by Andy McNab
Fergus planned to arrange a meeting with M. Deveraux. He would give her one of the CDs as proof of what they had, along with his demands for the future. As he thought about the e-mail he wanted to send, he was holding the electrician’s screwdriver, completing the circuit by placing one thumb on the top contact and touching the end so that the red light in the handle lit up. But as he glanced over at Elena’s laptop, he dropped the screwdriver and pulled himself upright. ‘You’d better come and take a look at this.’
The laptop was still online and a pop-up had appeared on screen.
HEY, ELENA, HOW’S IT GOING?? GREAT EXPLOIT, EH? BLACK STAR HASN’T HAD SO MUCH FUN IN A LONG TIME!!
Danny and Elena stared at the screen.
‘He knows your name,’ said Danny. ‘How could he do that?’
‘We don’t even know if Black Star is a he,’ said Elena. ‘And I’ve got no idea how he or she knows about me.’
She was about to find out.
SURPRISED I KNOW YOUR REAL NAME? HEY, YOU CAN’T SPOOF A SPOOFER!!! JUST WANTED TO SAY I WON’T PASTE YOUR EXPLOIT ON THE DEEP WEB, WOULDN’T WANT YOU TO GET INTO ANY TROUBLE!!! KEEP IN TOUCH, WE MUST WORK TOGETHER AGAIN. BYE FOR NOW.
The screen went blank; Black Star had gone.
Danny looked at Elena. ‘What was that all about?’
She shrugged. ‘How should I know? Showing off. Probably spends too much time down in the Deep Web. Should get out more.’
Fergus was more concerned with their immediate problems. ‘I’m ready with that e-mail, Elena. Keep it brief. Just tell her we have everything we need for our continued safety, and we’ll be in touch tomorrow to arrange the time and place for a meeting.’
Deveraux had changed into operational clothes for the conclusion of her mission, although her working gear still carried designer labels. She was wearing Italian blue jeans, a black leather jacket and Nike trainers.
As they drove away from the police station, Joey kept taking surreptitious sidelong glances as he tried to figure out exactly who his rescuer was and what she wanted.
Deveraux headed away from the main road into the quieter back streets and for a while she said nothing, deliberately making her nervous passenger wait.
Joey decided he would be the icebreaker. He reached into his jacket pocket for his cigars. ‘Mind if I smoke? I’ve been waiting for hours.’
‘Yes, I do mind,’ said Deveraux coldly. ‘You’ll have to wait a little longer.’
Joey sighed and released his grip on the cigar packet. Once again it was a case of so near, yet so far. Giving up would be easier.
Deveraux took a left turn into a road lined on both sides with parked cars. ‘So, Joey, where are they?’
‘They?’ said Joey innocently. ‘I don’t know who you mean.’
Deveraux smiled, prepared to play the game for a little while. ‘Listen, Joey, I’m here to help them, just like I’ve helped you. Twice now. Getting you out of jail is becoming a habit.’
Joey turned and stared at her. ‘You did that? Before?’
She nodded. ‘Of course. And that’s how I learned about tonight’s little escapade. You’re on our system, Joey. As soon as your name was fed into the police computer it came through to my people. You should have left the country, as you were told to.’
‘Yeah, look, I’m sorry, I-’
Deveraux took her left hand from the steering wheel and placed it reassuringly on Joey’s arm. ‘Never mind. You made a mistake. I can sort it out. I can arrange for you to stay here, even get you a UK passport.’
‘You can?’
‘It’s just a question of mutual co-operation. You help me and I’ll help you.’
Joey was thinking quickly: maybe this might yet turn out a lot better than he had feared. ‘I’d like to help, but I wouldn’t want to cause problems for anyone else.’
Deveraux took a right; the road was quieter, less built up. ‘There’s no fear of that, Joey. I already know that Fergus is totally innocent. The person I want is about to be taken. All that’s needed now is for me to talk to Fergus and the two kids and then everyone can get on with their lives. And that includes you.’
She spoke softly and calmly. She seemed so sincere. And so friendly. Genuinely concerned for their welfare.
Joey glanced at her again. She was an attractive woman; beautiful in a cold and detached way. He decided it was time to turn on his famous charm. ‘I don’t even know your name, and when I’m talking to a beautiful woman, I like to know her name.’
Deveraux smiled. There was no harm in him knowing. Not now. ‘It’s Marcie.’
‘Marcie. That’s a lovely name. Are you married, Marcie?’
Deveraux laughed, she couldn’t stop herself. This sad, deluded individual was actually attempting to chat her up. ‘No, Joey, I’m not married. Too busy sorting out other people’s problems.’
‘But you do get time off?’
‘Business before pleasure, Joey, that’s my rule.’ It had gone on for long enough. It was time to get this over with and move on. ‘Now, let’s cut the crap, shall we?’ She held up a bunch of keys. ‘The car you were driving was hired on Elena’s bankcard. I’ve checked. As well as the car key, there are the keys to an industrial unit on this key ring. And they have an address tag. Careless, Joey. Very careless. That’s where they are, isn’t it? That’s where they’re hiding.’
Joey didn’t reply. And Deveraux didn’t need an answer; she had it all figured out. She knew precisely where Fergus, Danny and Elena were hiding.
There was a soft ping on her Xda. She slowed the car and lifted the Xda up to read the brief e-mail Elena had sent. She smiled. ‘Is that so?’ she said softly.
‘Problem?’ said Joey.
‘No problem at all. Everything is fine, but I need to respond to this e-mail.’
Up ahead was a deserted stretch of wasteground close to some buildings ready for demolition. It was exactly what Deveraux had been looking for. She pulled the vehicle off the road, drove slowly into a dark, unlit area, and switched off the engine. ‘You get out and have your cigar – you’ve waited long enough.’
Joey needed no second invitation. He pushed open the door, pulled his cigars and lighter from his pocket and took a few steps away from the vehicle. Deveraux saw the blue smoke curl into the night air. The condemned man was enjoying his last smoke.
Deveraux had already decided on the method. Going to the ready bag for a weapon and loading up was not the right option. Joey was stupid, but not that stupid. He would try to run, and that would mean an unnecessary delay and complications. There was a much simpler way, once Joey had had a few more puffs of his last cigar.
Deveraux flicked the car’s internal light switch to off so that her victim would get no warning as she opened her door. Noiselessly she stepped from the vehicle. Joey didn’t hear a thing as she approached, silent as a panther.
With a few light steps she was behind him. She held her Xda in her right hand, swung it round hard and fast and heard it connect with Joey’s nose. There was a dull crunch of fracturing bone as the big man fell to his knees, holding his face as blood poured between his fingers.
Deveraux dropped to her knees behind him, stuck the phone’s edge across his throat with her right hand and gripped the other side with her left. She pulled back on the Xda. Joey was kicking out, arms flailing as he tried to tear the phone away from his neck, but Deveraux responded by leaning forward, using the weight of her upper body to bend Joey’s head down so that his chin was virtually touching his chest. She wrenched the phone back even harder.
Joey’s legs kicked out again; his body jerked as he frantically tried to free himself. He couldn’t breathe, his head was dizzy, his vision blurred. His hands scrabbled at Deveraux’s face, but he was weakening quickly, and his assassin simply moved her head to avoid his desperate hands.
It took another minute, no more. Then Joey’s movements subsided to a little spasmodic twitching of the legs. And then there was no movement at all.
&nbs
p; Deveraux let go of the phone with one hand and Joey’s limp body slumped to the ground. She checked for a pulse in his neck; there was nothing.
Joey’s last cigar was still smouldering on the ground, close to his body. As Deveraux started to turn away, one foot made contact with a small cardboard packet lying in the dirt. She smiled. ‘Should have read what it says on the packet, Joey. Smoking kills.’
‘Ray… Ray… There’s a few Rays, but no Sonny.’
‘This is pointless,’ said Danny as he watched Elena working at her laptop. ‘You haven’t got an address and you don’t even know if Sonny is his real name. It’s probably not; it’s probably just a nickname. You know, sun ray, Sonny Ray. His real name could be anything.’
Elena sighed with irritation. ‘I’m not stupid, Danny. Course I know that. But Sonny is all we’ve got.’
That much was true. They knew Joey’s former business partner went by the name of Sonny Ray – it said precisely that on the sign above the unit. And Sonny was married to Joyce, so Elena was doing all she could do to trace Joyce. If she found Joyce, she would find Joey. That was the theory, anyway.
The long night was passing slowly. Danny and Elena were both tired, and tetchy, and worried. Whatever Joey had been up to, he should have returned hours ago, or at least called. He had Elena’s mobile number and had been instructed to use no names if he did get in touch. But Joey just didn’t seem capable of following instructions.
Elena had tried online phone listings and the Yellow Pages, searching for either a Sonny or a Joyce Ray. It was proving to be a fruitless exploit.
‘He could have had an accident in the car,’ said Danny. ‘Might be sitting in a police station now.’
‘Or a hospital,’ said Elena.
Fergus had been listening to their bickering for too long. ‘Look, you two, give it a rest. Wherever he is, we have to assume that our situation here might be compromised. If he doesn’t show up by an hour and a half before first light then we have to get out.’
‘But how can you,’ asked Danny, ‘without Joey to drive us?’
‘I’ll manage,’ said his grandfather firmly. All three of them looked at Fergus’s leg. The dressing was leaking blood and pus, and at that moment it didn’t look as though he could even stand, let alone manage.
‘And then what?’
‘We stick to the plan. I meet up with our friend; give her one of the disks to prove that we know all about the whole operation. She’s in for a bit of a surprise when she hears the deal I’m going to offer her. I want new identities for us all, and Fincham out of the way, like she said. If anything happens to us, at any time, the press gets the document. While she chews that one over, we’ll lie low and wait.’
Danny had listened closely to everything his grandfather said, but Elena’s thoughts were still with Joey. She powered down her laptop and slammed down the top far harder than she would normally have done. ‘If he is in hospital, it’s his own stupid fault,’ she almost shouted. ‘He’s stupid. Stupid!’
Danny was about to say that he knew Elena didn’t mean what she said. But he saw the tears in her eyes. He kept his mouth shut. Elena was hurting.
Fergus knew it too. ‘We should grab a little sleep while we can. You two get your heads down, I’ll take first stag.’
‘No, I will,’ said Elena. ‘I won’t sleep anyway.’
Outside, Marcie Deveraux had paused by the metal shutters just as she heard Elena’s raised voice. They were in there. No doubt now.
Deveraux had left her car outside the square, and out of sight of the window. She was totally confident of her own supreme skill and ability in action. Few people were her equal. Watts was, she knew that. He could not be underestimated, so her approach to the unit had been slow and ultra-cautious.
She kept to the shadows, hugged the walls and moved silently and cautiously. Now that she had all the confirmation required, she used exactly the same method to return to her car. She reached the vehicle and dialled a number on her Xda.
George Fincham was sitting in his car, calmly drinking disgusting service station tea from a polystyrene beaker when his official secure mobile began to ring. He had planned that it would be one of the last things he would dispose of, just in case an official call came through. Even so, he was surprised to hear it ring at this hour of the morning.
He looked at the screen and saw Deveraux’s name appear. He felt his anger begin to rise; only the name Fergus Watts could cause equal fury within him now.
But he sounded calm and assured as he pressed the answer button and spoke softly. ‘Yes, Marcie?’
Deveraux sounded equally calm. ‘I’m sorry to call at this hour, sir. But it’s important.’
‘Go on.’
‘Watts, sir. I know where he is. With the boy and an unknown female around Danny’s age.’
‘I see. And your plan is?’
‘We could finish this together, sir, before first light. There isn’t time to gather the team, and if we leave it they may move and we could lose them again. It could all be over within an hour, sir.’
Fincham hesitated, his mind racing. ‘Do you have a ready bag? I shall need a weapon.’
‘I have everything we need, sir.’
Fincham began pulling off the false beard he was wearing. An hour. It still gave him time, plenty of time. He picked up the pen and one of the taxi company business cards and turned it over. ‘Very well, Marcie, give me an RV. We’ll do it, we’ll clear everything up tonight.’
They decided on the RV and hung up. Deveraux smiled. Clear everything up, Fincham had said. That was exactly what she had begun to do. She had already called in the Firm’s ‘cleaners’ to arrange for Joey’s body to be collected and disposed of; it would be done by now.
There was one further call to make while she waited for Fincham’s arrival. Dudley might not be happy about being woken at this hour of the morning, but he had insisted on being kept fully informed of all developments, at whatever hour.
But Dudley wasn’t sleeping: he instantly answered Deveraux’s call to his secure phone. ‘Be quick, Marcie, and I may have to cut you off – I’m waiting for a call of my own.’
Deveraux was slightly taken aback, but she made her report quickly. ‘First part of the operation completed, sir. Everything else will be within the hour.’
‘Good. Report to me then.’
The line went dead and Deveraux looked at her Xda, puzzled. She had expected more than that; a ‘Well, done’ or even a few questions. Dudley’s own call must have been important.
It was. Dudley was in his office, and his thoughts were focused on a different operation. He’d been waiting for the crucial information he’d been promised. When it came through he immediately got onto the Prime Minister’s private secretary, who knew better than to argue about the PM being disturbed at this hour. He simply asked Dudley to hold while he woke his boss.
The Prime Minister came on the line. ‘Yes, Dudley?’
Dudley wasted no time. ‘The bombings, Prime Minister. We have a lead at last. A significant lead.’
44
It was like a deadly game of cat and mouse, and both Deveraux and Fincham believed that they were the cat.
The MP5 SD was resting across Deveraux’s lap as she put her foot down hard on the accelerator pedal. Fincham was in the passenger seat, the Sig 9mm pistol from Deveraux’s ready bag in his right hand and the keys to the unit in his left.
They had met and swiftly prepared for the attack in a pitch-dark parking space behind the Renault showroom, less than a minute away from the unit. Deveraux quickly went through the details and Fincham listened in silence, nodding that he understood exactly what his role would be.
He was backup, which was the correct procedure. Deveraux was the skilled and highly trained operative; she was used to killing. Fincham had been desk bound for years and he knew that if he insisted on leading the attack it would arouse his second-in-command’s suspicions.
So he listened and made ready the
Sig as Deveraux told him the plan. She would go up the stairs first. The suppressed MP5 would allow her to kill Watts and the two teenagers in virtual silence, so as not to alert any all-night workers in the nearby Parcel Force depot. The last thing they needed was the police turning up in response to an emergency call.
Fincham was only to use the pistol if Deveraux got into trouble. They couldn’t be certain that Watts was unarmed, and although Deveraux was good, like all good operators she knew her limitations.
Fincham had insisted on only one thing: the attack had to be hard and fast. He was the boss, and this time Deveraux made no complaint. She had planned another covert approach to get inside the unit unheard, but she quickly reasoned that a speedy shock hit might even be preferable. Fincham didn’t have her skills; with a covert approach he could give them away. So hard and fast it would be. It didn’t matter to Deveraux; the results would be the same: they were all going to die.
As they neared the service road, her boss was thinking exactly the same thing: they were all going to die. Once Deveraux had taken care of Watts and the kids, it would be her turn – a double tap to the head. If any nearby workers were alerted by the two shots then so be it. He would be away in seconds, heading for Heathrow and that eight-thirty flight to Moscow. There would be just time to change back into his disguise and redo his false beard and make-up.
They reached the service road and Deveraux glanced at her boss. ‘Are you ready, sir?’
‘Oh, yes, Marcie. Quite ready.’
Deveraux hit the gas and the engine screamed at full revs as they headed for the entrance to the square.
She dropped to second gear as she took the right turn. Her foot was still hard down as they hurtled towards the unit, which was to their right. Her left hand gripped the handbrake. She calmly gave Fincham the warning, ‘Stand by,’ and he opened his door and held it open.
