Firefight

FOURTEEN

Faisal Ahmed was pleased it was cold. It meant he could wear a woollen hat — and so disguise his features to an extent — without attracting attention.

What would have attracted more attention, of course, was the contents of his rucksack. An MP5 with a laser-sight attachment, NV goggles and telescope, a small pouch of explosives and various other bits of kit that he had carefully packed before leaving his safe house, no doubt never to return. He had used a couple of notes from his wallet full of cash to buy a ticket and now he was sitting by the window as the train sped towards King's Cross. His rucksack was on the shelf above him, along with the suitcases and laptop bags of the other passengers on this crowded service. Next to him, a fat man drank noisily from a beer can, despite the fact it was only noon. As the train slowed down into a station, he stood up and pulled his bag from the shelf where it had been nestled next to Ahmed's.

His rucksack looked precarious for a moment, as if it might fall. Ahmed sprang up, knocking the fat man out of the way.

'What the fuck?' the fat man spat.

Ahmed steadied the rucksack, then turned to look at him. The man seemed furious, red-faced. He pushed his great bulk against Ahmed's body, clearly spoiling for a fight. But Ahmed did not want a fight. Not here. He bowed his head. 'I apologise,' he said, meekly. 'That was extremely rude of me.'

The fat man huffed at him, but the wind had been taken out of his sails by Ahmed's swift apology. He grabbed his bag and waddled to the door.

At King's Cross Ahmed made sure he was always in the middle of the crowd as he made his way to the underground and bought himself a ticket to Waterloo. Once there, he consulted the timetables. Of course, he would not be taking a train to the station nearest the house; he would get within a certain radius and walk the rest. Nor would he take a direct route. It needed to be circuitous, to give him a better chance of shaking off any surveillance.

He worked out his route and memorised it instantly. It was good. It would get him there at eight o'clock that evening. That meant he would be approaching under cover of night. It would take three or four hours to get there; then he would be able to work out a strategy.

Keeping his head facing down towards the ground so that he avoided the glare of any CCTV, he bought himself a ticket. The first train was already waiting on the platform, so he found the emptiest carriage, took a seat and waited for it to move away.

The day passed slowly.

Latifa did not speak a word and the SAS men were similarly silent. The television was on in the corner, but the sound was turned down and none of them were really paying attention to the flicker of images. The three soldiers wore their gas masks, but Latifa had refused hers and nothing they could say could persuade her otherwise. Will had taken first watch with Drew, while Kennedy slept. At lunchtime the men had eaten tins of stew heated on the stove; Latifa refused it, choosing to accept only a few sips of water. At about three o'clock, she asked to use the toilet. Will nodded, woke Drew who was by now sleeping on the bed, and the three of them — UMPs at the ready — escorted her to the bathroom. Kennedy and Drew stood guard in the hallway, while Will took her inside. He kept his back to her while she did what she needed to do. When he heard the flushing of the chain he turned around. Clearly humiliated by the circumstances, she would not meet his eye.

At 19.00 hours it was his turn to get some rest. Drew and Kennedy switched on the NV binoculars and kept watch over the encroaching gloom. As he lay on the bed, Will's mind was turning over; but he was dog tired and he soon fell asleep.

Kennedy woke him at midnight. He sat up immediately and it took a moment for him to remember where he was. Latifa was still awake, still sitting in the chair, her arms fastened tightly behind her back.

'You should try and sleep,' he told her.

'Sleep?' she asked him, one eyebrow raised. 'How could I possibly go to sleep?'

Will shrugged, grabbed a bar of chocolate, then took up his position. He had another eight hours of surveillance ahead of him and he had to keep on the ball.

The luminous dial of Faisal Ahmed's hand-held compass glowed dimly in the darkness. On the train he had memorised his Ordnance Survey map of the region so there was no need for him to consult it by torchlight. By his reckoning, the house would be approximately 200 metres south of here. He moved stealthily through the forest and, sure enough, a minute later he saw a bright yellow light shining through the trees.

He stopped, gently laid his rucksack on the ground and removed his NV telescope. The trees ahead of him were distinguished in the hazy green light, and the glow from the upstairs room burned too brightly for him to look at it. But that was OK.There were other things he needed to look for first. They would have set up some kind of early-warning system. A tripwire around the property was possible, but unlikely — too difficult to set up and too easy for wild animals to set off. No, if he were in their shoes he'd do something else.

It didn't take him long to locate the motion-sensor boxes spaced at regular intervals along the wall. No doubt they would have been set up all around the house, ready to alert the men inside the moment he approached. He moved his sights up to the roof. That was the obvious way to approach, but it was impossible.

He'd have to think of something else; but for now, he needed to keep behind the tree line.

He packed the NV telescope away and pulled out a set of ordinary binoculars. He could see one man at the window, also looking through binoculars. One very accurate shot and maybe he could kill him from here. But it was high risk and taking out just one of them would do him no good at all.

He lowered his binoculars, sat down against the trunk of a tree, closed his eyes and thought.

Gradually a strategy started to form in his head. He considered it slowly, meticulously, making a mental list of its weak points and judging whether the risks they posed were acceptable.

Eventually, he was satisfied. But he needed some equipment and that meant hiking to a nearby town.

Faisal Ahmed spent five minutes locating a hollowed-out tree trunk where he could store his rucksack; then, without hesitation, he started retracing his steps out of the forest. If he could get what he needed that morning, he would be back in situ by the afternoon.

Which meant that he could put his plan into operation as soon as it was dark again.

'I think perhaps you have misjudged my brother,' Latifa Ahmed said, quietly. The sun was just beginning to rise and nobody had spoken for hours.

Will turned to her. She looked desperately tired. Desperately anxious. But still she had the same fierce determination in her eyes.

'He was never going to just walk up and knock on the door, Latifa,' he replied, quietly.

She shrugged, but her attempt to look nonchalant was not successful.

'You should eat something,' Will told her. He left his post at the tripod and walked over to where the food was stashed. 'There's bread, I think. I could uncuff you for a while.'

For a moment she looked as if she was going to refuse again; but at the last minute she nodded, her wide eyes brimming once more with tears.

'Stand up,' Will told her, gently. He was glad it was Kennedy who was asleep at that moment. He could do without the sarcastic comments. Latifa did as she was told and Will undid her cuffs. She stretched out her arms in front of her, then hungrily devoured the slice of white bread Will offered, and then another.

'You really think he will come?' she asked Will.

He hesitated, aware that Drew was watching him intently. 'Do you?' he asked her.

Slowly, Latifa nodded her head. She gazed out of the window. 'He will come,' she whispered. Then she turned back to Will. 'You saved my life,' she said. 'Twice. When Faisal arrives, I will ask him not to kill you.'

Will blinked as her words sank in. Was she saying that just to reassure herself? But then why did she sound so confident?

'I need to cuff you again,' he said.

Latifa nodded, then obediently put her hands behind her back, her head bowed.

'Perhaps you should try to sleep, Latifa,' he said.

'Perhaps,' she replied quietly. 'Perhaps.'

He walked into the toy shop at two minutes past nine. The man behind the counter was reading a newspaper and didn't notice him until he was a metre away.

'Oh, excuse me, sir. You made me jump.' He was a jollylooking man, elderly, with a white moustache and twinkling blue eyes.

'I'm terribly sorry,' Ahmed replied, making sure his voice betrayed no hint of an accent.

'What can I do for you, anyway?'

Ahmed smiled. He knew his face looked appealing and open when he did so. 'I would like to buy a gift for my nephew,' he said, smoothly. 'He has asked Santa for a remotecontrolled car.'

The man nodded pleasantly, as if this were a request he often received and he was happy to oblige. 'There are three or four to choose from,' he said, walking out into the main area of the shop before returning with an armful of boxes. He spread them out on the counter.

Faisal Ahmed examined them. He was not interested in their size, shape or colour; he was not interested in their price. Instead, he scrutinised the technical specifications on the side of each box.

'I think my nephew will enjoy this one,' he announced brightly.

One minute later he was walking out with his new purchase.

His next stop was a builder's merchants, a large, anonymous superstore where he did not have to speak to anyone.

Here he bought himself an aerosol can of insulating foam.

The final item on his shopping list would be more difficult to come by; certainly he would be unlikely to find it in a shop. Instead, he headed to an Internet café. A quick search gave him a list of names of local doctors and a few minutes later he had located their addresses on the electoral register. He checked an online map and memorised their locations immediately.

Forty-five minutes later he was outside the first address. It only took him a couple of minutes to establish that there was someone home, so he moved on to the next house on his list. This one looked more hopeful.

There was an alleyway around the back. Checking that he wasn't being watched, he disappeared down it and moments later was climbing over a high fence into the back garden of the house. He surveyed the place from the bottom of the garden. Still no sign of life. He decided to proceed. In his pocket was a leather pouch of metal instruments.

He brought it out as he approached the back door and about thirty seconds later he had picked the lock. Once inside the kitchen, he stopped and listened.

Silence.

Then he began to search the house.

He worked quietly and neatly, not disturbing anything he came across. The jewellery was easy to find, but he left that. In the small home office there was a safe bolted to the floor. Easily opened, but it didn't interest him. This was the house of a doctor and it was a doctor's implement he required.

He found what he needed after about ten minutes, hidden away in a drawer in a spare room upstairs. It was an old stethoscope, but it still worked. It would be fine for his purposes.

Ahmed put it in the bag with the car and the builder's foam, carefully shut the drawer, then slipped downstairs. He left by the same route he had arrived and he used his metal tools to lock the kitchen door again. He felt confident that nobody would ever know he had been there.

His shopping list complete, Faisal Ahmed stealthily climbed over the garden fence and walked out into the street.

Two hours and thirty minutes later he was on the edge of the forest. There were a few houses dotted around and he knew that somewhere here he would be able to find the final thing he needed to execute his plan.

Sure enough, walking along the garden wall of a house which backed on to the forest, there was a domestic cat. It was a shaggy ginger Tom and it eyed Faisal Ahmed warily.

Ahmed stayed perfectly still.

The cat took a few steps nearer.

When Ahmed's hands flashed out to grab the animal, he did so with an uncanny speed and accuracy. The cat hissed and tried to get away, but Ahmed's grip was too firm. He held the animal under the arm that was holding his bag and with his spare hand clamped its jaws tight shut. Immediately he headed to the forest.

It took another forty-five minutes for him to reach the tree where his rucksack was being held. He would have to let the cat meow for a short time while he packed his purchases into the rucksack and hoisted it onto his back. When that was done, however, he clamped its jaws shut once more.

Then he sat and waited until nightfall.

The second night of surveillance. It seemed unnaturally quiet out there, as though the whole forest were holding its breath. Waiting for something to happen.

Drew was sleeping and so, finally, was Latifa. Kennedy coughed and Will turned sharply towards him. His colleague held up his hands. 'Don't shoot!' he grinned, before turning back to continue his surveillance. Will took a deep breath and went back to scanning the area for movement.

'He's out there, isn't he?' Kennedy said after a minute or so, his voice more serious now. 'He's out there somewhere.'

Will's expression remained emotionless. 'Yeah,' he said. 'He's out there somewhere.'

Ahmed looked at his watch. 02.00 hours. Now was the time.

He knew they were watching. Chances were they'd have NV, but even with that it would be impossible to see more than a metre or two into the forest. He would be able to get within that distance of the tree line without being detected. They were clearly relying on the motion sensors near the house to alert them to his arrival. He crept forward, his mouth firmly covering the jaws of the struggling cat. When he got as far as he dared, he started skirting round to the north, out of sight of the room with the lights on.

Any closer now and he would trigger the motion sensors.

Faisal Ahmed proceeded clinically and professionally. He removed his hand from the animal's jaws and then, swiftly, brutally, snapped the bones in two of its legs. The cat screeched pitifully, and its body went into spasm.

He had to move quickly now. He burst through the trees and, when he was a few metres from the house, he dropped the cat on the ground. The animal was in no state to move anywhere quickly: it dragged itself across the floor, but only managed to turn in a circle. Ahmed ran round to the other side of the house, past the front door. Once he was out of sight of the weakly mewing creature, he pressed his back against the wall.

Soon he would be able to get into the house.

But not yet. Not just yet.

The buzzer sounded.

Will had been resting, but the instant that tiny noise filled the room, he was on his feet. He grabbed his UMP and stepped towards Latifa's chair, aiming the gun towards her head. Drew and Kennedy had moved with similar speed, stepping back from the windows. Drew covered the door, Kennedy the windows. Will checked his gas mask was properly fitted.

'What is happening?' Latifa breathed, her whispered voice trembling with fright.

'He's here,' Will murmured.

The buzzer continued to sound. It meant there was still someone out there, looking for an entry, no doubt.

For a minute it sounded. Two minutes.

Will narrowed his eyes. Something wasn't right. If it was Ahmed, he wouldn't have stayed out in the open for that long — he'd have got close to the walls of the house, surely, where there was more cover. Drew and Kennedy seemed to be thinking the same thing: they were both casting him enquiring looks.

'I'm going down,' Will said, tersely. He grabbed a torch, removed the key from around his neck and unlocked the door, knowing that one of the others would lock it again after he had left.

It was dark in the hallway and he allowed himself a moment for his night vision to adjust to the change. Once that had happened, it took him a further two minutes to get down the stairs — each time he advanced he checked any new area to which he was exposed.

Now he was on the ground floor. The sound of the buzzer had faded away and all around him was silent. But then he heard something. High pitched. Like a scream, only not as loud. Carefully, he followed the sound. It took him into a room on the north side. The noise was louder here and it was coming from outside. Will crossed the room, then shone the torch through the window. The powerful beam illuminated something moving on the ground, and it was a moment before he realised what it was.

A cat, writhing around but unable to move far. It had been caught in a fight, Will surmised and he had been following its desperate mews of pain.

He closed his eyes. A false alarm. He felt the curious sensation of being both disappointed and relieved at the same time.

The animal couldn't stay there. Its movements were clearly what was triggering the motion sensors. Grim-faced, Will hurried to the front door, unlocked it, stepped outside and strode around to where the cat was scratching about on the ground, clearly in great pain. He had two options: pick the animal up and throw it into the forest, well clear of the motion sensors; or put the thing out of its misery now.

The cat continued to howl and Will's decision was made for him.

It took one shot from the UMP — a weapon far too powerful for this job at such close range. The instant the shot was fired, the animal was obliterated, its flesh spattered all around. But at least it was no longer in pain; and now it could no longer trigger the motion sensors.

Will looked out into the forest. 'Where the hell are you, Ahmed?' he whispered to himself. 'Where the hell are you?'

He turned back into the house, taking care to lock the door behind him.

Faisal Ahmed heard the gunshot that silenced the howls of the cat with satisfaction. He remained pressed against the wall, almost entirely motionless, for an hour before he judged the time right to make his next move.

Slowly, his back still against the wall so that he remained out of the beam of the motion sensors, he edged around to the front door. For the second time that day, he made use of the metal implements from their leather pouch to pick the lock. Once he was inside, he again took pains to lock the door behind him.

He was good at working silently — it was almost second nature. He crept into the kitchen and swiftly located the house's main fuse box. It opened up easily, he noted with satisfaction. That was good.

He needed a little light. He had correctly remembered the location of the door to the basement, so he went down there, shut the door behind him and drew a torch from his pocket. Out of his rucksack he pulled the receiver from the car he had bought earlier, along with a small detonating charge and a few tools. Within minutes his makeshift detonator had been created.

Stepping back into the kitchen, he fitted the charge into the fuse box, before spraying it with the builder's foam. The foam served two purposes: it held the detonator fast and when the time came it would muffle the sound.

Ahmed slung his rucksack back over his shoulders and extinguished the torch. He left the kitchen and quietly climbed the stairs at the end of the hallway.

He could see the room in which they had set up. Latifa would be in there, he realised; it was a struggle for him not to burst in, all guns blazing. But that would be foolish. Even though they would not be expecting him, they would be heavily armed and at the moment he did not know how many of them there were. No doubt he would be able to kill a number of them, but he risked being shot himself.

Patience, he told himself. Patience.

He crept across the hallway and into a room that was at the opposite corner of the house. It was very dark in here and again he allowed himself a little light from his torch. There was something he needed to locate. He found it quickly enough: a wire coming into the house just by the window. Looking through the window itself, he verified that it was indeed what he expected it to be: the wire connecting the motion sensor to whatever alarm system they had set up. It would be two-core flex. If he cut through either the live or the neutral it would disable the sensor while leaving a small snip in the flex that you would only see if you were looking for it. From his bag he removed a pair of wire cutters and in a second it was done.

Desperately slowly, as quietly as he could, Faisal Ahmed unscrewed the latch of the window on the wall opposite the door, and slid it open. He climbed outside, balanced himself precariously on the window ledge, and then slid the frame shut again.

With the motion sensor disabled, he could move freely, but it was precarious on the ledge and it took all his strength to haul himself up on to the slates of the roof. Once there, however, he worked quickly. The house was old and had not been well cared for, so the slates came off easily. He removed seven or eight, resting them in the guttering, then pulled a knife from his pocket and started scoring away at the thin layer of wood beneath. It took about ten minutes to make a hole big enough for him to squeeze through. The rucksack went first, then he gently lowered himself down, landing nimbly with his feet firmly on the sturdy joists of the attic.

It was freezing cold in the roof, but Ahmed put that from his mind. He crept to the area of the attic that covered the room in which Latifa was being held, then pulled out the doctor's stethoscope from his rucksack before lying down on his front across the joists. Gently, he pulled some of the thin layer of insulation away from the floor, laid the chestpiece against the plasterboard, then attached the earpieces to his ear.

Silence.

That was OK. It was to be expected. He'd done enough surveillance of his own to realise that it was long, silent work. But when someone spoke, he would hear. When they moved, he would know. In twenty-four hours' time, the 'false alarm' that he had engineered by breaking the cat's legs would be forgotten and he would know their routines and practices.

He would know just when to make his move.

The third day dawned.

'Morning campers!' Kennedy announced brightly as he shook Will awake.

Will sat up, groggily.

'Come on, shit-for-brains,' Kennedy continued. 'I need some kip.'

'All right, all right,' Will told him. He walked over to the food stash and peeled himself a couple of bananas. Latifa was drowsing in the chair, but her eyes flickered open as he looked at her.

'Daytime?' she asked.

'Daytime.'

'I would like to use the bathroom.'

Will nodded. 'You know the drill.' He turned to Drew and Kennedy. 'Come on, you two.'

Kennedy breathed out in frustration. 'What is it with me and women?' he asked no one in particular. 'As soon as I lie down, they say they need a piss. And when we get back, the moment's lost.'

Faisal Ahmed heard every word clearly. It had filled him with a wild surge of joy to hear his sister's voice; but it was replaced by sudden anger at the sound of that man speaking so disrespectfully in front of her.

He could not dwell on it, though. Not now.

Their conversation had told him there were four of them, including Latifa, and now his stethoscope amplified the sound of them leaving the room. Swiftly, he ripped up a larger portion of the roof insulation, then took his knife and started to score into the plasterboard. He had to be delicate — the knife had to weaken the plasterboard sufficiently, but not work its way through to the other side — yet quick — if they came back before he had finished, the sound would alert them to his presence.

He worked deftly and was satisfied that the ceiling was weak enough by the time they returned to the room.

Faisal Ahmed resumed his position lying on all fours across the joists, the stethoscope firmly in his ears.

It was evening when they next went to the bathroom. His body was freezing cold and ached from lying on the joists. But that didn't matter. As soon as the room was empty, Ahmed removed the heaviest item in his rucksack — an extremely long length of thin but strong rope, one end of which he tied to the rafters of the attic. He removed his MP5, checked the laser sight was working, then fitted his NV goggles to his head — switched off for now to conserve battery. Finally he placed the remote control by his side, ready to use when the time was right, before lying down once more to listen through the ceiling at what was going on below.

The minutes ticked past.

They turned to hours.

It was perfectly dark in the attic.

He waited.

And waited.

It was gone midnight when he illuminated his watch. In the room below, he heard voices. It sounded like changeover time and with satisfaction he heard one of the men say the words he was waiting for.

'Stick the kettle on.'

Still lying on the joists, Ahmed groped for the remote control.

He flicked the switch.

No sound.

He smiled with grim satisfaction. The builder's foam had done its sound-insulating work well.

In a matter of minutes it would be over.

In the room, the lights suddenly failed.

'What's happening?' Drew asked, sharply.

'Wake Kennedy,' Will hissed, his voice terse as he strode over to Latifa and put his gun to her head.

'I'm awake,' Kennedy's voice came through the darkness. 'What the fuck's going on?'

'We've lost power,' Will said.

'Thanks, Einstein. Why?'

'I don't know. It's an old house. Dodgy wiring. Bit of a coincidence, though.'

'Probably the fucking kettle.' Kennedy's voice was edgy and clipped.

'Cutting the electricity's one way to disable the motion sensors,' Drew added.

'But you can't do it from outside the house,' Will said.

'We checked, remember?'

'The fuse box must have tripped, then,' Drew said. 'One of us needs to go and have a look.'

Will grabbed a torch. 'I'll go,' he said. 'Lock the door after me and one of you mark the woman. Don't let your guard down for a second.'

'Roger that,' they spoke in unison. Will could tell from the brisk, efficient sound of their voices that they had entered combat mode. It probably was just the kettle tripping the electrics, but you couldn't be too sure.

Will descended the stairs carefully, his weapon at the ready. As he edged slowly down to the kitchen he could feel the blood pumping in his veins. He had to get the power back on — without that, their early-warning system was useless. But something wasn't right. He desperately tried to work out what he might have missed, but there was nothing. The power couldn't be turned off from outside and the house couldn't be approached without them knowing.

It was impossible. So why did he suddenly feel so nervous?

The fuse box was just ahead of him. He illuminated his torch and pointed it at the wall.

He blinked.

The door to the box was hanging open; inside was a mess of wires and foam.

No one else in the house had done that to the fuse box It could only mean one thing.

'Oh my God,' he whispered to himself, a sudden, debilitating dread creeping through his limbs.' Ahmed. He's already here.'

And it was only then that he heard the gunshots from above.