Andy McNab - Dark winter

Suzy began to move up as I dragged some more oxygen through my respirator. She stopped just short of the landing, her back against the right-hand wall as she waited for my cue.

I moved sideways, hugging the wall, weapon up. The light from the window died about a third of the way up the next staircase. I stopped with the window frame against my left shoulder and could see street level as far as the still-closed police station. As a truck rumbled past below, Suzy bent low and moved across my arc to take position by the door. Fuck the window, it just had to be crossed. I joined her, ready to make entry, my thumb checking single shot, my left hand adjusting itself on the barrel, the pad of my trigger finger taking first pressure.

I nodded, and Suzy's hand closed round the handle and gave it a twist. There was the tiniest of squeaks as the door inched open. My eyes saw light, first from the window one side of the ship's bow, then the other. I moved over the threshold, going immediately left, sweeping the room, keeping low, clearing the doorway for Suzy to come through just one pace behind.

Three paces in, I went static, leaning into the weapon. I could see the whole bow of the ship. The floor wasn't subdivided as it had been below; it was just one big open space. There was an old steel desk near the windows, and a couple of upturned plastic chairs. On its side in the middle of the room was a knackered old satellite dish, a solid plastic meshy thing about five feet in diameter. The rest of the place was in similarly shit state. The windows were really getting hammered by the rain here, and it sounded like we were inside a snare drum. The sign for King's Cross station shone at us opaquely from across the street.

I took a couple of deep, noisy breaths and was turning back towards the door when I heard a dull knock above us.

Suzy was rooted to the spot, her head cocked upwards.

I tried not to breathe. Saliva streamed down my chin.

It had come from above us, no doubt about it.

They were up there. The fuckers were up there, directly above us, somewhere on the second floor.

I stood rigid, my head still cocked towards the ceiling.

I closed my eyes to concentrate harder, but the noise didn't come again. All I got was the drumming of the rain, and the odd splash of traffic.

Two or three minutes passed. I was sure the sound had come from my right, over towards the Pentonville side of the ceiling.

Still nothing. Finally I headed for Suzy, lifting my feet carefully to avoid making the same mistake as someone upstairs. Squeezing her shoulder, I gestured towards the right side of the ceiling, then shrugged questioningly. She moved her hand more towards the centre, wiggling it to show she wasn't certain.

But wherever it had come from, we both knew it was definitely human.

We were wasting time: there might be locks up there, obstructions to find a way past or early-warning alarms to defeat. No need to tell her that, she was already moving towards the still open door. I just turned round slowly, butt in the shoulder, thumb checking single shot, and followed on.

I veered to the right of the frame and bent down until I could see about half-way up the stairs. I adjusted my cheek on the steel rod of the butt and flicked my eyes across to the sight. The circle and dot were reassuringly in place. As I moved on to the landing and up the left side of the stairs, Suzy came through behind to cover me.

I stopped every few stairs and paused to listen before taking a few more. The light from below was just about good enough to allow me to make out the second-floor landing. This time it extended left and right.

As my head came level with the top step, I dropped my left hand, weapon up towards the ceiling, safety catch back on to avoid an ND [negligent discharge]. What I wanted now was a good firm position from which to look left and right along the landing. It ran about five or six metres in either direction until blocked at each end by a solid fire door with a big aluminium handle. The creasing rubber of my overboots squeaked gently as I lowered myself on to the stairs and beckoned to Suzy. I didn't know what was on the other side of these doors, but I'd already made a pretty good guess, and I wanted her alongside me before we continued.

Soon she was lying beside me on my right, pointing her thumb left to indicate the way she thought we should be going. I motioned agreement and headed left on to the landing, keeping my weapon up. I didn't want it banging into her or, even worse, the metallic clash of two weapons. Suzy took up position behind me, covering the other entrance and the stairs until called for.

The door was fitted flush against the wall, hinged on the left, with a pressure arm, and would open towards us from the right. I moved closer, the SD back in my shoulder, eyes on rapid blink to try to clear them of sweat before I got my head against the door. To avoid banging the wood with my canister, I used my right ear, just below the handle, at the point where it met the frame. For several seconds, it was like listening to a big shell and hearing nothing but the sea; then, somewhere on the other side, I heard a door creak, and footsteps, coming towards me.

I took two swift paces back and hunched over the weapon, eyes straining, no more blinking. What if two came through together? What if there was only one, but covered by someone behind? It all boiled down to the same thing: if anybody came through the door, I had to go for it. No time to check on Suzy: she'd know the score from my reaction and would be backing me.

The footsteps got closer. I took up first pressure.

The footsteps stopped. I took a breath and stared at the door, ready to drop whoever appeared through my head-up display.

Still nothing.

Then, from just the other side of the door, came a familiar sound. The bastard was pissing into a bucket.

It seemed to go on for ever. Sweat flowed down inside my right glove and dripped off my left eyelid, stinging and blurring my vision.

I took another breath and heard a murmur. It didn't come from whoever was having the piss; it came from further back. The stream slowed and, after a few short squirts, finally stopped.

The footsteps retreated. I released first pressure, and returned to my position against the door, safety on, finger along the trigger guard. I heard a cough, then nothing but the sound of the sea once more.

The bucket was good tactics. Even if the water supply hadn't been cut off, they wouldn't have been flushing toilets.

It was time to get in there. I moved backwards away from the door, until I got my head level with Suzy's. She was leaning into her weapon and covering the other way.

I could hear her sucking air through her canister. I held up my middle and index finger, gave her a thumbs-down, pointed at her face, and then the door handle. She turned and moved towards the target door as I got into a fire position, giving my head a quick shake to try to clear the fucking sweat out of my eyes.

Keeping left, Suzy made a final check with me and slowly pulled open the door. The pressure arm creaked, not much, but it sounded to me like a pistol shot.

The moment there was enough room I slipped slowly through into the darkness, hunched down. There were no windows, just solid walls each side of me. My face was soaking wet, my throat parched as I inched forward, eyes wide, trying to breathe slowly to control noise. I heard the gentle click of the fire door closing under Suzy's supervision, then felt something soft and slippery beneath my boot. They'd done more out here than just piss.

There was mumbling ahead of me, voices maybe ten metres away, perhaps further. I froze. I couldn't see anything apart from the soft glow of the SD sight, even though my eyes were starting to adjust. I leant forward to listen for more.