‘We’ll have to go across the roof.’
‘Dark Winter at all costs, eh?’
I saw that fervent look in her eyes again. ‘Something like that.’
She nodded, still scanning the building site. ‘Easy money.’
I hoped she was right.
The arches supporting the railway lines in and out of St Pancras and King’s Cross were in the process of being stripped bare. But it wasn’t the Victorian brickwork I was interested in so much as the scaffolding. There had to be a few stray fixings lying around and, if not, a fresh stock somewhere near. Portakabins stood at every entry-point in the chainlink fence around the sites. I couldn’t see any security guards – they’d be tucked inside watching late-night porn on Channel Five.
‘Here we go.’ Suzy had seen something. She guided me on to the opposite pavement, put her arms round my neck and whispered into my ear. I was getting to like this. ‘Time for another of your legendary cuddles, Romeo. You’ll find there’s some stuff by our feet, just the other side of the fence.’
We embraced and I looked around. I couldn’t see any CCTV cameras. ‘Right, let’s go for it.’
‘Last of the great romantics, aren’t you?’
I bent down and stretched my fingers through the links. A few seconds later we were heading back to the car, arm in arm, my pocket bulging with five or six steel fixings. Some were triangular, some rectangular, but any of them would do the job.
‘The boss needs to know what’s happening, Nick. Time for another call.’
She was right, of course. One of the archways had alcove-like chambers, probably a bit of a feature when Gladstone was a boy but only used nowadays by people who needed a piss or a place to smoke some crack. I stepped into one of the shadows to get out of the rain for a few minutes.
‘Just one more check.’ I pulled out the 9mm and, keeping it by my stomach, put the heel of my right hand on the muzzle and pushed back the top slide just enough to see the glint of brass. She did the same.
I got out the moan-phone, and the first secure bleep didn’t even get a chance to sound off before he was up and running. ‘What’s happening? Where are you?’
I could hear voices behind him. Two sounded American, another I couldn’t make out. Maybe Malaysian? Who cared? I had enough worries.
The voices faded, as if the Yes Man was putting some distance between them.
‘We’re going back to pick up the ready bags and move to target. Should be making entry in less than thirty.’
‘Where’s the entry-point?’
‘Are the signals still in the building?’
‘Of course. Where’s the entry-point?’
I told him, and for once he sounded nervous. ‘Are you sure this is going to work?’
‘No.’ I was never sure of anything much.
‘What are you going to do if you can’t make entry?’ He sounded almost frantic. He must be under a lot of pressure, and it pleased me to think that a nice big boil might be throbbing on his neck. ‘I cannot afford compromise – I don’t want to hear about you on the morning news, do you understand? Take control of Dark Winter at all costs.’
The American voices came back within earshot, and I realized the other voice wasn’t Malaysian: it was German.
‘If you don’t hear from us by first light, you’ll know there’s a problem. I’ll call you afterwards.’ I cut him off. I didn’t want to stand there all night while he told me how to do the job. He had never been out on the ground: his entire professional life had been spent in front of monitors, sorting out communications and that sort of shit. Being lectured on his third-hand ideas would have pissed me off no end, and I didn’t want to be pissed off – I just wanted to be worried, and a bit scared. A little healthy fear was what brought everything into focus and shrank my brain to a size where I could think of nothing but the job and getting away with my body intact. What was it that Josh kept bumping his gums about? ‘Courage is just fear that’s said its prayer.’
We stepped back into the street-lighting and rain.
‘What did he say?’
I studied her face, wishing it would look even a little bit scared. She seemed more distant, but that was all, probably going through her own mental preparation. ‘Just the normal shit, reminding me to wear my vest, and no telly or caffeine after nine o’clock.’ I mimicked his Home Counties voice. ‘ “Take control of Dark Winter at all costs.”’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘He’s got a job to do as well, you know.’
We reached the car and Suzy got straight into the driver’s seat. ‘I’ll do first stag.’
I moved to the back of the car as she clicked open the boot and started to unload her documents, just as we’d done in King’s Lynn. I began checking my kit, not worried about what was happening around me. Suzy would let me know if there was a problem: the engine would turn on and I’d just slam the boot, walk to my seat and we’d drive. If I got a shout from her, maybe because people were coming towards us, it would be in slow time.
The SD was loaded and made ready, but I still checked chamber and that the mag was on firmly. Then I checked that the top rounds of the spare mags were seated properly and put them into my NBC trousers. I didn’t want to be changing mags and have a stoppage if the working parts came forward but got held because the round wasn’t correctly positioned – not good if you’ve got an ASU just feet away wanting to rip your throat out.
I tapped the Mondeo’s roof when I was ready and walked along the driver’s side. Suzy climbed out and I was pleased to see her face had no expression at all. She was clearly tuning in.
A taxi trundled along the road behind us, splashing through the puddles. I got into the driver’s side, checked the keys were in the ignition, and moved the seat back a little. Suzy was mincing about at the rear as I emptied my pockets of everything but the scaffold fixings, including the moan-phone and my own. It all went into my bumbag and was shoved under the passenger seat for what I hoped was the last time. All being well, I’d be back to pick it up in the next couple of hours.
She was ready too. I got the keys, climbed out and joined her as she slung her ready bag over her right shoulder. I chucked mine over my left to make it easier for us to walk together, then hit the key fob. ‘I’m gagging for a brew.’
‘Good idea. Jack Daniels and Coke will do me.’
She walked round the car and checked each door. Satisfied, she put her arm through mine and we started to walk back towards the main, placing the key under one of the chucks of concrete that diverted the traffic. There’d be no more talking from now. She would be doing exactly the same as I was, trying to visualize every step of the way, trying to create a film in her head of what she wanted to happen, starting with the padlock, as if her eyes were the camera lens and her ears the recording kit.
I visualized going through the door with the 9mm, lifting my feet as I tried to avoid making noise, starting to get my NBC kit on, avoiding any rushed movements. I imagined going upstairs, my feet moving slowly, deliberately, placing themselves on the sides of the stairs to stop them creaking. Finally, I made entry into a room with Suzy backing me as we took on the ASU. I replayed the footage three or four times on the camera inside my head, from entering the target to leaving with Suzy and Dark Winter, and the ASU dead.
Suzy pushed out some gum and her jaws got to work. Now was the time to play the fuck-ups, not later. What if the door had been obstructed? What if they hit us as we were getting the kit on? What if one escaped on to the street with the DW, or threw it out of the window? I hit play, then replay, trying to come up with answers.
It wouldn’t go exactly to script – it never did. On the ground, every situation would be different from what we’d imagined. But the films in our heads were a start point; it meant we had a plan. If it all went to rat shit, at least we’d react immediately instead of standing there feeling sorry for ourselves.
42
I checked traser: it was just after two, but the ASU were unlikely to be asleep. They’d be jumping at every hiss of air brakes out on the road or every scratch of a rat on the plaster. If some of them were curled up in their
