Andy McNab - Boy soldier

So just in case, Eddie was being careful. This call was important: better to make it from a public box than use his home phone or mobile. And Eddie had struck lucky – not quite the result he wanted, but he was making definite progress. He was writing quickly. 'Sailing?… No, you wouldn't even get me on a rowing boat in the park… Yes, I've got that, the morning tide… You've been very helpful, Mrs Meacher, thank you… The day after tomorrow, then… Yes, I'll call first… Goodbye.'

He replaced the receiver with a satisfied smile. And then his breakfast arrived. He was chewing slowly on his favourite combination of egg yolk and sausage when the door opened and a young woman walked in. Eddie noticed the cuts and bruises on her face but paid her little more attention. It was a busy cafe, used by all sorts of people, and they usually had a story to tell if anyone was prepared to listen. All the tables were in use, so it was no surprise when Eddie glanced up from his plate a few minutes later and saw the young woman standing there with a mug of tea in one hand.

She smiled. 'You look as though you're enjoying that.'

Eddie swallowed the final mouthful of sausage. 'Always get a good breakfast here.'

'D'you mind if I sit down?'

'Be my guest,' said Eddie, picking up the last slice of bread and butter and commencing the mopping-up operation. It didn't take long, and the young woman was polite enough not to look until it was all over.

Eddie had enjoyed his meal. He was full – replete, as he liked to call it. He picked up his mug and drained the last of the tea. As he put it down he saw that the young woman was looking at him. He smiled. 'You not eating?'

The young woman returned the smile and gently touched her face. 'Bit difficult at the moment.'

'Oh, yeah, sorry, I, er… well, I couldn't help noticing the bruises. Accident, was it?'

'Mmm, I walked into a door.'

Of course you did, thought Eddie. I've heard that one a thousand times. But it was nothing to do with him. If she had an abusive boyfriend – Eddie had already clocked that there was no wedding ring – and chose to let him get away with it, that was up to her.

'Actually,' said the woman softly, 'it was my boyfriend. I dunno why I should protect him.'

Oh no, thought Eddie, a talker. Still, he was in a good mood and in no great rush. If she had something she needed to say, Eddie was prepared to sit and listen. 'You shouldn't stay with him, love. In my line of work I've seen this sort of thing happen too many times.'

'Really? What, are you a social worker or something?'

Eddie smiled. 'Hardly. I'm a reporter.'

The young woman was wide-eyed. 'Honest? Oh, that must be so exciting. D'you do murders and things?'

'Well, I don't actually do them,' said Eddie with a laugh. 'I report them. I report all sorts of things.'

The notebook Eddie had been using was on the table-top and the young woman glanced towards it. 'Do you know, I wondered why you had a notebook with you.'

Eddie picked up the notebook and slipped it into his coat pocket. 'You're very observant,' he said with a smile. 'Make a good reporter yourself.' Forty minutes later the woman was sitting in her car, dialling a number on her mobile. It rang three times.

'Yes?'

'You were right, he's got the missing notebook with him. It's got July '97 – SAS Traitor Watts written on the front.'

'Well done, Fran. Good work. Where is he now?'

'Back at his flat with all the dailies. Looks like he's settled in for a while.'

'And how are the bruises, and the nose?'

'Painful. I can't wait to meet up with our friend Watts again. Did Mick call in?'

'Yes. He'll join you later, once the swelling goes down a bit.'

Fran smiled. 'It's his own fault – should have kept his legs together. How about the governor? Has he got over us losing Watts for a second time?'

'He's not happy, Fran, but this should convince him that last night's CTR wasn't a complete waste of time. Wait out and I'll come back to you.'

She hung up. It was true, George Fincham wasn't happy, and wouldn't be until Fergus Watts had been eliminated.

Marcie Deveraux, on the other hand, was not unhappy with the way the operation was progressing.

'This girlfriend of yours-'

'She's my friend. Can't you just accept that?'

'All right, friend. She was the one who located my phone?'

'Yeah, and it was her idea.'

'Could she do more than that? Like… like listen in on calls?'

'I doubt it. Why?'

'We need information, Danny. If we can find out anything, anything at all, about what Fincham's doing, we can maybe stay one step ahead.'

They were on the way back to the LUP. It had been a long day. After the MSN conversation with Elena they couldn't return to the LUP while people were on site, so Fergus said they should split up for a while. Fincham's team were looking for the two of them. Together. Apart they were less conspicuous. He gave Danny some cash, told him to 'keep his head down and not talk to anyone', and arranged to meet later at the usual RV.

Danny followed his instructions. He wandered around, got himself a pizza at lunch time and saw a film during the afternoon.

Fergus drank a lot of coffee and later did a couple of walk-bys of the archway. There wasn't much activity. The first time he saw a man on a fork-lift shifting a few pallets from one place to another while his workmate leaned against a wall and sipped tea from a mug. The second time, just after four thirty, the two men were getting ready to leave.

There was nothing happening at any of the neighbouring arches, so by five thirty Fergus and Danny were making their way back.

'What about e-mail?' said Danny. 'What if she hacked into Fincham's?'

'Could she do it?'

Danny smiled. 'I bet she'd wouldn't mind having a go.'

Elena began counting her steps as she started to walk down Magnis Street. She was exactly on time. Under one arm she carried a black plastic rubbish sack, tightly secured with strong elastic bands.

Inside the sack was an Ordnance Survey map for the area of Norfolk where Meacher lived. His address and telephone number and even his wife's name were written carefully and clearly on a single sheet of paper. Elena had been out and bought the map earlier in the day. Train and bus timetables for the journey to and around the county had been downloaded from the Internet.

She spotted the rubbish skip and the open archway with the stacked wooden pallets long before she finished the count. But she kept counting. As she came alongside the skip she casually tossed the black bag inside and continued walking, wondering where Fergus and Danny were, and if they had seen her.

Before leaving Foxcroft, Elena had checked a London A-Z and worked out the quickest route back to the station. She took a left. Elena didn't scare easily, but the gloomy and dismal street made her uneasy. It was empty. Deserted. A couple of battered cardboard boxes lay in the middle of the road. A door to one building was wide open but as Elena glanced towards it she could see there was no one inside. That was the problem. There was no one around. It was like the place had been abandoned in a big hurry. Elena just wanted to get back amongst the crowds.

Then, ten metres ahead, someone stepped out of a doorway, head down. He turned towards her. Elena tensed but kept walking, ready to leg it if he made a grab at her. He came closer, walking quickly, head still down. They were less than a couple of metres apart and Elena was about to run when he finally lifted his head.

'All right?'

'Danny! You… you… dork.'

'What's wrong?'

'You had me brickin' it, that's what's wrong!'

Danny didn't see what all the fuss was about. 'Did you leave the stuff?'