Andy McNab - Crossfire

'Twenty minutes.'

There was no way we were going to split up now. We had to keep together, and in the open. It was the only way to stay safe.

'Sheriff Street Estate – you know it?'

Dom nodded unenthusiastically. 'Everybody knows it. It's north. I can already smell the burning tyres.'

'Time for another cab, then.'

Five minutes later we were following the route out of town. It was rather nice and clean to start with, but slowly and surely we were getting to the parts the EU subsidies hadn't reached.

The taxi dropped us off at the mini-market and the driver took off like a shot the moment he had his money.

The area was a morass of grimy brown blocks of flats, probably thrown up immediately after the war. They must have seemed like paradise when they were built, but now it was like the Tabard in Bermondsey, a drug-ridden dumping ground.

The Mace store had filthy windows and peeling paint. It was protected by mesh panels and secured with rusty padlocks. According to the poster behind one of the panels, there'd been a drug-related shooting of a schoolgirl there last week and the police were desperate for information.

The burnt-out remains of a Ford Escort stood at the kerb.

Scabby dogs ran along the pavement with scabby kids. Some of them kicked a ball, some just screamed at each other.

Teenagers hung around in threes and fours. They were probably dealing. They looked us up and down like they wanted to know what the fuck we were doing on their turf.

Dom leant against the mesh and tried to make light of it. 'I don't think this'll get much of a look-in on Dublin Let's Go, do you?'

'Dublin Let's Get Fucked, maybe.'

Two women came out of the shop, gobbing away at a million miles an hour. They stopped and stared. Either they didn't know our faces or they didn't like what they saw. They stood there for several seconds, then walked on without a word, their paper bags full of frozen shit in a tray for their tea.

I felt quite at home there. Maybe that was why I'd always got picked to fuck about in places like the Bogside, running round trying to find ASUs and their weapons.

It wasn't long before two older men rounded a corner and came up the road towards us. They wore black leather coats, gold chains round their necks and cupped cigarettes in their hands. They brought them up in unison to take a drag. If synchronized smoking were on the Olympic roster, those boys would have been going for gold.

The closer they got, the harder they looked. They'd lived fucking grim lives and their expressions said they'd be more than happy to share.

The shorter of the two went straight up to Dom. 'You the one looking for something?' It was the voice on the mobile. He sucked at his cigarette, displaying grimy nails and fingers stained yellow.

'No, it's me.' I took a step forward.

'What the fock do you want them for?'

'What do you think?'

The taller one moved in closer, smoke leaking from his nostrils. His hair was greased back and thinning. 'Don't push your luck, son. You focking Brits don't run this place any more, or hadn't you heard?'

I said nothing. I just wanted the weapons.

Little took another drag and looked up at Dom. Then he turned and we followed.

We went past the burnt-out Escort and down an alleyway between two blocks of flats. It was littered with rubbish and graffiti and it looked like we were hemmed in. There were three other guys waiting, younger guys in hoodies and jeans.

Little turned sharply and shoved me against the wall. Dom got the same treatment from Large. The other three waded in and manhandled us through a search.

An old woman snapped her kitchen curtains. She'd have seen this stuff too many times before. I could hear kids screaming and shouting, and the rhythmic kicking of a ball against a wall.

They carried on pushing us along the walkway. Little still led the way; Dom was a step or two behind me, and everybody else followed him.

He was getting a bit chattier. 'I hear this Brit's with British Intelligence and he's got the UDA working for him…'

I nodded. 'You got what I asked for?'

Dom appeared at my side, catapulted forward by one of the hoodies. Little stopped, turned, and jabbed me in the chest. He pushed me up against the wall, eyes burning. 'I'll tell you what else I hear… I hear you're focking SAS.' That was good for another hard poke. 'Friends of mine were murdered by the SAS. Maybe you pulled the trigger…'

It was pointless denying anything. Either way, the guy would do precisely what he wanted.

'Maybe.' I shrugged. 'But right now I'm going to solve a problem for you. It's not like the old days, is it? Gerry says we're one big happy family, these days, and he should know.'

He stopped poking. His skin creased and a smile played across his cheeks. 'You go down to the end of the alley here, and you'll come to some bins. One of them contains what you want. They're wrapped up in black plastic.'

I turned, making sure Dom was with me. Little pulled me back. 'Those weapons have killed twelve focking Brit soldiers between them. Young lads, they were, in their prime. Well, the four I killed were, anyway.'

He kept hold of me a little bit longer, to let me share his enjoyment of the memory.

When we got to the bins, Dom looked back over my shoulder. 'You never said you were SAS.'

'You just asked how I knew the Yes Man. How the fuck do you think I got to work for the Firm in the first place? Now, get stuck into that bin and have a scavenge.'

Herbert Park Wednesday, 14 March 0128 hrs I sat well back from the window. The curtains were open but the house was in darkness, and had been since eleven. There had been virtually no traffic for the last half-hour; most of the neighbourhood was tucked up in bed.

They would come for us soon.

Dom sat at the top of the kitchen stairs, gripping the pole of his taser. It was plugged in, but not yet switched on.

Mine leant against the sofa, also ready to go. We both had twenty metres of play.

'Don't forget, mate.' I kept my voice low. 'Just a two-second burst.'

The third taser was on the landing above us, in case there was a total fuck-up down here and we had to stand our ground upstairs. The two AKs were in Dom and Siobhan's bedroom.

They were our last resort. The Yes Man's guys wouldn't come in guns blazing, and no way did I want to use them inside the house unless the whole thing turned into a gangfuck. We'd wake up the whole street; the police would have the area sealed off within minutes. And that wouldn't get us any closer to Finbar. We wanted to know what was in their heads, but without spraying it all over the walls.

A shiny BMW 5 Series crawled past the house. The couple inside were dressed up for a night out. I wondered what they'd had for dinner. I was on my sixth brew and third packet of Hobnobs since we'd supposedly gone to bed.

They would definitely come tonight. The Yes Man wouldn't risk any more activity from us, any more phone calls or visits – especially since he didn't know exactly what we were up to. He would have to cut it here and now.

There would still have to be some finesse about the lift. I didn't know whether Mr Green and Mr Black could handle that, but I knew the way he'd want it. No gunshots. No noise. Just lift and go.

And I knew the way I wanted it. Whoever came to give us the good news was going to get zapped, then zapped again and again until one of them came up with the goods.

The BMW finally found a parking place and the couple got out. Her body language wasn't encouraging. She wasn't amused with the driver, not one bit. She stormed off towards a house further along the street while the old boy did the business with his key fob. The lights flashed once and he followed subserviently.