Andy McNab - Dark winter

Suzy brought the key with her as we started towards the grandstand. That way she knew it wouldn't be found in a wheel arch by accident. There had been no instructions from the Yes Man about the car, but it would need to be collected quickly; it was an untidy loose end.

The glow of the town was off to our left, a floodlit church tower dominating the high ground. I began to hear a faint rattle in the distance, which became the more definable clatter of rotor-blades somewhere in the darkness above us. He was coming in without lights.

I fumbled around and pulled out the mini Maglite, turning the top to switch it on as I hummed the Bridal March. 'Here comes the bride, daa-daa-de-daa.' Suzy looked at me as if I was having a fit. 'It's the only way I can remember Quebec. Get it? "Here comes the bride, daa-daa-de-daa."' I kept mumbling it to myself as I pointed the Maglite into the air, twisting and untwisting the end in time with the beats to transmit the Morse letter Q. Aboard the helicopter they would be seeing the pinprick of white light from below in a field of darkness – and if they didn't, I'd just keep on doing it until they did.

Here comes the bride, daa-daa-de-daa.

The noise in the sky became a throbbing roar, and within seconds I could make out the nose of the heli just fifty feet above and in front of us, coming in low. I pointed the Maglite down to the grass and kept it on as a reference point for the pilot, and to make sure it didn't shine into his eyes. From the aircraft's silhouette, I knew it was a Jet Ranger.

It hovered for a few seconds, the downwash from its rotors battering against us as it wavered left to right before plopping down on its skids about twenty feet away. I turned off the Maglite and there was a sudden solitary flash from the navigation light under the Jet Ranger's belly to give us a fix in case we hadn't seen it. As if.

Suzy ran past me to the aircraft's nose, then round to the opening door. I followed, my bag on my shoulder, automatically bending at the waist. I never knew why people did that because the rotors are always well above head height.

The downdraught buffeted my face and clothes as I followed her round, and the smell of aviation exhaust drenched the air.

My bag was soon being bundled into the back, and I had Suzy's arse in my face as I tried to get in and she tried to organize her own bag behind the seats. We eventually made it and I pulled the door closed, cocooning us in a world of warmth and comparatively little noise. I could smell coffee, but not strongly enough to wipe out Suzy's vomit.

The Jet Ranger lifted from the ground. The pilot, seated directly in front of me, was wearing NVG [night-viewing goggles], like a pair of small binoculars held in place by a head harness, about half an inch in front of his eyes. They were bathed in the green glow from the rear of the goggles as he checked the take-off.

Suzy turned and started shoving the bags further behind us, to create more space, then the roar of the engine drowned everything else. It was pointless talking, which suited me fine.

The guy sitting next to the pilot pushed himself round in his seat until he more or less faced us. He had a headset on, with a boom mike by his mouth. In the low light of the instruments I could see he was a small, smily, friendly overweight thirtysomething with dark, curly hair. He stuck his thumb up by his ear and his forefinger down by his mouth, and shouted at me almost apologetically: 'The phone, please? The phone?' He was wearing a padded check shirt, open over a Lord of the Rings T-shirt that strained across his stomach. I pushed my hand into my jeans pocket and produced the girl's Motorola. Frodo took it with a nod of thanks.

The lights of Fakenham shrank below and behind us as the pilot got busy talking to whoever pilots talk to when flying these things covertly round the UK. Well, not that covertly because they were operated by commercial companies with pilots who liked to moonlight for the Firm. Why go to the expense of buying and running your own when you can hire them by the hour? Apart from anything else, it was a better cover.

Frodo the tech took the SIM card out of the phone and inserted it into a machine on his lap about the size of a reporter's notebook. Within a few seconds words and numbers were scrolling down the display panel in front of him, and he was jabbering into his mouthpiece. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but guessed he was on a radio net that connected him to the Yes Man, or whoever was checking these out. It would be only a matter of minutes before they knew everyone she'd ever talked to or been called by.

I gazed vacantly out of the window, my mind very much in Bromley. My operational concerns were finished for the moment: I had no control over what was happening to me, I was in the hands of the pilot.

What would I do with her if the attack had already taken place? Would it be safer to keep her in England, or risk her moving through a possibly contaminated airport?

I suddenly thought of something I did have control of. I leant forward and tapped the tech on the shoulder. He turned and I mimicked pulling one of his earphones out of the way. He did and leant closer. 'Come on, I can smell it. Where's the brew?'

He spoke into his mouthpiece and the pilot felt around by his feet and produced a large stainless-steel flask. I took off the cup, unscrewed the top, and poured out half a cupful. I offered it to the two in front, but they shook their heads. Maybe they'd just finished one. Suzy took it and had a few sips before offering it back to me. It was black and very sweet, but it hit the spot.

I dug into my jeans and pulled out one very squashed card of pills. I swallowed four with a swig and passed them to Suzy with the cup. I turned away and looked out of my window again at the bright ribbon of the M11 in the distance, and beyond that the lights of Cambridge.

Frodo talked some more into his mike, nodding as he turned to me and took off the headset, gesturing to me to put it on. As the white, cloth-covered cans went over my ears, all I could hear was the gentle thud of the rotors in the background.

Then – 'Are you there?' It was the Yes Man. 'Hello?'

Frodo held my hand and guided me to the rocker switch on the headset lead so I could flick to send. I nodded my thanks. I already knew how to do it, but there was no point offending him. 'Yes, I'm here.'

'Listen in. You're going into Northolt. Roger so far?'

We were on secure comms, so we could talk in clear speech, yet as soon as he got on a radio he thought he was back running the signals department.

'Roger that.' Play the game.

'Yvette will be there with transport. Roger so far?'

'Roger that.'

'OK, well done with the phone. It has been used once, nearly two hours ago. That mobile number is still static in the area of King's Cross station, operating in the triangle formed by Pentonville Road, Gray's Inn Road and King's Cross Bridge. Roger so-'

'We know it, we know the building. Something's wrong here. The source lives only about three hundred away.'

'Roger that, I'll-'

'Get the source to call us once we're on the ground. We might be able to use him. There's something going on here.'

'Agreed, out.'

I passed the headphones back to the tech and turned to Suzy, putting my mouth right into her ear to pass on what the Yes Man had said.

Her face lit up. 'She was probably checking in to say she made it OK.' Suzy was actually getting off on all this stuff.

Sunday 11 May, 00:04 hrs

The glow of London bathed the horizon, and before long the huge towers of Canary Wharf cut into the skyline, their navigation lights strobing through the low cloud.

The clean-up team probably accounted for one or more of the sets of headlamps below us, heading out of the city on their way to King's Lynn. Their job would be to sterilize the place before first light, on the pretext of investigating gas leaks or whatever. They wouldn't have a clue what had happened, and they'd never ask – the body would be taken away, then they'd throw the Immigration boys into a wagon and eventually introduce them to Simon. The chopper pilot and Frodo the tech would join them later. No way would any of them be let loose until this was over.