Crossfire ns-10

by Andy McNab

  'Dom, it's OK. The fuckers have kept him smacked up. He's going to be OK.'

  Dom looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. 'It's me, Finbar, it's Dom.' He cradled him in his arms. 'It's OK, we're here.'

  I tugged at Dom's arm. 'Come on, let's go, mate. Somebody will have heard that lot and called the police.'

  He pulled gently on Finbar's arms and the mass of matted blond hair was moving off the cushion. 'It's OK, Finbar, it's all right, it's Dom. You're OK…'

  The boy finally realized who it was.

  'Dom, for fuck's sake, get him out to the wagon – we've got to go!' My shout echoed round the container.

  A vehicle fired up behind me. I ran out as a Mondeo estate screamed past. The wheels lurched over Mr Green's head with two sickening thuds.

  There was nothing I could do but fire. It was like someone crashing through a vehicle checkpoint. I stood, got a good position, and kicked off a series of rapid single shots into the fading shape.

  Brake-lights came on and off.

  I kept firing.

  Finally it crashed into a post beside the cattle grid. I was already running.

  The Mondeo's rear window was frosted; it had taken five or six strikes.

  The Yes Man was crumpled against an airbag. Blood leaked from his neck; he looked like he'd just burst an extra big boil. His eyes were closed but he was breathing.

  I wrenched open the door and reached in for the keys. He wasn't going anywhere.

  I turned to see Dom staggering to the Seat with Finbar in his arms.

  I ran back and helped lift the boy into the front seat, then threw my weapon into the back. I dragged out Mr Black and left his body where it lay.

  Finbar was slumped forward against the dash. I helped Dom get a belt round him. I lifted the boy's chin. 'All right, mate?'

  He looked, but he didn't see.

  I concentrated on Dom. 'Take the weapons, soak them in bleach, get all the DNA off and dump them. Burn this fucking wagon, soon as you can. You ready to go? Turn right on to the main – don't head for the town. Every man and his dog will be heading this way. Go on, get on with it.'

  'But, Nick…'

  'I'm going to stay here, mate. The Yes Man's in that wagon. What's the point of getting the boy out if he can still come back and get us? Go on, fuck off, get Finbar back to his mum. We'll contact each other through Kate, OK?'

  He put a hand on my arm. 'I still haven't said thank you.'

  He went to hug me and I pushed him away. 'Get off, you soft bastard. If you don't get a move on, you'll be cuddling a five-hundred-pound cellmate, not me.'

  He smiled and jumped behind the wheel, and I ran back towards the Mondeo.

  The Seat rattled over the cattle grid and was gone.

  I tried dragging the Yes Man from the wreckage by his arm, but his legs were trapped and he ended up hanging upside-down, his back arched, blood splattered across his shirt and tie.

  His breath rasped through his blood-choked throat. The round hadn't gone all the way through his neck, just nicked him.

  I dug out the snub-nosed.38 from my pocket and raked the hard steel fore-sight along his cheek.

  He looked at me with no emotion. 'In the boot… Four hundred thousand pounds… In a diplomatic bag… Take it. Just leave me…'

  I knelt beside him. 'You know what?' I dug the muzzle into his wound. He shuddered with pain.

  'I've never known your name, but it doesn't matter, because I've never wanted to invite you round for dinner.' I thought about Pete and Magreb and all the other poor bastards who'd got in the Yes Man's way. 'You once called me arrogant and disrespectful, but you're a whole lot worse than that. You're responsible for a lot of innocent people getting fucked over and killed, and you don't give a shit.'

  'And you do, Stone?' He almost spat the words.

  I stood up. 'Yes,' I said. 'I do.' I walked across to a nearby stack of tyres. Lying across the top was a rectangle of flowery material that had once been a curtain. I grabbed it and dragged a length of hose across to the cattle grid. Then I went and turned on the tap.

  He knew exactly what was going to happen. I didn't need to explain.

  I threw the curtain over his face and gave him the good news with a round in each elbow; I didn't want him able to rip it off with his hands. He screamed and jerked left and right, but all that happened was that the blood leaked faster from his neck wound.

  I splashed water over the curtain until it hugged the contours of his face. He choked and bucked and tried to kick his trapped legs free. I knew exactly how he felt. I carried on going for thirty seconds before I pulled the cotton aside.

  We were both soaking wet. He gulped and wheezed and begged me to stop.

  The horizon flashed blue from the direction of the town.

  I threw the soaking curtain back over his face and redirected the hose. This time it wasn't coming off. He was never going to have the chance to get at me, or Dom, or Dom's family, ever again.

  The gag reflex contorted him. He was drowning, and as his life ebbed from him I felt nothing but relief. No more threats, no more Sundance and Trainers turning up and filling me with dread because I knew there'd be a shit job I had to do.

  His body went into spasm, and eventually went limp. I kept the hosepipe there for a while longer, then reached down and felt for a pulse on the side of his neck. There was nothing.

  I pulled away the curtain. His face was frozen in a silent scream. I watched it for movement. He'd stopped breathing. His mouth was full of water. More dribbled from his nose.

  Headlights bounced through the night sky just the other side of the rise.

  I skirted the back of the Mondeo and jumped over the fence. I started to run. Not having soldiers on the border any more wasn't just an advantage to drug-runners.

  As I melted into the darkness, brilliant blue flashes lit up the yard.

  I carried on running.

  Epilogue

  I waited at the bottom of the wall as the two flashing blue lights rushed past and turned left, away from me.

  The wall wasn't as high as I remembered it. I could probably have managed without the aluminium ladder.

  I looked up. There was no security lighting, but the moon was out. There was no sign of razor wire glinting along the top.

  I put the ladder against the wall and started to climb. It wasn't long before I was sitting on the coping. I stopped, looked and listened. It was just after two in the morning, and there was just the occasional car or truck, but it would take only one pair of eyes to spot me. There might even be security inside. I didn't know; there hadn't been time to do a proper recce.

  I leant down and stretched out my hand. A small one gripped mine. She was light, and it didn't take much effort to lift her up beside me. 'Wait there a minute. Just sit quietly.'

  The next one up didn't need help. It wasn't long before we were all sitting in a row. I leant down, grabbed the top of the ladder and hauled it up, then swivelled on my arse and lowered it the other side.

  We came down in reverse order.

  Moonlight glimmered on a strip of grass, and then we were on concrete. It was only a few steps more to the water's edge.

  'Nick, can you hold this a sec? I just want to say something to Ruby.'

  Tallulah smiled and handed me the container. She knelt down and gave her stepdaughter a hug. The big shock of hair framed a slightly happier face than she'd worn last time I saw her.

  I'd made contact with Dom two days later. They'd gone straight to Siobhan in Donegal and had the great love-fest reunion.

  The media coverage was as it should be. The rounds recovered from the bodies confirmed that it was another drugs-related incident, ex-UDA versus ex-PIRA. Forensics revealed that the AKs that had fired them had some previous. They had killed British soldiers in the eighties.

  The dead men were discussed at length, but there wasn't a single mention of the Yes Man. There never would be. Every man and his dog, in both governments, would take his
story to their graves.

  Siobhan was with Finbar in Arizona now, tinkling bells and chanting. Some kind of trendy New Age rehab woo-woo, Dom said.

  He was back in Afghanistan with Kate, his new right-hand girl. Basma had arranged a meet between Dom and the Taliban dealer, who was very pissed off that his British contacts had gone to ground and backed away from their agreement. It would have been worth getting satellite TV just to watch Dom's programme go out. I said I'd pop in and see the three of them in Dublin when it aired, but I knew I wouldn't. I was going to do this one last little thing, and then I'd move on.

  'Ruby, remember how we looked at the films of you and Daddy playing at this pool?'

  I watched their moonlit reflections on the surface of the water.

  'He's mostly in the garden now, so he'll always be with us, in all the places he loved most. But remember how he loved to swim here?'

  Too right. In my mind's eye I could see the big stupid grin across Pete's face.

  'Nick?'

  'Here you are.'

  I handed Ruby the urn, and watched as she unscrewed the lid. She had to turn it almost upside down before the tiny handful of ash fell out and spread across the water.

  Tallulah put a hand on my arm. 'Nick, thank you. For everything…'

  One of Dom's first jobs had been to bang four hundred thousand dollars into an account in Kabul, the same amount as I'd invested in Ruby's trust fund. Well, the Yes Man had offered. It had cost five per cent to deposit and move, a bit more than a drug-dealer would pay, but worth every penny.

  Basma was going to take a small percentage for her refuge, and administer the rest for Magreb's widow. She'd promised to make sure the four boys received the education the silly fucker had been so passionate about. They'd be doctors one day, maybe.

  Everyone's future seemed secure. Except mine. I wasn't sure what I was going to do, but I'd have to get my skates on. My invoice to Moira for helping Dom with his Kabul research was still in dispute, and I was skint.

  That $50 million bounty on bin Laden's head was beginning to look awfully fucking tempting.

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