me. I hit the lights and locked back up.
I stood there for a while, composing myself - allowing myself a moment or two of satisfaction for a job well done.
‘You will be taken home, Lily. Soon.’
As I opened the fire door and we moved into the office corridor, I could see that the door to the mailroom was open. But it wasn’t Angeles who emerged from it to greet us, and the dull light was clear enough for me to see he had a shotgun at his shoulder. The barrels were pointing at me. Bradley had both eyes open. His finger was inside the guard, and its pad was resting on the trigger.
23
‘For fuck’s sake …’ My shoulders slumped. I shook my head slowly as Lily jumped behind me for protection.
