Andy McNab: Payback

‘Ray… Ray… There’s a few Rays, but no Sonny.’

‘This is pointless,’ said Danny as he watched Elena working at her laptop. ‘You haven’t got an address and you don’t even know if Sonny is his real name. It’s probably not; it’s probably just a nickname. You know, sun ray, Sonny Ray. His real name could be anything.’

Elena sighed with irritation. ‘I’m not stupid, Danny. Course I know that. But Sonny is all we’ve got.’

That much was true. They knew Joey’s former business partner went by the name of Sonny Ray – it said precisely that on the sign above the unit. And Sonny was married to Joyce, so Elena was doing all she could do to trace Joyce. If she found Joyce, she would find Joey. That was the theory, anyway.

The long night was passing slowly. Danny and Elena were both tired, and tetchy, and worried. Whatever Joey had been up to, he should have returned hours ago, or at least called. He had Elena’s mobile number and had been instructed to use no names if he did get in touch. But Joey just didn’t seem capable of following instructions.

Elena had tried online phone listings and the Yellow Pages, searching for either a Sonny or a Joyce Ray. It was proving to be a fruitless exploit.

‘He could have had an accident in the car,’ said Danny. ‘Might be sitting in a police station now.’

‘Or a hospital,’ said Elena.

Fergus had been listening to their bickering for too long. ‘Look, you two, give it a rest. Wherever he is, we have to assume that our situation here might be compromised. If he doesn’t show up by an hour and a half before first light then we have to get out.’

‘But how can you,’ asked Danny, ‘without Joey to drive us?’

‘I’ll manage,’ said his grandfather firmly. All three of them looked at Fergus’s leg. The dressing was leaking blood and pus, and at that moment it didn’t look as though he could even stand, let alone manage.

‘And then what?’

‘We stick to the plan. I meet up with our friend; give her one of the disks to prove that we know all about the whole operation. She’s in for a bit of a surprise when she hears the deal I’m going to offer her. I want new identities for us all, and Fincham out of the way, like she said. If anything happens to us, at any time, the press gets the document. While she chews that one over, we’ll lie low and wait.’

Danny had listened closely to everything his grandfather said, but Elena’s thoughts were still with Joey. She powered down her laptop and slammed down the top far harder than she would normally have done. ‘If he is in hospital, it’s his own stupid fault,’ she almost shouted. ‘He’s stupid. Stupid!’

Danny was about to say that he knew Elena didn’t mean what she said. But he saw the tears in her eyes. He kept his mouth shut. Elena was hurting.

Fergus knew it too. ‘We should grab a little sleep while we can. You two get your heads down, I’ll take first stag.’

‘No, I will,’ said Elena. ‘I won’t sleep anyway.’

Outside, Marcie Deveraux had paused by the metal shutters just as she heard Elena’s raised voice. They were in there. No doubt now.

Deveraux had left her car outside the square, and out of sight of the window. She was totally confident of her own supreme skill and ability in action. Few people were her equal. Watts was, she knew that. He could not be underestimated, so her approach to the unit had been slow and ultra-cautious.

She kept to the shadows, hugged the walls and moved silently and cautiously. Now that she had all the confirmation required, she used exactly the same method to return to her car. She reached the vehicle and dialled a number on her Xda.

George Fincham was sitting in his car, calmly drinking disgusting service station tea from a polystyrene beaker when his official secure mobile began to ring. He had planned that it would be one of the last things he would dispose of, just in case an official call came through. Even so, he was surprised to hear it ring at this hour of the morning.

He looked at the screen and saw Deveraux’s name appear. He felt his anger begin to rise; only the name Fergus Watts could cause equal fury within him now.

But he sounded calm and assured as he pressed the answer button and spoke softly. ‘Yes, Marcie?’

Deveraux sounded equally calm. ‘I’m sorry to call at this hour, sir. But it’s important.’

‘Go on.’

‘Watts, sir. I know where he is. With the boy and an unknown female around Danny’s age.’

‘I see. And your plan is?’

‘We could finish this together, sir, before first light. There isn’t time to gather the team, and if we leave it they may move and we could lose them again. It could all be over within an hour, sir.’

Fincham hesitated, his mind racing. ‘Do you have a ready bag? I shall need a weapon.’

‘I have everything we need, sir.’

Fincham began pulling off the false beard he was wearing. An hour. It still gave him time, plenty of time. He picked up the pen and one of the taxi company business cards and turned it over. ‘Very well, Marcie, give me an RV. We’ll do it, we’ll clear everything up tonight.’

They decided on the RV and hung up. Deveraux smiled. Clear everything up, Fincham had said. That was exactly what she had begun to do. She had already called in the Firm’s ‘cleaners’ to arrange for Joey’s body to be collected and disposed of; it would be done by now.

There was one further call to make while she waited for Fincham’s arrival. Dudley might not be happy about being woken at this hour of the morning, but he had insisted on being kept fully informed of all developments, at whatever hour.

But Dudley wasn’t sleeping: he instantly answered Deveraux’s call to his secure phone. ‘Be quick, Marcie, and I may have to cut you off – I’m waiting for a call of my own.’

Deveraux was slightly taken aback, but she made her report quickly. ‘First part of the operation completed, sir. Everything else will be within the hour.’

‘Good. Report to me then.’

The line went dead and Deveraux looked at her Xda, puzzled. She had expected more than that; a ‘Well, done’ or even a few questions. Dudley’s own call must have been important.

It was. Dudley was in his office, and his thoughts were focused on a different operation. He’d been waiting for the crucial information he’d been promised. When it came through he immediately got onto the Prime Minister’s private secretary, who knew better than to argue about the PM being disturbed at this hour. He simply asked Dudley to hold while he woke his boss.

The Prime Minister came on the line. ‘Yes, Dudley?’

Dudley wasted no time. ‘The bombings, Prime Minister. We have a lead at last. A significant lead.’

It was like a deadly game of cat and mouse, and both Deveraux and Fincham believed that they were the cat.

The MP5 SD was resting across Deveraux’s lap as she put her foot down hard on the accelerator pedal. Fincham was in the passenger seat, the Sig 9mm pistol from Deveraux’s ready bag in his right hand and the keys to the unit in his left.

They had met and swiftly prepared for the attack in a pitch-dark parking space behind the Renault showroom, less than a minute away from the unit. Deveraux quickly went through the details and Fincham listened in silence, nodding that he understood exactly what his role would be.

He was backup, which was the correct procedure. Deveraux was the skilled and highly trained operative; she was used to killing. Fincham had been desk bound for years and he knew that if he insisted on leading the attack it would arouse his second-in-command’s suspicions.

So he listened and made ready the Sig as Deveraux told him the plan. She would go up the stairs first. The suppressed MP5 would allow her to kill Watts and the two teenagers in virtual silence, so as not to alert any all-night workers in the nearby Parcel Force depot. The last thing they needed was the police turning up in response to an emergency call.