Payback. Part 15

They listened as Fergus gave them his orders for the CTR. He went through everything twice and then asked if there were any questions.

'Yeah, one,' said Danny. 'The CTR sounds fine, but what about me actually getting into Northwood? How do I do that?'

'I'm not sure yet,' answered Fergus. 'But I'm working on it, and I'll have a better idea when I see what you come up with after the CTR.'

CHAPTER 35

The red MoD sign pointed up the road and said simply: NORTHWOOD HEADQUARTERS. Joey pulled the hire car into the kerb, just past the junction.

They all knew the importance of third party awareness from the moment the operation began, so as Danny clambered from the back seat and out onto the pavement he called a cheery 'Thanks for the lift. Bye.'

Joey and Elena came back with equally casual and natural farewells, and Danny closed the door and waved as the car continued on down the road. With his grandfather's warning of the tight security surrounding Northwood still fresh in his mind, Danny made a final check of the contents of Elena's computer bag, which hung from one shoulder, and then went back to the junction to begin the half-mile trek to the start of his CTR.

He walked along the leafy street dotted with large detached houses with long drives and signs bearing names like Chestnut House and The Paddocks. As he strode purposefully along, he reflected that there were a lot of what if what ifs to consider, ranging from 'What if I check the camcorder after the walk past and there's nothing on the screen?' to 'What if Joey isn't there for the pick-up?'

He would tackle those situations if they happened, but for now he had to be prepared for the 'What if I'm stopped and asked what I'm doing?' scenario. He ran through his cover story. It should be good enough to satisfy the curiosity of any MoD policeman, and it was the truth, anyway; he was on his way to meet his friend Elena. The only problem would come if he were asked to reveal what was inside the computer bag. Then the game would be up.

The whole country was nervous since the third suicide bombing. Fergus had heard enough in radio reports to know that it was a complication they could have done without. He had insisted that Danny wear no jacket, just a sweats.h.i.+rt, so that it was perfectly clear that there were no explosives strapped to his body, hidden beneath a bulky coat.

The houses gradually gave way to woodland and Danny knew from his briefing that he had almost reached his destination. He unzipped the computer bag, reached inside to power up the camcorder nestling at the bottom and then zipped up the bag again as he continued walking.

He reached a four-metre-high fence on the other side of the road. Beyond that, a gravel path followed its perimeter, stretching all the way round the Northwood complex. Soon afterwards an MoD police car, two up, slowly cruised by. Danny glimpsed the MP5s strapped across the officers' chests as the one in the pa.s.senger seat gave him the once over. But the vehicle didn't stop.

Danny made sure the small hole Fergus had burned in the slim laptop bag was facing towards the target to ensure that the camcorder filmed everything he could see. The camcorder had been the most expensive item on Danny and Elena's shopping list earlier in the day, but Fergus had told them that the video was essential as it would give him the vital information he needed to devise a way of getting Danny inside Northwood.

The bag fit was a simple device, but really effective because of the way a camera lens works. The camera was securely taped into position, with its lens hard up against the hole in the computer bag: this was smaller than the lens itself, but because a lens automatically brings the image into its centre to project it into the camera, it could still function perfectly and yet be completely hidden. It meant that Danny would return with a complete, if jerky, record of his walk past of Northwood.

Soon he was almost opposite the main gate. Behind the trees planted to hide as much of the camp as possible, Danny could just see the buildings. They were all close together, and a mix of old brown brick and modern gla.s.s and concrete. One was taller than the others several storeys high and had flags flying from it.

Just past the gate, and inside the fence line, was a duck pond. Danny smiled; maybe they were trying to appear more people friendly. But his smile vanished as he saw the guardroom. Outside, on stag, were RAF personnel, dressed in DPM uniforms and armed with SA80 a.s.sault rifles. Concrete barriers were placed across the entrance to stop any car bomber from cras.h.i.+ng into the camp.

Danny could see the tallest building with the flags a lot more clearly now. And so could the camcorder. He figured that the flags meant it was the hub of Northwood. But as a female guard stepped towards the gate, he suddenly realized he was paying a little too much attention to everything on the far side of the road. Danny could feel her eyes on him, and his heart began to pound: from somewhere behind the tree line dogs started barking and then an RAF dog handler appeared by the gate with what had to be the world's biggest German Shepherd.

The dog bared its fangs and snarled, and Danny wanted to run. He didn't, but he was thinking quickly. Ignoring this sudden interest in him by both guards and dog felt wrong, especially as Rover looked desperate to be free of his leash and earn his keep by demonstrating what a bad idea it was for anyone to get so close to his domain.

So Danny took a gamble, very glad that his grandfather was not around to see it. He looked across the road towards the dog and handler, and with a smile called, 'Down, Rover there's a good boy!'

The dog let out two loud, short, sharp barks and pulled harder on the leash. The handler said nothing but stared hard at Danny; so did the female guard who was standing close by. But they both seemed satisfied that Danny was just another cheeky kid with a big mouth, and as he walked on, they finally turned away.

Danny was feeling quite pleased with himself as he continued along the road. But then he realized that his little double act with Rover had been captured by the camcorder, which meant he was in for a b.o.l.l.o.c.king when his grandfather saw the footage. He shrugged; tough it was too late to worry about it now.

He was back in residential land, and five minutes later he saw Elena walking towards him, just as they had arranged. Joey had driven the long way round and dropped her off so that they could meet up. The plan was that they would now continue with the CTR together, while Joey did a recce of his own. He was due to meet them later in a supermarket car park close to the original drop-off point.

'h.e.l.lo, stranger, haven't seen you for ages,' said the smiling Elena as they met up. It was a good performance for anyone who just happened to be looking out from behind net curtains.

They crossed the road and walked back towards the camp for a little way before turning right into a street lined on both sides with houses. They were working their way round to the back of the camp to complete the CTR. Danny had decided it looked better if Elena joined him after the main part of the walk past. Walking together all the way round the camp might arouse suspicion. This way looked more natural. He had gone to meet a friend and now they were heading off in a different direction.

Elena linked her arm through his as they approached the fence line at the back of the camp. 'Looks better this way,' she said, pulling him a little closer.

Danny smiled. He wasn't complaining.

The Prime Minister was absent from the Commons chamber for the emergency debate on the teenager bombings. The Home Secretary led for the government, explaining that the PM was in discussion with the heads of the Security Services.

For once there was little party politicking. Opposition leaders were acutely aware that there was too much anxiety, fear and confusion running through the population for them to attempt any political points scoring. All sides were presenting a united front.

The Prime Minister was in the House, watching and listening to proceedings in the Commons on a monitor in a small office. Other screens in the room showed more disturbing pictures from around the country, as rampaging mobs were shown demonstrating outside mosques and taking out their anger and frustration on those they believed responsible.

An ITN reporter questioned one of the men demonstrating outside the mosque in Regent's Park, asking him why this was happening when two of the bombers had been white, and not even Muslims.

'Don't mean nothing,' snarled the man angrily. 'They were converts must have been we all know it's happening all the time. This is a Muslim thing, this is what they do. It's them all right.'

Dudley was in the room with the Prime Minister. He remained calm and composed as the nation's leader turned from the screen and stared at him accusingly.

'Disturbing, Prime Minister, yes, but, however unpalatable, we continue to believe that allowing the people a focus for their anger is the correct course of action for now. The public has concluded that the bombings are the responsibility of Islamic fundamentalists and many of our friends in the media are helping us by perpetuating the myth.'

On one screen, in the packed chamber the Home Secretary was appealing for calm; another showed the scenes outside the Regent's Park mosque, where bricks were being hurled at the building.

Dudley coughed just loudly enough to regain the Prime Minister's attention. 'It is a regrettable situation, sir, of course, but ultimately it's retrievable. And it gives us the breathing s.p.a.ce we need to pursue the real perpetrator, or perpetrators, without them becoming aware that we are closing in.'

'And are are you closing in?' you closing in?'

Dudley's shrug was non-committal. 'We learn more after each attack, sir.'

'I want to be informed the minute you have any developments.'

'Yes, Prime Minister.'

The strange a.s.sortment of bits and pieces that Joey had rescued from the skip was sitting on the desk. Along with the PE and detonator Fergus had carried with him since the attack on the house in Spain, they were about to be turned into a lethal and devastating PAD.

The industrial unit had to be defended. There was no escape route, only a single way out through the front. If Fincham's team discovered the LUP the only option would be to fight.

Fergus had already weighed up the positives, and as far as he could see there were just two. Positive one was that there were single entrances to both the square and the building itself, which made it reasonably defendable.

If an attack team did did approach through the entrance to the square it would be met with positive two the PAD; there was no way they would be expecting that. But it was a one-off, one-shot, one-chance weapon not what Fergus would have chosen if there had been a choice. approach through the entrance to the square it would be met with positive two the PAD; there was no way they would be expecting that. But it was a one-off, one-shot, one-chance weapon not what Fergus would have chosen if there had been a choice.

His leg was throbbing like h.e.l.l and had stiffened up so much he could hardly move. But while he waited for his own motley team to return from the walk past, he could at least do something useful.

He took the five-litre paint can and stood it on the floor. The bottom of the improvised device was the business end of the weapon, from where the damage would be done.

Outside in the square, Fergus could hear a forklift truck buzzing around and voices shouting as a lorry pulled in to make a delivery to one of the other units.

He ripped one of the pieces of cardboard into a long rectangle before twisting it into a cone shape that would fit into the paint can. It had to slide in so that the tip of the cone pointed towards the open end of the can and the bottom fitted as tightly as possible against the base.

As Fergus made a few minor adjustments to the cardboard he listened to the voices outside. A row was developing between the lorry driver and the manager of the unit he was meant to be delivering to. 'It's cat! Cat! I told them dog dog. I specifically said dog! If I'd wanted cat, I'd have said cat. It's cat next next time.' time.'

'Look, mate, it's all the same to me. Cat, dog, I just deliver the stuff, I don't eat it!'

Fergus smiled as he turned over the cone and began to fill it with the nuts, bolts and other small items of sc.r.a.p metal that Joey had found. He packed in as many pieces as he could, filling the cone to the brim, and then picked up the can with his free hand, turned it upside down, and fitted it over the cone. When he turned it back the correct way, none of the sc.r.a.p metal fell out and the cone fitted tightly against the bottom of the can.

Next Fergus gently rolled handfuls of the plastic explosive in his hands to warm it up, making it more pliable, and then started packing it around the cone, pus.h.i.+ng it carefully down against the cardboard so that the nuts and bolts were held more firmly in position. Before long the cone was no longer visible and the can looked as if it were three-quarters full of PE.

Outside, the delivery driver's day was not getting any better as he spoke on his mobile phone. 'Yeah, he wanted me to take it back! I've spent three bleedin' hours crawling round the North Circular and he don't want the stuff. You speak to him tell him I'll bring dog food next time.'

The mobile phone conversation was a useful reminder to Fergus as he prepared for the dangerous part of the operation. Elena had left her mobile with him so that they could report back when the CTR was completed. He took the phone from his tracksuit pocket and switched it off.

There was a lot of electricity as well as plenty of mobiles around the unit, which made playing with a det extremely risky. Once the detonator wires were untwisted and free they could pick up radio waves from the environment and spark a detonation. There was only a small amount of explosive in the tiny aluminium tube, but it was enough to blow off both Fergus's hands.

He took the det from his inside pocket while at the same time he reached out for the ten metres of electrical wire that had been taped together from the leads Joey had cut from the backs of a few was.h.i.+ng machines. One end still had a plug attached and the other had three bare wires. Fergus checked that the plug and lead were working by using an electrician's screwdriver they'd found amongst the few tools in the unit.

He pushed the plug into a socket, switched it on and then touched the bare wires with the screwdriver, keeping his thumb on the end. A small red bulb in the handle lit up, indicating that power was running through the leads.

As he worked on, he checked the screwdriver itself several times by simply placing a thumb on the screw head and a little finger on the small metal disc on top of the handle. The bulb lit up each time because there is enough electricity in the body to complete the circuit. He then pulled the plug from the socket and earthed the wires by sc.r.a.ping them against the bare water pipe running along the bottom of the wall.

Fergus was drawing on all his explosives expertise from his years with the Regiment. He knew all the tricks and all the potential hazards, including the fact that wires can retain an electrical charge. He had no intention of attaching the det and losing his hands through stupidity or bad drills.

He slowly untwisted the two det wires and attached one to the live wire on the lead and one to the negative, leaving the earth to dangle free.

Everything was now prepared; all that remained to be done was to very gently push the detonator into the PE so that it was in the middle of the can, exactly above the tip of the cone beneath. The PAD was ready.

Fergus dragged himself to his feet, using the bars on the window for support, and looked down onto the square. Directly opposite, on the far side, was the parked delivery lorry. The unit manager was now arguing with his pet food supplier on the mobile phone as both the lorry and forklift truck drivers leaned against the vehicle and waited for the row to be settled.

The entrance to the square was at ten o'clock to the front of the unit, with units to either side of the gap leading to the road. This was the target area for the PAD; it would be aimed at the entrance so that it could take out any attackers as they entered the square.

The windows were covered with muck and grime, and helped hide Fergus from anyone outside as he jammed the can between the bars and positioned it so that it was pointing at the entrance, about thirty metres away.

Once it was secure, Fergus covered the can with some filthy old tea towels that looked like a serious health hazard, and then pulled across the one curtain remaining on the rail until the PAD was hidden from both directions. Fergus was working on the 'out of sight, out of mind' principle. If it wasn't in view, it wouldn't be disturbed.

He tied the lead in a knot around one of the bars so that if it were accidentally kicked or pulled, it wouldn't disturb the PAD, taking it off aim or pulling out the det. Then he ran the lead along the bottom of the wall to a plug socket; every hobbling step was excruciatingly painful. He knew the socket had power; it was the one he had used to test the lead. But he checked again with the electrician's screwdriver. Check and Test. Check and Test. Fergus had often thought those three words would be a more appropriate SAS motto than the famous Who Dares Wins Who Dares Wins.

Everything was set. Fergus slipped the screwdriver into his pocket and left the plug lying on the floor. It would only be pushed into the socket in the event of an attack.

He leaned back against the wall, exhausted. Now the PAD was completed it was safe to use Elena's mobile. He powered it up and ran through in his mind exactly what would happen should the PAD be fired. It was a simple and very basic device. Once the plug was in the wall and switched on, the power would surge down the wire and initiate the det, which in turn would detonate the PE. The entire process would take just a nano-second.

Because of the way the PE was shaped around the cardboard cone, it would produce what is known as the 'Munroe effect'; this meant that seventy per cent of the energy produced by the explosion would surge forward, towards the entrance of the square. At the same time the explosion would be so powerful and hot, it would instantly melt the nuts and bolts inside the cone and shoot them forward as a ma.s.s of white-hot metal, with enough power to penetrate even an armoured vehicle.

If the molten metal were to hit a car, the vehicle would be lifted off the ground and ripped apart like a paper bag. The intense heat would instantly detonate the fuel tank and turn the car, and anyone inside it, into a fireball before it even hit the ground again.

But that only accounted for seventy per cent of the force. The remaining thirty per cent would burst out in every direction, taking out the window and the front wall for starters.

Everyone inside the room would have to take cover, or they would be blown to pieces. Even then they might not survive the sheer force of the detonation. It would be a huge explosion, with shards of gla.s.s and shattered brickwork hurtling through the room, each piece potentially lethal. No one would come out of it completely unscathed, but Fergus knew it was a risk worth taking. They would be unable to defend themselves, and would be killed anyway if Fincham's team were allowed to gain entry into the unit. This way, they had a chance.

Fergus was breathing heavily: the effort of moving unaided had completely drained him. He heard the delivery lorry's engine start up and the vehicle move away. The cat food was beginning its journey back around the North Circular.

As Fergus thought about crawling back to the relative comfort of the old sofa, he felt the mobile begin to vibrate in his pocket.

Wearily he pulled out the phone and read the text: Cu in 20 Fergus smiled, relieved that they were safe. He would run them through the drill on what to do in the event of the PAD having to be initiated. He was used to s.n.a.t.c.hing sleep when he could. On operations the rule was: whenever there's a lull in battle, get your head down because you never know when the chance will come again. He had twenty minutes, so he closed his eyes.

CHAPTER 36

The shutters of the other units had been closed and locked and the final vehicles had driven away. It was dusk and Fergus wanted to keep the lights in their unit off at all times. There was enough spill from the security lighting in and around the industrial estate to provide them with sufficient illumination.

The others had listened silently while Fergus explained what they had to do in the event of the PAD being initiated. All the while, Joey's expression grew more alarmed and his eyes opened wider.

Before Fergus began, Joey and Danny had lugged three tall fridge-freezers and a heavy old cooker up the stairs. The PAD was fixed at the window at the left-hand corner of the room, so the old white goods had to provide protection on two sides. The cooker and one of the freezers were placed between the PAD and the socket that would be used to initiate the device. On the other exposed side they stood two freezers, and the old sofa was moved there too; together they would provide some protection if the device had to be detonated. That was the theory at least, but Fergus knew they would need luck as well as planning.

'And remember,' he added, as he finished his briefing. 'Whoever detonates the PAD needs to take a quick look round to see that everyone has taken cover, then keep your head down and your mouth open, hit the switch and hope for the best.'

Joey's mouth was already open. It was gaping like a goldfish frozen in ice. 'Mouth open?' he managed to gasp.

'With such a big explosion, so close, the pressure wave can break your jaw if you clench it tight. Better to keep it loose and your mouth open.'

Joey's mouth dropped open again. He glanced nervously over at the disguised PAD and then edged his way cautiously across the room, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the device.

It was time to move on Fergus knew that keeping everyone busy was the best way of countering their nervousness. 'So let's look at the footage of the CTR.'

They gathered around the camcorder to view Danny's filming of Northwood. The edges of the screen were a little blurred and the picture was jerky, but the target could be seen clearly and Fergus seemed pleased. 'I've seen worse.'

Danny smiled. Coming from his grandfather, that was a compliment. He kept the sound low it consisted mainly of rustling noises as the bag moved and the roar of pa.s.sing vehicles.

Fergus froze the picture at a point where it showed the fence line at the front of the camp. 'See those signs on the fence? They're warning that dogs patrol the perimeter along that gravel pathway there look, between the fence and the line of trees.'

Danny knew all about the dogs; his mind went back to his encounter with Rover.

Fergus let the film run again and gave a running commentary on what he was seeing. 'That's a four-metre fence and it isn't barbed wire at the top. It's something far worse: razor wire. If you look above the fence there are CCTV cameras covering the whole length of the gravel path and the top of the fence. The minute anyone tries to get over the fence, the guards will be out with the dogs let loose in front of them.'

The film showed the MoD police car pa.s.sing and the MP5s on the two officers in the vehicle. Fergus was worried. 'Those guys will shoot first if you get caught climbing over that fence, Danny.'

The flags came into view above the tree line, masking most of the buildings. 'Those flags, Danny the building they're on is the one you have to get into. That's the one.'

Danny's hunch had been correct; he had recognized the most important building. He kept his eyes on the camcorder as the jerky picture moved on. 'There's a better view of it soon.'

The pond and guardroom came into view, and then the female guard and the dog handler with his friend Rover. The sound of Danny's shout to the dog was just audible and he held his breath as he waited for his grandfather's b.o.l.l.o.c.king.