Peter Cave - War on the Streets

PETER CAVE

Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by 22 Books/Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1995

Copyright © Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1995

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers 2016

Cover photographs © Alain Le Garsmeur “The Troubles” Archive/Alamy (soldier); Shutterstock.com (textures)

Peter Cave asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008155360

Ebook Edition © December 2015 ISBN: 9780008155377

Version: 2015-11-02

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by 22 Books/Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1995 Copyright © Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1995 Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers 2016 Cover photographs © Alain Le Garsmeur “The Troubles” Archive/Alamy (soldier); Shutterstock.com (textures) Peter Cave asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780008155360 Ebook Edition © December 2015 ISBN: 9780008155377 Version: 2015-11-02

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

OTHER TITLES IN THE SAS OPERATION SERIES

About the Publisher

Lieutenant-Colonel Barney Davies, 22 SAS Training Wing, cruised slowly down the Strand and the Mall, then turned into Horse Guards Road. It was not the first time he had been summoned to a Downing Street conference, and he’d learned a few of the wrinkles over the years. Finding a parking space was the first trick. You had to know where to look.

Finding his objective, he slid the BMW into a parking bay, climbed out and loaded the meter to its maximum. These things had a nasty habit of stretching out for much longer than anticipated. What might start as a preliminary briefing session could well develop into a protracted discussion, or even a full-scale planning operation. Failing to take precautions could prove expensive.

He turned away from the parking meter and, glancing up to where he knew the nearest security video camera was hidden, treated it to a lingering smile. Every little helped. If they knew he was coming it might just cut down the number of security checks he’d have to be stopped for. Picking his way between the buildings, he ducked into the little labyrinth of covered walkways which would bring him to the back of Downing Street and ultimately to the rear security entrance of Number 10.

In fact Davies was stopped only twice, although he suspected he had identified at least two other plain-clothes men, who had allowed him to pass unchallenged. He preferred to assume that this was due to his face having become familiar, rather than security becoming sloppy. There could be no let-up in London’s fight against terrorism.

The final checkpoint, however, was very thorough. Davies waited patiently as the doorman checked his security pass, radioed in his details and paused to await clearance. Finally, he was inside the building and climbing the stairs to Conference Room B.

He pushed open the panelled double doors and stepped into the room, casting his eyes about for any familiar faces. It was always a psychological advantage to re-establish any personal links, however tenuous, Davies had always found. It gave you that little extra clout, should you find yourself out on a limb.

Of the five people already in the room, Davies recognized only two: Michael Wynne-Tilsley, one of the top-echelon parliamentary secretaries, and David Grieves from the ‘green slime’. Davies decided not to bother with Wynne-Tilsley, other than to give him a brief nod. On the single occasion he had had any dealings with the man before, Davies had found him to be a close-lipped, somewhat arrogant little bastard, and far too protective of his job to give out any useful information. He would be better off having a preliminary word with Grieves. The man might be MI6, but he would probably respect Davies’s grade five security clearance enough to give him at least an inkling of what the meeting was about. And forewarned was forearmed. Davies hated going into things blinkered, let alone blind.

He sauntered over to the man, smiling and holding out his hand. ‘David, how are you?’

Grieves accepted the proffered hand a trifle warily. ‘Don’t even ask,’ he warned, though there was the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Davies grinned sheepishly. ‘Come on, David, you’re here and I’m here, so somebody’s got to be thinking of a joint operation.’

Grieves conceded the point with a vague shrug.

Davies pushed his tactical advantage. ‘So where in this benighted little world are we going to get our feet wet now?’ he asked. ‘First guess: central Africa.’

Grieves smiled. ‘Wrong,’ he said curtly. ‘A bit closer to home and that’s all I’m telling you until the Home Secretary opens the briefing.’

It was scant information, but it was enough to tell Davies two things. First, if the Home Secretary rather than the Foreign Secretary was involved, then it was a sure bet that it was a purely internal matter. Second, Grieves’s guardedness suggested that he had been called to another one of those ‘This Meeting Never Happened’ meetings. It was useful information to have. Briefings conducted on a strictly need-to-know basis were invariably the stickiest.

Wisely, Davies decided not to press the military intelligence man any further. He looked around the room, trying to guess at the identities of the other three occupants. The youngest man looked pretty bland and faceless, and Davies took him to be a minor civil servant of some kind. The other two were a different breed. Both in their late forties or early fifties, they had the unmistakable stamp of those used to exercising authority. The senior of the pair was tantalizingly familiar. Davies felt sure that he ought to recognize the man, quite possibly from exposure in the media. But for the moment, it just would not come.