Payback bs-2

by Andy McNab

  ‘I want to be informed the minute you have any developments.’

  ‘Yes, Prime Minister.’

  The strange assortment of bits and pieces that Joey had rescued from the skip was sitting on the desk. Along with the PE and detonator Fergus had carried with him since the attack on the house in Spain, they were about to be turned into a lethal and devastating PAD.

  The industrial unit had to be defended. There was no escape route, only a single way out through the front. If Fincham’s team discovered the LUP the only option would be to fight.

  Fergus had already weighed up the positives, and as far as he could see there were just two. Positive one was that there were single entrances to both the square and the building itself, which made it reasonably defendable.

  If an attack team did approach through the entrance to the square it would be met with positive two – the PAD; there was no way they would be expecting that. But it was a one-off, one-shot, one-chance weapon – not what Fergus would have chosen if there had been a choice.

  His leg was throbbing like hell and had stiffened up so much he could hardly move. But while he waited for his own motley team to return from the walk past, he could at least do something useful.

  He took the five-litre paint can and stood it on the floor. The bottom of the improvised device was the business end of the weapon, from where the damage would be done.

  Outside in the square, Fergus could hear a forklift truck buzzing around and voices shouting as a lorry pulled in to make a delivery to one of the other units.

  He ripped one of the pieces of cardboard into a long rectangle before twisting it into a cone shape that would fit into the paint can. It had to slide in so that the tip of the cone pointed towards the open end of the can and the bottom fitted as tightly as possible against the base.

  As Fergus made a few minor adjustments to the cardboard he listened to the voices outside. A row was developing between the lorry driver and the manager of the unit he was meant to be delivering to. ‘It’s cat! Cat! I told them dog. I specifically said dog! If I’d wanted cat, I’d have said cat. It’s cat next time.’

  ‘Look, mate, it’s all the same to me. Cat, dog, I just deliver the stuff, I don’t eat it!’

  Fergus smiled as he turned over the cone and began to fill it with the nuts, bolts and other small items of scrap metal that Joey had found. He packed in as many pieces as he could, filling the cone to the brim, and then picked up the can with his free hand, turned it upside down, and fitted it over the cone. When he turned it back the correct way, none of the scrap metal fell out and the cone fitted tightly against the bottom of the can.

  Next Fergus gently rolled handfuls of the plastic explosive in his hands to warm it up, making it more pliable, and then started packing it around the cone, pushing it carefully down against the cardboard so that the nuts and bolts were held more firmly in position. Before long the cone was no longer visible and the can looked as if it were three-quarters full of PE.

  Outside, the delivery driver’s day was not getting any better as he spoke on his mobile phone. ‘Yeah, he wanted me to take it back! I’ve spent three bleedin’ hours crawling round the North Circular and he don’t want the stuff. You speak to him – tell him I’ll bring dog food next time.’

  The mobile phone conversation was a useful reminder to Fergus as he prepared for the dangerous part of the operation. Elena had left her mobile with him so that they could report back when the CTR was completed. He took the phone from his tracksuit pocket and switched it off.

  There was a lot of electricity as well as plenty of mobiles around the unit, which made playing with a det extremely risky. Once the detonator wires were untwisted and free they could pick up radio waves from the environment and spark a detonation. There was only a small amount of explosive in the tiny aluminium tube, but it was enough to blow off both Fergus’s hands.

  He took the det from his inside pocket while at the same time he reached out for the ten metres of electrical wire that had been taped together from the leads Joey had cut from the backs of a few washing machines. One end still had a plug attached and the other had three bare wires. Fergus checked that the plug and lead were working by using an electrician’s screwdriver they’d found amongst the few tools in the unit.

  He pushed the plug into a socket, switched it on and then touched the bare wires with the screwdriver, keeping his thumb on the end. A small red bulb in the handle lit up, indicating that power was running through the leads.

  As he worked on, he checked the screwdriver itself several times by simply placing a thumb on the screw head and a little finger on the small metal disc on top of the handle. The bulb lit up each time because there is enough electricity in the body to complete the circuit. He then pulled the plug from the socket and earthed the wires by scraping them against the bare water pipe running along the bottom of the wall.

  Fergus was drawing on all his explosives expertise from his years with the Regiment. He knew all the tricks – and all the potential hazards, including the fact that wires can retain an electrical charge. He had no intention of attaching the det and losing his hands through stupidity or bad drills.

  He slowly untwisted the two det wires and attached one to the live wire on the lead and one to the negative, leaving the earth to dangle free.

  Everything was now prepared; all that remained to be done was to very gently push the detonator into the PE so that it was in the middle of the can, exactly above the tip of the cone beneath. The PAD was ready.

  Fergus dragged himself to his feet, using the bars on the window for support, and looked down onto the square. Directly opposite, on the far side, was the parked delivery lorry. The unit manager was now arguing with his pet food supplier on the mobile phone as both the lorry and forklift truck drivers leaned against the vehicle and waited for the row to be settled.

  The entrance to the square was at ten o’clock to the front of the unit, with units to either side of the gap leading to the road. This was the target area for the PAD; it would be aimed at the entrance so that it could take out any attackers as they entered the square.

  The windows were covered with muck and grime, and helped hide Fergus from anyone outside as he jammed the can between the bars and positioned it so that it was pointing at the entrance, about thirty metres away.

  Once it was secure, Fergus covered the can with some filthy old tea towels that looked like a serious health hazard, and then pulled across the one curtain remaining on the rail until the PAD was hidden from both directions. Fergus was working on the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ principle. If it wasn’t in view, it wouldn’t be disturbed.

  He tied the lead in a knot around one of the bars so that if it were accidentally kicked or pulled, it wouldn’t disturb the PAD, taking it off aim or pulling out the det. Then he ran the lead along the bottom of the wall to a plug socket; every hobbling step was excruciatingly painful. He knew the socket had power; it was the one he had used to test the lead. But he checked again with the electrician’s screwdriver. Check and Test. Check and Test. Fergus had often thought those three words would be a more appropriate SAS motto than the famous Who Dares Wins.

  Everything was set. Fergus slipped the screwdriver into his pocket and left the plug lying on the floor. It would only be pushed into the socket in the event of an attack.

  He leaned back against the wall, exhausted. Now the PAD was completed it was safe to use Elena’s mobile. He powered it up and ran through in his mind exactly what would happen should the PAD be fired. It was a simple and very basic device. Once the plug was in the wall and switched on, the power would surge down the wire and initiate the det, which in turn would detonate the PE. The entire process would take just a nano-second.

  Because of the way the PE was shaped around the cardboard cone, it would produce what is known as the ‘Munroe effect’; this meant that seventy per cent of the energy produced by the explosion would surge forward, towards the entrance of the square. At the same time
the explosion would be so powerful and hot, it would instantly melt the nuts and bolts inside the cone and shoot them forward as a mass of white-hot metal, with enough power to penetrate even an armoured vehicle.

  If the molten metal were to hit a car, the vehicle would be lifted off the ground and ripped apart like a paper bag. The intense heat would instantly detonate the fuel tank and turn the car, and anyone inside it, into a fireball before it even hit the ground again.

  But that only accounted for seventy per cent of the force. The remaining thirty per cent would burst out in every direction, taking out the window and the front wall for starters.

  Everyone inside the room would have to take cover, or they would be blown to pieces. Even then they might not survive the sheer force of the detonation. It would be a huge explosion, with shards of glass and shattered brickwork hurtling through the room, each piece potentially lethal. No one would come out of it completely unscathed, but Fergus knew it was a risk worth taking. They would be unable to defend themselves, and would be killed anyway if Fincham’s team were allowed to gain entry into the unit. This way, they had a chance.

  Fergus was breathing heavily: the effort of moving unaided had completely drained him. He heard the delivery lorry’s engine start up and the vehicle move away. The cat food was beginning its journey back around the North Circular.

  As Fergus thought about crawling back to the relative comfort of the old sofa, he felt the mobile begin to vibrate in his pocket.

  Wearily he pulled out the phone and read the text:

  Cu in 20

  Fergus smiled, relieved that they were safe. He would run them through the drill on what to do in the event of the PAD having to be initiated. He was used to snatching sleep when he could. On operations the rule was: whenever there’s a lull in battle, get your head down because you never know when the chance will come again. He had twenty minutes, so he closed his eyes.

  36

  The shutters of the other units had been closed and locked and the final vehicles had driven away. It was dusk and Fergus wanted to keep the lights in their unit off at all times. There was enough spill from the security lighting in and around the industrial estate to provide them with sufficient illumination.

  The others had listened silently while Fergus explained what they had to do in the event of the PAD being initiated. All the while, Joey’s expression grew more alarmed and his eyes opened wider.

  Before Fergus began, Joey and Danny had lugged three tall fridge-freezers and a heavy old cooker up the stairs. The PAD was fixed at the window at the left-hand corner of the room, so the old white goods had to provide protection on two sides. The cooker and one of the freezers were placed between the PAD and the socket that would be used to initiate the device. On the other exposed side they stood two freezers, and the old sofa was moved there too; together they would provide some protection if the device had to be detonated. That was the theory at least, but Fergus knew they would need luck as well as planning.

  ‘And remember,’ he added, as he finished his briefing. ‘Whoever detonates the PAD needs to take a quick look round to see that everyone has taken cover, then keep your head down and your mouth open, hit the switch and hope for the best.’

  Joey’s mouth was already open. It was gaping like a goldfish frozen in ice. ‘Mouth open?’ he managed to gasp.

  ‘With such a big explosion, so close, the pressure wave can break your jaw if you clench it tight. Better to keep it loose and your mouth open.’

  Joey’s mouth dropped open again. He glanced nervously over at the disguised PAD and then edged his way cautiously across the room, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the device.

  It was time to move on – Fergus knew that keeping everyone busy was the best way of countering their nervousness. ‘So let’s look at the footage of the CTR.’

  They gathered around the camcorder to view Danny’s filming of Northwood. The edges of the screen were a little blurred and the picture was jerky, but the target could be seen clearly and Fergus seemed pleased. ‘I’ve seen worse.’

  Danny smiled. Coming from his grandfather, that was a compliment. He kept the sound low – it consisted mainly of rustling noises as the bag moved and the roar of passing vehicles.

  Fergus froze the picture at a point where it showed the fence line at the front of the camp. ‘See those signs on the fence? They’re warning that dogs patrol the perimeter along that gravel pathway there – look, between the fence and the line of trees.’

  Danny knew all about the dogs; his mind went back to his encounter with Rover.

  Fergus let the film run again and gave a running commentary on what he was seeing. ‘That’s a four-metre fence and it isn’t barbed wire at the top. It’s something far worse: razor wire. If you look above the fence there are CCTV cameras covering the whole length of the gravel path and the top of the fence. The minute anyone tries to get over the fence, the guards will be out with the dogs let loose in front of them.’

  The film showed the MoD police car passing and the MP5s on the two officers in the vehicle. Fergus was worried. ‘Those guys will shoot first if you get caught climbing over that fence, Danny.’

  The flags came into view above the tree line, masking most of the buildings. ‘Those flags, Danny – the building they’re on is the one you have to get into. That’s the one.’

  Danny’s hunch had been correct; he had recognized the most important building. He kept his eyes on the camcorder as the jerky picture moved on. ‘There’s a better view of it soon.’

  The pond and guardroom came into view, and then the female guard and the dog handler with his friend Rover. The sound of Danny’s shout to the dog was just audible and he held his breath as he waited for his grandfather’s bollocking.

  ‘You can’t resist it, can you? Always got something to say.’

  ‘I was using my initiative,’ said Danny quickly. ‘If I’d just kept my head down and hurried away they might have been suspicious.’

  Fergus let it go; there was too much more to worry about without dwelling on one mistake. And besides, he didn’t want to put Danny down for using his initiative, even if it had been misplaced.

  They got a better view of the main building, and as the film moved on, Fergus pointed out the few possible places for an attempt at getting over the fence. One was at a corner on the fence line, where two CCTV cameras were mounted back to back, with a gap of less than half a metre between them. ‘There’s a blind spot in the camera coverage – you have to go for that. The best way is to lay a folded blanket on top of the razor wire and roll over it. The trouble is, it takes ages to pull it off. You’ll have to leave it there and that could compromise you once you’re inside.’

  The film stopped suddenly, and then picked up instantly at a point soon after Elena had joined Danny for the second part of the CTR at the rear of the complex.

  ‘There,’ said Fergus, pointing at the tiny screen. ‘Those buildings are the married quarters and the gate in front of them is your way out, Danny. There’s a simple tube handle that only works from the inside. Just stick your hand in and turn it. They never bother about people getting out; it’s stopping them getting in they’re interested in.’

  When the film ended, Joey took out one of his small cigars and lit it. The blue smoke curled around the room. ‘Looks bad to me – maybe impossible.’

  ‘No, not impossible,’ said Fergus, ‘but I’m not happy with it. We need more time to properly recce the camp and check out those possible climbing points. There’s too many things that could go wrong right now.’

  Danny had been afraid that his grandfather might attempt to delay the operation. ‘But we don’t have time. It’s got to be tonight. Look at the state of you – you should be in hospital.’

  He was right, of course, but Fergus wasn’t thinking of himself. ‘Time spent in recce is seldom wasted.’

  ‘I’ve heard all that a hundred times,’ snapped Danny. ‘All your clever SAS sayings don’t me
an a thing now. We have to go for it tonight. I know how bad that wound is – I’ve seen it.’

  There was a stunned silence. For the first time since Fergus had met his grandson he suddenly felt he was no longer in sole and total control of proceedings. He sighed. ‘But getting you over the fence is only part of it. What about phase two? That isn’t sorted.’ He glared at Joey. ‘Or is it?’

  Joey took a final puff of his cigar, dropped it onto the floor and ground it out with his foot. There was a growing collection of butts strewn across the room. ‘Everyone chill – you’ll give yourself headaches. I can get you a pass.’

  While Danny and Elena had been doing the CTR of Northwood, Joey’s recce had been in a pub, but he had been following Fergus’s instructions. He blew out the last of the smoke and nodded. ‘You were right, there were RAF guys from the camp in there. Should be even busier tonight, and that’s what I need: a crowded pub with everyone having a good time.’

  Phase two of the operation involved getting hold of a Northwood security pass for just a few minutes, so that a duplicate could be made. If Danny did, somehow, make it over the fence, there was no way that he could then just walk into a secure building, or even attempt to break in. He would need a security swipe pass for the main door and any internal doors he might encounter. And Fergus had devised a possible way of getting one.

  Elena had bought a card swipe reader when purchasing the camcorder. And she’d learned how to use it by linking the reader up to her computer via a USB.

  The grey plastic box was about 10cm long, with a groove running along it for swiping the card and reading the magnetic strip on the back. The readers are cheap to buy and are sometimes used by unscrupulous restaurant waiters, who copy the card details from unsuspecting customers and then sell them on to crooks, who make duplicate cards.

  All Elena had to do was swipe the security pass through the reader and the details would appear on her computer screen. Then she could burn those details onto the magnetic strip on the back of her own Halifax card.