Andy McNab - Payback

She logged onto her e-mail and the message they had half expected was waiting.

You do not reply. This is NOT GOOD. Where are they, and where are you? Report IMMEDIATELY!!!

‘Think she’s getting a little bit touchy,’ said Danny.

‘Good.’

Elena hit the reply box and typed in exactly what Fergus had told her to write:

All alive and safe.

She logged off just as the metal shutter rolled up again and Joey appeared holding a selection of cardboard in various shapes and sizes. He pushed down the shutter and picked up the empty paint can.

‘Looks like Fergus wants to make something for Blue Peter,’ said Elena with a smile.

‘Somehow I doubt it,’ said Danny quietly. ‘Let’s go up.’

As they climbed the stairs, the smell of burning wafted down towards them. Elena was first up, and as she glanced over at the sofa she saw Fergus blowing on one smouldering end of her laptop bag.

‘That’s my bag!’ she shouted.

‘Yeah, sorry, but you’ll need this for the CTR. And I’ll buy you a new one if we manage to get out of this alive.’

Fergus had burned a small hole in one end of the laptop bag. He blew on the hole again, and when he was certain it was no longer smouldering, he dropped the bag on the floor.

He was looking pale and drawn and was obviously in agony from stitching up the GSW. But there was still much to be done before he could rest. ‘Sit down, all of you, and I’ll run through the plan for the CTR.’

Elena sat on one of the bentwood chairs and Joey claimed the other, placing the items rescued from the rubbish skips on the floor.

‘Get everything?’ asked Fergus.

‘Everything you asked for.’

Danny perched on one arm of the sofa and stared at his grandfather. His face was almost grey and there were dark shadows beneath both his eyes. ‘You all right?’

Fergus fended off the question with a shrug. ‘Now listen. You’ve got to realize that’s it’s not just the third party you have to worry about when you do the walk past at Northwood. This is a secure location and the security is good – the best – and with these bombings going on they’ll be on a heightened state of alert. If they see anything suspicious, even outside the camp, they’ll come and check it out.’

They listened as Fergus gave them his orders for the CTR. He went through everything twice and then asked if there were any questions.

‘Yeah, one,’ said Danny. ‘The CTR sounds fine, but what about me actually getting into Northwood? How do I do that?’

‘I’m not sure yet,’ answered Fergus. ‘But I’m working on it, and I’ll have a better idea when I see what you come up with after the

CTR.’

The red MoD sign pointed up the road and said simply: NORTHWOOD HEADQUARTERS. Joey pulled the hire car into the kerb, just past the junction.

They all knew the importance of third party awareness from the moment the operation began, so as Danny clambered from the back seat and out onto the pavement he called a cheery ‘Thanks for the lift. Bye.’

Joey and Elena came back with equally casual and natural farewells, and Danny closed the door and waved as the car continued on down the road. With his grandfather’s warning of the tight security surrounding Northwood still fresh in his mind, Danny made a final check of the contents of Elena’s computer bag, which hung from one shoulder, and then went back to the junction to begin the half-mile trek to the start of his CTR.

He walked along the leafy street dotted with large detached houses with long drives and signs bearing names like Chestnut House and The Paddocks. As he strode purposefully along, he reflected that there were a lot of what ifs to consider, ranging from ‘What if I check the camcorder after the walk past and there’s nothing on the screen?’ to ‘What if Joey isn’t there for the pick-up?’

He would tackle those situations if they happened, but for now he had to be prepared for the ‘What if I’m stopped and asked what I’m doing?’ scenario. He ran through his cover story. It should be good enough to satisfy the curiosity of any MoD policeman, and it was the truth, anyway; he was on his way to meet his friend Elena. The only problem would come if he were asked to reveal what was inside the computer bag. Then the game would be up.

The whole country was nervous since the third suicide bombing. Fergus had heard enough in radio reports to know that it was a complication they could have done without. He had insisted that Danny wear no jacket, just a sweatshirt, so that it was perfectly clear that there were no explosives strapped to his body, hidden beneath a bulky coat.

The houses gradually gave way to woodland and Danny knew from his briefing that he had almost reached his destination. He unzipped the computer bag, reached inside to power up the camcorder nestling at the bottom and then zipped up the bag again as he continued walking.

He reached a four-metre-high fence on the other side of the road. Beyond that, a gravel path followed its perimeter, stretching all the way round the Northwood complex. Soon afterwards an MoD police car, two up, slowly cruised by. Danny glimpsed the MP5s strapped across the officers’ chests as the one in the passenger seat gave him the once over. But the vehicle didn’t stop.

Danny made sure the small hole Fergus had burned in the slim laptop bag was facing towards the target to ensure that the camcorder filmed everything he could see. The camcorder had been the most expensive item on Danny and Elena’s shopping list earlier in the day, but Fergus had told them that the video was essential as it would give him the vital information he needed to devise a way of getting Danny inside Northwood.

The bag fit was a simple device, but really effective because of the way a camera lens works. The camera was securely taped into position, with its lens hard up against the hole in the computer bag: this was smaller than the lens itself, but because a lens automatically brings the image into its centre to project it into the camera, it could still function perfectly and yet be completely hidden. It meant that Danny would return with a complete, if jerky, record of his walk past of Northwood.

Soon he was almost opposite the main gate. Behind the trees planted to hide as much of the camp as possible, Danny could just see the buildings. They were all close together, and a mix of old brown brick and modern glass and concrete. One was taller than the others – several storeys high – and had flags flying from it.

Just past the gate, and inside the fence line, was a duck pond. Danny smiled; maybe they were trying to appear more people friendly. But his smile vanished as he saw the guardroom. Outside, on stag, were RAF personnel, dressed in DPM uniforms and armed with SA80 assault rifles. Concrete barriers were placed across the entrance to stop any car bomber from crashing into the camp.

Danny could see the tallest building with the flags a lot more clearly now. And so could the camcorder. He figured that the flags meant it was the hub of Northwood. But as a female guard stepped towards the gate, he suddenly realized he was paying a little too much attention to everything on the far side of the road. Danny could feel her eyes on him, and his heart began to pound: from somewhere behind the tree line dogs started barking and then an RAF dog handler appeared by the gate with what had to be the world’s biggest German Shepherd.

The dog bared its fangs and snarled, and Danny wanted to run. He didn’t, but he was thinking quickly. Ignoring this sudden interest in him by both guards and dog felt wrong, especially as Rover looked desperate to be free of his leash and earn his keep by demonstrating what a bad idea it was for anyone to get so close to his domain.