Andy McNab - Boy soldier

Trucks lined the dingy road. They had moved quickly into a different world, where cash-only businesses operated and no one ever noticed what was happening around them. There were garage workshops, car radio installers and locked-up arches without any identifying signs. It was dark and damp and threatening.

'Where are we going?' Danny's voice was unnaturally loud as it bounced back off the towering brickwork.

'You'll see when I find it,' replied Fergus quietly.

They continued down the narrow street until they reached an open archway full of wooden pallets. On the wall a hand-painted sign said the owners would pay good money for more of the same.

'Stop counting and remember the number.'

'But what's it for?'

Fergus didn't even glance at him. He pulled Danny behind a rubbish skip full of flattened cardboard boxes and then looked carefully at the archway and up and down the road. He leaned closer to Danny and whispered, 'I'm going in there. If you hear any shouting, or if I don't come out in fifteen minutes, go back to the ERV and do the same drill until we meet up.'

Without waiting for a reply, he put down the sleeping bags and the other kit bought from the camping shop, walked over to the arch and disappeared into the darkness.

The minutes dragged by as Danny waited. He heard the rumble of trains and the occasional blast of a car horn from distant streets, but he kept his eyes fixed on the archway as raindrops dripped steadily from the peak of his baseball cap.

After ten long minutes that felt more like an hour, Fergus emerged from the dark archway. He walked quickly to Danny and picked up his bags. 'Come on.'

They went into the archway. Inside there was a strong stench of wood and grease from the pallets. It was completely dark and reminded Danny of the nightmare experience of being in the tunnel back at the cottage. 'I can't see,' he whispered.

Fergus put a hand on his shoulder. 'Stand still – we'll wait for our night vision to come.'

After a few minutes Danny could make out the shapes of the pallets, the brick walls – even his grandfather's face. He nodded and Fergus began to climb up the pallets; Danny clambered after him.

They reached the top of a high stack with a gap of only two metres between them and the top of the arch. Fergus moved about, checking out his lines of sight and his potential escape route. When he was satisfied they were safe, he sat down next to Danny. 'We're staying here tonight, this is our LUP.'

'Our what? Don't you ever speak normal English?'

'I am – my English, and you'd better start learning it. All you need to know now is that if we really are going to find Meacher, we have to live like this. And there are SOPs you've got to learn and stick to. Like tonight, one of us has to be awake at all times. On stag.'

He saw Danny's confused look. 'On guard. And if we get bumped we leave everything and get out the back way. I'll show you.'

Danny didn't bother asking what 'bumped' meant: he had a pretty good idea. They crawled to the rear of the stack where, many years earlier, a back wall had been added to the archway. There was a hole in the brickwork where at one time there had been a window. 'Stick your head out and look to the right,' said Fergus.

A rusty old ladder was set into the brickwork. It went up to the railway track as well as down to the ground.

'We go down that and bomb burst, you right, me left. Then we RV at Burger King.'

They went back to the front of the pallets so that they could see out to the front of the archway. 'LUP means lay-up point,' said Fergus. 'Always check out the area of a possible LUP first. There could have been a couple of homeless guys in here wanting to get out of the cold and wet.' He nodded towards their entrance point. 'Make sure that from the LUP you can see if anyone is approaching so that you can escape. To do that, you need an escape route, like the one I just showed you.'

There was a lot to take in, but Fergus was far from finished with Danny's lesson in SAS fieldcraft skills. 'Everything you take into the LUP goes out with you. You leave absolutely nothing to show you were there.'

He delved into a heavy-duty carrier bag from the camping shop and handed Danny a brand-new Leatherman knife. 'I never gave you anything before and you ought to have one of these. Look after it. There's an old saying, "You're only as sharp as your knife." It's true.'

'Thanks,' said Danny. He was examining the knife when Fergus threw over a small day sack, followed by a sleeping bag and an empty water bladder. 'Get comfortable, we'll eat soon.'

Danny unravelled the sleeping bag and then held up the water bladder. 'What's this for?'

'Think about it. You'll probably need it before you turn in for the night.'

As Fergus unfolded his own sleeping bag, his grandson worked out the precise purpose of the bladder. And as he did so, he was struck by another thought. 'But what if… what if…?'

Fergus grinned. 'You got the baby wipes and the cling film, didn't you?'

'I got everything on the list.'

'Good. So, like I said, we leave absolutely nothing to show we've been here.' He glanced towards the carrier bags Danny had carried up to their hideaway. 'Shall we eat?'

Danny had suddenly lost his appetite.

But they did eat. As the trains rumbled by overhead, they consumed the contents of the ring-pull cans, followed by chocolate bars. When they finished, Fergus packed the empty cans, wrappings and bottles into a carrier bag as the rain bounced off the tarmac outside. Danny watched as his grandfather checked and then double checked that not a scrap of evidence of their makeshift meal had been left behind.

'I just realized something,' said Danny. 'I don't know what to call you.'

Fergus shrugged. 'It's a bit late for Granddad, and it's not a good idea anyway. Neither is Fergus. Don't call me anything if you can avoid it, but if you have to, stick to Frankie. And I'll call you… Derek.'

'Derek!' said Danny, horrified. 'No way, I'm not being called Derek.'

'You pick something then, beginning with a D. It's easier to remember it that way.'

Danny thought for a few moments. 'Dean. I don't mind Dean.'

'Fair enough, Dean it is.'

'And there's something else,' said Danny.

A train passed overhead, the first for several minutes – the rush hour was long over. Fergus looked out to the front of the archway to check that it was clear before settling down on his sleeping bag. 'Go on, then, ask.'

'If we have to use the ERV again and you're not there, I have to walk by every half hour for three hours, right?'

'That's right.'

'So what if you don't turn up after three hours? What does that mean? And what do I do?'

Fergus nodded. 'It would most probably mean Fincham and his team have got me. If it happens, you don't go to the police, they'd only hand you over to Fincham. You go to the press, one of the tabloids, the Sun or the Mirror. And you tell them everything I've told you and everything that's happened. It'll cause such a stink that Fincham won't dare come after you. Now get some sleep. I'll take first stag.'

Marcie Deveraux parked the battered old Mazda in a line of cars that looked in even worse condition. She switched off the windscreen wipers and looked across the road towards the drab, rundown housing estate. It made a depressing view, but Marcie Deveraux wasn't concerned with that. There was a job to be done and she was dressed and kitted out to do it.

Her designer clothes had been replaced with trainers, jeans and black cotton jacket – cotton rather than nylon because nylon meant noise. Her hair was unusually ruffled, almost scruffy, and fell over her ears. But there was a reason for that too. There were earpieces in both her ears and the tousled hairstyle hid them perfectly. One was connected to the personal radio that kept her in contact with her team. The other was blue tooth and was connected to a mobile she wore on a cord around her neck. That was for Fincham. He wanted to know everything Deveraux was about to learn, as she learned it.