Whatever It Takes

by Andy McNab

  Grabbing my Ray-Bans, I made my way back out onto the balcony to take in the view once more. The green hills and turquoise sea were breathtaking, and I could never get enough of them. I hoped that Pip and the kids wouldn’t either, when they arrived. There was still a lot to sort out at the UK end of things, but it was great timing for the boys. They had just finished primary school and could start a fresh year in a senior school here.

  Pip and I had met up when we carried out a secret scattering of Tony’s ashes in Dean’s Park to reunite him with Maureen. Charlotte and I had chucked in a KitKat and a scattering of Fruit Pastilles for good measure, a final two fingers up to the powers-that-be who had thought those two weren’t good enough to be married in their hallowed hall – as if the Minster lot would have known true goodness if it had jumped up and whacked them on the nose with a frying pan. As for pissing off the litter patrol, Maureen would have enjoyed the idea very much and we just wished we’d thought to take more.

  That was when Pip and I got talking. She had met them when we’d first started going out, and it was as if Tony and Maureen had brought us together again. I asked – well, if truth be told, I begged – Pip to come down here and make a new start. There was nothing in York for the boys. Their last grandparent was with us, to end her days with Charlotte. New Zealand – what a great new exciting life for them. Snowboarding, wakeboarding, screaming around lakes in jet boats, what wasn’t to like? If it didn’t work for the three of them, I’d do whatever was needed and they could go back to York. That was the beauty of having money: it gave you power, opportunity, choice, and the people who made those things happen. Life was a lot easier on the banks’ side of the fence, and my one regret was that Dad wasn’t there to enjoy it.

  Maybe I wouldn’t end up living with Pip and the kids. I was hoping I would, but we’d see what happened. I had high hopes. And now I understood there had to be a balance between life and work.

  But for now, my work was for Charlotte and the crusade. I was hoping Pip would come over to our way of thinking and be part of what we’re doing. Then our lives wouldn’t be as separate as they once were.

  There was another reunion. At the spreading of Tony’s ashes I had seen Warren for the first time since we’d got off Saraswati in Sydney. They’d all taken a flight home the same day, with Tony, in Parmesh’s jet – well, our jet now – but Charlotte and I had stayed on board the yacht. We had a lot of work to do.

  Warren had been quiet all of the time, spending most of the voyage to Australia in his cabin, I presumed because he was still freaked out by the whole affair, especially what had happened in Sanctuary. But after we had sprinkled Tony about the park and scattered Rowntree’s finest, we all went out for dinner, and that was when I discovered his withdrawal was more to do with embarrassment and shame about the way he’d reacted. I reassured him that he didn’t have to feel anything but pride in a job well done. He had just been Warren, that was all, and we would always be mates.

  I heard noises behind me as Charlotte pushed her way into my room with a mug in each hand and came over.

  ‘Kyle’s just called. He’s going to bring Mum and the kids up in an hour. It would be straight away, but you know Mum – it’ll take some time.’

  I took the mug that was offered. ‘And the dogs?’

  Charlotte took a testing sip while looking out at the ten-million-dollar view. ‘Of course – can’t wait. The crew are taking them into quarantine now.’

  Mum had always had dreams of travelling the world when she and Dad retired, but she hated flying. Kyle had had her picked up, with a nurse and the dogs, taken to Southampton, and they’d sailed down here. It didn’t matter if she remembered where or what she saw during the stopovers: what did was that she finally got her wish.

  We both stood there, drinking tea, looking out at nothing in particular, but I knew her mind was racing. She had lots of ideas. Charlotte thought big – on a grander scale even than Parmesh had. She had decided that humans couldn’t go on fighting each other for nothing, rendering millions homeless. She felt there needed to be a single community throughout the world, so why not a one-world government with a single global marketplace, financially regulated by one central bank using one global currency? One set of universal values and a universal legal system. All foreign and domestic policies would be geared to help one another. And the first objective would be a global welfare system. It sounded like a good thing to me – just, like everything, hard work. But, as she kept saying, if it was easy, it wouldn’t be worth doing, would it?

  I leant to one side and gave her a gentle nudge, just enough to spill a little of her tea.

  ‘You know what, m’lady? If you get this world-peace thing right, in a thousand or so years’ time there’ll be statues of you all over the show. Maybe even a book about you that the faithful sit around reading once a week. You know, about how you were the one that showed the world life could be different.’

  Charlotte gave a big smile and raised her mug. ‘Sounds good to me, Parker.’

  And as we touched mugs, there was a gull above us that had a different idea when it came to world order. It squawked and flapped in the clear blue sky, and then a big blast of grey and white bounced off the side of her head and landed on her shoulder.

  ‘Parmesh was listening!’

  We had to put down our mugs fast so we didn’t spill what was left as we laughed harder and longer than we had for the last ten years.

  THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

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  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Bantam Press

  an imprint of Transworld Publishers

  Copyright © Andy McNab 2019

  Cover photographs © Alamy and Shutterstock

  Andy McNab has asserted his right under the Copyright,

  Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Every effort has been made to obtain the necessary permissions with reference to copyright material, both illustrative and quoted. We apologize for any omissions in this respect and will be pleased to make the appropriate acknowledgements in any future edition.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781473543614

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