Andy McNab - Brute force

I leant against a tree to do my stretches. The cottage looked even more beautiful in this light, and I asked myself if I'd done the right thing turning down Platinum Bollocks' offer of a set of permanent keys.

Dom had read English Literature at Krakow University, done his national service and sailed into a job on the news desk of a Polish national newspaper. The rest was platinum-plated history. By the time I met him in Basra, he was the star of TVZ-24, a Polish channel with offices in Dublin.

He was tall and annoyingly good-looking, even when a thick layer of desert dust had given him a horror-film face. His Top Gun-style dark brown hair, blindingly white teeth and firm jaw line were featured most weeks next to his wife's equally good looks in Poland's answer to Hello!.

Dom had had another agenda while he was in Basra, I discovered. He was running a private investigation into the heroin trail from Afghanistan. It was a trail that eventually led him to the Yes Man. Pete was murdered as a warning, but Dom was like a dog with a bone. He ended up being bundled onto a rendition flight to Kabul, where I'd tracked him down and rescued him.

So yes, he owed me big-time, but no one knew that more than Dom himself. When I asked if I could borrow their cottage over Christmas, he said that he should really be handing me the deeds. I laughed. Of all the countries in all the world, Ireland would never be the wisest place for me to settle – Good Friday Agreement or no Good Friday Agreement.

It was just after nine. I pictured Tallulah messing around with the coffee grinder and the bacon sizzling in the pan. If it wasn't, I'd get it on the go. I wasn't as useless in the kitchen as I let on. I knew my way around a frying pan as well as a microwave.

I leant forward in a stretch. The rain hadn't cleaned the car quite as well as I'd thought. There was a muddy smudge along the door sill. Finger marks. There was also a depression in the mud beneath it, like the hollow a woodland animal makes when it sleeps.

I turned and walked away. I went in through the front door, and immediately threw the bolts behind me. Then I ran to the back of the house and did the same, and ran round and made sure every window was secure and kept the curtains closed. And then I went upstairs.

How the fuck was I going to explain to the girls their holiday was over before it had even started?

I put my ear to Tallulah's door. I could hear them talking. Either they'd shared a bed or Ruby had crept in during the night or when she woke up.

I called out. 'Room service – any teas or coffees for you ladies?'

'Teas please!' There was a smile in Tallulah's voice. 'And if some toast and honey finds its way onto the saucer as you're passing that would be lovely!'

Ruby giggled. 'Can I help? I'm a waitress!'

'No, no, no – you ladies stay exactly where you are. It's holiday time. Breakfast in bed.'

I ran downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Fuck knows who or what was out there, but if they burst through the door right now all I had to defend us with was Mr Sabatier's finest.

I put the kettle on and threw some bread in the toaster.

I didn't know if there was a device under the car, but I had to assume there was. I hadn't seen a command wire so I didn't know if it was remote-controlled, but again, I couldn't take any chances. The smart money was on a pair of eyes up the hill, watching and waiting – either for all of us to come and get in the car, or, more likely, just me. Why would these two be the target?

The toast popped up and I took butter and milk from the fridge. The priority had to be keeping Tallulah and Ruby safe, preferably without them even knowing what was happening. They'd had enough trauma and distress to last them a lifetime.

I put the toast, butter and honey on a tray, and poured boiling water over a couple of teabags. There were shouts from upstairs. Ruby was enjoying the whole room-service thing.

'Waiter! Where is my breakfast?'

How would I get them out of here?

I was going to stay. I wanted to know what was under Mr Avis's pride and joy.

I piled the teapot, mugs and a little jug of milk on the tray, and then I picked up the phone and dialled a Dublin number.

'Dom. Nick. Listen, mate, can you come and collect the girls this evening? About five?'

Platinum Bollocks was concerned. 'You argued? They not liking it?'

I just said I needed him to get his arse up here to collect the girls, but only after five.

'Just give me two rings on the phone as you approach, and drive round the back of the house. Stay in the car, engine running, and they'll come out and jump in. Don't ask, mate, just do. I'll explain it all later, OK?'

I put down the receiver and picked up the tray. I carried it upstairs and tapped on the door. 'Everybody decent?'

'Enter.'

They were sitting up in bed, all smiles. I put the tray down in front of them with a flourish.

'OK.' I grinned. 'Not only breakfast in bed, but a huge surprise.'

Ruby looked excited. 'What kind of surprise?'

'You sure you're ready for this?'

'I'm sure, I'm sure!'

'OK, we're in Ireland, right?'

'Right.'

'And you know they do things differently in different countries?'

'Yes.'

'Well, guess what happens differently here? In Ireland, today is Christmas Day!'

They both looked at me like I'd gone mad.

'Yeah, it's a fact. Finish your breakfast, take as long as you like. When you come down, it's present time.'

Tallulah stared at me with an arched eyebrow.

I tried to signal back that I'd explain later, and turned for the door before she had time to react.

They didn't appear downstairs for another half hour. Good. Only another six or seven hours of daylight to go.

'Is it really Christmas early here, Nick? Tally says you're joking.'

'Well, she's right; but the thing is, I can't wait any longer. I'm too excited. I want you to open your present.'

Tallulah shot me another disapproving glance.

I shrugged. 'OK, I'd better break it to you guys gently. It's a terrible forecast, so I thought we should have something to keep us busy. It's going to tip with rain any minute, and pour all day.'

Tallulah went to the window and raised her hand to the curtain.

'No, Tallulah, let's leave them closed. Keep it cosy. Anyway, we'll need to be in the dark in a minute.'

She looked at me strangely, but complied.

'Here we go.' I handed Ruby a badly wrapped box about the size of three stacked DVD cases.

She tore it open and she was so ecstatic I thought the ceiling was going to fall in.

Two hours later, Ruby had beaten me to a pulp too many times to count on the Wii tennis court, and every time Tallulah asked me a question about what was going on I somehow fobbed her off. She'd given up in the end and disappeared into the kitchen.

'Lunch is ready.' Her voice floated in from next door.

I looked at Ruby. 'You ready, champ?'

She nodded reluctantly and put down her Wii remote. We followed the smell of food.

'It's not raining, Nick. It doesn't even look like it's going to rain.' It sounded as if Tallulah had had enough. 'Let's get out this afternoon. What about a walk on the beach?'

'Nah, I fancy staying round here. Let's watch some telly.'

I flicked it on. The politicians of Northern Ireland were having a Christmas love fest for the cameras. Richard Isham gave Ian Paisley the full voltage, everlastingly sincere two-handed shake. He was looking fatter and healthier than when I'd bodyguarded him during his informal talks with Downing Street, when he'd decided politics provided a quicker route to power than Semtex had done.

It was never a surprise to me when these guys switched horses. Former terrorists were turning into statesmen everywhere on the planet, and had done since the dawn of time. Menachem Begin slaughtered British soldiers on the streets of Jerusalem and ended up on the red carpet when he arrived at 10 Downing Street as Israel's premier. Nelson Mandela and the ANC were outlaws who went on to run South Africa. Even Hamas is now the voters' friend in the West Bank. At this rate, it won't be long before Osama Bin Laden becomes a Goodwill Ambassador for the UN.