Andy McNab - Meltdown

The entry buzzer sounded and Dudley heard one of the minders going to open the door.

He sighed; he was not looking forward to the next few minutes. He glanced down at the newspaper again and his eyes slid across to the array of blownup black and white photographs lying beside it. Photographs of the big Bosnian, the twins – and Fergus Watts.

Dudley had summoned Fergus to an urgent meeting. He didn't give the reasons on the phone; he couldn't. He just told him that there was a 'highly significant development' which needed discussion. When Fergus came in, his eyes were immediately drawn to the photographs on the table.

Without even greeting Dudley, he shouted, 'You had me photographed!'

He picked up one of the photos and almost shoved it into Dudley's face. 'Someone's been covering me without you even telling me! What the hell are you playing at?'

Dudley shook his head. 'Sit down, Mr Watts. Please? And try to stay calm.'

'Calm?' Fergus threw the photo back onto the table. 'I'm meant to be running this operation and you-'

Dudley raised both hands. He looked pained.

'Please take a seat,' he said. 'As I told you – there has been an unexpected development which involves a change of plan.'

Fergus sat at the table and started flicking through the piles of photographs, shaking his head in disgust as he saw the twins and the mysterious Bosnian.

'I assure you that I knew nothing of this until a few hours ago,' said Dudley. 'I did not sanction these photographs.'

'No?' said Fergus. 'Well, who did?'

A door on the far side of the room opened and a woman dressed in a black designer trouser suit strode in.

'I did,' she said.

Fergus stared, totally lost for words.

It was Marcie Deveraux.

Marcie Deveraux looked as cool as ever as she stared down Fergus, almost smiling at the stunned disbelief written all over his face.

Slowly Fergus got to his feet. He looked at Deveraux: she stood there, full of confidence, absolutely assured.

Fergus turned to Dudley. 'You'd better explain yourself. And quickly'

'There's very little to explain,' said Deveraux before Dudley could speak. 'Your drugs bust seriously threatens my own operation. I want you out once you've given me all the information you have on Enver Kubara.'

'Miss Deveraux!' said Dudley, for once raising his voice. He picked up the newspaper and pointed at the headline. 'If it's a question of priority, my operation will come first.'

'But you said-'

'I know what I said.' He threw down the newspaper. 'But the situation has changed and I am authorized to take charge. I am senior to you and I have the backing not only of my own organization but also of the British government and most of the governments of Europe, including the Spanish.'

Deveraux's eyes flashed with anger. 'That is not acceptable!'

'I think you'll find that it is, Miss Deveraux. It's been agreed at the highest level. You are ordered to co-operate.'

There was total silence for a moment. Dudley took a sip of his cold coffee, glaring at Deveraux. 'Sit down.'

She shrugged, then pulled out a chair and took a seat.

'You too,' said Dudley to Fergus.

Fergus sat down and listened closely as Dudley explained what he had learned in the past few hours about the twins' contact, Enver Kubara.

MI6 had long known that the big Bosnian was much more than a drug dealer. He made many millions of dollars from his illicit business and the largest slice of that money went into sponsoring terrorism.

Many groups throughout the world benefited from his handouts, but the biggest payouts were reserved for the Taliban in Afghanistan as they waged war against the British army.

Kubara had a particular hatred of the British which went all the way back to the Bosnian war. The Brits had been in the war zone supposedly as peacekeepers, under the command of the UN and with restricted rules of engagement. It meant they were not allowed to take sides and were powerless to intervene while the ethnic cleansing of innocent civilians went on.

When Kubara's own village was attacked, the Brits were less than half an hour away. He was sure they knew what was happening – it was happening all over the region all the time – but they did nothing to help.

Kubara wanted revenge on them – all of them. They had failed to give the protection that any human being was entitled to expect. They had failed to prevent his wife's death. And now, with the British army deployed in Afghanistan to assist with the restructuring of the country, he was getting his revenge.

The Brits had been dragged into a new war with the Taliban, who were becoming stronger than ever, financed by the sale of the huge quantities of heroin they produced. And Kubara was their perfect customer. Not only did he buy the stuff, he also gave them much of the money he made from its distribution and resale.

Ever since Marcie Deveraux had returned to the Firm, Enver Kubara had been the focus of all her energy. She had been tracking him across Europe for months. Her mission: to eliminate him.

She had come close on several occasions, but her target was a wily and experienced operator. He had spent years in the field, fighting, honing his survival skills. He knew all the tricks, all the evasive tactics, and he was guarded as closely as a president.

Now Deveraux was closer to her target than ever before. She and her team had reacted like lightning to a tip-off that Kubara was in Barcelona for a meeting.

The photographs snapped outside the restaurant were meant to be final confirmation that they had indeed found their man. Deveraux was already planning the hit; it would be made before Kubara left the city. It might be their only chance.

Then she was given the photographs…

Dudley sat back in his chair and looked at Deveraux and then Fergus.

'There is a way through this,' he said. 'It means we will have to work together, combine our resources and our intelligence.'

'No chance,' said Fergus quickly. 'If you seriously think we can-'

'Mr Watts!' said Dudley, raising his voice again. 'I have no wish to treat you and Miss Deveraux like a pair of argumentative school children, so please do not interrupt me. You can have your say when I've finished. You can both have your say when I've finished.'

Fergus took a deep breath and glanced at Deveraux.

'For obvious reasons, none of us would have wanted this situation,' said Dudley, calmly again now. 'But we can make it work. It gives us a better opportunity than ever to achieve all our objectives. But it must be a combined effort, with no one acting purely in their own interests. All objectives must be achieved.'

'That's a stupid idea!' said Fergus tersely. 'Even if we were to agree to it, we know her.' He glared at Deveraux. 'She'll agree to work with us and then do exactly as she pleases, and probably get us killed in the process. Whatever she says now, you've got no guarantee she'll keep her word.'

Deveraux smiled slightly and Fergus sensed that she had been thinking something along the same lines.

But the smile was wiped from her face with Dudley's next words: 'Oh, but I have, Mr Watts.'

She could only listen with visibly mounting frustration as he continued.

'This is my last job; it's also my most important job. Meltdown is a global threat, and must be stopped. This mission cannot be allowed to fail. If Miss Deveraux does anything, anything, to compromise the success of my operation, then I'll make sure that her career is finished. She won't even get to make the tea at the Firm.' He turned and looked Deveraux directly in the eyes. 'Do you understand that… Marcie?'

It was no idle threat. Dudley was famed as the quiet man, unassuming in manner and appearance. But he wielded enormous power throughout the British security services and had huge influence up to the highest levels of government; he'd had the ear of every prime minister for the past thirty years.