Andy McNab - Zero hour

The bay was immediately to my right. On the other side of it was the Amsterdam I remembered. Spires were silhouetted in the neon glow. Navigation lights glided up and down the waterway between us as tonight's passengers tucked into a romantic canal-cruise dinner.

'Describe the building for me.'

'It has concrete floors. The door we went in through is on the right-hand side of the building. Inside is a hallway with four doors into offices, two on each side. The first on the right is where the girls are kept. They're in sleeping bags on mattresses.'

'Did you see inside the other three rooms?'

She shook her head. 'We went straight into the first on the right. There is a staircase on the left. I could hear voices coming from the first floor. Dutch voices. I didn't see them. There were definitely two captors, maybe three or four.'

We crossed the canal and found ourselves in another estate – narrow roads and prefab houses, painted white.

'Did they open the main door for you, or did the bald guy have a key?'

'It was locked. He made a call and they unlocked it from the inside. They locked themselves in again when we left.'

'What about the gate? Was it open when you got there?'

'I couldn't tell. The driver got out, but I don't know if it was locked. They might have unlocked it after the call. I just don't know.'

'Anything else?'

She climbed back alongside me and thought for a while. 'It all happened so fast and I didn't want to be obvious. When we met at the cafe, I told him I wanted to see what condition the girls were in. If they were good, we could do business. These guys are greedy, they always are.'

'Well done, mate. Brilliant.'

She laughed. 'But…?' She knew what was coming.

'Anna, you're a nightmare.' I looked at her. 'Don't do that sort of shit again.' I stopped the car. 'You drive back.'

We swapped seats and I checked the BlackBerry footage I'd taken earlier to make sure Anna wasn't visible. The quality was OK – a bit dark, but they'd be able to get a few decent sightings of the face.

Anna followed signs to the A10.

I hit the secure button and waited for the app to do its stuff. I pressed send, then dialled Jules's number. 'I've found a possible.'

He sounded surprised. 'Is she OK?'

'I've uploaded a video for you. He has the possible. I've got three days max before she's being moved on. The lad's got a Lexus, a crimson four-by-four hybrid thing. I don't know if it's his. I don't even know the plate. All I know is that face. Can you find out who he is? The quality ain't great, but the Tefalheads should be able to sort something out. If not, fire them.'

'How difficult will it be to get to her?'

'Hard to tell. The girls are protected.' I repeated Anna's description of the target. 'All I know is, there are twelve of them, and one's a possible. I'm going to get in there and confirm.'

Tresillian jumped in from nowhere. 'Well done, Mr Stone. I'll organize a safe-house and a contact. Call back in two hours. In the meantime, start planning to get in there, find the possible, and if she is our target, get her out. We need this to be done as quickly as you can. Do you understand me?'

'Loud and clear.'

'Stand by.'

He cut us off.

We reached the slip road onto the A10, southbound to Schiphol.

'We'll drop you off at the Radisson and I'll take the car.'

'Drop me off?'

'I've got to go on and do the job. You're not going to come to the safe-house, are you? They can't know you're here. So wait out in the hotel. It'll be safer for both of us. If the shit hits the fan, it means I've got somewhere to go, a safe RV. And if I've got Lilian, it means she's got somewhere to go as well.'

'But can't I drive for you or something like that?'

'No.' I squeezed her hand. 'You have to be on the safe side of the fence. For both of our sakes.'

22.35 hrs Back on the A10 from the airport, I ignored the city centre turnoff. I crossed the North Sea canal. The smoking-chimneys sign warned me to turn off in one K. I downed a couple more Smarties and a swig of Coke.

Anna was pissed off with me. She didn't want to sit in a hotel room until I'd finished the job. But there was no alternative. The less my contact – and therefore Tresillian – knew about what I had up my sleeve, the better. In any case, the job would be done and dusted within a couple of days. Then we could sample some R-and-R, Moscow-style. And find a way of not talking about how long I might have to go.

I'd follow Tresillian's most recent set of instructions, then get back on target tonight. Who knows? I might even have her out of there by first light.

It wasn't long before I was paralleling the market. The place was closed but a lot of the kebab joints and corner shops in the vicinity were still open. Brightly coloured lights glistened in the rain slick that coated the Panda's side windows.

It had been good spending time with Anna. And I wouldn't have got here so quickly if it wasn't for her. But now I had to perform, and when push came to shove, I preferred to work alone. I was in control of just one person. If anything went wrong, I only had one person to blame.

I ignored the first two exits on the small roundabout, including Distelweg, and took the last option. I hit the road that doubled back on itself, eventually turning left onto the street I'd been given. Papaverhoek was narrow, and paved with concrete cobblestones.

Down at the far end, maybe two hundred metres away, sat a baby cargo ship looking like a road-block. I slowed right down. Cars parked both sides. A long blue wooden building with yellow awnings on my right. Blinds – also yellow – closed, but a sign hinting at the pleasures within: 'FilmNoord XXX'. Foyer open, but no customers in sight.

I passed a run of concrete prefab garages with corrugated-asbestos roofs. Some didn't have doors, just the arse of a rusty car sticking out. To my left, and stretching for sixty to seventy metres, was a two-storey office block: brick with white metal windows; precise, uncluttered, well-kept, Germanic. Numbered '1-3', it wasn't the one I wanted.

The next building along was connected to it, with its far end overlooking a patch of wasteground. A large wooden door that might once have been varnished stood to the left of a metal shutter. 'Dickinson (NL)' was stamped on a faded white plastic nameplate.

I parked nose-in to the shutter and left the engine running. The windows above me on the first floor were barred and grimy. There was no movement or light.

I retrieved my day sack from the passenger seat and got out. There was nothing in it I'd particularly need if I had to do a runner: it was just good drills to keep all your gear with you.

I looked for cameras as I walked towards the entrance but couldn't see any. A couple of street-lamps further back towards the main cast an intermittent glow, but that was about it. Nothing much happened down here. The only reason for anyone to venture this way after hours would be to work late for the Germans or stock up on some porn. I wondered if FilmNoord XXX had contributed to Slobo's collection.

My head was clear. I realized I'd forgotten about the pain as soon as Anna had gone missing. I decided to ease back on the Smarties and see if I could start to grip this thing on my own.

The door had three locks. I rang the bell. The intercom crackled alongside it.

'It's Nick.'

'Bradley.' His tone was crisp.

'OK, Bradley. Fifty-five.'

He was silent for a moment. 'Subtract forty-six.'

'OK. Let me in?'

The intercom closed down and an electric motor to my right began to whirr. The shutter groaned and shrieked its way upwards. I went and sat in the Panda while it finished torturing itself.

Only two of the four fluorescent tubes hanging from its ceiling were working but they were enough to show that the Volkswagen Golf to the right of the loading bay was disguised as a compost heap. Its wiper blade had somehow managed to cut an arc through the shit on the rear windscreen but reversing was still going to be a challenge.