Andy McNab - Avenger

'Well, don't you go losing any more; you're just perfect as you are. The jacket is generously cut; it's meant to look like that. If you'll just slip back into your own clothes, we'll make the adjustments and have everything round to your hotel by early this afternoon. You'll look wonderful. Is it for a special event?'

Elena nodded. 'Yes.'

She went back into the changing cubicle and was stepping into her jeans when the BlackBerry gave its now familiar beep. OK, Cola, time 2 move again. U need 2 go 2 another drugstore. Ready 4 instructions????

Elena started. So Black Star had to be here, in the store somewhere. Even here, he was watching her. As she emerged from the cubicle, she looked around, but there was no one she recognized.

A few minutes later Danny watched her head towards the store's exit. There had been no sign of the mystery man so he had no alternative but to follow Elena.

Outside, she hailed a cab. Danny shouted down the next cab he saw, got in and ordered the driver to 'Follow that cab!'

'Which one, buddy?' said the driver, turning back to look at him. 'Or you just making like you're in a movie?'

Danny stared out through the windscreen. There were three yellow cabs up ahead of them on the street. Danny pointed at the one he thought Elena was in. 'That one!'

The driver shrugged, shoved the vehicle into gear and pulled away from the kerbside.

Danny had been unlucky. Only a few seconds later Herman Ramirez walked out of the store with his cell phone to his ear.

Fran and Mick's scanners had locked on to the signal coming from the television set in Elena's hotel room. The task now was to find where it was being beamed to.

It couldn't be far, within a block or so at the most. They had to discover where the beamed signal was strongest.

They walked away from the hotel in separate directions, both apparently listening to music on an iPod. In fact they were listening to a congressman from Texas as he attempted to explain the intricacies of a proposed budget deficit. It was all waffle to them both, but all that mattered was keeping his boring voice droning on in their earpieces.

They were walking the footprints of the signal. When it grew weaker, they would turn round, search for the place where it picked up, then walk in another direction until the signal became weaker again.

Gradually they were reducing the search area and getting closer to their target. Closing in on Black Star.

The congressman was booming in their earpieces as they met each other. They were on the ground floor of a multi-storey car park. And whenever they walked away from the car park, the signal became weaker. This was it; he had to be here.

They moved into the ground floor of the concrete structure and, one after another, using the cover of parked vehicles, they checked weapons – the HK Plls that Marcie Deveraux had brought into the country in the diplomatic bag.

The Pll was rarely used; it was a strange, futuristic-looking weapon, which was made in two parts and was battery operated. The chunky five-round barrel unit slotted into the pistol grip section, where the batteries were located.

All five chambers were visible at the front of the barrel unit, but until the moment of firing, each chamber remained tightly sealed. This was because the weapon was designed to be used underwater, where it had an effective range of ten to fifteen metres. It had been invented primarily for use by divers taking out other divers.

Electricity continues to work underwater, and the pistol used an electric current to fire the bullets from the barrels in the same way as a detonator is used to kick off explosives.

The barrel held not only the five rounds but also the charge that fired the round. This was released when the trigger was pulled, sending it to small connectors at the back of the barrel. The electric current detonated the explosive charge behind the round and it was fired. The round itself was dart-shaped, to glide through the water more efficiently.

Out of the water, the P11's range increased to thirty metres, more than enough for Fran and Mick's requirements. And the bonus was that the Pll was virtually silent and the 7.62?36-calibre rounds would have a devastating effect on the target.

Slowly and cautiously they began checking vehicles. They were fortunate: it was mid morning by now and the car park was virtually full, so there was little traffic moving about. Or people.

They were looking for a vehicle that was big enough to conceal someone watching and listening in on Elena's room.

The ground level was clear and so was the first. But on the second floor, as they worked their way along the rows of vehicles, Fran stopped suddenly and drew Mick's attention to a blue van parked thirty metres ahead of them.

Gradually they edged closer, each pulling on two pairs of surgical rubber gloves. They had bought the cheap gloves, which split very easily, from a 'dollar store'. The double layer would ensure that no prints were accidentally left on a vehicle.

Their eyes searched for the tell-tale signs that someone might be hiding inside the vehicle: condensation on the windows at the front, slight movement of the vehicle as someone shifted inside. There was nothing, but they both knew that it didn't mean the van was unoccupied.

As they moved closer and were able to see into the front, they spotted that it was blocked off from the rear of the van; someone could easily be concealed in there.

They reached the vehicle and eased their way along the bodywork to the rear doors. Mick pressed one ear up against the closest door while Fran stood on stag, watching for anyone approaching.

Mick could hear nothing, but he still wasn't sure.

And then the sound of men's laughter startled them both. They moved away just as the doors to the stairwell were flung back and two construction workers, still wearing their yellow hard hats, came bursting through.

The joke must have been good because they kept laughing all the way to the van. One of the workers had keys in his hands. He opened the driver's door and climbed in, and as Fran and Mick moved on to the next level, they heard the van's engine start up and the vehicle pull away.

'Thought we had him there,' said Mick as they climbed the stairs.

'We'll get him soon,' said Fran.

But they found nothing until they reached the top floor. And then, stepping into the open, they spotted something that was surely what they were looking for.

Parked in one corner was a large Winnebago with two small satellite dishes on the roof. One of these was pointing directly towards the hotel and the other was aimed in the opposite direction. All the curtains at the Winnebago's windows were drawn, even the ones dividing the driver's seat from the rear of the vehicle.

Fran and Mick inched closer to the vehicle until, weapons up, they reached the side door. They stopped and listened. There was no sound. Nothing. After a couple of minutes Fran reached into her jacket, took out a Leatherman and pulled the knife from its sheath.

Mick, still with his weapon up, was covering Fran as she gently worked the blade into the gap between the door and the bodywork. Within seconds she had forced the lock.

She flung back the door and stood aside as Mick burst into the wagon and went right. Fran was immediately behind him. She went left and they stood their ground inside the wagon, weapons up, ready to drop anything that moved.

But there was no one inside the vehicle. Instead, Fran and Mick immediately saw a suitcase-sized machine on the Winnebago's dining table. Two sets of wires came from the back and went out through the roof to the two satellite dishes.

'The bastard's using a rebroadcaster,' said Fran as she pulled her mobile phone from her pocket.