Andy McNab - Zero hour

We didn't break step. 'No.'

Walking backwards just ahead of us, he gestured towards the rear of a nearby building. 'Come with me, come down here. I can get you anything. Ice? Ket?'

I shook my head. 'We don't want anything.'

'If you don't want to buy, what are you doing here? You cops?'

Anna was just as sharp with him. 'We don't have money.'

He flexed his fist. 'Yeah, right, and I don't have a dick.'

We kept going.

He slid his right hand into his pocket. 'I'll cut you both. Buy some stuff or fuck off, cop.'

It wasn't a knife he tugged from his pocket, but a radio.

Anna pulled out the picture. 'Have you seen her?'

He didn't even bother looking. 'Fuck you.'

We carried straight on past him. He wasn't going to follow us onto the main. Darkness was where he lived. 'Fuck you, bitches – got no money. Suck my dick and I'll give you a freebie. Hey, everybody, look out – cops.'

We were opposite the entrance to the alley that led back to Prinsessegade. We were going against the flow. People were pouring past the sign that told us we were entering the EU, three or four abreast.

Gandalf was in the corner where we'd left him. It looked as though his glass had been refilled a good few more times. An ashtray was piled with roll-up ends. The one in his mouth had gone out and its ash had taken up residence in his beard.

He looked up blearily to see who had come into the not-so-busy bar and went straight back into waffle mode, as if he'd only finished his last sentence to us a few seconds ago. 'Gangs. Violence. It's the government's fault. We used to sell the best hash in Europe here, right here in Christiania. But then the politi bust the trade. Then the gangs…'

Anna sat down at his table. 'Maybe you could tell us a little more about the gangs. Where are the Russians? Do you know where we can find them?'

I sat beside her as Gandalf continued his rant. His eyes wobbled and bounced like a one-armed-bandit display but never made contact with either of us.

'We are citizens of Denmark. We pay our taxes-'

I thought he was going to end his sentence but he started a new one instead.

'Our music halls and art galleries have contributed to Denmark's culture and commerce. We have a free health clinic. We shelter and look after addicts, alcoholics, even homeless…' He raised a nicotine-stained index finger to make sure we understood the full weight of the next category. '… and madmen. The cops still do nothing but hassle us. But do they do anything to the gangs? No! We are used by them – what can we do?'

Anna pulled out a pack of Camels and offered him one. 'Do you know where the Russians are?' She pulled out Lilian's picture again. 'Where can we find them?'

He refused the cigarette. 'Why do you think I would know? I know nothing.' He was angry or scared, it was hard to work out which.

His fist went down hard on the table; hard enough to make the glass rattle. 'Nothing.'

His head went down again. Tears rolled from his eyes. 'I just cannot take any more…'

We left him to it, and ordered coffees and open salmon sandwiches at the bar. Money upfront, of course.

'I think we're going to get a big fuck-all tonight. She may already be drugged up and fucked up, but we won't find her on the street. Those lads out there on Pusher, they're the low end of the market. They're not catering for the kind of customer who's looking to drop his Armani trousers, and they're not traffickers. We won't get near the Russians via them. We'll just rub them up the wrong way and find ourselves on the receiving end of a pit-bull.'

Anna was waiting to see where this was going. 'So?'

'So, get your mobile out.' I closed my eyes, trying to visualize the international number on Slobo's call register.

'Check the code for Demark. Is it four five?'

Her thumbs clicked away as I got my head in gear. It wasn't exactly instant recall, but it didn't need to be. I tended to remember the shapes of numbers rather than the numbers themselves.

'Yes – plus four five.'

'Slobo had one international number on his mobile. It began with four five.'

'Couldn't Jules have traced it?'

Our brews arrived and I waited for the bartender to put some distance between my mouth and his ears.

'Anna, Jules has given me the all-singing, all-dancing BlackBerry, but it doesn't mean I want to get in touch with him and Tresillian every time I need Directory Enquiries.'

I buttoned my lip as the sandwiches appeared.

'The other thing you should know is that I think Jules is a good guy – but I don't know Tresillian well enough to trust him, so until I find out what this shit is really about, I'd rather tell them both as little as possible.'

I reached for Anna's iPhone as she started to eat and tapped out the number on her keypad until its rhythm felt right in my head.

'This call could fuck up Lilian for good. I don't know for sure what we'll find at the other end. But I do know that we've already rattled a few bars on a few cages – and maybe one in particular.'

'Do it.'

I dialled and waited for the ring tone. It sparked up a few seconds later.

Nothing for three rings.

Anna raised a hand. 'Hang up.'

I did as she asked. I knew she'd have a good reason.

'Now dial again.'

I dialled and she waited until the ring tone sounded in my ear, then pulled the phone away. The nineties Nokia ring tone fired up across the room. This time it woke Gandalf up enough for him to reach into his pocket.

'Hej?'

I closed down. He gave his mobile a shake, had another listen, then shoved it back into his coat.

Then he looked up and saw us both staring at him from the bar, Anna's iPhone still in my hand.

He knew he'd fucked up. He got to his feet and headed for the door.

Anna made to follow but I held her back. 'He won't get far. We don't run. We walk.'

The dim lighting in the street was still effective enough for a quick scan to reveal Gandalf's whereabouts. He might have thought he was doing a Usain Bolt, but his ageing legs and pissed-up brain were letting him down.

He took the corner as we started to push our way through the crowds. It took no time to catch up and push him onto a muddy patch between two barrack blocks.

I pulled him up from the shit by his arms.

'Please, please… Kill me – yes, please kill me. I cannot take any more guilt. They make me do it… Kill me, please. I beg you, end it…'

I shoved him against a rotting wooden panel, which shut him up long enough for Anna to start questioning him.

'Where is she? Where did she go?'

He looked at me, wild-eyed. 'I don't know. They took her. I don't know where she'll be now.'

'Who took her? Who?'

More tears fell. He clasped his hands together in prayer. 'It wasn't supposed to be like this. I just meet the girls, that's all. I meet them and escort them. They make me do it. I have no choice. Please, I can't take any more. Kill me now…' His hands parted and he brought them up to cover his face.

Anna moved in closer. 'Who are they?'

'Russians.'

'Where do you take them?'

'To the green house – the house near Loppen.'

I grabbed Anna's arm. 'I know it. Let's go, fuck him.'

He fell to his knees and grabbed me as I turned. His arms tight around my legs, he sobbed into my jeans. 'All those young girls. The lost, the hiding. They sell them. They fill them with drugs and they sell them.' His shoulders heaved.

I pushed him off me and he fell back into the mud.

'I have nowhere to go. They would throw me out of Christiania. I wanted to tell the politi, but what would they do? I had to do what they told me.' He looked up at me, still pleading. 'Please, please, kill me. I am dead now anyway. I am so tired. Those girls, those poor girls…'