by Andy McNab
My moment of triumph was interrupted as the mobile rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and the number showing was one of the two in the WhatsApp group. I thought about shutting down but I knew it wouldn’t go away.
‘Hello?’
The other end of the call wasn’t as soft a South African voice as I would have liked.
‘What the fuck are you doing in Paraparaumu?’
‘I’m trying to find out how to access the house. Trying—’
He was straight in. ‘Shut the fuck up. Go to the airport!’
‘Okay, but I’ll have to check out of the hotel.’
‘Now – do it now.’
The line went dead.
I sat deflated, wanted to wait just a couple of minutes more for the air-conditioning to work on me, wanted it to freeze the worry in my head so it wouldn’t boil over into fear. I added a couple more minutes of CO2 into the atmosphere before getting myself, then the Toyota, into gear and pulling away from the kerb.
As I got myself onto the correct side of the road, the Ford people-carrier approached me, now with one extra passenger.
Daddy was sitting in the front, turned back to face his daughters, and whatever was being said was very funny because all four of them were in stitches.
At least some would be enjoying the rest of the day.
22
Paraparaumu Kapiti Coast Airport was the smallest regional set-up I’d ever seen. Abandoning the Toyota among the half-dozen other vehicles in the car park, I rushed into Departures with my luggage in one hand and the daysack in the other. I was drenched with sweat. I hadn’t changed: it had been straight back to the hotel, grab the bags and go.
The departure board was dead ahead, and I looked up at it without knowing why. Maybe I was just trying to normalize what was going on. Staring at departure boards is what people do at airports, right? The next flight was to Auckland. From there I could get back to Queenstown. I was in fantasy mode: if I made an effort to get back to Queenstown maybe somehow everything would be all right.
In the back of my mind I knew that Egbers was in the building. He’d told me to get there: he’d be there himself. I dropped my luggage on the floor and glanced about me at the bored-looking people with their trolleys and bags.
Then I saw him, sitting in the coffee shop with a large paper cup of whatever. He was talking into his mobile. He would have seen me the moment I’d come in. I didn’t know much about him but I’d have bet the farm on the fact that he didn’t miss a thing. He finished the conversation, stood, picked up his cup and headed towards me, shoving the mobile back into his jeans.
What should I do? Was I supposed to walk towards him and greet him like a long-lost friend? Or formally with a handshake, like a business acquaintance? Just to stand still felt the right thing to do: let him be in control of events.
It was then that I noticed how he walked. Even with his fucked-up feet, he glided over the tiling. There was a fluidity in his movement, the total confidence in their physical ability you see in top athletes. When people stopped and didn’t know they were in his way with their trolleys, he didn’t bother looking at them, he moved round them without breaking step. Maybe, rather than an athlete, he really was a warrior priest – maybe this thing really was a religion, and he’d been sent down from wherever their Heaven was to fight the good fight. I imagined him in brown monk-like robes that flowed out to his sides as he moved towards me, revealing his sword and dagger hanging from his belt. Maybe there’d be a Netflix documentary about them in twenty years’ time.
I cut away from the stupid thoughts. What did he know about what I’d been doing here? Did he know about Richard?
Egbers closed but didn’t stop his glide. ‘With me.’
I grabbed my bags and followed.
Egbers exited the terminal and walked through the throng of smokers in the shade by the glass exit doors and kept going. Did he think I’d been trying to do a runner? Had they been chasing me to bring me back?
So many questions churned in my mind that I just couldn’t help myself. ‘I was trying to find some information about the house, that’s all. I should have told you. I realize now – I should have called, and I should have explained. I’ll do that from now on, call and explain what I’m doing.’
No answer. He turned the corner of the terminal and carried on towards Saraswati’s waiting helicopter. The Brit was standing by the sliding door, his hands held in front of him to beckon, his eyes down at the concrete, one foot on the step that would get us into the back of the aircraft. For some reason that concerned me more than if he’d stared angrily at me.
The starter unit whined as we approached, and the two large exhausts on the engines just below the rotors pushed out the hot aviation-fuel smell you get when you walk up the steps of a budget airline. Beyond the helicopter, the view of the terminal and small commercial aircraft became hazy in the fumes.
I pushed my bags inside and climbed in just as the rotors began to spin. Facing the front, I sat exactly where Egbers had placed me last time. Eager as a puppy trying to please, I was hoping they would appreciate that. I put on the seatbelt, then the headset, and even remembered to move the microphone closer to my mouth.
Almost as soon as the Knights Templar had jumped in, the helicopter lifted and there was a loud rustle in my earpieces as the other two positioned their headsets.
Egbers sat back, his eyes burning into me, and the Brit kicked out at my bags to make room for his size-eleven Nikes.
Egbers leant forward and poked my shoulder. It might as well have been a punch. But it didn’t matter. My head was all about how to keep Richard safe.
‘What are you doing here?’
The Brit was stretched out and had his trainers crossed and resting on the seat next to me.
‘I was trying to find out if there’s a tunnel. If there is, maybe I can get into the house that way.’
There was no reaction from either of them, physical or in the form of a follow-up question.
‘Look, I’m doing as well as I can, I really am. I want to get the job done. I’m sorry if I didn’t let you know what I was doing. I’m not running. I used the card you gave me – I’m using my mobile, for fuck’s sake. Look, I’ll make sure you know what’s happening in the future – if that’s what you want.’
Egbers looked across at the Brit, who now had his head back and his eyes closed. His headphones might as well have been playing him his iTunes favourites.
Egbers, though, wasn’t resting. He leant forward as if to share a friendly whisper, only it wasn’t. ‘So what did you find out?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t have any time to—’
The Brit didn’t even open his eyes as he cut in: ‘Mr Mani has the gift of forgiveness, but we haven’t. Stop lying, or I’ll go back to Tescos.’
I jerked my head back to Egbers as if he was a saviour. His expression hadn’t changed, but I knew mine had. And Egbers knew they had me.
‘Look, I should have told you. I’m sorry.’
The Brit still hadn’t moved. Egbers decided to sit back. It was as if the last five seconds didn’t exist.
‘What do you now know?’
I explained about the new company formed just for the new-build, and closed down immediately afterwards. It would have been an amazing coincidence if the company wasn’t the one doing the outbuilding and maybe a tunnel. ‘And if I’m right, that would be a good way to get me into and out of the house without anybody ever knowing.’
Egbers was hearing me, but he wasn’t listening. ‘Companies this, companies that, they’re just bits of paper. It’s people we need. Have you found anyone? That’s why you’re here, right?’
The rotors thudded in the background through my headphones. I tried not to make it look like I was avoiding, but the two or three seconds’ delay felt like a lifetime in my head. In the end I just nodded, as if not saying Richard’s name meant I hadn’t exposed him. It didn’t work. I had to say something.
‘But I haven�
�t spoken to him yet. I don’t even know if he’s the right man.’
Egbers leant towards me, so as to hear me better. ‘Who is he? What does he look like? Where do we find him?’
He sat back and listened to me while the Brit was on the move. Eyes now wide open, he twisted behind me and tapped the pilot’s shoulder, spinning his forefinger in the air.
The helicopter’s nose dipped at once and we turned back towards Paraparaumu.
23
Neither of them paid me the slightest attention as they talked into their headsets, and that was fine by me. I wanted to become invisible. Egbers had taken mine off my head so they could talk privately, and my forehead rested against the window, vibrating as the rotors roared above me. I stared at the landscape as it rolled past below.
It wasn’t long before the lush greenery became the habitation of Paraparaumu and, almost in the middle of the town, the airport. I could even see the roof of the white Toyota. Within seconds, the helicopter was coming in to land, but before the wheels had touched the ground the Brit was pulling the door open and he jumped out, striding towards the terminal building. Egbers talked to the pilot, whose matching white helmet nodded away in front of me.
We landed with a gentle jerk, the left wheel hitting concrete slightly before the right. The two of us in the back stayed put as the rotors slowed and the engine noise died, then finally cut. The only sounds came from the two prop engines of a light aircraft as it got the power up before taxiing down the runway. That, and the faint sound of the public-address system leaking out of the terminal building. Maybe it was announcing the flight to Auckland, and although I knew it wasn’t going to help me, in that moment the little bit of normality was welcome.
What was I supposed to do now? Talk? Sit up? Jump out? I looked at Egbers, but he still wasn’t taking any interest in me. He pulled out his phone and held it in his hand, waiting.
It must have been my guilt.
‘Look, you two are scary – maybe he’ll warm to me. Why don’t I just talk to him as I planned? I need technical details, intricate stuff. If he’s in shock or battered to shit, it’s going to be hard for him to concentrate.’
Egbers turned his head. His eyes were very clear and blue and unmoved.
My mobile rang with its old-school tone. I reacted and went to my pocket, then realized it was coming from his. As usual he was short and sharp. ‘Okay.’
As the mobile was closed down and shoved away in his jeans, a small Holden Combo van rounded the corner of the terminal building, two seats in the front, the Brit driving, the sort of thing a painter and decorator or electrician would use, or someone who’d had it converted to take a wheelchair on a ramp in the back. It was hired.
Egbers jumped down onto the concrete, an outstretched hand telling me not to follow. ‘Do not move. Do not talk to the pilot.’
He climbed into the passenger seat and the van swung round, disappearing back behind the terminal.
The pilot got out of the helicopter and pulled off her helmet but kept her aviators on. She was maybe late thirties, and her natural blonde hair was short and practical. She bent to what I presumed was a luggage-area door somewhere in the fuselage beneath me, then pulled out some lengths of aluminium tubing. I sat and watched, transfixed, as the tubing became an arm outside the door, with a bracket looking like a hangman’s gibbet and an angled bracket giving it support. When a small electric wiring rig went on, it was clear she was setting up a winch. She finally sorted it out and took off her sunglasses, looked into the heli at me.
‘It’s okay, you know. You’ll be fine.’
I nodded at what was a strong Italian accent.
‘Mr Mani has a strong sense of social justice. It sets him apart from the others. You just have to have hope, that’s all. It’s a powerful thing. You want coffee?’
I nodded once more, and she walked off towards the terminal. No way was I going anywhere. I certainly wasn’t going to nick her helicopter, that was for sure.
24
Three coffees later, and two trips to the terminal toilets – the pilot explained that not returning would be really stupid – the only other time I’d been outside the helicopter was when she was getting it refuelled. That hadn’t taken long. It was just a top-up: it had clearly been filled before the last flight.
I sat on the red settee seating where I’d always been, directly behind the pilot and facing the back of her head. As the light started to fade, she flicked on a small cabin light so she could continue turning the pages of Wuthering Heights. It didn’t seem right: the two didn’t mesh, just like Christmas in 20 degrees centigrade-plus. It was a long time since I’d had to read it at school, but I could remember Mr Burton teaching us the main theme: that the capacity for love and hope contrasts with the ability to hate. Because of his hate, Heathcliff resorted to revenge, another major theme. It had struck a chord with me at the time because I still wasn’t over the KitKat incident.
I did have hope, but only that they wouldn’t find Richard. I knew I was kidding myself: they would turn up with him here tonight, tomorrow, whenever. It wouldn’t go away because they’d got bored waiting.
Her mobile sounded, and she answered before the second ring. I sat bolt upright, as if instant action was needed. As if I had anything to do with anything.
It was as terse as any Egbers call.
‘Roger.’
The phone was put away, then switches were flicked and instruments lit up the gloom as she pulled on her helmet. I kept my eyes on the corner of the terminal and, sure enough, it was no more than ten minutes before the white van appeared. As the headlights moved out of my line of vision I could see the Brit was driving. The passenger seat was empty. It drove under the stationary rotors and the side door opened.
Richard stared out, his eyes wobbling with fear. Egbers told him to grab his bags and get into the helicopter. He fumbled around with two plastic carriers and clambered out. As the van drove off, the helicopter’s starter motor began to whine. I put out a hand to take the two Pak’nSave bags of groceries and help him climb in, and it was then that he recognized me. It couldn’t have been hard, the way I was dressed. He looked at me as I imagined I’d looked at Egbers when the Brit had spoken about Pip: as if I was going to be a saviour. I didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t a clue if he knew why he was there. He probably didn’t know he was looking at me as the saviour – it was just fear, and I knew that feeling. But I wasn’t his saviour, was I? I was the reason he was in the shit.
The stench of aviation fuel filled the cabin. Egbers cut the silence with a shout above the slowly turning rotors. He pointed to the seat immediately next to the far door. ‘Sit.’
Richard obeyed, and was now right beside the winch.
Egbers sat directly opposite him, and pulled the sliding door shut, maybe to eliminate the fumes and some of the noise. He strapped Richard in, exactly as he’d done with me, and Richard was as compliant as my boys were when I fastened them into their car seats – but, unlike with my two, there was no fun, smiling or joking.
Richard looked at me and his eyes welled up, silently begging me to show him a sign he was going to be okay. I tried, but it didn’t work for either of us.
I shuffled towards Egbers as he finished adjusting the strap. ‘He’s scared. We can do it by just talking.’
Egbers sat back and I had to lean in to him so I could hear what he had to say. ‘You’ll have your chance. Get your belt on.’
The rotors screamed at full power, and as the door slid open again, the Brit pushed his way past Richard and Egbers. The downdraught rammed more fumes into the cabin. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the tops of the carrier bags flapping frantically in the wind so I wouldn’t catch Richard.
There was calm the instant Egbers pulled the door shut and we lifted into the air. The Brit positioned himself next to Richard and strapped himself in. I didn’t want to look at the three of them. Instead I rested my forehead on the window and watched the lights below me as we gained h
eight into the darkness and gently turned. At any other time this would have been a great sight. I used to like taking off from the compound in Kabul: as we gained height, the city lights would sprawl out across the valley. But not tonight.
The lights of the town grew smaller and we headed towards the ones defining the coastline. Vehicle beams moved along the main highway, and then they, too, disappeared. Below us was total darkness, and around us was the red glow of the helicopter’s interior.
I got a kick from the Brit as he threw my headphones at me.
25
Richard’s laboured and very erratic breathing filled my ears.
Egbers’s face was bathed red in the glow of the overhead light. ‘So ask him.’
I tried to move closer but had forgotten about the seatbelt. ‘Richard, your old company worked on Sanctuary last year, just outside Queenstown – right?’
The best he could give me was a nod. Confusion and fear had taken hold. In the earpieces, all I could hear were his sharp intakes of breath. He sounded like he was about to hyperventilate.
‘Richard. Calm down, mate. It’s okay, I promise.’
My arms did a mime, as if that was going to help.
‘All I need to know is what work you carried out at Sanctuary. Just tell me about it.’
I needed to bring him onside gently. He might have information about more than just the tunnel and the outbuilding, and who knew what I could do with it?
I thought I’d open on wide, then bring it down to specifics, exactly as I would on a site. You start with the big picture of what the client is trying to achieve so you can narrow it down to what needs to be done. If, of course, there actually was a tunnel.
He was eager to please. ‘I was just the general management there. Setting out, quality control, keeping the subbies in check – all the normal things. Look, please, I’m just a civil engineer. That’s all, just an engineer.’
