Andy McNab - Boy soldier

Moyes lived alone. She had checked. And there was no girlfriend. It appeared that there were no friends at all. But anyone unfortunate enough to be inside the flat now would be dropped.

It would be made to look like a burglary gone wrong. Deveraux would take something on the way out and make a run for it. The car would be abandoned and the pre-planned escape route would be utilized. Every contingency had been considered and covered.

Deveraux moved. She was good. Textbook good.

Short, dark corridor first. Slowly. Cautiously past the kitchen to her right. Glimmer of the streetlights down below penetrating the dirty grey net curtains just enough to show the room is clear.

Living room next. Dark. Curtains drawn. The small beam of the mini Maglite illuminating the room as the gentle tapping of the rain hits the window. The Maglite picks out a PC on a tabletop, a TV and a worn-out settee. Room clear.

Single bedroom and bathroom clear. A mess, but clear.

Deveraux went back to the front door and relocked the lever lock with the master key. Then she took out two wooden doorstops and jammed them into the door frame. If Moyes were to slip away from the club unnoticed and return to the flat everything would appear normal until he tried to push open the door. Deveraux would have time to drop Moyes and maybe take his wallet before escaping.

A pair of high heels clicked along the exterior landing. A woman was on her mobile. 'But it's raining. Can't you pick me up?'

The earpieces went back into Deveraux's ears and she got on the net. She spoke softly but clearly; whispering could cause confusion and waste valuable time.

'That's Marcie secure and complete the target.'

Brian came back instantly.

'Roger that, Marcie. No change here. Moyes still complete the club and the car still static.'

Deveraux picked up her bag and, with the Maglite held between her teeth, took out a camcorder. Using its infra-red capability, she filmed her route from the door into the living room. She scanned the whole room, even the carpet, before moving over to the PC. Everything on the tabletop was filmed from different angles, every scrap of paper, the anglepoise lamp and the half-drunk mug of tea to the right of the keyboard.

She put away the camcorder and took out what looked like a Discman. It was a Discman of sorts: a box containing a CD. But instead of earpieces it had a multi-connector that enabled it to link up with any computer. Moyes's computer had USBs. It was switched off, but the box of tricks didn't need the PC powered up to find out what was on its hard disk.

Deveraux connected it to the PC and soon heard the slight hum of the CD disc spinning. The machine would break through any firewall or password Moyes might have on his PC and download his complete hard drive onto the disc. Five small red lights would light up one by one to indicate the progress of the download.

The machine began its work and Deveraux turned her attention to the other items on the desk.

Eddie Moyes wasn't so particular about the way he searched for information. He just got what he wanted in whatever way he could and didn't worry about the consequences. Harry the barman had given away little, but it was enough. He'd confirmed that Meacher was a member of the Victory Club and that was all that Eddie needed.

He knew his way to the office – he'd been there before. It wasn't locked and Eddie slipped quietly inside. The club's officials probably kept the membership records on computer but Eddie was banking on there being hard copies as backup.

And there were. He found them in a filing cabinet, all neatly and alphabetically filed. It couldn't have been easier. Eddie thumbed through to the Ms and removed the file bearing the name Meacher, Richard, Col.

Eddie smiled and took out an old and highly prized notebook. July '97 – SAS Traitor Watts was scrawled on the front cover in Eddie's untidy handwriting. It was the notebook he'd used when covering the original Fergus Watts stories, and inside were the notes he'd made then during the brief telephone conversation with Meacher.

Eddie jotted down the address and telephone number on the back of the notebook and slipped the file back into the cabinet. He was feeling very pleased with himself. And hungry. Everything they said about Chinese meals really was true.

Deveraux was reading old newspaper articles about Fergus Watts, many of them written by Eddie Moyes. But she was learning nothing new. Once each piece of paper was read, she replaced it in exactly the same position.

The disc was still turning, soaking up every piece of information on the old PC. She opened up her mobile and dialled. Fincham answered immediately. 'What have you got?'

'Nothing useful. Just printouts of information we know he got online and old newspaper cuttings. Maybe we'll learn more from the download and-'

Brian burst in on the other earpiece.

'Stand by, stand by. That's Moyes foxtrot from the Victory.'

Deveraux had no time for Fincham now. 'He's on the move. Got to go.' As she powered down the mobile she went on the net to Brian.

'Marcie needs more time. I have only two lights.'

'Roger that. Brian foxtrot.'

Eddie's old blue and rust Sierra was parked a couple of streets away from the club. As he slowly ambled back towards it, Brian was well ahead of him. Jimmy, in his vehicle, took the trigger.

'Jimmy has Moyes. Still foxtrot towards car.'

Brian was already at the car. He took his Leatherman from a pocket, stuck it into the valve of the nearside front tyre and heard the escaping gush of air. The tyre was flat before Moyes turned the corner and Brian stood up and walked away.

In the flat, Deveraux was watching the playback of the tabletop on the camera, and checking that everything was in place. Then she filmed in front of herself as she moved back out to the corridor and into the bedroom.

Brian came onto the net.

'Brian has Moyes approaching his car. He hasn't seen the flat tyre yet.'

Deveraux filmed the bedside cabinet with the Maglite in her mouth. There was nothing of interest on top of the cabinet, just a few petrol receipts and an overdue gas bill.

She opened a cupboard and saw a stack of used reporter's notebooks. She took out the top two and read the titles scrawled on the front covers: Nov '95 – Footballer's shame; March '99 – Used car scam.

'That's Moyes kicking the car, he's found the flat tyre. Now opening boot. How's it going, Marcie?'

'Wait out. I'm in the bedroom.'

The flat tyre had given Marcie valuable time. She carefully removed the notebooks, filmed the covers and replaced them in the correct order before moving on to the wardrobe to check through coat pockets.

That's Moyes now tightening the last nut. Nearly mobile.'

Deveraux wouldn't be rushed, even though she knew she had to be quick.

'Marcie, roger that. Still in the bedroom.'

She reached the bedroom door and made a final check. The carpet was a thick shag pile and she had left a few footprints. She moved back into the room and bent down to smooth them over with a hand.

'Stand by. Stand by. Engine on, that's Moyes mobile towards the main. Marcie acknowledge.'

'Roger that. Marcie's still in the bedroom.'

That's Moyes at the main and indicating right. I need a quick pick-up, Jimmy.'

Deveraux could hear Jimmy's vehicle engine gunning as he came on the net.

'Nearly there.'

Deveraux moved back to the living room and went to the PC as Jimmy calmly relayed what was happening on the follow. He was two vehicles behind Moyes.

'Brian's complete. Jimmy has Moyes. He's gone right at the main. Looks like he's heading home. Marcie acknowledge.'

'Marcie has three lights up.'

'Roger that, Marcie. I reckon he's got another ten minutes to home.'