Andy McNab - Avenger

Manhattan's grid system means that it's easy to get around. The numbered streets run east to west, starting at 1st Street in Lower Manhattan to way up in the hundreds uptown, with the famous name avenues and Broadway running north to south.

In only two days, and greatly aided by his surveillance stint, Danny had quickly latched onto the system and felt he could now find his way anywhere in Manhattan without getting lost.

But getting lost wasn't the problem. Getting where he wanted to go was.

As he sprinted past shocked-looking guests and porters in the Pennsylvania reception and out through the revolving doors, he could picture his quickest route. He would simply turn to the left and head for Eighth Avenue, where he would turn right for the long run up to Columbus Circle.

It was an easy route, and Danny reckoned he could cover the distance in around twenty minutes. But as soon as he went through the doors he hit trouble.

The road was jam-packed with traffic and the pavements were heaving with New Yorkers and tourists out for a stroll, taking in the sights or window-shopping.

And no one apart from Danny appeared to be in a hurry.

He was dodging and weaving through the crowd and he didn't see the fur-coated middle-aged woman and her jacketed Pekinese until he had tripped over the dog's lead.

The Pekinese yelped, the woman yelled, and Danny went stumbling into a mobile pretzel stall trundling towards him from the opposite direction.

'Hey, buddy, watch it, will yer!' shouted the pretzel seller as Danny struggled to keep his feet.

'Sorry, sorry,' said Danny. The woman glared at him and bent down to comfort her quivering pet.

Danny started off again, until he came to the next junction and the sign with the bright red stationary figure.

He had to stop; other pedestrians were six-deep in front of him, all of them waiting for the signal to begin the cavalry-charge to the other side. Danny tried to edge his way through to the front, but he was still three back when the lights changed and everyone moved together.

It didn't get any better as he turned onto Eighth Avenue. Danny had always been a runner, but he barely managed more than five or six strides at a time before having to skid to a halt or dodge away from an oncoming pedestrian.

He was getting more and more angry and frustrated, and when he was held at another junction, he took the gamble of crossing against the lights. A car horn blared and Danny leaped back, almost into the path of a pedal taxi.

'Jerk!' yelled the rider as he swerved by. 'You got a death wish or something?'

The words just made Danny think of Elena. A death wish: was that what she had now?

Deveraux was pacing up and down in her room. Fergus and Danny were not answering her calls. She had to consider her options and make a decision. Fran and Mick were still too far away from the city to be of any practical use. She thought about calling the New York police or even her opposite numbers in the US Security Services, but swiftly pushed the thought from her head.

Too many problems; too much explanation. She had her promotion – no, her entire future – to think of, and the only way that could be guaranteed was if she ensured the mission was a complete success.

Killing Black Star had been the aim of the mission – at whatever cost – and Deveraux had calculated that the cost could have been one or more of her team.

But now the cost could be numerous innocent victims, and that would be the end of all her plans. Despite Dr Jacobson's and Dudley's warnings, Deveraux had never believed that Elena really would go through with a suicide bombing. Now it seemed she was wrong.

There was only one option: she had to sort this herself. She had to stop Elena from detonating the device. She took the spare Pll pistol grip out of the room safe and pushed home a new barrel.

Fergus was almost ready to give up on his cab and drag himself up to Columbus Circle. The driver had happily headed into a traffic jam soon after Fergus got into the vehicle. When Fergus shouted at him, he eventually found somewhere to turn round and then cruised straight into a fresh snarl-up on the edge of Times Square.

'I don't understand it,' he said to Fergus with a shrug. 'It ain't usually like this. Must be something special going down tonight.' He turned round and gave a toothy grin. 'Maybe Brad Pitt is in town for a premiere. Or Nicole. She's one hot babe, that Nicole, huh?'

Fergus didn't reply, just reached into his jacket pocket for some notes and thrust them at the driver through the opening in the dividing screen. 'I'll walk.'

The driver shrugged again as Fergus threw open the door, got out of the cab and limped away up Broadway.

The Broadway theatres were ablaze with lights and illuminated posters and photographs of the latest smash hit shows.

Fergus saw none of them. He was totally focused on reaching Columbus Circle, ignoring the pain in his leg. It was as though it wasn't there. As he limped on towards his destination, he told himself it was nothing compared to some of the forced marches he had endured over the years.

All he cared about was getting to Elena. And Danny.

Danny saw the laser lights dancing over the Time Warner Center towers long before he reached Columbus Circle.

He was sprinting along Eighth Avenue. He still had to pause and sometimes stop completely at the crossroads, but he took stupid, crazy risks as he dodged pedestrians and vehicles.

He had to reach Elena. That was all that mattered.

He emerged into the sprawl of Columbus Circle, gasping for breath. Chauffeur-driven stretch limos and a variety of expensive, gleaming cars were starting to deposit their passengers for the big event. Dozens of camera flashes added to the light show as smiling guests walked up the red carpet.

Danny ran past them all and into the entrance of the building. There was a sign saying where the Hanover event was taking place, so he ran straight to the elevators.

Two huge guys in tuxedos stood on guard. 'Whoa there, son,' said the taller one as Danny almost skidded to a standstill. 'And where do you think you're going?'

'To… to the Hanover opening,' gasped Danny.

The two musclemen weren't in the mood for a smart guy. 'Invitation only son. No one gets in without an invitation.'

Danny was struggling for breath. 'But… but I've got an invitation,' he said, reaching into a pocket and pulling out the embossed card. 'Look.'

They looked, and then they glanced at each other before the second man spoke. 'And didn't you read what it says on there about the dress code?'

Danny stared down at his trainers, jeans and bomber jacket. It wasn't what was required but he had to say something – anything. 'I didn't have time to change.'

The taller guard took a closer look at the invitation. 'What kinda dress were you planning on wearing tonight, Ms Elena Omolo- whatever?'

For a moment Danny considered attempting to continue with his pathetic bluff, but he knew it was useless. And another thought had come into his mind. 'Did you say that no one can get in without an invitation?'

The big guy nodded. "That's right. No invitation, no go.'

'But my… my friend is meant to be there.' He held up the card. 'The invitation is hers. She left it in the hotel. I was hoping to… to give it to her.'

Both guards visibly relaxed. 'Why didn't you say that in the first place, instead of trying to fool us like you did?'

'I… I dunno. I just want to make sure she gets in.'

'Yeah,' said the guard. 'Look, you leave the invitation with me and I'll make sure she gets it when she turns up. As long as she's got some ID, that is.'

He reached out to take the invitation but Danny was already slipping it back into his pocket. 'No. No, it's all right, thanks. I'll wait for her outside. I need to see her anyway.'