can cover our withdrawal. Guria, you know how to use the sniper rifle, so you take up Lee's position.'
'Fine,' said Guria.
'Jane, Lee and Tariq, you'll come with me, inside.'
'And then?' asked Jane.
'Then we improvise.'
Dad went in first, Tariq followed, Jane and I brought up the rear.
I watched Jane move as we entered enemy territory, marvelling at the change in her. I'd fought beside Dad and Tariq in Iraq and England, but Jane and I had only fought together once, very briefly, during the siege of the original St Mark's, three years earlier. I knew she was capable and ruthless, but I'd not seen this side of her in a long time, and even then I'd never had a chance to study her in action. I'd become accustomed to seeing the gentler, nurturing, matronly for want of a better word, side of her, during the past couple of years. I had mixed feelings about watching her creep into danger, all stealth and purpose. On one hand, I hated the idea of her being in harm's way. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe. On the other hand,
She glanced back at me, perhaps sensing how closely I was watching her. She gave me a quizzical look then a quick, amused smile, as if she was reading my mind.
'Focus,' she whispered. Then she turned away, back to the business at hand.
The wooden door in the old brick wall led directly into the playground of what had once been a primary school. We crept across a faded hopscotch cross that seemed to be pointing us to the main building — a solid, Victorian stone box with big, high windows which sat at the centre of a maze of single storey brick extensions built in the 1960s. The only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath our boots and the raucous crowing of a rooster, informing the world that dawn was nearly here. Anyone inside was obviously accustomed to sleeping through his daily performance.
Dad waved us towards a side door. We were still in the middle of the playground, as exposed as we could be, when the door handle turned. Dad didn't hesitate. He ran to the door, still totally silent, and was there with his knife drawn as it swung open to reveal a short, heavy-set man in a black jacket. The man was only half awake, mechanically going through the routine of opening up the building for the morning. He was so focused on his task that he didn't notice Dad's approach until the cold knife point brushed against his cheek. Dad grasped the man's top and pulled him outside the door, letting it swing to. We crowded around our prisoner as his surprise faded, to be replaced by amused defiance.
'How many of you, and how many kids?' whispered Dad as Tariq pulled a sidearm from the man's belt and shoved it into his own.
'Fuck off,' replied the man, misjudging the situation entirely. He probably thought he could issue a few vague threats, put on a show of defiance, and then we'd knock him out or tie him up or something.
Dad considered his smug captive for a second, shrugged, and slid his knife between the man's third and fourth ribs, straight into his heart. The man never even had time to be surprised. He was dead before the blade came out again.
'Jesus,' whispered Jane, involuntarily.
Dad lowered the body gently to the cold, hard tarmac, then flashed her a sharp look as he wiped his blade.
'Problem?' he mouthed silently.
Jane waited perhaps an instant too long before shaking her head. They held each other's gaze for a second. She looked away first. Dad turned, pulled open the door, and led us inside.
Subconsciously I think I'd been expecting the building have that familiar school smell, but instead we were greeted by the stench of rotting timber, pervasive damp and unwashed bodies.
We found ourselves in a corridor that stretched to our left and right, ending in double swing doors at each end. Wooden doors with glass panels led into what had once been classrooms. A notice board hung on the wall directly facing us as we entered. It still had water damaged paintings and faded crayon drawings pinned to it.
Jane gently closed the door behind us and Dad led us to the right, towards what had looked like the assembly hall from outside. No matter how softly we trod, the squeak of our boots on the linoleum sounded like a chorus of banshees. I nervously walked backwards at the rear of the group, covering the swing doors at the far end, expecting someone to come crashing through them at any moment, guns blazing.
We crowded around the hall doors. The windows had blankets hanging over them on the inside, so we had no idea what we'd be walking into. There was a heavy metal chain padlocked through the door handles. I took the metal cutters from my backpack and got to work.
'We go in quiet,' whispered Dad as I tried in vain to cut through the thick steel quietly. 'Jane, stay just inside the door and keep an eye on the corridor. Tariq and I will go right. Lee, you go straight ahead. We fan out. No shooting unless absolutely necessary — there could be children in here.'
We all nodded.
I finished cutting and threaded the broken chain off the metal handles, leaving it in a pile on the floor. Dad gently pushed the door open and we crept into the darkness, the squeaks of our boot soles echoing against the rotting wooden climbing frames that lined the far wall.
Blankets had been taped over the huge windows that Jane and I walked past as we moved into the hall, but the first light of dawn sent dim chinks of light through the moth holes and gaps to illuminate a large floor space littered with small grey mounds.
It took me a moment to realise that these were sleeping children, huddled on the cold, hardwood floor under ragged old blankets. There was no sign of any guards.
Dad waved me over to him.
'We've got to move quickly,' he said. 'The other exit is chained from the outside too, so we're stuck in a cul- de-sac. The second anyone walks down that corridor, we're trapped. You head outside and unchain the fire escape, that way we've got choices.'
I turned on my heels and squeaked past Jane, down the corridor and back to the playground. Just as the exterior door swung closed behind me I heard a muffled shout of 'Oi, who left the chain off? Jim? You there?'
I paused and considered my options, then drew my knife and crept back to the door, stepping over the cooling body of the guard Dad had killed only minutes before. I crouched down and peered through the glass panel, thick with grime and mildew. I could make out a tall woman walking down the corridor towards the hall. She was bringing a shotgun to bear, beginning to be concerned.
'Jim?' she said again, more quietly, wary and suspicious now.
I waited until she had just passed the door, stood up and grasped the handle. I'd have to be quick about this. I took a deep breath and swung the door open, stepped into the corridor and brought the knife to her throat in one fluid motion. She froze.
'To the hall, slowly,' I whispered in her ear. She walked forward without a word. I pressed in hard against her back, feeling her body — warm, tense, slim and muscled. She was as tall as me, with dirty blonde hair, and she really needed a bath.
Jane opened the hall door and ushered us inside. She took the woman's gun away and gestured for her to sit on the floor. I could see children beginning to sit up across the hall, sleepy and confused.
'All yours,' I said, and then I headed back outside to complete my task.
The sky was bright grey as I skirted round the outside of the building to the fire escape which was, as predicted, chained from the outside. I didn't bother being quiet this time. I chopped the chain and pulled the door open. It made an awful noise as it opened for the first time in years, but nobody came running.
By now there were children standing up, as Tariq moved quietly through the hall waking them one by one and telling them to wake their friends. There was a susurration of whispers.
The plan had been to take one captive for interrogation, rescue the kids, and try to get out of the compound without the alarm being raised. So far so good. I propped the fire escape open with a chair and ran over to Dad, who was kneeling facing the captured snatcher. Jane was still keeping watch at the door.
'I'll only ask you one more time,' Dad said as I drew up beside him. 'How many of you are there?
The woman, who I could now see was in her early twenties and had multiple piercings all over her face, clenched her jaw and stared ahead, defiantly. Dad shook his head and turned to me.
