Whatever It Takes

by Andy McNab

  There was no reply from Egbers: he wanted me to sing for my supper.

  ‘Do they work at night? They have night vision? I was thinking that we could go there—’

  Egbers shook his head. ‘No. Daylight. Better resolution. They’ll be here tomorrow. Give me your cell.’

  I pulled it out of my shorts, very conscious of the Brit’s dark brown eyes staring at me with total disdain. I got off the bed holding the mobile in front of me, and it was the Brit who waved his hand. Egbers was finishing off getting his boots back on.

  ‘Open it up.’

  I keyed in my password and handed it over. He started tapping on the screen.

  ‘Can I ask why I was chosen? Parmesh has the world at his disposal.’

  Egbers’s eyes drilled into mine – with boredom or indifference, it was hard to tell. Either way, they were telling me to shut up.

  The Brit passed me back my mobile. ‘You’re now on WhatsApp. Keep the app updated at all times, and keep a signal, and you’ll be called. Any of the two numbers in the group, okay? You got that?’

  ‘Can I call them if I need something or there’s a problem?’

  ‘Any of the numbers you call will be answered.’

  They didn’t wait for me to acknowledge. They stood up in unison and headed for the door.

  ‘That builder, what happened? Aren’t you worried someone could have seen that?’

  If they didn’t even care that there’d been witnesses, how was that going to play out for me?

  The Brit sighed, almost like he took pity on me. ‘It’s secure – if you keep it updated.’

  ‘Will he be okay? He’s just a worker, nothing special. He knows nothing of value.’

  They stopped and turned back from the door. It was the Brit who spoke as he pulled out his mobile and started to tap.

  ‘You understand that was done to help you?’

  He jerked his head at my mobile on the bed. ‘This isn’t a game. Open the link. And if Charlotte is still worried about her bag being stolen last week, it’s okay, I didn’t use her cards. I just needed to know I had the right Charlotte.’

  They left.

  I waited until they had gone and picked up my mobile.

  I opened the link, and dropped to the bed as if a boulder had hit me on top of the head. A supermarket tannoy was making an announcement about the day’s discounts. It was our local Tesco. Jack and Tom were holding the sides of a trolley and jumping with excitement while their mother checked out the freezer cabinet. I knew exactly what Pip was looking for: it was the milk lollies they both loved.

  I sank deeper into the bed as the Brit appeared onscreen. He walked up to her, asking her something, I couldn’t hear what. She pointed across the aisles and he thanked her with a smile and moved on.

  The screen went blank.

  And so did my brain as I collapsed back onto the pillows. I knew I was right about Egbers and the Brit, but it didn’t make me feel clever.

  17

  Wednesday, 28 November 2018

  It had been a very long and restless night. I’d kept replaying the Filipino’s screen images in my head, then carried through with different scenarios of how to get out of this nightmare. Every one of them ended with Egbers and the Brit following Pip and the kids out of Tesco and carrying out their threat, but that still didn’t stop me going over it again and again.

  In the end, I’d given up trying to sleep, and that was why, two hours too early, I found myself parked further along the road than where I’d stopped to check Sanctuary through my binos. But as Dad used to say: if you can’t sleep because you keep waking up worrying, then sleep less and you won’t worry so much.

  On the high ground two Ks short of Arthur’s Point, which I now knew because I’d killed time driving to have a look, there was a small suburban area. Just short of it, at the base of the mountains, was where the drone people wanted me to be.

  Thirty minutes to go.

  The sun was so strong I had to pull down the Toyota’s visor to shield my eyes. Pity my brain didn’t get the same respite from my worries. I carried on thinking and overthinking, and generally being scared. Not on my own account: I accepted I’d fucked up by being caught. It was everyone back home I was fearful for. My thought had been that leaving the hotel early and driving to meet the drone-heads would clear the demons, but no such luck. I landed up with a long wait that only intensified the Armageddon inside my head.

  I thought maybe I’d just tell Parmesh what had happened, that Egbers was making me do this whether I liked it or not. Obviously he’d made the offer but the harshness of what followed – did he know? What if he didn’t? Parmesh jumping up and down and throwing a wobbler at Egbers, would that make things even worse? Where would that leave me – and, more importantly, my family?

  It crossed my mind for about the fiftieth time that maybe I should go to the police. But I had the same answer all fifty times: Then what? Get arrested for seven years’ worth of burglaries, jailed and leave the rest of the family unprotected? No.

  There was absolutely no way round it. I came to the same conclusion every time: I was going to have to man up and get on with this quest, crusade, whatever they were calling it, get it done, hope they kept their end of the deal and we were all safe, maybe even rich, afterwards.

  A red Seat 4x4 trundled past and stopped about a hundred metres further down the road, did a three-point turn and, as they drove back towards me, I could see it was the drone people. They stopped parallel to me, with the driver’s window down. I did the same, and there was a smile.

  ‘Hi! Morning, you remember us?’

  Very West Coast American.

  I nodded.

  ‘Okay. Come on, man. We’ve got a place to go.’

  The Seat moved off slowly, giving me time to turn the car and follow. I wondered if they knew the big picture, or just the little bit of it they were helping with.

  It wasn’t long before we veered left onto a dirt track and started to go uphill. I drove into a rooster tail of red dust, but only for a minute or two. They stopped on the edge of a copse of pine trees, and the front doors flew open. Both were in the same tribe, shoulder-length hair, maybe late twenties, early thirties at a push. They wore jeans and T-shirts, the skinnier one in black, the driver in blue, an Old Navy.

  It was the driver who started the conversation, his hand extended, maybe because he was the same side of the vehicle as me.

  ‘James, right?’

  I flinched. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m James, too. And that guy there,’ he thumbed as he let go of my hand, ‘he’s Jamie.’

  I nodded at Jamie, not believing a word I was hearing. He waved before lifting the tailgate to expose a large aluminium box.

  James joined Jamie at the tailgate and I followed.

  ‘What do you want to look at, man?’

  ‘Everything, basically. The house, the outbuilding, all around the grounds. You able to show me close-ups? Window frames, that sort of thing – maybe even the locks?’

  They glanced at each other and laughed. James turned to me. ‘Man, we can give you whatever you need. We got you talking on your cell – Lady P, right, comes up on your screen with a small p?’

  They fist-bumped each other and I mirrored their smiles, acknowledging that they were right to be proud of their work.

  The unloading was finished and the drone was on top of the closed box. The camera beneath it was much smaller than I would have expected it to be, given the kind of power and clarity they were talking about. The battery rack contained two large packs that sat on the tailgate, and the console strap was going over the head of James – the driver and now the pilot.

  Jamie picked up the drone with both hands and held it above his head. The thing sprang to life, its six rotors buzzing like a very angry food mixer. The drone lifted, then stopped less than a metre above his head, motionless and obedient.

  James played with the controls. There were two joysticks and two small screens, with gradient
s for level, balance, that sort of thing, I presumed. The drone’s legs slowly emerged from its belly before the claws opened, closed, and turned 360 degrees as if the eagle had woken up, which I supposed it had. Then the camera under its belly copied and also spun a full 360, and the buzzing got louder as the rotors increased their effort. The eagle leapt into the air, the legs retracting into its body. I tried to follow its movement against the bright blue sky but within a couple of seconds the machine had disappeared, and so had its noise.

  Jamie, job done, perched himself on the tailgate and offered round a tub of gum, but there were no takers.

  James concentrated on his console. ‘Not long now. Just a few more checks and we’re ready to rock ’n’ roll.’

  He stopped in his tracks. ‘Whoa! We got some jamming.’

  Jamie was off the tailgate like a scalded cat. I stood the other side and looked at the screen. Somewhere out there was a lake, a very small one by New Zealand standards, but it was enough for a couple to have parked their RV and be enjoying breakfast. A table was out and two little chairs, but now they had moved on from the croissants. Beach towels were laid out on the grass by the water’s edge and they were hard at it, totally oblivious to the drone high above them. The detail was amazing.

  James grinned at me. ‘I love this job, man.’

  ‘I bet you’ve seen it all?’

  They fist-bumped. Another group, family, whatever, I didn’t care to join.

  ‘Clock’s ticking and all that.’

  They looked reluctant but the camera zoomed out and the drone travelled.

  James was back to being professional. ‘Okay, thirty-six minutes before we have to change batteries. After that you’ve got another forty. And that’s it, my man. You get it all on a stick – including the jamming, if you want?’

  ‘The house is all I need.’

  ‘Still, more fun for us than chasing gulls.’

  The drone was flown around Sanctuary, and the forty-eight acres of its grounds before it returned for its battery change. Its next flight was all about the outbuilding.

  I watched in amazement as Jamie held up his arms and the eagle zoned in on him at speed, its legs and claws out, like it was about to grab him and fly him away to its nest. Then it stopped in its tracks above his outstretched arms before ever so gently descending until its claws gripped Jamie’s hands, like two trapeze artists meeting mid-swing. As soon as Jamie’s hands made contact, the rotors stopped and there was silence.

  Jamie put the drone on the box and the two battery packs were replaced, much the same as I did with electric hand tools.

  My head had been full of questions. I kept telling myself it would be wrong to ask any of them just yet: I should keep my mouth shut and my head down until the job was done.

  But it wasn’t working. These two were approachable. Maybe they had answers.

  ‘You guys worked for Parmesh long?’

  James didn’t bother looking at me as he checked his console and kept a casual tone. ‘Not for, man … with. Five years and counting. He funded our start-up and we’ve been with him ever since.’

  ‘You like him? He seems a good man.’

  Jamie had the drone back above his head and the rotors burst into electrical life. ‘Sure, he’s cool. He even bought our company after seeding it from the get-go. Our first meeting with him was, like, trying to get some funding, but in a couple of minutes he turned it into a working session. He gets things, man.’

  ‘The drone looks like something out of a sci-fi war film.’

  Both of the Js were very happy with that remark, but James got in there first. ‘Thank you! That’s exactly what they are – or will be soon. We’ve just armoured them up with some cool carbon-fibre composite so they can be used to carry wounded guys out of the battlefield, people from burning buildings, all that kinda stuff.’

  Jamie was still on the tailgate, chewing away. ‘The future of life-saving, man!’

  The drone didn’t bother hovering or even getting its claws out this time: it immediately zoomed up and gained height. The noise died.

  It wasn’t the answer I’d been after, but maybe it was the way I’d asked the question. I must have paused a bit too long because James jumped in.

  ‘Ah – you mean our family, right? You still unsure? That’s cool. We all were. But you know what? Mr Mani has his headspace where it needs to be. He can see round corners, man. You’ll understand soon. Just go with the flow. He’s the man with the plan.’

  He nodded slowly to himself rather than to me as I concentrated on the screens.

  ‘So Egbers and the British guy – what about those two? They scare me.’

  He didn’t look at me as the camera zoomed in and out of the countryside, showing the veins in leaves, then the gentle ripples as the lens crossed over another water feature.

  ‘Don’t worry about them – that’s their job. We don’t have much to do with those guys. We’re the worker bees. Those guys, they’re way up, man. They’re, like, Knights Templar dudes.’ He nodded again. ‘But you, James, you’re going to be at the top, man. You’ve just got to get your head where it needs to be. You just have to have hope, man – faith.’

  Then the house came into view and his tone changed. ‘Okay, man. Where do you want me now?’

  18

  I turned my head and checked the bedside alarm: 9 p.m.

  The laptop on my chest had been on overdrive ever since I’d got back from the drone session. The Tesco nightmare had played its course, but no doubt the next would be along soon enough.

  I’d tried everything I knew to find out more about Sanctuary, and had got nowhere – apart from the video discovery that the PV energy was stored in six Telstar Powerwalls, stacked three deep at the rear of the house.

  Still tired after the sleepless night, I had dozed off frequently. The laptop would slip off my chest onto the bed and join escaped peanuts and crisps from the minibar. I woke with a jolt each time an adrenalin powerboat spun around and got everyone whooping and screaming.

  Sanctuary was the most secure build I had ever come across. Every avenue of information seemed to have been sealed off. Whoever was the brains behind it had even gone to the extreme of bringing in foreign workers to cut off any last possibility.

  It was dark now and quiet. I had to get back to thinking. The drone had shown the place to be physically secure too, and why wouldn’t it be? The footage had shown the gardens were well tended, but I hadn’t been able to find out online who the contractors were. So, no information coming from them.

  Every single online search had drawn a blank. Beyond Google and the normal local-government sites, I was out of my league. The Filipino had referenced the unfinished wall. Maybe it had been completed by a different contractor because there would be even more underground construction.

  The drone footage showed me that the blind elevations from my recce had a concrete pad on the western side, and that that elevation was completely shuttered, apart from an access door on the right-hand side as the footage viewed it. But even on the dead side there was no access route to and from via footfall or vehicle: the building was an island, and the only reason for that had to be because access was via the air. It had to be, hadn’t it? But how did anyone get to or from the house?

  Maybe underground?

  I picked up my mobile, thinking about the WhatsApp group the Brit had given me. They were only going to see a call for help in the event of a failure, but so far I was failing anyway.

  Decision made. I hit WhatsApp and dialled. The ringtone echoed in my ear before it stopped sharply. There was rustling for a couple of seconds as the phone went up to an ear. Charlotte was clearly in a good mood. ‘This is all new, isn’t it? I thought you liked old-school?’

  After I’d had my little bit of tuition from the Brit I’d checked out WhatsApp’s security. I learnt about its end-to-end encryption, and WhatsApp’s claims that not even they could access message content. Even if they could, and some said they could, they h
ad over a billion users every day. So, if it was good enough for the crusade, it was good enough for me. All I had to do was keep the encryption secure by making sure I always updated it.

  ‘Just trying to count the pennies. How are you?’

  ‘All good. Just walking the dogs. You?’

  I turned over so the mobile was now sandwiched between my head and the pillow. ‘Yep, all good.’ I smiled to make my voice sound happy. ‘I do need a favour, though, if you’re up for it.’

  I got the standard response when I asked her for favours, a long and curious: ‘Okaaaay …’

  ‘You need to keep this just between us two, but there’s a problem down here I need help with.’

  She’d always loved a challenge. And, luckily, she’d also always liked bailing out her younger brother. It was like having collateral in the bank. ‘Okaaaay.’

  ‘Could you use that geeky copies-of-everything mind of yours and find out about a new-build down here? I have all the normal open-source docs but there’s the house, and then an additional building that isn’t on the plans and has no consent. It’s on the spot where the water feature should be, and maybe there’s a tunnel between the two.’

  She was shouting to the dogs to go fetch. It sounded like they didn’t want to cooperate that morning. She laughed. ‘Sounds like something out of Thunderbirds. Where are you, Parker? Tracy Island?’

  ‘Ha-ha, something like that.’

  ‘Why? What’s going on?’

  ‘My boss down here is having some hold-back on money owed for jobs done, and it’s to do with the new-build and planning consent – who did what build, here, where, and allocation of cash. All the normal crap. I thought, If I do him a favour and find out who else has been on the build, I could get some creepy-creepy points out of him. Always good to have.’

  She laughed. She knew that was how it worked.

  ‘Great. Listen, I’ll send you the address and a couple of links to the local-authority planners’ site, everything I’ve got. The outbuilding’s big, maybe a hundred and seventy square metres – and it’s just talk of a tunnel between the two but I can’t find anything.’