Andy McNab - Dark winter

I dialled the number, picturing the chaos in the rooms adjoining A: phones ringing, people running around with bits of paper, others instructing the military to stand-to, but not explaining why just yet, others still trying to get the official yes or no on their actions-on for bio attack.

My phone rang three times before the source answered. I didn't give him a chance to speak. 'It's me. I'm back. Where do you want it?'

He was trying to sound calm. I heard him take a breath, and made out the voice of a TV announcer. 'Do you have all five?'

'Yes. Do you still have what I want?'

There was another pause. The News 24 theme tune blared in my ear and the newsreader piled straight into the headlines. Not surprisingly, it was all tube-station closures and power failures. 'Things are extremely tense at the moment, aren't they?'

'They know about you – they know what we're doing.'

'Of course. I wasn't expecting otherwise. Go to the usual coffee shop, and call me as soon as you get there. Someone will come to meet you. Do you understand that?'

'Yeah, I got it.'

The phone went dead.

We got out of the box and into the shelter of a small mews. As we dodged the rain in the overhang of a small garage, I opened my bumbag and pulled out the pistol. 'Here, it's Sundance's.'

She opened the chamber to check it wasn't just full of empty cases.

'OK,' I said, 'I'll go and meet Fuck-face's man, you follow me to wherever. Chances are they're not going to release us till they've dumped all this shit around the place.'

Rain flicked off her cap as she nodded. 'That's if they plan to let you go at all.'

I shrugged. There was nothing I could do about that until it happened. 'Give me an hour wherever I land up. If I'm not out by then, or you hear the shit hit the fan any earlier, you come and get Kelly, DW, me – whatever's left.'

Blue flashing lights passed silently along a nearby street. She put the revolver in her bag. 'Right, we'd better get a vehicle, then, hadn't we? You keep dog.'

MOE girl moved away from me and began to check the cars squeezed into the narrow mews. The older the better, that was what she'd be looking for: easier to break into, easier to wire up. She stopped by a battered V-reg Renault 5, and five minutes later we were driving south across Chelsea Bridge. At the far side we turned left, heading east towards Westminster. After Tower Bridge, we'd cross back to the north of the river, skirt the ring of steel around the City, and head for Starbucks.

Smithfield was a hive of activity. Vans and trucks jostled for position alongside the brightly lit market, loading and offloading everything from small boxes of whatever to halves of cow. Men in white coats, hats and wellies milled about, having a fag and rubbing their hands together to stave off the cold.

The clapped-out Renault came to a halt, and so did the windscreen wipers. They hadn't been much help anyway. I jumped into the public phone-box we'd stopped beside, fishing in my pocket for change. I got the Polaroid out of my bumbag again, thumbed a coin into the slot and dialled. It rang several times before he answered.

'Hello?' He sounded as calm as though he was contemplating a walk in the park.

'I'm nearly there.'

'Good. A white van will meet you.'

'I'll be in the alley next to it.'

'Make sure you're facing the road. He'll be there soon.' The phone went dead.

Rain cascaded down the windscreen as I got back into the car. I gave Suzy the pickup point. She listened with a sad smile on her face, then leant closer and kissed me very gently on the cheek. 'This really might be the last time.'

There wasn't a lot I could say back. I returned her smile, then checked my documents and bumbag and climbed out. My wet tracksuit bottoms clung to my thighs as I adjusted the daysack on my back. 'Hope not.' I gave a little wave.

'Me too. Maybe out of work… you know, I come and see you, you come and see me, that sort of thing.' She revved the engine.

'That'd be good. I'd like that.'

She finally found first and drove off to get a trigger on Starbucks, while I set off on foot.

There was hardly anyone around as I walked towards the coffee shop and turned into the alleyway. The whole area was shut down for the night; everything was dark apart from the street-lights that shone weakly through the downpour.

A car splashed past, and a couple of people under umbrellas hurried towards Farringdon station. I didn't know why: you could see it was closed. I didn't see uniforms, but they'd be under shelter somewhere.

A white Transit, as knackered as the Renault, came slowly downhill and stopped opposite me. I squinted through the rain to try to identify the driver. As he lowered his window, I stepped out of the shadows. It was Grey, still on his own, still looking benign, the ultimate smiling assassin. 'Give me the bag, please, and get into the back.'

That wasn't going to happen. If I controlled DW I had a better chance of seeing Kelly. 'No way. It stays with me.'

He smiled as if he was my host for the evening, and pointed to the side door handle.

After two attempts I eventually got the thing open, and the interior light flickered on. I climbed in. The van was the same inside as out, the steel floor rusty, dented and scraped. It smelt like a spice counter. He pulled the door shut, and I got down on my knees in the darkness to keep DW stable. I leant the side of my head against the cab bulkhead and listened to him climb back in. Almost as soon as we started rolling he was gobbing off in Indian or whatever, probably telling the source that everything was all right, he'd got me.

What now? Was I going to get dropped? I'd convinced myself they wouldn't risk it, just in case I'd switched the bottles. Surely they'd want to keep me alive until they knew what they had. I fucking hoped so, but what choice did I have? I just hoped Suzy was out there following.

Less than a minute later the van stopped. The cab door opened, and after a couple of goes so did the side door. The light came on. He'd pulled up alongside a builder's skip, in front of a red-brick wall and boarded-up windows.

I had to get in quick. 'Whatever you've got planned, mate, think about it. What if this stuff isn't real, what if I've swapped-'

Grey's smile told me he didn't give a fuck. I could talk all I liked: it was all the same to him. He threw me a roll of black bin-liners and stepped in next to me, a Sainsbury's cardboard wine carrier in his hand. 'Undress. Please, undress.'

He hit the light switch so it stayed on when he'd closed the side door. I hadn't noticed before how deep-set his eyes were. 'Have you the picture of your child, please?'

It was obvious from his tone that we weren't going anywhere until I complied. I took off the daysack and placed it on the floor, then gave him the Polaroid from the bumbag. I started to get undressed. This was a good thing. He wasn't taking any chances that I might have some kind of surveillance device on me – and now, whatever happened to my kit, the picture and number wouldn't be among it. It meant that only my clothes were heading for the skip – for now, anyway.

He opened the daysack while I got my kit off, and the bottles clinked as he unrolled them gently from my old clothes. He lifted each one up to the light and examined it carefully, then peeled back the corner of the label with a thumbnail, and checked again. If there'd been tell-tales, maybe a scratch on the glass, he would have found them.

I was down to my boxers and socks. It was a cold enough night, and being wet didn't help. He waved at my shivering body. 'Everything, please. Undress.'

I did as I was told and threw them into a bin-liner, along with my bumbag, documents and traser.

'Move back, please.' He motioned for me to get further inside the van, and delved into his pocket. Out came a pair of surgical gloves and a tube of KY jelly. I knew exactly what was coming. I'd had it done to me enough times. Devices have to be small to stay up there, but even so, they can have a few hours' battery life.