Boy Soldier

by Andy McNab

  'Bit hard on him, wasn't I?' said Elena.

  'Yep.'

  'D'you think he'll come back?'

  'Dunno.'

  'But what if he doesn't? What do we—?'

  'I don't know, Elena. Let's wait and see.'

  They were silent for a few moments. The cold was beginning to bite.

  'You tired?'

  'Knackered.'

  'Yeah.'

  They lapsed into total silence, both of them thinking of Eddie blundering his way through the forest, both of them hoping he wouldn't give up. They battled the cold and tiredness, speaking only occasionally, sometimes dozing lightly and then suddenly waking with a start.

  After two hours the door to the house opened and another of the men came out. They were both instantly wide awake, listening to every footstep as he checked the gates and made his inspection of the fence. He walked straight past the dumars without looking up, quickly completed his circuit and went back into the house.

  Danny looked at his watch and then up at the sky. The first slight hint of daylight was beginning to crease the darkness above the treetops.

  'He's not coming back, is he?' said Elena.

  Danny shook his head. 'Looks like it's down to us.'

  They stood up and moved cautiously over to the back of the house.

  40

  Eddie was on the way, gunning his car through the forest as quickly as the rusty chassis would take. He was scared, terrified, but he was on his way. And he was eating, chewing on the last of the emergency Mars bars he kept in the glove compartment.

  The trek back through the forest had been a nightmare, but he'd kept going, knowing he only had to follow the track to be sure of the direction. He'd stumbled, tripped, fallen, cursed, snagged his clothes on branches and been petrified by the hooting of an owl. But he hadn't rested. Not once.

  The car bounced and clattered on the mud track and Eddie switched the headlights onto full beam. He wanted everyone in the house to see the car when he arrived. If they didn't, he'd sound the horn, and as soon as they came running from the building, he'd turn the Sierra round and clear out. With any luck, and Eddie reckoned he was due some luck, he'd be back on the main road and away before they got near him.

  Brian was on stag. He switched on the kettle for a brew. The rest of the team were asleep and the monitors were blank. Nothing was moving outside. The kettle came to the boil at the same time as the first set of UGSs started to blink on the screen. Brian did nothing but watch and wait. It could have been a malfunction. Then the second set of UGSs further along the track started to blink.

  'Stand to! Stand to! We got a vehicle!'

  The team jumped from their maggots and grabbed their weapons. Fran was first out of the main door as they bomb burst from the building.

  Danny and Elena heard the shouts and then footsteps coming their way. Danny grabbed Elena's hand and dragged her along the back of the building and they turned into the dead ground of green. It wasn't meant to happen like this. They should have heard Eddie's car approaching.

  Vehicles started up in the Nissen hut and the gates rattled as they were pulled open.

  Fergus also heard the 'stand to', and the engines starting. It had to be the signal. He cut the plasticuffs and crawled to the door, his legs stinging with pins and needles as blood began to circulate freely. He pulled the nail-file from the Leatherman, knowing that if a key is in a lock it can be turned from either side.

  Marcie Deveraux sat on her camp bed. And waited.

  Safe house SOPs had kicked in. Fran and Mick were already in their vehicles, speeding out of the compound, MP5s on their laps and pistols on their belts. Jimmy had his MP5 and was running out of the gate and heading towards the ditch to check if anyone was hiding there, and Brian was at the gate, his eyes scanning the open ground around the compound.

  As Eddie drove out of the forest and onto the concrete track, he saw two cars heading straight for him. His eyes widened in horror. 'Oh, shit!'

  There was no chance of turning the car. He stood on the brakes and clutch and the Sierra screeched and skidded to a standstill. Eddie jumped from the car and dived into the ferns.

  Danny peered round the corner of the building and saw that all four of the team were outside. 'We're going in,' he said to Elena.

  Elena nodded and they ran along white and into the house. They went straight into the room where Danny had seen the team. 'Look for keys!' yelled Danny. 'We need a car.'

  They heard footsteps coming down the stairs and Fergus came into the room. He saw them frantically rifling through bags and jacket pockets.

  'Keys!' yelled Danny. 'We're looking for car keys.'

  'No time!' shouted Fergus. 'Go! Go!'

  As they started to turn, they glimpsed the movement in the doorway. 'Hands up! Get 'em up! Now!'

  Brian had his pistol aimed at Danny's head. 'Do as I say, Watts, or I'll kill him first and then—'

  'All right!' shouted Fergus, beginning to raise his hands.

  'Nice and slow,' said Brian. 'Don't move or do—'

  He got no further. There was a double tap from the hallway. Brian lurched forward as though he had been punched in the back of the head, and then dropped like liquid.

  Danny and Elena had no chance to take in the horror of what had happened as Marcie Deveraux moved into the doorway, her Glock pointing at Fergus. 'Me! Look at me!' she screamed at them, knowing that if they looked down at Brian's body and saw the blood pumping from the shattered skull they were likely to panic and run.

  They stared at Deveraux, eyes bulging. Deveraux fixed her eyes on Fergus. 'It isn't time for you to die yet, Watts. Go. While there's a chance.'

  Her eyes flicked down to Brian. 'He drove the Toyota. Keys must be on him. Take them.'

  Fergus reached down, grabbed the keys from Brian's jeans and bundled Danny and Elena towards the door.

  'Wait!' said Deveraux, dropping her pistol and turning to Fergus. 'You know what you have to do,' she said. 'Make it look good.'

  She closed her eyes and Fergus pulled back his arm and punched her hard on the side of the chin. Deveraux went down, spitting out blood.

  Fergus grabbed the weapon from the floor. 'Move,' he yelled to Danny and Elena.

  Outside, in the ferns on the other side of the ditch, Jimmy had heard the double tap from the building. He was sprinting back towards the compound when he saw three figures in the gloom of the Nissen hut.

  Fergus pressed the fob and the lights on the blue Toyota began to flash. They jumped into the car, Danny and Elena in the back seat, and the engine roared. 'Down! Keep down!' shouted Fergus. He put his foot down and as the vehicle leaped from the hut it took out the wing mirror of the green Renault parked alongside.

  Jimmy was nearly at the gates as the Toyota thundered out of the compound. He brought his MP5 up into the aim and got his sights just ahead of Fergus's head, hoping that the moving vehicle would bring him into the line of fire.

  They heard the dull ping, ping, ping as the rounds hit the vehicle. Fergus stayed as low as he could, and kept driving. A side window shattered and glass sprayed over Danny and Elena.

  Up ahead, the track was blocked by three cars, doors open.

  'Hold on,' shouted Fergus. He steered the car onto the mud at the right of the track. The Toyota bounced about, flattening the ferns as Fergus fought with the wheel to bring it back onto the track.

  They were almost into the forest when Danny lifted his head and looked back through the rear window. Fran and Mick had found Eddie; they were dragging him through the ferns towards the cars. 'Stop! Stop!' yelled Danny.

  Fergus instinctively stood on the brakes, but before he too had time to look back, Danny had grabbed the pistol, leaped from the car and was running towards the three vehicles.

  'No, Danny! No!' screamed Elena while Fergus slammed the car into reverse and sent it hurtling backwards.

  Fran spotted Danny as he ran past the Sierra. She instantly released her grip on the terrified reporter and s
printed for Danny as the Toyota skidded to a standstill by the three vehicles and Fergus leaped out. 'Stay there and stay down!' he yelled at Elena.

  Eddie saw his chance. He kicked and punched himself away from Mick and started to run. He got no more than three steps. Mick clinically raised his pistol and double tapped the reporter in the head.

  Eddie was dead before he hit the concrete.

  Danny stopped running. Shock and horror, numbing and overwhelming, swept through his entire body. He couldn't move; everything became unreal and distant. His ears buzzed – he didn't hear the shouts or the noise as his brain struggled to make sense of what was happening. The pistol hung limply from his right hand as he stared at the lifeless body sprawled on the ground.

  Fran was less than twenty metres away. As she raised her own pistol there was a burst of automatic fire from behind Danny. The thunderous noise exploded in his brain, dragging him back to reality. He glimpsed Fran diving into the ferns for cover and turned to see Fergus firing a second short burst from behind the Sierra. In his hands was the MP5 he had grabbed from the passenger seat of Fran's car.

  The thump of the automatic fire echoed away through the trees and Danny heard a more urgent, screaming noise. He looked back along the track towards the compound. The green Renault was coming straight at him.

  Fear, absolute terror, made Danny turn and run, harder than he had ever run before.

  Fergus fired short, three-round bursts into the car's windscreen. The brakes screeched and smoke burned from the tyres. Jimmy was at the wheel. He took a round as Fergus fired again. The car lurched and swerved and ploughed into the back of another of the vehicles. But it was moving too fast to be stopped. The front end lifted and the car bucked and span and flipped over onto its roof. Fuel spewed from the ruptured fuel tank.

  As the car burst into flames, Danny tore past his grandfather and flung himself into the back of the Toyota. Fergus fired into the tyres of the other cars and then, as he stood to follow Danny back to the Toyota, sent a final burst into the ferns to keep Fran and Mick's heads down.

  He reached the car and jumped into the driver's seat. The tyres smoked as he put his foot down and they tore into the forest. 'Never go off SOPs!' he yelled furiously, as he battled to keep the speeding vehicle on the mud track. 'How many times have I told you! How many times!'

  Danny still had the pistol gripped in his right hand, although he hardly knew it was there.

  'Put it down!' shouted Fergus. 'Put the weapon down!'

  Without speaking, without even acknowledging that he'd heard his grandfather's order, Danny slowly released his hold on the pistol and let it drop to the floor.

  The car reached the end of the mud track and they emerged from the dark and gloom of the forest into early sunlight. It was morning.

  Fergus turned the vehicle onto the main road, heading south, and then looked into the rear-view mirror at Danny. 'The man down,' he said. 'He was the reporter, right?'

  Danny hadn't uttered a single word since flinging himself into the car. He looked at the mirror and saw his grandfather's eyes boring into him. 'Eddie,' he whispered eventually. 'Eddie Moyes.'

  Fergus nodded. 'You deal with it, Danny. Like I told you. Remember? You deal with it.'

  Danny didn't reply, but gazed out through the shattered side window and fought back the tears that were beginning to sting his eyes.

  They drove on in silence; Fergus planning, Danny and Elena desperately tired but unable to force from their minds the nightmarish visions of the forest.

  Fergus skirted around the town of Thetford and crossed from Norfolk into Suffolk. 'Anyone else know you were in Norfolk, Elena?' he said at last.

  'Just my dad,' she answered. 'I'm meant to be meeting him back in London today.'

  'You will. Go back as if nothing happened. Fincham doesn't know about you, the survivors back in the forest didn't see you, and as for the other woman . . .' His voice trailed off.

  'What about her? Why did she let us go?'

  'I don't know. But it means she won't be talking to Fincham about you. Danny and me have to go away – we might need your help again.'

  Traffic was beginning to build, most of it travelling in the opposite direction – trucks, cars, some of them towing caravans. The normal, everyday world was closing around them.

  Elena looked at Danny, and reached out and took one of his hands in hers. 'Of course,' she said. 'Anything.'

  EPILOGUE

  Six months later

  The spring morning was not just warm, it was hot. Shirtsleeves weather.

  The flags hung limply over the burger bar in the still, humid air. Business was brisk, with regulars as well as early season holidaymakers on their way to the south coast.

  Burgers and bacon sizzled on the hotplate. Dean was cooking and Frankie was pouring tea.

  Two of their regulars, young Londoners called Paul and Benny, were tucking into bacon sandwiches. They were builders, recently arrived in the area with a get-rich-quick plan to buy derelict houses, do them up and sell them on for a big profit. But so far they seemed to be spending most of their time at Frankie's.

  'I'm glad we found you, Frankie,' said Paul, stirring sugar into a steaming mug of tea. 'This is the only place round here where you can get a decent cuppa.'

  Benny nodded. 'Yeah, and Dean's cooking is almost as good as my mum's.'

  Frankie smiled. 'No hay ningún lugar como el hogar.'

  Benny swallowed a mouthful of tea. 'What's that mean, then?'

  'There's no place like home,' said Dean, turning over a burger on the griddle.

  'True. Very true,' said Benny. His friend nodded and they bit into their sandwiches and turned to watch the traffic go by.

  Elena had been true to her word. She'd helped, mainly with cash. After Joey had taken his share, much of her remaining money went into funding the escape and the setting up of the new business.

  And business was booming. Elena was already getting her cash back, paid through various banks directly into her building society account.

  Frankie glanced over at Dean as he refilled the brown sauce bottle on the countertop. He'd seen that distant look many times over the past six months. 'You'll see her again one day,' he said.

  'So you keep telling me,' answered Dean. 'But when?'

  Frankie turned away; they'd had this discussion before. 'When it's safe.'

  The two builders came back to the counter as they finished their sandwiches. 'Two more of these, Dean. You are one great cook.'

  Dean smiled and tossed more bacon onto the griddle. As it sizzled and spat he whispered to himself, 'No hay ningún lugar como el hogar.'

  *

  It was a warm day in London. George Fincham was, as always, in his office early, drinking coffee from his favourite bone-china cup and gazing out of the window, downriver.

  There was a knock on the door. 'Come.'

  Marcie Deveraux entered, looking as elegant as ever, her face showing no sign of the extensive dental work she'd had since her encounter with Fergus Watts.

  She was holding a single sheet of paper. 'Watts and the boy, sir, there's been a possible sighting.'