Andy McNab: Payback

The radio was tuned to Five Live, but the football commentator’s voice held no trace of the usual excitement associated with a Premiership match coming direct from Stamford Bridge. His quavering tones betrayed a mixture of bewilderment and fear as he tried to describe to the listeners the horrific scenes he was witnessing. ‘The players from both teams are standing in the centre circle. Hundreds of supporters are pouring onto the pitch – they’re desperately trying to escape the wreckage of the stand away to my right. Police and marshals are in the stand, but-’

He broke off for a moment as another voice was heard shouting, but the words were muffled and unclear amid the panic and confusion. Then the commentator came back. ‘I’m going to have to hand you back to the studio. The police have ordered us to clear the stadium immediately in case there’s a second explosion.’

Danny saw the figure approaching long before he knew exactly who it was, but he soon recognized his grandfather’s distinctive limp. Then, when Fergus was still more than a hundred metres away, he held out both arms on either side of his body. He kept walking, arms outstretched in a crucifix position to make it absolutely clear to Danny that it was him.

When Fergus walked into the copse his eyes quickly took in the day sacks lying ready and the fact that the site had been restored to its original state. He nodded, satisfied that Danny had carried out his orders. ‘Any problems?’

‘No. What about you?’

Fergus reached into a deep inside pocket of the canvas jacket he was wearing and brought out the plastic Tupperware box. ‘No problems – and I brought along the little present they left us.’ He opened the box so that Danny could peer inside. ‘Semtex. And don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe now.’

Danny had been waiting four hours to ask his next question. ‘How did you know it was there? I’ve been trying to work it out – I just don’t see it.’

‘The slats in the garage door,’ said Fergus, carefully looking out from the hide in every direction. ‘When I pull down the door at night I slam it really hard so that the slats close tightly on each other. That’s my tell-tale.’

‘But the door was down to the ground, just like it always is.’

‘No, not like it always is, Danny,’ said Fergus. ‘Our visitors couldn’t make any noise when they were leaving. They couldn’t slam the door down, so there was no way the slats could be tightly closed. I spotted that as soon as I looked at the door, that’s how I knew there was something wrong.’

Danny shook his head. ‘If you hadn’t seen it-’

‘I did, Danny, that’s all that matters. But it means we’re finished here. I stuck around to see if anyone came back when the device didn’t go off.’

‘Did they?’ asked Danny.

His grandfather nodded. ‘Three of them. Did a walk past a couple of hours ago. They didn’t see me but I got a perfect view of them. Our friends the builders.’

‘Paul and Benny?’

Fergus went to one of the day sacks and pushed the box of Semtex inside. ‘I must be losing it – I should have spotted them. They were with the woman who killed Eddie. It means that bastard Fincham’s found us.’

Danny’s heart sank as the prospect of one day returning to Britain seemed further away than ever. And then an even more terrifying thought struck him. ‘What about Elena?’ he almost shouted, expecting his grandfather to come back at him with an earful about concentrating on their own problems. He didn’t.

‘Just because Fincham’s found us, it doesn’t mean that Elena’s in danger. As far as we know, he’s not aware of her involvement. But we should let her know what’s happened, just in case we can’t make contact for a while. You can go online to her as soon as it’s safe.’

Fergus delved into a day sack and took out some tins. ‘First we eat and get some rest. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us.’

Elena didn’t bother thinking up a coded screen name; she was too shocked to find Danny waiting there when she logged onto MSN.

She almost hadn’t bothered. A couple of the other girls at Foxcroft were watching a DVD down in the TV room and she’d been tempted to give MSN a miss for once. But at the last moment she decided that if she missed checking in once, it would be far easier to do it a second and then a third time. It was better to stick to her usual routine, and anyway, the girls were only watching a chick flick – the stories were always the same and she’d catch up quickly enough.

Even so, she was a few minutes late logging on. And there he was. Elena speedily typed in her first message.

E says: (8:04:27 pm) wots rong. wots happend. u ok???????????

D says: (8:04:43 pm) don’t panic, all ok

E says: (8:05:02 pm) but uv never come online like this. somefing must b rong

D says: (8:05:13 pm) its ok. honest, anyway, i wanted to surprise u

E says: (8:05:19 pm) u have!!! but y???

D says: (8:05:26 pm) coz im here!!!!!!!!!!!

E says: (8:05:36 pm) wot du mean here?

D says: (8:05:48 pm) i mean HERE. back. very close 2 u

Elena stared at the screen, hardly able to believe what she was reading.

E says: (8:06:09 pm) ur joking, rite?

D says: (8:06:23 pm) its no joke, im here. couldn’t let u no b4, 2 dangerous. can u get out now and I will tell u all

E says: (8:06:35 pm) course I can. where r u? this is amazing!!!!!!

D says: (8:06:57 pm) about 5 minutes away. meet u in 10. u no the alley two streets behind Foxcroft, one with dead end? meet at end, its quiet. go out back gate an be careful, don’t b seen E says: (8:07:10 pm) i wont. going now. CANT WAIT!!!!!!!!!!!

Elena logged off and powered down her computer. As she got up from her chair and rushed to her wardrobe to get a jacket, she saw herself reflected in the mirror on the back of the door. She was smiling, grinning all over her face.

Marcie Deveraux sat in the driver’s seat of a blue Nissan Almera. The vehicle was parked in the street behind Foxcroft, about thirty metres from the building. She had a clear view of the back gate; she would easily be able to trigger Elena as she headed off for her secret meeting.

In one hand Deveraux held her Xda; in the other was the small hard pen for tapping out messages on the screen. She logged off from MSN. She too was smiling, impressed at her ability to chat online like a teenager. She had been monitoring Danny and Elena’s online chats for months; tonight she had played the role of Danny to perfection. Security Service technical experts had hacked into Danny’s Hotmail account, allowing Deveraux to log onto MSN as Danny. She had logged on early, so that if the real Danny had attempted to contact Elena he would simply have got a message saying there were problems with the server.

Deveraux put the Xda into the glove compartment and then felt for the Sig 9mm semi-automatic secured under her seat. She pulled out the pistol and checked there was a round in the chamber, ready to be fired. It felt comfortable in her hand.

She had her hair pulled back in a tight bun. As she tucked it under her baseball cap she saw Elena emerge from the back gate and walk quickly away. She slipped the pistol into a pocket of her bomber jacket, got out of the vehicle and closed the door with hardly a sound. She pulled the baseball cap down over her eyes and turned to follow Elena.

Deveraux had told Dudley that she was going to bring her mission to an end. Tonight was the beginning of the end.

Stamford Bridge looked like a war zone. Dudley had the collar of his overcoat pulled up around his neck to ward off the evening chill as he checked the signal on the secure mobile he held. Hastily erected arc lights illuminated the immediate area of the explosion – the stadium floodlights had been switched off to frustrate the prying television news helicopters. But as Dudley stepped amongst the shattered remains of plastic seating he looked up and watched a police helicopter swooping low to chase away another heli packed with newsmen and -women.