Andy McNab: Crossfire

Snot dribbled from his nose and formed a small puddle of slime on the floor. He sniffed hard. 'The Brit… I was going to call the Brit…'

'And what was the Brit going to do?'

'He was waiting.'

He couldn't control his breathing. The electricity churning through his heart had interfered with the comms system linking his brain and lungs.

'If you don't come up with some answers, the next zap's going to kill you.'

I got down on my knees and leant forward until our faces were level. I wanted to make sure I was close enough to hear if he started to have a heart attack. 'I bet you never thought this would happen when you signed up, eh? Now where's the boy?'

'Dun… Dundalk.' It was scarcely more than a whisper.

'Dundalk?'

He nodded like a drunk on a pavement.

'And that's where you were going to take us?'

He nodded again.

'What was going to happen there?'

He didn't need to draw pictures. We both knew. He was probably the one who would have done it.

I stood up.

I wanted him to get his breath back. He still had work to do.

I undid his day sack. 'Right, Dom,' I said. 'Let's have a look at this boy's party bag.'

I knew Dundalk well. It was only an hour and a bit up the motorway, and just this side of the border. As a young squaddy in South Armagh's bandit country, I'd often hear PIRA test-firing their homemade mortars down there. It was a sure sign we were going to get zapped within the next couple of days.

Later, when I was in the Regiment, the area still teemed with known PIRA ASU members, until we were told to do something about it. Who knows? Maybe it really was me who'd killed Little's mate. I hoped so.

Dom had all the gear from Mr Green's day sack on the floor. They'd come well prepared. There were foot-long strips of thin rubber to tie us up; gaffer-tape for our mouths; even a couple of black motorbike bags with drawstrings to bung over our heads.

Mr Green had finally managed to control his breathing. I knelt down beside him again. 'I don't want to know, so don't tell me – but if you've got kids and want to see them again, you'll do as you're told. I'm giving you the chance to live, here. You understand?'

He understood.

'In a minute, you're going to give that body of yours a shake and load your mate into the back of the wagon. Then all four of us are driving north. On the way, you're going to do what you're supposed to do and call the Brit. You got a name for him?'

He shook his head. I believed him. The Yes Man was no fool.

'You'll tell him you've lifted us both and you're on your way. Understood?'

'Aye.'

'Which one of you has the keys?'

He jerked his head in the direction of the spiral staircase.

'Here's what's going to happen. You're going to stay exactly where you are until I say to move or you'll get this in your fucking ear.' I looked up. 'Dom, get the keys, bring their wagon round the back, then fetch the weapons and unplug that taser upstairs. Don't want to burn the place down.'

Dom rifled the body on the stairs. The back door opened and closed a moment later.

Mr Green got a bit more confident. 'What do you think you're going to do when we get there? He'll rip your fucking heart out.'

'I'll just have to make sure I rip his out first. How many players has he got there in Dundalk?'

'Fucking loads. Why don't you just let me go? I'll tell you where he is. You can take the car. I don't want any of this shit.'

I touched his head with the forks. He melted into the floor once more.

'How many?'

'Five.'

'Including the Brit?'

'No.'

'Where in Dundalk? Town or outskirts?'

'West. A farm. It's a scrappy now.'

That's better. Keep doing what I say and you'll still be around for breakfast.'

Dom came back and didn't say a word. He ran upstairs and reappeared with the weapons.

Mr Green's eyes widened. He wanted no part of it.

Dom went down the stairs again. I repacked the day sack and slid it on to my back. I grabbed Mr Green's.38 and pulled out the plug of Dom's taser.

'Come on, move your mate. And you'd better dig that phone number out of your head.'

He got to his feet and made for the stairs. I followed.

Mr Black was in shit state. There was a charred hole in his back where the forks were still embedded. The nylon had melted and burnt. There wasn't any blood, though, just shiny exposed muscle.

There didn't seem to be much love lost between the two of them. Mr Green wasn't exactly in mourning as he lifted the body over his shoulder. He headed for the back door and I turned off the lights.

Dom had the Seat waiting just the other side of the gate.

'Dump him in the back. Then lie on the rear seats, on your stomach, hands behind your back.'

I tied the thin rubber straps round his wrists, pulling so tight the skin whitened. Then I sat on his legs and pulled out the mobile.

Dom closed the gate and jumped into the driver's seat.

The exhaust billowed in the cold air.

'All right, mate. North on the M1, first stop Dundalk.'

He turned the lights on and we rolled out towards the main.

I gave Mr Green a clip across the back of the head. 'Right, what's his number?'

As he recited it, I dialled. 'You might be thinking about being clever and warning him, but remember this. When we get there and the shit hits the fan, he's not going to give a fuck about you. If he wants us dead, he'll think nothing of hosing you down as well. That's if I don't do it first. So think very carefully about what you're going to say.'

I lifted my head. 'Dom, give us a good bit of engine noise and a few gear changes once we're on the main.'

We turned left, and Dom obliged. I hit the button and shoved the phone towards Mr Green's mouth.

'It's me. We've got them… We've just left now… No trouble, both of them can still talk… See you there.'

He nodded and I pressed the red button.

I sat back up, still on his legs. 'Now you're going to tell us everything about this scrappy and who's going to be there, and what you would have done if you'd been in the driving seat.'

Dundalk was a big market town whose main claim to fame during the war had been as a safe haven for bad terrorists. Nowadays most people knew it for having spawned the Corrs. As kids they'd probably practised their harmonies in the front room accompanied by the dull crump of PIRA on homemade mortar.

The wet streets were all but deserted. I was fucked. My head bobbed up and down and banged against the window as the street-lights strobed past.

I wasn't the only one. Mr Green had cramp again. I raised my arse a bit so he could fight the spasms, then sat back down on him. With his hands strapped up behind him, about the only other thing he could do was talk.

Half a mile of ruptured old concrete track led towards the farm. He told us he had to make the call immediately before he turned on to it. At the top of the track there was a cattle grid, then a yard full of crushed cars and piles of tyres. As we drove in, we'd see a line of four old artic containers that housed the reclaimed scrap. I stored all these details. If the landscape deviated in the slightest detail, if the track was mud not concrete, if there was a gate instead of a cattle grid, I'd make him very sorry indeed.

Finbar was in the second container along from the right. He was kept tied up most of the time. He slept on a big cushion and had a bucket to piss in. I'd watched Dom's reaction under the street-lights as he listened. He kept the Seat on the road, but he gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles were as white as thermal imaging.

Dom glanced over his shoulder. 'We're nearly out of town.'

'Start looking for somewhere good and dark to pull in, and we'll get ourselves sorted.'