Andy McNab: Payback

Elena was the first. Danny had saved her from the very worst of the explosion. The freezers had crashed into the sofa, which had been shredded by the vicious salvo of shattered glass and brickwork. But the foam padding protected them, as the sofa and they were hurled across the room.

Mercifully they had passed out, and as Elena drifted back to consciousness, she thought the urgent voices she heard were a dream. Then she thought her dad was calling to her. In pitch darkness she heard herself weakly muttering, ‘Dad… Dad… Da-’

And then she passed out again. It may have been for seconds, or minutes. She didn’t know. When she came round for a second time, the crushing weight on top of her had been shifted and a medic was staring down at her. Elena just saw the smile.

‘Dad?’ she whispered again.

‘I’m not your dad,’ said the smiling medic. ‘But I’m glad you’re awake.’

As her eyes slowly cleared, she turned her head and saw Danny lying next to her amongst the rubble. Two more medics were trying to bring him round.

Across the devastated room a limp body was being manoeuvred down what remained of the mangled stairs. And then Elena realized. It was Fergus. They were carrying Fergus’s body down the stairs.

After that everything happened quickly. Elena and Danny were stretchered out to a darkened ambulance and driven away swiftly. They seemed to be on the road for hours and both received medical attention as the vehicle was moving.

Elena was cut and bruised; every part of her body seemed tender. Her hair and eyebrows were singed and there was a painful flash burn to one arm. Her hearing had suffered the most. Her ears were ringing and although she could just hear words directed at her, they were muffled, almost as though she was under water.

Danny had fared worse. There were more cuts, and deeper bruises, and his hearing was in the same under-water-like state. But more worrying was the acute pain in his side. He was finding it difficult to even breathe.

The ambulance had drawn to a halt and the rear doors were opened directly onto a corridor with no windows. It was no ordinary hospital; it felt like a prison. Danny was rushed away on his stretcher for X-rays, while Elena was taken to the room where they both were now.

A nurse, who said nothing while she worked, treated Elena’s cuts and the burn. And then a white-coated doctor came in and gave her a more thorough check. He looked into her eyes and her ears, and when he said he thought there would be no permanent damage, Elena realized that her hearing was slowly returning to normal.

She was left alone; confused, disorientated and afraid. She was convinced now that she was in some sort of prison and that they had only patched up her wounds in preparation for the interrogation that was to follow.

On the other side of the locked door, Elena heard a guard shuffling about in the corridor and the fear increased.

Fergus was dead, her dad had disappeared again; there was only Danny now. She wanted him there with her.

Some time later – Elena couldn’t tell how long – the door was unlocked and opened.

A guard stood in the doorway, wearing a pistol on a belt holster. He stared at Elena and then stepped back. Danny was in a wheelchair being pushed by a nurse.

Once Danny was in the room, the nurse left without a word and the guard pulled the door shut and relocked it.

Danny’s head was bandaged and there was a dressing, identical to that on Elena’s arm, on one of his hands.

They sat side by side in a still-stunned silence for a while, and then Danny said suddenly, ‘Fractured ribs. Doctor said they should mend quickly.’

Elena nodded, waiting for the question she was dreading.

‘But they won’t tell me anything about my granddad. Do you know what happened to him?’

Elena did know, of course she knew, but she couldn’t say it. Not then. But she didn’t want to lie to Danny. ‘No one’s told me anything.’

She looked away, pretending to examine the hardened, protective plastic coating which had been sprayed on the burns on her arm. ‘Maybe they’ll tell us. Soon.’ She wanted to change the subject. ‘How did you know what to do?’

‘My granddad; he was signalling “Cover” in Morse code. I knew he meant us to get behind the sofa.’

They fell back into silence, both of them reliving the horrific moments up to the explosion.

There were footsteps in the corridor and the door was unlocked. Marcie Deveraux entered the room, with the guard following. She was wearing a neck brace and walked stiffly. At the moment of the explosion she had been flung back against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. Her black hair was singed and her eyebrows had disappeared. There were cuts around her eyes and her bottom lip was swollen.

‘It’s over,’ she said when she saw the fear in Danny and Elena’s eyes. ‘You have no need to be afraid.’

‘My granddad?’ said Danny quickly. ‘Where is he?’

Deveraux paused for a moment. ‘Here.’

‘Is he…? Is he all right?’

‘You’ll see him soon.’

Elena knew the answer to the question Deveraux had neatly avoided, but all she could do was wait until Danny learned the truth and then be there to help him. But she had a question of her own. ‘My dad? Have you found him?’

Deveraux replied without a flicker of emotion, ‘Probably lying low somewhere.’ She went to Danny’s wheelchair, eased off the brake and then looked at Elena. ‘We have questions for you both. Can you walk? I can send for another wheelchair.’

‘I don’t need your help,’ said Elena, struggling to her feet. ‘I’ll walk.’

Deveraux shrugged and pushed Danny to the door. A jet aircraft engine screamed overhead, and as they moved down a long corridor with no windows and only fluorescent lighting overhead, the guard followed behind them.

The building seemed to be laid out in a square. At the end of the corridor they turned to the left and continued until they came to a closed office door, where Deveraux knocked once. She turned to the guard. ‘That will be all. Thank you.’

The guard nodded, and as Deveraux opened the door, he turned and walked away.

They could see inside the surprisingly large room. To the right a man was sitting behind a desk, and on top of the desk was Elena’s battered laptop. It was open.

The man smiled. ‘Come in, please.’

Deveraux nodded for Elena to go into the room and she walked through, her eyes fixed on the laptop.

‘I’m afraid we’re going to have to provide you with a new one,’ said the man. ‘My name is Dudley. I hope we are going to be friends.’

‘Friends!’ said Danny angrily as Deveraux wheeled him through the doorway. ‘After what you’ve done to us? And my granddad!’

‘Yes,’ said Dudley with a sigh. ‘It has all been rather… unfortunate. But-’

‘I want to see him! Where is he!’

‘I’m here, Danny,’ said a voice from behind them.

Danny looked back. The far end of the room had been hidden from view as they passed through the open door. Fergus was lying, half raised up, in a hospital bed.

‘Granddad!’ said Danny, pushing himself up from the wheelchair. He’d never called him Granddad before – not to his face; he’d never been able to do that. But now the word burst out at the joy of seeing Fergus alive.

He was alive. In a mess, but alive. His head was bandaged; so were both his hands, and next to the hospital bed there was a stand with blood and plasma bottles. Tubes ran into Fergus’s left arm.

Danny struggled to operate the wheelchair and Elena grabbed the handles and pushed it across the room so that he could sit at the bedside. ‘I thought… I thought…’

‘Yeah, me too,’ said Fergus weakly. ‘The cooker saved me – they built those old ones to last.’