Andy McNab - Payback

She was flashing that same old flirtatious smile as she looked at Fergus. ‘It must be ten years or more. You on your own? I’ll get my bags and sit with you.’

Fergus spoke softly: he wanted this over as quickly as possible. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The name’s Frank.’

Rita stared hard at him for a few moments and then said more quietly, ‘You’re having me on. Aren’t you?’

This time Fergus spoke abruptly, prepared to insult or offend Rita if it meant getting rid of her. ‘Look, I’m really not whoever it is you think I am. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish reading my paper.’

He turned back to the newspaper but could feel Rita’s eyes boring into him for a little longer before she moved on.

Danny had heard it all, but had not looked back to draw even more attention to the brief, embarrassing meeting. But as Rita walked past his seat he heard her mumbling to herself, ‘Don’t care what he’s calling himself now, that’s Watty.’

When they got off the train at Hereford, Danny followed Fergus out of the station. Neither of them spotted Rita again but Danny was well aware of the damage the chance encounter could have caused. ‘What do we do now?’ he asked as soon as he caught up with his grandfather. ‘She knew it was you – I heard her saying so as she went by.’

‘Nothing we can do,’ answered Fergus with a shrug. ‘We just hope she forgets all about it. We have to stick to our aim. The fundamental principle of any action is always to maintain the aim.’

‘What?’ said Danny, feeling as confused as he looked. ‘You’re just baffling me with army talk again.’

‘I mean we do what we came here to do.’

‘And what is that? It’s about time you told me. I don’t suppose it’s for a regimental reunion.’

Fergus smiled. ‘Of a sort. We’re going to see my old mate Kev Newman. He lives here.’

‘Big Kev? The bloke I saw last year at the Victory Club?’

‘That’s him. Until you turned up, Big Kev was my only link with the old world. He’s in danger too now, but he also might just come up with something I’ve not thought of.’

‘Why is he in danger?’

‘Later, Danny – we need to get away from here.’

Danny was suffering the usual frustration of being kept only partially informed. ‘So do we call to tell him we’re on the way?’

Fergus shook his head. ‘I’ve thought of Kev, so someone else could have done the same thing. It’s too risky to call. This is going to be a surprise reunion.’

They were well away when Rita finally emerged from the station toilets with her lipstick freshly applied. She was always particular about her appearance.

She went out of the main entrance, looked around, then sighed with irritation and headed for the taxi rank. With a cigarette in one hand and a mobile in the other, she called a friend and moaned that she’d forgotten to pick her up. ‘Oh, and you’ll never guess who I saw on the train,’ she added once she had finished complaining. ‘Watty. You know, Fergus Watts. You remember him…’

Brecon Road is one of the main drags out of Hereford. Fergus knew it well: it leads to the Brecon Beacons and the Black Mountains in Wales, the area used by the Regiment for selection courses and fitness training. It was also the road where Kev Newman lived, close to the edge of town.

It was after last light. Fergus walked casually along one side of the road; Danny was on the other, holding back by around a hundred and fifty metres and watching for the moment when his grandfather disappeared into the darkness.

Smart detached houses with nice prim gardens and large estate cars in the drive lined the road. Danny had the sports bag slung over one shoulder; he kept his head down as he walked.

As Fergus passed the Wyevale Garden Centre he turned left and melted into the darkness. Danny crossed the road, walked past the garden centre and its car park and fencing and slipped into the same dark area. His grandfather was three metres off the road, waiting beneath a tree. He pointed towards a black mass about ten metres further along the road. Danny could just make it out as a building. ‘That Kev’s house?’

‘No, it’s our OP.’ Fergus started to move, using a line of bushes as cover.

Danny knew the drill without being told. Follow Fergus and do exactly as he does. If he freezes, freeze. If he kneels down, kneel down. If he runs, run, but in a different direction. They had set the ERV for outside the local swimming pool.

They clambered carefully over a crumbling brick wall into an overgrown back garden. The lights from the garden centre broke through the trees just enough to expose the top half of a once grand but now derelict Victorian house.

Instead of heading towards the building, Fergus moved deeper into the garden, taking his time to ensure he made no noise as his feet found the mess of empty cans, plastic bags and ripped bin liners spewing out their rubbish.

He sat down on a pile of fallen bricks and Danny sat next to him, watching and listening for any signs of life from inside the building. They were tuning into the area; despite Danny’s moans and groans over the past few months he had learned to become a team player: together he and his grandfather looked for shadowy signs of movement behind torn curtains, or a burst of light from a window. They listened for muttering voices or a single cough.

Danny reckoned that Fergus was thinking there could be kids inside, using the house as a place to drink or take drugs; or maybe some homeless guy preparing to settle down for the night.

The minutes slipped by. Fergus was always cautious, but he seemed to be watching and waiting for an unusually long time. Eventually he leaned towards Danny and spoke softly. ‘OK, we’re going in. If there’s a drama, it’s back to the ERV. OK?’

‘Why did we wait so long? D’you think maybe there’s someone asleep in there?’

‘No,’ answered his grandfather. ‘There could be Regiment guys in there. Be very careful.’

‘Regi-?’

But Fergus had already started to move, and as Danny followed he was left wondering what possible reason SAS soldiers could have for holing up in a derelict house in their own town.

They edged their way up the garden and reached a smashed window. Out on the road, a couple of trucks bombed out of town towards Wales. Fergus had stopped to listen again, and as the roar of the truck engines died away, Danny could hear the sound of his own breathing.

When Fergus was ready, he climbed in through the window and waited while Danny clambered in after him. They waited for their night vision to kick in and then moved slowly from room to room over floors strewn with rubbish, checking they were the only ones on the ground floor, and then they climbed the stairs to check the bedrooms.

The house was clear. Fergus led Danny back to the main bedroom and pointed through the window to a house across the road, where two cars and a concrete mixer stood in the drive. ‘That’s Kev’s place. I’ll take first stag; you get your head down in the corner. We’ve got a lot to do once there’s enough light to move around properly. I don’t want to use a torch – we’re too close to the road.’

‘But you said Regiment guys might be in here. I don’t understand.’

He could just see his grandfather’s slight smile as he replied. ‘We used to use this place for OP training for Northern Ireland, that’s how I know about it. The locals never had a clue we were watching them. Big Kev always had his eye on the house over the road. It was a bit run down then, but he reckoned it had potential.’

‘And now you reckon Kev’s in danger. But why?’

‘Because he knows I was a K. Not officially, but he knows.’