Payback Read online

  Fergus stared at his grandson and then shook his head. ‘Work something out.’

  The wheels screeched on tarmac and the aircraft bounced along the runway. Fergus checked the Semtex he had shoved down his sweatshirt. He had kept only the plastic-like high explosive and the detonator, its two wires tightly twisted together. Left free, the wires could act like an antenna, pick up radio frequencies and set off the detonator. Fergus was ensuring that the det and the HE were kept well apart at all times.

  Headlights flashed in the distance and the pilot turned the aircraft away from the A40 and towards the lights. He kept the aircraft moving quickly; too fast for his passengers to attempt to jump out and make a run for it.

  As they neared the vehicle, two figures could be seen silhouetted in the headlights.

  Danny gripped his grandfather’s arms. ‘They’re carrying.’

  Fergus had already spotted the Heckler and Koch MP5s – small 9mm machine guns: a weapon he had used himself in the Regiment. He knew that one option was already closed to them. No one outruns a Heckler and Koch.

  He looked at Danny. ‘Forget what I said about making a run for it. You wouldn’t get more than twenty metres.’

  The aircraft came to a standstill but the pilot kept the engine running as one of the men came towards the cockpit door. With his shaven head and most of his left ear missing, he looked almost as menacing as the machine gun he was carrying. He kept the MP5 pointed at Danny and Fergus as they climbed out of the aircraft. The second man was standing midway between the aircraft and the vehicle, a Chrysler Voyager.

  One Ear nodded towards the wagon, and the aircraft turned back to the runway. After the long flight in the cramped aircraft, Danny and Fergus walked slowly and unsteadily to the vehicle. As they approached, the side door slid back and Danny stooped to get in.

  He stopped as he saw who was waiting inside. ‘Elena!’

  George Fincham had a lot on his mind. As a high-ranking IB, he was rarely asked to explain his actions by a superior officer; when it did happen, it wasn’t pleasant.

  It had happened that day, and in a way it was hardly surprising. The teenage suicide bombers had thrown government, police and all the Security Services into a state of high alert. Manpower was at a premium and Fincham had been called in to explain why four of his most experienced operatives were apparently running around Spain ‘like headless chickens’.

  Fincham had no alternative but to admit that they were following up a lead regarding the wanted ex-SAS traitor, Fergus Watts. He knew he was on shaky ground: the recapture of traitors did not come into his remit and he had good reasons for not disclosing his personal interest in Fergus Watts.

  He argued that he had acted swiftly and on his own initiative, but it didn’t wash, particularly after he admitted that Watts had evaded his team and was believed to be ‘somewhere in Spain’. Fincham was ordered, in no uncertain terms, to get the team back to the UK immediately.

  He left his boss’s office with the words ‘In future, just forget about showing initiative and stick to your own job’ ringing in his ears.

  Fincham was back in his own office, using his mobile to call Fran in Spain. ‘I am well aware of what I told you yesterday. There’s been a change of plan – that’s all you need to know. I want you and the others back here tomorrow. Be on the first plane!’

  In the safe house in Pimlico, the night shift had taken over, but the two fresh operators were just as efficient at monitoring and recording every word that Fincham had spoken.

  ‘Marcie’s not gonna like this,’ said one as he removed his headphones and switched off the recording gear. ‘She wanted them out of the way.’

  ‘No bother,’ said his partner. ‘Deveraux’s got it all worked out. And she’s no lady to mess with.’

  There was no touching reunion for Danny and Elena.

  Marcie Deveraux was sitting next to Elena with her back to the driver’s seat. She glared at Danny and told him to ‘Shut up and get in the car.’

  He did, and Fergus followed. One Ear got behind the wheel and the second man took the front passenger seat.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Deveraux to One Ear. The vehicle slowly moved off, headlights cutting through the darkness.

  She turned on the interior light and fixed her eyes on Fergus. ‘Firstly you need to know that I brought Cinderella here along for two reasons.’

  Danny expected Elena to snap back with some remark about not being called Cinderella, but she said nothing. She was obviously scared and had been warned to keep her mouth shut.

  ‘Reason one is to show you that she is still alive,’ continued Deveraux. ‘Reason two is to remind you that she is only alive because I am allowing it. At the moment. Got that?’

  Fergus nodded.

  ‘Good. Now listen—’

  ‘Where you taking us?’ said Danny, unable to stop himself from jumping in.

  Deveraux ignored him and kept looking at Fergus. ‘Haven’t you taught him that he should only speak when he’s spoken to?’

  ‘Shut it, Danny,’ said Fergus without looking at his grandson.

  ‘Whether or not the three of you live or die is of no concern to me,’ said Deveraux coldly. ‘If you help me, you have a chance; it’s as simple as that. But it has to be fast. I’ve saved you from Fincham twice; we’re unlikely to be as fortunate a third time. Agreed?’

  Fergus nodded again. He preferred it this way; Deveraux was stating the fact: cold, hard and straight.

  She took a thick brown envelope out of her handbag. ‘I know all about your true role as a K in Colombia, and about Fincham’s activities. I aim to expose him for what he is, and you can help me do that. After all, we want the same thing: Fincham where he belongs.’

  The vehicle was nearing a gate. Armed MoD policemen waved them through and One Ear eased past the gate and then drew to a halt as he waited to slip into the flow of traffic.

  ‘It’s time for you to stop running, Watts,’ said Deveraux.

  Fergus smiled. ‘I said that myself only last night.’

  ‘Then get your revenge on Fincham. It’s payback time. Give me the names of anyone else who can confirm that you were operating as a K so that I can build my case against Fincham. I need hard proof. Fincham is a clever man – he’s covered his tracks well.’

  ‘And then what, if you do nail Fincham?’

  Deveraux paused as the Voyager slipped into the traffic, heading towards the A40. ‘Then you can start again, a free man. Danny gets his army bursary for university and then officer training at Sandhurst; as for Elena, I’ve already had her father freed from prison.’

  Danny looked at Elena and she nodded.

  ‘Something for everyone, you see,’ said Deveraux.

  ‘And what about you?’ asked Fergus. ‘What do you get?’

  Deveraux smiled. ‘Job satisfaction. Now, are there any questions?’

  Fergus needed time to think. He had many questions, but only one he was prepared to ask at that moment. ‘Your name?’

  ‘This conversation never took place, so you have no need of my name. Elena knows how to make contact, and you will only do so when you have the information I require.’

  The meeting was over. Deveraux turned and tapped One Ear on the shoulder and he pulled the Voyager over to the side of the road. The door slid open and she handed Fergus the brown envelope. ‘Think about what I’ve said, Watts, but not for too long. Goodnight.’

  ‘What about Elena?’ said Danny quickly. ‘Isn’t she coming with us?’

  Deveraux laughed. ‘Don’t worry about Cinders. She’s going home before her carriage turns back into a pumpkin. And remember this, Fincham knows nothing about her, so keep it that way.’

  Danny hesitated, but Elena gave him a slight reassuring smile. He smiled back, touched one of her hands with his and stepped out of the MPV. Fergus winked at Elena and followed his grandson out onto the roadside.

  Seconds later the Voyager had disappeared.

  15

  The
y were surrounded by scores of lunch-time shoppers when all they really wanted was to be alone. There was so much to say, but they both knew that now wasn’t the time to say it.

  Elena had suggested the meeting place when Danny had contacted her online earlier. She knew that he would want to check she was OK after their encounter in the Voyager the previous night. She also knew that the MSN conversation was most probably being monitored, so she kept it brief, even though she figured that they would be expecting them to meet up anyway.

  They were in a ground-floor, open-plan coffee shop inside the Lewisham shopping mall. The complex was busy, but not as busy as it would usually have been. Many people were staying at home, or at least avoiding busy places, but there was still a big enough crowd to get lost in, which was what Fergus wanted. That, and the choice of exit routes and doors leading to car parks.

  Fergus was on stag, on the first floor of the shopping drag, perched uncomfortably on one of those seats specially installed in malls to ensure shoppers don’t sit down for too long. He could see Danny and Elena and they could see him, and he also had a great bird’s-eye view of the area.

  Danny and Fergus had slept rough at the back of a Currys superstore, bedding down in a skip amongst the discarded cardboard and foam filler. Danny was exhausted after the long flight from Spain; he slept soundly and woke feeling a little guilty as he realized that Fergus had allowed him to sleep through instead of waking him for his stag.

  They moved out early, not wanting to be discovered or tipped into a rubbish cart, and went separately into a McDonald’s for breakfast. They had plenty of cash: the brown envelope handed to Fergus the previous evening contained £400 in used small notes.

  They sat about six tables apart while they ate and then, one after the other, went into the toilet to wash and clean up. Third party awareness dictated that they needed to look as normal as possible: people who sleep rough don’t shop in malls.

  As soon as the shops were open they bought two pay-as-you-go mobile phones and some food and other gear, which they shoved into a sports bag. The phones cost £160, but Fergus said it would be worth it for secure communications. Then Danny went online to Elena.

  Now they were together again, attempting to look relaxed and natural, even though they both kept their heads down to avoid the all-seeing CCTV cameras.

  Fergus was watching as they leaned close together and spoke softly. As always he was being cautious. At the first hint of trouble he would get up and walk away. Danny would know it was the signal for him to walk off in another direction and for Elena to take a third route out.

  The RV would be at London Bridge Station, a place they all knew well. Once they had met up there, they would have to decide whether it was safe for Elena to return to Foxcroft. They were gambling with her safety, but Fergus needed whatever information she could give them about their mysterious helper.

  ‘She’d been monitoring our MSN talk,’ Elena told Danny. ‘Then she fooled me into thinking it was you online. I thought you were back, and when we met she . . .’ She paused as the memory of the pistol roughly jammed into her mouth came back. She could almost taste it again. ‘I thought she was going to kill me, Danny.’

  She reached out and picked up the Coke standing on the tabletop. She took a long gulp, as though she was trying to wash away the taste of metal and oil.

  ‘You OK?’ asked Danny.

  Elena nodded and then told him everything about her terrifying meeting in the alley: the threats, the warnings, the orders, and about Joey being released from prison. ‘But I couldn’t tell you when I was online to you in Spain. I knew she’d be reading whatever I wrote.’

  Danny glanced up towards the first floor and saw Fergus look at him and then tap his watch. ‘What about now? How do you contact her?’

  ‘She’s set up a Hotmail account. Spoofed name. She said she’d e-mail me if there was anything to pass on to you and your granddad.’

  ‘What about your dad – what’s happened with him?’

  Elena thought back to the tearful farewell at the airport. ‘I saw him off at Heathrow yesterday. He’ll be back in Nigeria now.’ She smiled. ‘At least I won’t have to worry about him any more. Just you.’

  Danny leaned even closer to her. ‘I’ve really missed you.’

  ‘Me too. And I wish we had time to talk properly. But what happens now?’

  ‘All I know is that we’re going to see one of my granddad’s old mates.’

  ‘Who?’

  Danny glanced up at Fergus again. ‘He won’t say. You know what he’s like – operational security, all that stuff. If I were to be caught, I might tell. Same goes for you. So basically I’ll find out where we’re going when I get there.’

  Elena finished her Coke and stood up. ‘You’d better go. I’ll go online as usual, but remember, our friend could well be reading whatever you write.’

  ‘We thought of that,’ said Danny, reaching into his jacket pocket and taking out the new mobile phones. He handed one of them and a charger to Elena. ‘Brand new, bought them first thing. Forget your old one – we’ll use these to communicate.’ He passed Elena a piece of paper with a number written on it. ‘That’s my number. Put it in your phone as soon as it’s charged and then get rid of the paper. And when we speak or text, we never use our names or any other names, even Fincham’s.’

  Elena slipped the phone and charger into her coat pocket. ‘Why not? No one knows we have them, right?’

  ‘Right. But he said no names. There’s a lot of stuff he knows that he doesn’t talk about. So it’s got to be no names. And forget MSN from now on, just text. That way she won’t know what’s happening.’

  Up on the first floor, Fergus was watching their every move. Danny stood up and glared at him. ‘Can’t even say goodbye properly,’ he said. ‘He’s always watching me.’

  Elena smiled. ‘Then I’ll do it.’ She leaned forward and quickly kissed Danny on the cheek. ‘I’m glad you’re back,’ she said and then hurried away.

  16

  Danny knew they were going to Hereford, the hometown of the SAS; that became obvious when Fergus handed over his train ticket. But that was all he knew. Information was being divulged on a ‘need to know’ basis.

  As soon as they boarded the inter-city train at Paddington, they went into their standard anti-surveillance drill. Fergus settled into one seat and Danny moved further down the carriage to find a window seat of his own.

  The buffet car was out of order so there was nothing to do but remain in their original seats all the way to Newport. Danny took the opportunity to charge his new mobile phone in one of the power points provided for laptop users. At Newport they had to change onto a local train to Hereford. They waited on the platform separately, and when they boarded the train, they took the same carriage but sat a few seats apart.

  The train was quiet and Fergus was reading a newspaper. In the aftermath of the teenage suicide bombings new theories were still dominating the headlines, and journalists were searching for a connection between the two boys. But still the only link to be established beyond any doubt was that they had used identical explosive devices.

  Fergus was deep in thought, considering the options the Security Services would be exploring, when he heard the voice. ‘I don’t believe it. Watty!’

  He cursed himself silently. He hadn’t seen or heard the woman approach as she made her way towards the toilet; now his defences were down. Usually, at the sight or sound of a third party approaching he would have lifted the newspaper so that it masked his face from view. But it was too late for that now: he had to try to bluff his way out.

  Slowly he lifted his head and looked at the woman standing in the aisle and smiling down at him. He knew her instantly but his face betrayed no trace of recognition. ‘Sorry, were you talking to me?’

  The woman frowned. ‘Blimey, I haven’t changed that much, have I? You must remember me. It’s Rita. Rita Stevens. You know, Gerry’s wife. Or ex-wife. We got divorced; two-timing bast
ard made a fool of me once too often.’

  Rita hadn’t changed much. They’d called her Lovely Rita in the old days, after the Beatles song. Now she looked a little heavier, there were a few lines etched into her face and her hair was dyed blonder and cut shorter. But Fergus remembered Rita well, and her exhusband Gerry.

  He had joined the Regiment some time after Fergus. They were never close mates, but everyone got to know Gerry and Rita Stevens. They were famed as a hard-drinking, constantly-rowing husband-and-wife double act. Gerry had a reputation as a womanizer; Rita was known to have had her moments as well.

  She was flashing that same old flirtatious smile as she looked at Fergus. ‘It must be ten years or more. You on your own? I’ll get my bags and sit with you.’

  Fergus spoke softly: he wanted this over as quickly as possible. ‘I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else. The name’s Frank.’

  Rita stared hard at him for a few moments and then said more quietly, ‘You’re having me on. Aren’t you?’

  This time Fergus spoke abruptly, prepared to insult or offend Rita if it meant getting rid of her. ‘Look, I’m really not whoever it is you think I am. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish reading my paper.’

  He turned back to the newspaper but could feel Rita’s eyes boring into him for a little longer before she moved on.

  Danny had heard it all, but had not looked back to draw even more attention to the brief, embarrassing meeting. But as Rita walked past his seat he heard her mumbling to herself, ‘Don’t care what he’s calling himself now, that’s Watty.’

  When they got off the train at Hereford, Danny followed Fergus out of the station. Neither of them spotted Rita again but Danny was well aware of the damage the chance encounter could have caused. ‘What do we do now?’ he asked as soon as he caught up with his grandfather. ‘She knew it was you – I heard her saying so as she went by.’

  ‘Nothing we can do,’ answered Fergus with a shrug. ‘We just hope she forgets all about it. We have to stick to our aim. The fundamental principle of any action is always to maintain the aim.’