Bad Soldier: Danny Black Thriller 4 (44 page)

Danny Black.

What did that piece of shit want?

He let the call ring out.

Tony felt his pulse rising. What was it about Black that did that to him?

Ten seconds’ silence. Then the phone rang again.

This time he picked it up.

‘What?’ he spat.

The connection cut in and out. Crappy signal in this part of Norfolk.

‘
You still in Sandringham?
’ Black’s voice sounded different to usual. No expression. Tense.

‘What the fuck difference does it make to you?’

‘
We need to talk
,’ Black said.

Tony frowned. He could only think of one thing that Black would want to talk to him about, and that was the events on the migrant boat four nights ago, the little fracas between him and Spud. And Tony had a pretty good idea how
that
conversation would go.

‘You’ll have to come to me,’ Tony said.

‘
We already did
.’

Tony’s eyes panned across the room. His sidearm, holstered up, was hanging on the back of an old dining chair on the far side of the room. ‘Where are you?’ he asked carefully.

‘
Sandringham Estate, north entrance. Come alone, and don’t tell anyone. There’s something in it for you.
’

Sure, Tony thought. Like, one behind the ear.

‘Tempting, Black,’ Tony said. ‘But I think I’ll take a rain check.’

‘
That’s your call,
’ Black said. ‘
But then you won’t find out why everyone was so jumpy about getting Yellow Seven back to the UK. Laters, Tony.
’

‘Wait,’ Tony said. He paused. If Black was waiting at the north entrance, it would take him three to four minutes to get to the south-eastern entrance, whereas it would take Tony forty-five seconds. He could get there first, rather than walk into some clumsy trap of Danny Black’s. ‘There’s an entrance at the south-eastern perimeter. I’ll be there in five.’

He hung up and hurried to grab his sidearm. Seconds later he was outside. Mist had descended, thick and freezing. Tony sprinted through it towards the south-eastern gate, keeping to the cover of the trees by the side of the road that led up to it. He knew that the estate grounds were being patrolled by security personnel. He’d been introduced to them, and they knew his face. But he didn’t want any of those muppets stopping for a chat, slowing him down, so he kept hidden and moved quietly.

The gates were a good twelve feet tall, impressively constructed from black wrought iron, and incredibly ornate. They were covered with a thin film of frost. The CCTV camera covering the gates was situated atop a post a couple of metres inside the perimeter – no attempt to conceal it. Beyond the gates, a road, but the visibility was so poor that it was impossible to see as far as the forest on the far side. There was a smaller pedestrian gate to the left, electronically locked and with a video intercom. Tony approached the intercom and pressed the button. Security was high tonight, so he needed to buzz out as well as buzz in. A few seconds later, a voice came from the speaker. ‘What’s up, Tony?’

Tony recognised the voice. He’d been introduced to its owner earlier in the day. Youngish bloke with a beard to make him look older. He’d looked like he might jizz his pants when he found out Tony was Regiment. ‘Alright Matt,’ Tony said, remembering his name just in time. ‘Let us out, would you? Got a bird waiting for me down the road, if she fucking shows up in this weather.’

Matt chuckled. ‘Give her one from me,’ he said. There was a buzzing sound. Tony pushed the gate open, scurried ten metres to the left to get himself out of the range of the CCTV camera, and quickly started looking for a place to conceal himself before Black arrived. Now he could just make out the trees on the opposite side of the road. Distance, twenty metres. They would afford him enough cover. He moved towards them.

Then he stopped.

The red pinprick of a laser mark was dancing squarely on his chest. Its beam cut a faint red line through the mist.

Tony drew a deep breath. He even smiled, though not pleasantly, as he realised that Black had lied about which gate he was waiting at. The silhouette of a figure appeared, emerging from the misty tree cover on the other side of the road, breath condensing in billows around his head. Tony couldn’t make out a face, but he didn’t need to.

‘You were there all the time,’ he called. It wasn’t a question.

The figure kept walking. The laser dot stayed on Tony’s chest.

‘You’re a devious cunt, Black. I’ll give you that.’

The figure was crossing the road. Ten metres. Danny Black’s dark features became visible. He walked right up to Tony, dead-eyed. ‘Takes one to know one, Tony.’

‘What the fuck’s happened to you? You look like a corpse.’

‘Give me your gun, Tony.’

‘What makes you think I’m carrying?’

‘Give me your gun.’

A pause. Tony put his hand to his holster, pulled the sidearm and handed it to Black, handle first. Black took it, then raised one hand. The laser sight disappeared from Tony’s chest, but he wasn’t stupid enough to think he wasn’t still a target. He peered towards the trees. ‘Spud?’ he said.

Black nodded. He looked towards the Sandringham grounds. ‘Security?’

‘Of course.’

‘Get to the trees. Don’t worry about Spud. He won’t be squeezing triggers unless you do something stupid. So try to break the habit of a lifetime, huh?’

Tony walked.

Danny followed. They reached the cover of the trees in ten seconds. Spud was visible five metres back, the butt of his rifle pressed into his shoulder, mist curling around him like dry ice. Danny gestured at him to lower it. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘Tony’s going to try very hard not to be a dickhead. Plus, I’ve got his gun.’

Spud lowered the rifle. He and Tony glowered at each other. ‘I see you brought the work experience,’ Tony said. ‘He’d probably miss if he tried, but since I’m still breathing I take it you’re not here to nail me.’

‘We can help you,’ Danny said, ‘and you can help us. Simple as that.’

‘You can help me do what?’ Tony said. He sounded like the idea was ridiculous.

‘I know how you think, Tony. You’re always trying to work out how to turn a situation to your advantage. You didn’t want to go babysit Yellow Seven, but now you’re with him, you’re thinking: what’s in it for you. Am I wrong?’

Tony sniffed, but didn’t answer.

‘The security services think there’s going to be a hit at Westminster Abbey on Christmas morning. They’re wrong.’

‘Like you’d know,’ Tony snarled.

‘The hit’s going to be here, at Sandringham, on the royal family, while everyone’s attention is on London. At least one sniper, probably more. We’re going to stop it. You’re going to take the glory. I’m going to take the shooter. Simple as that.’

‘Nothing’s as simple as that. Why don’t you inform the headshed? They’ll put a stop to it in a second.’

‘There are reasons,’ Danny said.

‘Yeah? Well unless you tell me what they are, you can fuck off.’ He turned and made to leave.

Danny paused. He felt the skin round his eyes tightening. ‘Because one of the guys involved in the hit has my daughter,’ he said. As he spoke, he had to suppress the nausea again.

A pause. If Tony was concerned, or shocked, he didn’t show it.

‘How d’you work that out?’ Tony said.

‘It’s not the sort of thing I’d make up.’

Tony seemed to accept that.

‘Are you in?’ Danny said.

‘Maybe.’

‘Maybe’s no good to me.’

‘Best you’re going to get,’ Tony said.

Danny paused. ‘Talk me through the security arrangements around the grounds,’ he said.

Tony gave a dismissive hiss. ‘Piss poor,’ he said. ‘These royal protection officers need a kick up the arse.’

‘The security arrangements, Tony.’

‘The perimeter’s fairly secure,’ Tony said. ‘High fencing all around, CCTV on the weak spots. There’s a security room in the south wing of the main house where the camera monitors are, but just one guy watching them.’

‘The public are allowed into the church on Christmas morning, right?’

‘Right,’ said Tony.

‘Security checks?’

‘Of course. Handbag searches and metal detector sweeps.’

‘So none of the public can get a weapon through the perimeter.’

‘A ceramic knife, maybe. But no firearms.’

Danny thought for a moment. ‘How long have the royals been in residence?’ he asked.

‘About a week. That’s the thing – when they’re not here, the security isn’t even ten per cent of what it is now.’

‘So,’ Danny said, ‘if you were going to take out a hit on Christmas morning, you could get your hardware on site weeks beforehand?’

Tony nodded. ‘Months, even,’ he said. ‘And there are plenty of places to hide it. It’s all fucking trees and lakes.’

It was a strange thing. The animosity between them seemed to have fallen away as they spoke. It was as if the Regiment men were suddenly on autopilot, forgetting their differences for a moment, as they focussed on what they did best.

‘I checked out the map,’ Danny said. ‘The route from the house to the church is direct, right?’

‘Right. Along the northern edge of the West Lawns. Distance, about 400 metres. The old ones drive most of the way. The younger ones tend to walk it.’

‘From what I saw,’ Danny said, ‘there’s tree cover on either side of the road for about 150 metres, halfway along the route.’

‘About that,’ Tony said. His eyes were fixed on Danny, and it looked as if he’d just come to the same realisation that Danny had. ‘So if you were going to take a shot, that would be your best place to take cover.’

‘What about the church itself?’ Danny said. ‘There are trees in the vicinity, and it’s closer to the exit when you need to get away.’

‘Maybe,’ Tony agreed. ‘But the armed security will be heavier there, because it’s where the oldies will get out of their vehicles. If you were going to take out a hit, you’d definitely want to do it before you got to the church.’

Danny nodded. There was a long silence as he considered his options. ‘Can you get us into the grounds now?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

‘Are there security personnel in the grounds at the moment?’

‘Yep.’

‘Me and Spud are going to do a recce. Try to find any positions the shooters have set up. You need to keep the security personnel off our backs. If we locate the firing positions, it means we’ll be able to put our hands on the shooters when they take their positions in the morning. I get the information I need out of my guy while you keep the other security away from us, then I hand the fucker over to you and you can do what you want with him. Nail him for all I care. Stand back and bask in the glory.’

Danny could tell Tony liked the idea of being a national hero, though he was doing a good job of not letting it show in his face.

‘I’ll do what I can to keep security off your back,’ Tony said. ‘But if anyone finds you, far as I’m concerned you’re a couple of creeps trying to break into the old girl’s bedroom.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’m going back in,’ he said. ‘Give me exactly five minutes. I’ll get you forty-five seconds to scale the gate. Be careful, it’s icy. Be a fucking shame if you were to fall.’

Danny and Tony raised their watches, set the timers for five minutes and simultaneously started them. Without another word, Tony turned and ran back across the road to the gates. They watched his shadowy figure through the mist, speaking into the intercom. The side gate clicked open and he disappeared into the grounds.

‘Do you trust him?’ Spud breathed.

‘If there was nothing in it for him? Of course not. But there is. He’ll be the royals’ golden boy. Man like Tony could make a career out of that.’

‘He’s a bad soldier,’ Spud muttered. ‘We shouldn’t have anything to do with the fucker.’

‘No,’ Danny said. ‘He’s a good soldier. He’s just a bad man.’ He checked his watch. ‘Four minutes,’ he said.

‘Whaddya know, Matt,’ Tony said. ‘Stupid cow didn’t even show up.’

‘Can’t trust these Norfolk lasses,’ said the voice at the other end of the intercom. ‘Her father’s probably her brother, and all.’

The gate buzzed and Tony opened it. But he carried on talking to Matt. ‘I’ve got a bottle of Scotch at my place,’ he said. ‘Fancy a Christmas sharpener?’

‘Can’t leave my post,’ Matt said, the regret in his voice very plain to hear.

‘I’ll come to you,’ Tony said. ‘Give me a couple of minutes.’

Once he was inside the perimeter, Tony kept behind the treeline again. Knowing that he was out of sight of anyone patrolling the ground, he sprinted back to his house. The mist felt even thicker now, like it was clinging to him. He was there in less than a minute. He grabbed the half-finished bottle of Scotch and checked his watch. Two minutes fifty to go. He left his digs again and hurried towards the main house. He knew where Matt would be – in the monitor room in the south wing. Ninety seconds later he was outside the door. Time check: one minute twenty to go. He knocked softly on the door, and entered.