Suzy covered upstairs while I pulled some of the scaffolding pieces from my jeans. As quietly as I could, I wedged three of them firmly between the door and its frame. I didn’t want to hang around: I jammed one in about a third of the way up, another a third of the way down. A third went underneath. There was no way this door would be opening in a hurry.
We picked up the bags and moved back into Jim’s. Suzy covered her hand with the fleece again to close the door behind us. The room was so dirty and caked with grease I could taste it.
An emergency vehicle drove fast down Pentonville the other side of MTC, its blue light bouncing off the ceiling. I moved to block the door to 297 with the remaining scaffolding joints as Suzy started to get into her NBC kit.
43
I joined Suzy and got the NBC kit on. My SD was never more than arm’s length away, lying on its left side, so I could just lean down, grab the pistol grip and flick off the safety catch with my thumb. My eyes never left the closed door into the corridor.
I was soon ready, apart from my respirator. The pistol went into the smock’s chest pocket, and I checked the spare SD mags in the map pockets, making sure the rounds were facing down and the concave shapes of the mags were facing backwards. If I had to change mags, all I’d have to do was shove my hand into a pocket, drag out a mag, and the rounds would be facing up and the mag the right way round so it was ready to be placed into the weapon. That was the theory, anyway. In reality, the mags would twist and turn in there, but I liked to feel they were at least in the correct position to start with.
My mind shrank even further as I checked for the last time that the mag was on tight, and that the safety catch moved freely all the way to three-round burst. As Suzy bent to put on her boots, I tested the extended butt to make sure the two rods were still locked. It wobbled a little on its joints, but these things never give you the firm fire position you get with a solid one.
I’d have preferred to be clad from head to toe in Kevlar body armour, but apart from that I was ready. One final check with my thumb that safety was on, and, with my respirator in my left hand, I started moving, picking my feet up carefully as I tried to get used to the big rubber boots again.
A clatter of high heels and laughter passed Jim’s kebab as I reached the door. I moved to the right, by the handle, before kneeling down to lay my SD on the floor. I checked the respirator’s pressure valve was still tight, pushed my hair back from my forehead and fitted the respirator over my face, making sure I had a nice tight seal and the canister was on firmly.
I took slow, deep breaths to oxygenate myself, inhaling the strong smell of new rubber. Then I stood up. Pistol grip in my right hand, butt in the shoulder, index finger straight along the trigger guard, thumb ready to flick off the safety catch, I checked the SD sight.
Suzy adjusted the butt of her weapon into her shoulder, lodging it in the soft area between the collar-bone and ball-and-socket joint, then flattened herself against the wall on the other side of the doorway. I eased myself forward to get my right ear against the door. I could hear nothing but the sound of vehicles ploughing through puddles in the street. I stood back, adjusting myself into a fire position, legs shoulder-width apart, leaning forward with my left leg bent, hunched over the weapon, making it part of me once more. Suzy reached across and grasped the handle. I nodded, and she eased it down.
The door creaked open a fraction; two inches, then three, then four. I could see nothing but darkness. When the gap was about a foot and a half wide, I moved my left foot very slowly over the threshold, letting the edge of my boot down gently into the corridor. I felt a small chunk of plasterboard press against the rubber, and shifted an inch or two to one side until I found a clear area. I did the same with my right foot, probing for a nice bit of bare concrete. To my right, a sliver of light glinted beneath our entry-point, and just the other side of it two more vehicles splashed through a rain-filled pothole.
Sucking air through the canister, I made my way towards the staircase, five paces to my left. I had both eyes open, weapon at forty-five degrees, pointing up into the darkness.
I reached the bottom of the stairs and peered up into the darkness. My lungs strained to fill themselves with air.
I could hear the faint rustle of Suzy’s NBC suit and checked behind me. She was in the doorway, weapon up, covering the darkness above me. She was going to be my one foot on the ground during this tactical bound. While I concentrated on getting up the stairs as quickly and quietly as I could, she’d remain static. When I went firm, she’d come up to me. If there was a drama it would be difficult for her to return fire without hitting me, and the higher I went the more I’d fill her sights. If it went noisy, my plan was to fall flat and slide back down the stairs, letting her take on whatever was up above me.
Time to go for it. I took a slow, deep breath, every muscle in my body tensed to keep the weapon in a really tight firing position.
I moved to the right of the stairway to give Suzy a slightly better arc of fire, and, lifting my right leg, moved it slowly forward, wary of old cans or crisp packets, anything that would make a noise. Once my toe touched the wall, I trod down on the first step, easing my weight on to the ball of my foot. The bare wood creaked louder than the noise of my breathing. I stopped in mid-stride, and listened. Nothing.
I put the rest of my weight on my right foot, repeating the process with the left on the step above, swivelling my body against the wall. My skin prickled with sweat as my eyes scanned upwards, adjusting slowly to the darkness. It looked like there was a landing up there; I couldn’t tell whether there was a door as well. I stopped on the fifth step, rolling my eyes, trying to distinguish any shapes or figures in the darkness. It wasn’t working: I couldn’t see anything yet. We could have done with some NVGs in the ready bags.
I probed further up the steps with my feet, stopping each time there was a creak, waiting to see if there was any reaction from above me. My face was now soaked: the respirator seal felt as if it was floating over my skin. My muscles were close to cramping as I used all the strength in my legs to move and keep balance, while still keeping eyes and weapon up.
I’d got half-way to the landing, maybe ten or twelve steps up, when I felt my right foot start to wobble and had to lean my shoulder against the wall for support. I sucked in oxygen like a deep-sea diver. The respirator sounded like a waterfall. Sweat trickled down my back; the thighs of my jeans were soaked and tugging against my skin.
The landing had no doors, just plastered walls. There was a different kind of light above me now, probably fighting its way through the first-floor windows from the street. It came from the right, which meant the staircase probably turned back on itself.
I wrestled my way up, still leaning against the wall, focusing completely on the quality of light, trying to detect any shift in its consistency that might indicate movement on the next flight.
A few more steps and I finally made it to the landing. I moved across Suzy’s arc of fire, weapon still in my shoulder, and pushed myself back into the far left-hand corner of the stairwell.
I could see six or seven steps from there, leading up towards the light, but I wasn’t going to move all the way round and risk showing myself to anyone higher up; I wanted Suzy here to back me. I looked down and saw her dark shape emerging gradually from the shadows. She would have her weapon down now, concentrating instead on keeping as quiet as possible.
I strained my eyes and ears for movement or sound, but all I could hear was the odd creak from below, myself trying to breathe through this fucking respirator, and the sporadic murmur of traffic.
I stayed static, weapon up, feeling the sweat pool at the seal. I hated this gear, but it always seemed to me a miracle that there was never any condensation on the eyepieces. I opened my mouth and leant forwards to listen again, trying to ignore the stream of saliva that dribbled down my chin.
A couple of minutes later Suzy was two steps away from me, her back against the right-hand wall, SD across her chest. I gave her another minute to sort out her breathing.
She nodded and I moved, my back against the wall, weapon up, edging my way until I was bathed in the soft light coming from above me.
I stayed to the left side of the staircase this time; Suzy kept right as I started to climb, my back drenched
