Whatever It Takes

by Andy McNab

  He spun and looked in the same general direction Skye and Parmesh were facing, wanting to make contact with me. ‘James, we’ll give you as long as we can. I know you’ll do it.’

  Casper turned to Skye and gave her a long look that seemed to soothe her before he melted away out of the camera zone.

  Galvanized, she turned to me. ‘There should be another door. All I know is “through the door”. Through the fucking door. That’s why I need to be here, to make sense of what I think I know. But … but …’

  ‘It’s okay, Skye. Just give me a minute.’ For the first time, I forced myself to bring back the vision of Richard instead of pushing it away. What had he said before he fell into the darkness? What did he say he had done down here? He tiled the wall – but only the one wall.

  I made myself think of the Filipino guy, and his blood-stained face. He said they had built a toilet or a storeroom or something …

  Parmesh was staring at me, serene as ever. Maybe the inevitable had finally happened, so he was thinking, Why worry?

  ‘James, we need to hurry, do we not?’

  Warren was making too much noise. Gemma and Tony were trying to calm him down. Too much noise.

  ‘Quiet!’

  I found myself taking deeper breaths and everything seemed to slow down just enough for things to make sense.

  I turned to the team. ‘I need help here. There’s a doorway in one of those three walls. We need to get tapping – now!’

  59

  Gemma and Tony were straight on to it, but Warren had relapsed. No matter how much he covered his ears, he could still hear what was going on, and he refused to help. ‘I want to leave now! Let me go home!’

  I ignored him as I frantically rapped my knuckles against the wall that held the door to upstairs. Gemma and Tony were checking each side of the stud-wall. Ear to the tiles, we tried to detect a difference in tone.

  Warren was making too much noise and Parmesh was broadcasting words of comfort for Skye that were doing nothing for us down here.

  ‘Everyone, shut the fuck up!’

  Charlotte rushed over to Warren, and Parmesh held Skye close to him, all the while giving his sister long stares that only I could see.

  Gemma gave a strangled scream. ‘Got it! Got the fucker!’ She fell to her knees, her ear still to the tiles, still rapping against the ceramic surface to make sure the change of tone was constant all the way down.

  I swung round to Parmesh and Skye, who were now focused a hundred per cent on what was happening in the basement. Gemma got to her feet, stepped back, and started kicking at the wall without as much as a run-up. It was futile.

  ‘Gemma, cut the fucker.’

  She ran and reached into the hole, dropping to her knees, like a touch-down, pushed into the hole and emerged with the disc cutter before running back to the wall. She dropped to her knees once more but the machine just dribbled power.

  ‘You fucking thing!’

  I ran to the hole. ‘I’ll sort it.’

  Squirming through into the void, I grabbed a new battery and pushed back into the basement, sliding it across the floor to her. She changed power packs and a loud buzz filled the room.

  Gemma ground into the tiles like her life depended on it, and maybe it did.

  Jon jumped into the camera zone. He had the same body armour, carried the same weapons as Casper, and fought to regain his breath. His whole head glistened with sweat. He held out one hand as if exhaustion was stopping him moving. His jeans were covered with blood but there were no rips or holes to show that it was his. Thank fuck Warren couldn’t hear over the cutter’s noise and, even better, couldn’t see what I was seeing.

  Jon disappeared out of camera view and Parmesh still had Skye in his arms. Her shoulders heaved up and down, her head on his chest. He stared at me, his chin resting on the top of her head while he stroked her hair. He said something I couldn’t hear over the din, but I got it. Things weren’t going well.

  Gemma screamed at the tiles as the disc cutter kicked more and more into the structure. ‘You fucking shit!’ Tile chips flew off the wall and strafed the ground. Then a plume of dust blew out of the wall as the stud-wall behind it began to cave in. Gemma was now on her feet and aimed a kick. Her leg disappeared to mid-calf.

  I joined her in pulling away the sections of broken stud-wall to reveal a small space, just as the Filipino had tried to explain as he begged for his life.

  It was a toilet-sized room – but there was no plumbing. There was nothing but a safe. It wasn’t that big, maybe 600 millimetres square, with a keypad and opening handle.

  Parmesh spotted it. He looked down at the top of Skye’s head. ‘Skye, we have it. Look!’

  She turned from his chest and a smile spread across her tear-wet face. She recited: ‘One six seven four two eight. Or, one six four seven two eight.’

  Before I had even entered the space, Gemma was on her knees and tapping away at the digital keypad.

  A red LED display responded to the first code.

  Error.

  Gemma kept her eyes on the safe. ‘What’s the other one?’

  Skye came away from Parmesh and walked towards the space, as if getting nearer could make her voice over the speakers any clearer: ‘One six four seven two eight.’

  Gemma tapped away.

  The red LED displayed again.

  Error.

  She stood up and kicked at it.

  I turned to Skye. She was so close to me that, in the flesh, I would have been able to feel her breath. ‘Maybe the right numbers but wrong sequence. Take a moment, think …’

  She wrapped her arms around herself, eyes closed, trying desperately to remember.

  From behind me, Tony broke the wait. ‘I’ll have a go while the thinking’s going on.’

  He fished in his jacket pocket and pulled out my walking sock that held the rare-earth magnet. The large heavy square hung from his hand as he headed for the safe.

  Gemma moved out of the way to let him closer. He dangled the sock in front of the door, and the magnet hurled itself against the steel to the left of the digital keypad, slamming into it with a loud metallic clang. Any fingers in the way would have been smashed.

  Gripping the loose end of the sock, Tony dragged it along the door of the safe in the direction of the side that opened. He hadn’t even finished before there was a loud clunk and the safe sprang open. Tony tugged back on the sock, and that, in turn, pulled the door open.

  Gemma came out with exactly what we were all thinking. ‘What the fuck? How did you do that?’

  I left them to it and turned to Parmesh. We locked eyes.

  The door was open, but no one bent down to investigate what was inside. That seemed to be my job. Crouching level, I saw a very bland black book, A4 size, the sort you’d buy from any stationer’s.

  I placed both hands in the safe to pick it up and expose it to the light, and from over the speakers came the sound of gunfire, lots of it, outside the camera zone. We all ducked, as if it was happening right around us.

  60

  More screams and shouts came over the speakers and then more bursts of gunfire from somewhere in the Atherton house. The uproar echoed around our basement.

  Parmesh and Skye had taken cover. He was on his knees and Skye was over him, trying to protect him.

  Casper and Jon ran into the camera zone and stood either side of them as they slickly changed magazines on their M4s, drills they knew so well, both grabbing breath before their barrels were soon back up, pointing and ready to fire once more. Both men were drenched in blood that wasn’t their own.

  They kept their positions either side of the other two still on the floor, their weapons up in their shoulders, aiming, searching, ready to fire if the echoes out there in the house got closer.

  There was no emotion from the two protectors. No panic, not so much as a concerned look: they stood rock solid, weapons in the shoulder, accepting the situation, ready to fight, just like the Knights Templar the
y were.

  Casper filled a brief respite in the shouts penetrating the house. ‘James, you there?’

  ‘Yes – and I’ve got it.’

  Jon turned his head to his right, in my general direction. He couldn’t see me, but it didn’t matter. ‘I knew you’d do it. Thank you.’

  I took a step towards him. I knew he couldn’t see me, but it was instinctive. ‘Jon, for fuck’s sake, you’ve got a window, just run! All of you, get the fuck out! Why aren’t you running?’

  Jon stood rigid, his weapon still up, both eyes open and now looking dead ahead, along his barrel, waiting as the noise drew closer and closer.

  It was Parmesh who had the answer. ‘James, there is nowhere to run. We have lost at this end. But remember, James – remember what you have now. You have made everything worthwhile.’

  I stared down at him. What? This was really fucked up. ‘Casper! Just go! Take them!’

  He didn’t answer. He stood as still as Jon, two statues, weapons up, waiting for the inevitable.

  The noises and the shouts got much closer and Parmesh called out again, but not to me. ‘Charlotte, Charlotte!’ He could see her in the corner.

  She looked generally in the area where I was, the centre of the basement, her eyes desperately scanning the area as if she would be able to see him too. ‘Yes! I’m here!’

  Parmesh moved Skye’s arm away enough to expose all of his face. He was smiling. ‘I’m so happy that I finally met you. You have completed my family. You have completed me. You and James, you must – must – continue the crusade. You must, my sister.’

  Charlotte’s head swung to me and she did a double-take. ‘Sister?’

  There was a deafening din of more gunshots, much closer this time, then both Templars fired their weapons on automatic, big long bursts, and the empty cases spewed out towards me and Charlotte. Instinct took over and I flinched, as if they were going to hit me. Long bursts filled everyone’s ears through the speakers. The team had now curled themselves up in corners, their hands covering their ears, as if that would save them.

  Jon took rounds and fell to the floor, blood gushing from the back of his head.

  Seconds later, Casper ran out of ammunition, dropped his rifle and went to his leg to draw his Glock. It never left its holster. Bullets thumped into him and his body jerked, like a ragdoll, as they hit his vest, his arms and his neck. Blood spurted at me like a geyser.

  Casper dropped to join Jon.

  The firing stopped as abruptly as it had started but Skye’s screams filled the void. She pushed herself away from Parmesh and ran the three or four strides to where her husband had fallen. She screamed at him to get up, but there was a burst of gunfire and the rounds slammed into her, spraying her blood in all directions as she collapsed on top of him.

  Parmesh lay so still he seemed not to be breathing, a smile fixed on his face.

  I jumped up and down in frustration, feeling so close I could have kicked out of the room and run to help. ‘Run! For fuck’s sake, run!’ He was two feet away from me and there was nothing I could do.

  He kept smiling. ‘Charlotte, continue—’

  He didn’t get to finish the sentence. From outside the camera zone came a sustained burst of fire and Parmesh’s body jolted as the bullets slammed home. Some hit his vest, but others ripped into his neck and face. Blood plumed out of him and mixed with all the other red fluid awash on the wooden floor.

  It all fell silent, in both houses.

  The only slight sound came from Warren, still caught up in his own world, mumbling and crying to himself.

  And then a London accent barked through the speakers and made me jump. ‘James? James? Mate, you still there?’

  61

  He strode into the camera zone. He had the same assault rifle as the Templars and was dressed very much the same, in jeans and body armour. He was about my age – he had long dark brown hair, and a really thick hipster-style beard covered most of his face. ‘James, if you’re still there, please stay there. We need to talk. Mate, everything’s okay, but we do need to talk.’

  He bent over Skye and pulled her goggles off her face. They fell apart. They’d been shot up and were covered with blood. He dropped them and carried on to Parmesh. ‘Everybody in Sanctuary, stay calm.’

  Other operators, dressed and looking the same, came into the camera zone. They checked the bodies on the floor, making sure none of them was breathing.

  The hipster eased Parmesh’s goggles off his face and wiped some blood off one of the lenses before donning them with a red hand. He looked around and found me quickly. ‘James, right? You’re James?’ He said it like we’d just met in a coffee shop.

  I nodded, and he smiled. His eyes were fixed on the ledger, wrapped in my arms against my chest. He was calm and polite. ‘James, just listen to what I have to say. Just leave the book on the floor where you are so I can see it all the time. There’s been enough killing and we’re not going to hurt anyone down there, are we? Mate, all I want is the book, yeah?’

  He waited for an answer, but there wasn’t going to be one. The team around me were focused on what was being said now the guns and the shouts and the threats had happened. At least they’d been spared having to see it.

  The hipster put his rifle on the floor and waved everyone out of the camera zone, as if to signal he was no longer a threat.

  ‘Will you do that for me, James? Just give back what you’ve stolen. Mate, that’s all I’m asking. No one will come to any harm. Will you do that for me?’

  I nodded, and he smiled again under a mass of hair. ‘That’s good, James. Thank you. On the floor, please, so I can always see it. Our people are now on their way. But, mate, nothing’s going to happen to your people, all right?’

  ‘You say that?’ I waved a hand at the mass of blood and bodies on the floor.

  The hipster shook his head. ‘Nah, won’t happen. Mr Eduardo just wants his book back. So, I get the book, you all go home. Happy days.’

  I nodded; he smiled.

  ‘Mate, so all that’s gonna happen is people are gonna come, pick up the book, check it to make sure you ain’t done a swap, you know, not given us the real one, and then you all leave. Easy, yeah?’

  I did what he asked and laid the ledger at my feet, then moved towards the wall to be with Charlotte. She was having a crisis of her own.

  ‘Mate, excellent. Thank you. Not long now. Just wait. As soon as we get the book, you can all leave. Put an end to all this drama, yeah?’

  A step away from Charlotte, I bent down towards the power socket.

  The hipster knew exactly what I was about to do. ‘Mate, don’t—’

  I pulled the plug out of the wall and my view of the hipster wasn’t as good as it had been. Twenty-five per cent of the visual and audio was now lost. The hipster went to grab his rifle, then realized he couldn’t do anything with it.

  ‘Fuck, fuck! Fuck you!’

  He watched me run to the next lead. ‘Don’t do it! You—’

  I yanked it out. The hipster could do nothing but carry on ranting.

  Tony was at the other wall and pointed at the other leads. ‘These, too, boy, yeah?’

  I nodded, and everything faded away in the centre of the basement for me and the speakers were silent. All that could be heard was Warren’s murmurs and crying, his head still against his knees. We had lots to do, so thinking, worrying, getting emotional, all that was for another day.

  My shout became the loudest thing happening in the basement. ‘Okay, listen in!’

  I threw off my goggles and took my phone out to cut the connection. ‘Remember, once you get out of here, head towards the drones. Out of the hangar, turn right, keep running and they’ll find you. Once you get to the vehicles, change of plan. Go to the airport, find the heli and Flavia. She’s waiting for the ledger. Get the drone guys to call her – they’ll arrange the meet. All of you need to take the heli to Parmesh’s yacht. You’ll be safe there. Let’s get everybody on that yach
t, let’s get safe. Let’s go – come on, we’ve got to go!’

  Tony grabbed Warren, but he was in a world of his own. He had given up and had become an unreceptive lump, a dead weight, impossible to move unless he could be got to comply. Gemma saw the problem and went over. ‘We’ll both sort him.’

  I retrieved the ledger as they bundled Warren through the hole. All three disappeared but Charlotte stayed. She wasn’t budging. She stood waiting for me as I opened the ledger and flicked through the pages. I wanted to know why names and places were worth killing and being killed for.

  I saw handwritten lists of people. Quite a few I had read about, or seen on the news. Castro had written details of what they did and what they would do for him when the time came that the CE needed a pope. There were even hand-drawn diagrams of how they networked. On another page, a seating plan for exactly fifty-one people was sketched out, as if they were planning a wedding. But this was no wedding: seat number one was reserved for someone very special.

  Turning the page, I read down the list of places and the captions detailing why they were important to the important people.

  Parmesh was absolutely right: the cognitive elite really could change the world for good or, as I turned the pages, for bad.

  Charlotte had something else on her mind. She dragged my attention away from the ledger, bent down, trying to find my face. ‘Sister? Continue?’

  I closed the book. ‘He’s been looking for you for years. He told me on the last call. It was just a chance, a fluke, once he caught me, and—’

  The mobile rang. It was the Js. No longer chilled out.

  ‘We got headlights on Hunter. Four sets of them and they ain’t just cruising, man.’

  ‘Okay. The team are on their way out now. Pick ’em up. Once they’re with you, they’re heading to Flavia. Make sure she knows. They need to be taken on board. You got that?’

  ‘Sure. No problem. Hurry, man. Got to make haste.’