Andy McNab - Dark winter

There was a bin with no lid, and no rubbish either. Nothing in the yard gave the impression that people lived there. I felt along the edge of the door until my gloved fingers came into contact with a small bolt. I wiggled it gently, and finally opened the door just enough for Suzy to slip through with the bags. She stood against the wall while I closed and bolted it once more.

Water cascaded down next door's wastepipe: Billy must have liked her cooking. Suzy stayed put as I moved slowly to the back of the target. There was enough ambient light from the houses on either side to see what I was up to, but in any event my night vision was kicking in.

The window to the left of the back door was a simple latch job that opened outwards. The frame was old softwood, and its paint was peeling. The problem was it had a Chubb window lock screwed down tight. We would have to smash glass to make entry via the window. The door, to the right, was a DIY-store hardwood special, with just a lever lock and handle. It obviously led into the kitchen; I could see a pair of chrome taps through the glass.

I got the mini Maglite out of my pocket and, holding two fingers over the lens to minimize the light, I shone it through the window. The kitchen looked like it hadn't been touched since Formica ruled the earth.

I moved two paces to the right and got down on my knees so my head was level with the keyhole. It was an ordinary lever lock. I put my ear to it and opened my mouth to listen. I couldn't hear anything inside. The ambient noise still came from the main drag, punctuated by the odd quick burst of TV from the neighbours. I checked inside the lock with the Maglite. It was a four-lever, but there was no key still in it on the inside. That would have made life a lot simpler: all I'd have had to do was turn it with one of the rakes from the pick wallet. I pulled down slowly on the handle in case it was already unlocked. It wasn't. I pushed the bottom corner of the door below the lock and it gave a little. Standing up, I checked the top corner as well, and that did too.

I glanced around the yard for flowerpots, bins or other obvious places to plant a key. There was no point in going to all the trouble of picking the lock if someone had been kind enough to leave us the spare. I reached down and lifted a brick or two, but found nothing.

I could hear a slow, deliberate rustling behind me. Suzy was starting to get into her NBC kit. She had her trousers on and was messing around, trying to get the boots over her trainers. I checked the window again, just in case, but the door seemed the sensible first point of entry.

A car drew up on the other side of the house, and we stepped back into the shadows, waiting for lights to go on. Billy was getting screamed at by Maureen for using all the hot water. Now she couldn't have a soak before they went out, and what was it with him, anyway, having a bath just to go down the pub?

A front door slammed across the street but I waited a couple more minutes before I took off my bomber jacket and pulled my ready bag apart. To cut down on noise, Suzy had unzipped it for me before coming into the yard.

A kettle was being filled in Bathroom Billy's kitchen as, very slowly and deliberately, I pulled on my kit. I'd asked for the older versions of the NBC suits because, although they might be harder to put on than the modern ones, there was a whole lot less Velcro to undo first. There was still a noise, but at least it was reasonably controlled.

I turned and realized something was wrong with Suzy. She bent over, her body suddenly convulsing, and pulled out her SD just before she emptied the contents of her stomach into her ready bag.

By the time I leant across to her it was over. I put a hand on her shoulder. 'It's OK,' I said. 'I do that all the time.'

She finished wiping her mouth and snorted back a couple of lumps that had caught in the back of her nose. She leant close enough to make my eyes water. 'Don't fucking patronize me. That yoghurt must have been off.'

I nodded and started pushing my Caterpillars into my trousers, then pulled them up high round my stomach. So Suzy was human, after all. It wasn't a bad thing to be scared. I'd served with guys who'd shit themselves with fear but still got on with the job.

Stitched to the back of the trousers were two long cotton tapes that acted as braces. I put them over my shoulders and crossed them over my chest, guiding the ends through the loops at the front of the waistband and tying them up.

Suzy had already got her smock on and was nearly ready by the time I put my hands into the bottom of mine and started wrestling it over my head. The rough fabric scratched my face.

Canned laughter spilled from a TV next door. I imagined Billy now had a brew to watch it with, while Maureen got busy with the deodorant. When my head finally emerged, Suzy was a foot or two in front of me, her face a picture of concentration, her eyes fixed intently on the back door as she psyched herself for the task ahead.

I lowered my arse on to the cracked concrete as Maureen got a shout to hurry up or they were going to be late. Her reply from the bedroom was loud and clear: 'Shut the fuck up and turn that bleedin' TV down, will yer?'

I picked up the first of the boots, which looked to me like a kid's Christmas stocking but made of rubber, and pulled it over my left boot, lacing up the tapes from the bottom. Once the second was on I pulled the trousers over them and tightened the Velcro at the ankle.

Billy was at the end of his tether. 'For fuck's sake, that's enough. We're going down the pub, not the bleedin' Monte Carlo casino!'

Suzy picked up her SD and leant over it with her Maglite to check chamber for the last time, then pressed on the sight. I tapped her arm and she leant over and shone her light so I could do the same. As we exchanged a glance in the semi-darkness the kids reappeared along the bank, heading back towards the bridge with their lights still off and their ice-lolly sticks still rattling away.

We only had to make sure our rubber gloves overlapped the cuffs of the smocks, then fix our respirators. I grasped mine in my left hand, and pulled back on the elastic harness with the right to get it over my face. The smell of new rubber filled my nostrils again as I made sure that no hair was in the way of the seal. I checked the canister was tightly twisted on before pulling down my hood and tightening the toggle. Breathing immediately became a tug-of-war; I fought to suck in air through the cylinder, and fought to push it back out. These things certainly weren't designed for lovers of open spaces, and would be a nightmare for anyone with even a touch of claustrophobia.

The noise of the respirator was going to be a major problem tactically: our own sounds would be louder in our ears than those around us. But there was nothing we could do about it. Besides, if DW was the other side of this door, being deafened by my own breathing would hardly be a major concern.

Suzy lifted her head so that I could check her hood was in place, then she checked mine. We were ready to go.

The fire station on the main drag had just had a call. Sirens wailed and blue lights flashed across the wasteground as they sped past the docks, and I could suddenly see Suzy's eyes behind her lenses. They were fixed, unblinking, her attention totally focused.

I sounded like Darth Vader with asthma as I stooped and picked up the SD, checking the safety catch by pushing it all the way to three-round bursts before returning it to safe. I didn't want grit off the ground or anything to catch between the safety and the pistol grip, preventing me taking it off. It didn't happen often, but once was more than enough. Detail matters.

Suzy approached the door very slowly, taking big, careful steps so the unwieldy boots didn't trip her up. The chest pockets of these NBC suits were held down by a Velcro square at each end. She tucked her hand under the flap in the middle to save having to undo it, and pulled out her MOE wallet. There was something about the way she moved that made me feel the domestic four-lever lock wasn't going to put up much of a fight.