Andy McNab - Meltdown

Danny stowed the camera bag in the rucksack he'd brought with him.

There was another impatient burst on the horn from the lead coach driver.

'Let's go. You're in the second coach with Will. Stick with him. Stay sharp and-'

Danny interrupted: 'Keep to SOPs, I know!'

His grandfather wasn't amused. Danny's grin vanished.

'And Danny…?' Fergus continued.

'Yeah?'

Fergus looked down at the rolled-up circle of plastic on the dashboard. 'What about that? What have I told you?'

Danny reached over and picked it up. He opened it out and smiled. 'Always take out everything you take in.'

The clients were settling in comfortably for the first short leg of the journey, across country from Manchester to the seaport of Hull.

They were mainly late middle-aged or older men in groups of two or three. A few had brought their wives along; Barcelona is famed for its fabulous architecture, its museums, its sights and its shops as well as for its football.

The trips were designed to be a mini-holiday, lasting up to five days, with the football match as the highlight. Before that there was a leisurely cruise across the North Sea, with a gourmet dinner and few hours in the casino, followed by a drive through the most picturesque countryside, another stopover, and then a luxury five-star hotel at their destination.

There was no rush – at least on the way there. The return trip was usually quicker, with the clients given the option of returning by plane. Those who were in no hurry to get back, or who didn't like flying, stuck with the coach.

A few passengers were still at work, checking e-mails or talking on BlackBerrys, but most were taking the opportunity to unwind and relax. Some drank coffee or Earl Grey tea; a few sat back and sipped Taittinger champagne. The whole package was designed to be as flexible and luxurious as possible.

Fergus was at the back of the lead coach in one of the seats reserved for staff. Sitting across the aisle at the far window from Fergus was Albie's replacement on the trip, George, a lank-haired, paunchy twenty-something.

Like most of the twins' hired muscle, he was a man of few words. In fact, he'd said nothing at all since boarding the coach but had spent most of the time with his head buried in the Sun. When that became a little too taxing, he just stared out of the window.

That suited Fergus; he was taking the opportunity to make a study of Storm in action, trying to figure out whether she knew what the twins were really up to.

There was no doubt about it – she was good: she moved around elegantly and charmingly, never in anyone's face but instantly ready with a word here or a brief chat there. Nothing serious – she didn't come over as too intellectually challenging. She refilled cups or glasses without spilling a drop – nothing was too much trouble, and it was always service with a smile.

Teddy was not in the same sparkling form. He was still coming to terms with the news of Albie's demise. Fergus had told the twins as soon as he got back to the yard. The twins reacted with a mixture of relief and horror as he described how Albie had met his death.

The traffic was flowing smoothly and the first part of the journey was going without a hitch. When everyone was settled, Teddy came back and sat down next to Fergus.

He saw Fergus watching Storm. 'She's an absolute treasure,' he told him. 'I don't know what we'd do without her.'

Fergus nodded. 'The people on the other coach are missing out.'

Teddy's face still bore signs of the bruises he had received during his unscheduled encounter with the late Siddie Richards and his associates, but he managed a smile from behind his sunglasses. 'Not for long. We always operate this way. Storm switches from one coach to the other each time we make a stop. It gives the customers something to look forward to and stops them from getting bored.'

'So right now Will's handing out the drinks on the other coach?'

'It's not exactly difficult. We're hardly noticed; Storm's the one they're interested in – the guys at least.'

Fergus glanced over at George, who was having another go at the Sun. His index finger travelled slowly along underneath the words as he read, stopping occasionally as he struggled over one with three syllables.

'What about Mastermind in the corner there? What's his role?'

Teddy spoke quietly. 'We always bring three like him. They have nothing to do with the clients, although officially they're here as security. Their real job is to transfer the Meltdown from the coaches to the vehicles of our European contact. That's the only bit of the operation they're party to.'

'And when do you get to find out where the delivery is to be made?'

'Through a phone call after we arrive,' Teddy told him.

Fergus nodded again. It was all extremely slick and efficient, right down to the last detail – including the performance of the lovely Storm, who flashed him one of her sensational smiles as she noticed him looking in her direction. Fergus had a gut feeling that there was more to Storm than met the eye, but he hadn't worked out what just yet.

He looked across at George as he heard the newspaper slip from his lap onto the floor. George had been defeated by the intellectual challenge of the Sun. His head rested against the tinted window and his mouth gaped open. He was snoring softly.

Fergus thought about the operation again. He now knew how the drugs were distributed, but he still had no clue to where or how they were made. Nor did he know who the twins' contact was.

He turned back to stare at Teddy. He looked terrible.

'You're still worried, Teddy. That's why you've got me here. It's not just the Manchester gangs frightening you and Will, is it?'

Teddy hesitated for a moment. 'Everything grew so quickly, perhaps too quickly. And recently… the attacks on the yard… Siddie Richards… Albie. It feels as though it's all slipping out of control.' He sighed. 'I'm just glad you're here with us.'

The trip was no longer going quite so smoothly, but it was nothing to do with bad organization or planning; it was simply down to the weather.

The wind was howling, rain was lashing down and the North Sea had turned nasty. The ferry was an impressive modern vessel, designed to stay stable in rough seas. But even the latest technology couldn't control the full force of the pitching and rolling as one mountainous wave after another pounded against the superstructure.

The furious sea had meant the clients' gourmet dinner had gone untouched by many of them, and the visit to the onboard casino was cut short when the spinning roulette wheel only increased everyone's feelings of nausea. Teddy, Will and Storm flitted around doing their best to raise everyone's spirits, but they all knew they were fighting a losing battle.

Fergus stayed close to the twins until most of their clients were either asleep or settled in somewhere for the duration of the voyage. Then, before Will and Teddy could retire to the cabin they were sharing, he took them to a quiet corner of the lounge at the back of the ferry.

'If I'm going to do a proper job for you, I need to know more about the situation we're going into.'

Will started to shake his head even before Fergus had finished.

Fergus made it clear that he was irritated. 'Don't be a bloody amateur! You're paying me to do a job, so this is how it goes from here. I'm going to tell you what I need to know then you tell me. You decide what to leave out – it's your choice. You can keep your precious secrets. But when your guts are spilling out on the floor' – he looked at Teddy – 'and I'm not there to save your skin because you're too fuck-witted to tell me something important, just remember that it was your choice.' He got up and started to leave.