Payback bs-2

by Andy McNab

  ‘I’ve got it,’ said Kev excitedly. ‘A place. Of course, a place. You need to-’

  They both heard the movement from the corner of the clubhouse. As they looked towards it, they saw the gunman taking aim.

  25

  Danny crashed into Benny at full tilt. They went sprawling onto the grass, Danny’s eyes watering with pain from the impact. He could see nothing as Benny rolled on top of him, but he felt the cold steel of the weapon and grabbed it. Four hands clung to the machine gun, and Benny viciously head-butted Danny as he bucked and twisted, trying to wrench the weapon free.

  Fergus and Kev were too experienced to even pause with shock at the sight of the desperate struggle on the grass. Instinctively, they moved together, almost as one. Kev was still carrying the seven iron he had been using to swipe at the grass when he was searching for his ball. It was all he had to use as a weapon. He dropped his golf bag and ran, with Fergus at his side.

  Before they had taken more than five strides, a dull thud came from the scrum on the grass and Fergus went down: Benny had pulled the trigger as he fought with Danny. Kev heard his friend gasp and saw him fall but he knew that his only option was to keep going, to try to stop the gunman from firing again.

  ‘Get away from him, Danny. Get away!’

  But Danny could do nothing to get away. His opponent was much stronger and had him pinned to the ground. The machine gun was between their chests and as Benny raised himself up slightly to rip the weapon free, Big Kev saw his opportunity.

  Without breaking his stride, he pulled back the golf club and closed on his target.

  Head down, eyes on the ball, eyes on the ball.

  The swing was perfect, the elusive swing Big Kev had always yearned for. Just like the Tiger. With awesome power the club came through and hit Benny beneath the jaw. Bone shattered, blood spurted and Benny’s head was almost ripped from his shoulders. His neck snapped like a straw and his body was lifted and thrown onto the grass next to Danny.

  There was no doubt: he was dead.

  Danny’s eyes bulged as he stared up at the huge man towering over him.

  ‘Your granddad’s down, get him to the car!’

  Almost too terrified to look, Danny turned round and saw the dead eyes of his attacker staring blankly at him. ‘It’s… it’s Benny.’

  Kev bent down and hauled Danny to his feet. ‘I don’t give a shit who he was. Check your granddad – get him to the car. I’ll clear up this mess.’

  He dug into a pocket and thrust his car keys into Danny’s hands. ‘Come on, get a grip of yourself. And tell him PJHQ mainframe.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Just tell him that: PJHQ mainframe.’

  Music was pumping from the clubhouse. Danny wiped one arm across his blood-spattered face, then turned and ran to his grandfather. Fergus’s breathing was fast and shallow and his hands were covered in his own blood as he pushed down on his jeans in an attempt to stop the bleeding. ‘It’s the same leg; he hit the same leg.’

  He forced himself to sit up, grimacing with pain. ‘Help me up, Danny – we’ve got to get to the car.’

  Kev had Benny’s body slung over his shoulders and his SD in one hand and was heading towards the car park. He had to be quick: back-up could arrive at any moment. The plan was to get Benny’s keys and keep hitting the fob until the right vehicle’s lights flashed and the car opened up. He would dump the body in the boot and get Fergus and Danny away in his Discovery.

  Then he would worry about treating Fergus’s wound, if he lasted that long. As Kev moved, with the dead weight hardly slowing him, he saw the vehicle headlights approaching.

  ‘That’s Fran at the golf course car park.’

  She turned her car off the road and onto the gravel.

  ‘Where are you, Paul?’

  ‘That’s Paul two minutes away.’

  Fran hit the pressel again as her lights swept the car park and she looked for a parking space.

  ‘Roger that. Benny, sit rep. Where are you, Benny?’

  As the Audi’s lights swept over the clubhouse and picked out the figure of Kev carrying Benny, Fran hit the brakes.

  ‘CONTACT! CONTACT! BENNY’S DOWN!’

  She had already retrieved her own SD from her ready bag and hidden it beneath the armrest between the rear seats. She reached back, grabbed the weapon and flung open her door.

  Kev saw the door open and a figure run to the side of the vehicle. Almost immediately he felt two vibrations rattle through his body as Fran’s 9mm double tap entered the corpse slung over his shoulders. He dropped the body and brought up the SD, moving towards the headlights and looking for the attacker.

  Disco lights flashed in tempo with the pumping music, casting light and shadow across the car park as Danny rounded the corner, supporting his grandfather as best as he could. In the gloom, Kev was moving towards the Audi.

  ‘Kev!’

  ‘In the car, move! I’ll cover!’

  Kev fired two rapid double taps at Fran, who was crouching beside her vehicle, but in the glare of headlights it was virtually impossible to get a decent aim. He turned the SD on the lights and they exploded in a hail of glass.

  Danny was doing his best to get his grandfather to the Discovery, with Fergus struggling to help, gritting his teeth to take the pain. As they neared the vehicle, Fergus heard the scream of an engine and saw another set of headlights turn into the car park.

  ‘Shit! Get in the driver’s seat!’

  ‘But I can’t dri-’

  ‘You moved the truck in Spain, now move this!’

  There wasn’t time to argue. As Danny clambered into the driver’s seat, Fergus shouted into the darkness for his friend. ‘Kev! Let’s go!’

  Kev was firing on the second vehicle as it skidded sideways to a halt and the door burst open. ‘Moving!’

  Danny turned over the engine and heard dull pings as the Discovery took rounds. Fergus hauled himself into the back seat and thumped his grandson on the shoulders. ‘Get moving, towards Kev! Go! Go!’

  Somehow, in halting, shunting movements, Danny edged the Discovery forward. Fergus had left the rear door open and was sprawled across the back seat. ‘Kev! Leave them, run for it! Come on!’

  As the vehicle bucked towards the car park exit, Paul took slow and deliberate aim at the driver’s side of the windscreen. The glass cracked and frosted as it took three rounds and Danny was showered with tiny shards of glass. Fear made him scream in terror, but he kept the vehicle moving.

  Kev was just two metres from the Discovery. As he moved back, he was suddenly lit up by the headlights of the stationary VW. Fran held her breath. Both her eyes focused on the body mass going towards the vehicle. She shifted her point of aim to just in front of the moving body and squeezed the trigger.

  The round hit Kev in the shoulder and he went down on his knees. The Discovery reached him and he made eye contact with Fergus, who was lying with one arm outstretched, ready to pull his old friend to safety, just like he had years before. But this time they both knew it wasn’t going to happen.

  As the vehicle passed Kev, he staggered back to his feet and began firing rounds at Fran, who was moving towards him. She had no option but to dive for cover.

  From behind the VW, Paul stepped out to fire, then saw the Discovery bearing down on him. He tried to dodge away but it was too late. Danny heard a thud as the vehicle made contact.

  He pulled at the wheel and turned towards the exit. Through the open door Fergus saw Kev take another round, drop his weapon and fall to the ground. The disco lights flashed off in their sequence. When they lit up the scene once more, just seconds later, he could see Fran standing over his old friend. She fired again.

  Fergus reached for the door and pulled it shut. He closed his eyes and clenched them tightly together, only vaguely aware of the vehicle gathering speed. And then, through the pain, he realized his grandson was screaming at him.

  ‘Where now! What do I do! What do I do!’

 
; 26

  Fergus had lost a lot of blood – too much blood. Danny drove the Discovery away from the golf club and into the countryside, mainly in third gear. It was only when the streetlights ended that he realized he’d been driving without headlights. He fumbled with the steering column as the vehicle swerved from side to side. The windscreen wipers clicked into action and then suddenly the headlights pierced the darkness.

  ‘Stop as soon as you can,’ Fergus had yelled at him. ‘In cover!’

  Danny shunted up a B road, and as he pulled the vehicle into a field entrance the engine stalled. Fergus had already pulled off his jacket and sweatshirt. ‘Make sure you switch off the engine, then turn the interior light on and get in the back with me.’

  When Danny saw his grandfather’s face in the feeble glare of the small interior light he almost panicked. It was grey and the pupils of his eyes were like saucers.

  Fergus threw him the sweatshirt and put the jacket back on. ‘You need to plug me up, stop the blood loss.’ He reached down and attempted to rip his jeans further apart at the point where the round had entered his thigh, but he was too weak. ‘Do it, Danny, rip it open.’

  The interior of the Discovery smelled like a butcher’s shop. Danny’s hands were trembling as he tore the blood-soaked jeans apart. Fergus’s thigh was like a mass of red meat where the round had torn away the flesh.

  Fergus grunted in pain. ‘Listen to me. Rip up the sweatshirt and jam it into both the exit and the entry wounds. You’ve got to stop the bleeding. If I moan and shout at you, ignore me. You’ve got to plug the holes or I’ll be going down.’

  ‘Did they kill-?’

  ‘Yes.’

  There was nothing more to say. Not then.

  Danny ripped the sweatshirt with his teeth and hands until he had two large pieces.

  ‘Roll them up and pack the cavities.’

  Breathing deeply, and trying to ignore Fergus’s curses and gasps at the almost unbearable level of pain, Danny followed his orders. The only way to stop the bleeding was to apply pressure to both entry and exit wounds. If one was left unplugged, the blood flow would only increase.

  Fergus screamed again and Danny instinctively released the pressure slightly, so as to ease his grandfather’s agony.

  ‘Keep the fucking pressure on!’ yelled Fergus. ‘Ignore me!’

  A vehicle went by, but neither Danny nor Fergus even noticed it. Danny leaned into the wounds, trying to get his weight behind the pressure he was applying with his hands as they slithered and slipped on the bloody leg.

  He stayed in the same position for fifteen or twenty minutes, although it seemed like hours. His grandfather’s blood had oozed all over the back of the vehicle and covered Danny’s hands and arms, but the heavy flow had stopped.

  ‘OK, get your shirt off and wrap it as tight as you can around the damage. The pressure has to stay on while you drive us out of here.’

  Without a word, Danny took off his shirt and bound up the wounds.

  Fergus nodded. ‘OK, now drive! I’ll tell you where to go.’

  At the golf club the long-haired DJ was taking a break. He walked out into the car park, with his girlfriend in hot pursuit.

  ‘What is it with you and bridesmaids – are you incapable of leaving them alone?’

  ‘Oh, give it a rest, Lisa, will you? I played her a record, that’s all.’

  ‘You sure you didn’t ask for her phone number?’

  ‘Course I didn’t. She’s too pissed to remember it, anyway.’

  He walked further into the car park, leaned against the boot of a red Nissan Almera and took out a packet of cigarettes. In the boot of the car were two bodies: Kev Newman and Benny.

  Fran and Paul, who was heavily bruised down one side of his body, had cleared up the contact as swiftly as possible. They did all they could and then left in their own vehicles. Benny’s car would be picked up later.

  The DJ smiled at his girlfriend. ‘Come here and give us a kiss.’

  ‘Not if you’re lighting that fag. I don’t kiss ashtrays.’

  The cigarette dropped to the ground and the DJ held out his arms. ‘Come on, Lisa, you know you can’t resist me.’

  Lisa shrugged, then moved towards her boyfriend and they kissed. Briefly.

  The DJ frowned as Lisa stepped back. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  ‘I dunno, I just don’t like it out here. Something about this place is giving me the creeps.’

  27

  Elena’s phone was lying on her bed. She was staring at it, willing it to ring, but it remained silent.

  The time had passed agonizingly slowly since her frantic warning call and she was desperate to know whether Danny and Fergus had got away from Hereford. She wanted to call again, but was trying to think tactically. If they had been captured, and Danny’s phone was in the hands of Fincham’s team, then redialling the mobile could compromise her own situation. Then she realized that her number was already on Danny’s phone because of her previous call, as well as being in the mobile’s phone book.

  Elena was listening to music, but it wasn’t having a calming effect. The longer she sat and waited, the more anxious and frustrated she became. She had to make the call; she had to know. She switched off the music, picked up the phone and punched in the number.

  Danny was gripping the Discovery’s steering wheel with both hands. His driving was getting better, but not much. There was no way he could answer the phone and keep the vehicle on the road at the same time. ‘You’ll have to get it.’

  The mobile was in Fergus’s jacket. He had managed to prop himself up on his elbows so he could watch the road and give Danny directions. He pulled out the phone. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you OK?’ said Elena, remembering the no names order. ‘You didn’t call back and-’

  ‘Yeah, we’re fine. It’s been a bit difficult to call, but thanks for the warning.’

  Up ahead, the road forked left and right. ‘Go left, boy.’

  Elena could hear the Discovery’s engine and she also heard Fergus’s instructions. ‘Did you say…? Is he driving?’

  ‘No, no, of course not. He can’t drive.’

  ‘I know that, but you said-’

  ‘We’re with a friend, getting out of town, and he’s in the front with him.’ Elena was going to have to know exactly what had happened over the past few hours, but not until Fergus had worked out what their next move would be. ‘He… er… he sends his love.’

  Not for the first time Fergus was reminded that Elena, like Danny, could be very persistent. ‘Could I have a word with him?’

  ‘Not now, it’s not a good time, and we have to save the charge on this phone. We’ll call tomorrow, early. And don’t worry, we’re fine.’ Fergus ended the call and dropped the phone onto the seat next to him.

  Danny was concentrating on the road but he had listened to every word of the conversation. ‘I can’t believe you said that.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That we’re fine. Look at the state of us. You’ve got holes in your leg, we look like a couple of vampires, and you say we’re fine.’

  Fergus grimaced as a stabbing pain shot through the wound. ‘We’re a lot better off than we might have been. Left again.’

  It was way past midnight in Moscow, but George Fincham figured that fifteen million pounds entitled him to call his ‘broker’ whenever he wanted. Not that he ever had – the more distance between them the better as far as Fincham was concerned. But this was different; this was an emergency.

  Fincham was holding a brand-new pay-as-you-go phone. Using his official Firm secure phone would not be a good idea for such highly unofficial business as this. The pay-as-you-go phone would be used only once and the call would be untraceable. It was a system often employed by drug dealers.

  Curly and Beanie had switched to the night shift and were watching Fincham on the surveillance house monitors as he pressed his password into the phone to access the credit from a?20 top-up card. Curly adjusted the sou
nd on his headphones and checked that everything was being taped. ‘This’ll be interesting.’

  They watched as Fincham put the phone to his ear and waited. A minute passed: he was obviously going to let it ring until it was answered.

  Fincham was almost ready to run; he was going to get out while he could. The news of the latest botched attempt to finish off Fergus and Danny had stunned more than angered him. Whatever he did, no matter which tactics he employed, Watts still eluded him. Fincham wasn’t a superstitious man, but he was beginning to believe that fate was against him. And so he was making plans to take the money and run.

  The phone in Moscow was finally lifted from its receiver and a deep, irritated voice growled a single terse word. ‘Da?’

  Fincham sounded calm and relaxed as he spoke. ‘Good evening, it’s Mr Davies.’

  The man at the other end of the line paused for a moment as his sleepy brain adjusted to the switch in language. ‘Ah, Mr Davies, how are you? It is very late here in Moscow.’

  ‘I apologize if I woke you, but there are certain things I need to know regarding my investments.’

  ‘I see. Then perhaps you would not mind answering some security questions?’

  ‘Of course.’

  At the word ‘investments’ the two night operators had exchanged a look, frustrated that they could hear and record only one side of the conversation.

  ‘Fifty-six,’ said Fincham; then, after a long pause, ‘One hundred and twenty-nine.’

  The figures meant nothing to Curly and Beanie. They knew that Fincham was providing the numbers in a complex sum or sequence. But without knowing the other numbers, what they were hearing was useless to them.

  ‘Ninety-three.’

  Fincham’s ‘broker’ was satisfied with his client’s answers. ‘How can I help you, Mr Davies?’

  ‘I need to know how much of my investments I can draw immediately, or within a week at the most.’

  There was another pause. Fincham couldn’t see the smile that spread over the face of the Russian at the end of the line. ‘Perhaps… four million. Dollars, of course. And at such short notice there would be a considerable cost involved.’