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  Danny had proved to be an instinctive and fearless driver, without being reckless, which at the speeds he'd been travelling would soon have proved fatal. He'd advanced smoothly from the basics of cockpit drills and getting the most from the vehicle by the use of the gears, through to intensive high-speed work and then offensive and defensive driving, which was carried out on the firing ranges.

  The high-speed work took place on the roads between Hereford and Bristol – everything from country lanes to forest tracks, dual carriageways, motorway, and the city of Bristol itself.

  Now Danny was ready for his final test.

  He was far from what anyone in the Regiment would describe as the finished article, but there was no more time. He'd had a couple of run-ins with Phil Reddington, who was almost as hard a taskmaster as his grandfather – maybe that was one of the reasons why Fergus had wanted him on the team.

  Danny sat behind the wheel of the A4 as they prepared to go. Lee's MP5 was in the footwell, covered by a coat, just as it would have been if they were out on the street. The automatic machine gun was an excellent car weapon. Its collapsible butt made concealment easy, but the 9mm high-powered rounds could easily rip through a vehicle windscreen.

  Lee looked at Danny. 'You ready then?'

  Danny pulled his seat belt across his body, but he didn't click it home. On operations, they didn't wear seat belts because of the time it took to unbuckle them. Even SAS troops under fire have forgotten to unbuckle themselves, losing precious seconds in getting out of a vehicle to take on the enemy.

  That was why Danny and Lee had Velcro glued to the buckle and holder. The seat belt had to look as if it were being worn correctly so that they blended in with the third party.

  Danny secured the belt and nodded. 'Yep.'

  He pressed the send button on the gear stick and spoke into the concealed microphone on the dashboard.

  That's Delta One mobile.'

  Danny shoved the gear stick into first and got his foot down; soon he was doing seventy mph along the narrow track, cutting through the woods towards the range. The trees on either side became a green blur, and when Danny took it over a rise, the A4 flew into the air, the engine roaring. Lee pushed his feet into the footwell to support himself as they touched down again and the range came into view about half a mile away.

  Danny hit the gear stick pressel, taking a sharp bend as the track cut across fields.

  'That's Delta One approaching the range.'

  Lee's MP5 was still in the footwell; he wouldn't draw down the weapon until it was needed. Everything was played as if it were for real.

  The A4 was still doing seventy as it entered the range. Ahead, Danny saw a tall berm – a thick manmade earthworks, five metres high on three sides of the square, so that rounds could be fired to the sides as well as forward.

  In front of the vehicle were six wooden targets – men and women in civvies, all of them holding weapons. An explosion directly in front of them lifted a fireball into the air and Danny hit the brake and pressed the send pressel.

  'Contact! Contact! Wait out!'

  Lee had already raised his MP5; he pulled out the butt before ramming it into his shoulder and pushing down the safety. The A4 skidded towards the enemy; Danny's feet were pushed hard down onto the brake and clutch and he fought to keep the vehicle straight as Lee started firing.

  The windscreen shattered and the automatic weapon's empty casings bounced off the roof and down onto Danny. As the A4 screeched to a standstill, Lee was still firing and giving Danny some cover.

  'Go, Danny! Go!'

  Danny didn't need telling twice. He pushed open the door and launched himself out of the vehicle, the Velcro ripping away and freeing the seat belt. Rolling onto the ground, he pulled out his pistol from the pancake holster on his right hip and began firing from beneath the door.

  'Go! Go! Go!'

  Instead of rolling out and taking cover, Lee dropped his MP5 and empty mag to the ground, drew down his own pistol and moved forward. He stopped in front of the vehicle, putting down rounds into the x-rays.

  'Go!'

  It was Danny's cue to move again. He stopped firing and leaped to his feet, running past the front of the A4 until he was a couple of metres ahead. He dropped down onto one knee and took on the x-rays.

  'Go!'

  Lee had started moving forward as soon as he heard Danny firing. They were taking the fight to the enemy; it was known as 'fire and manoeuvre', meaning that there was always someone firing while the other moved. They were working well together.

  Danny reached his next position and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The top slide was held back because he was out of ammo.

  'Stoppage!'

  Lee stopped moving and put down fire; Danny pushed the mag-release catch with his thumb and the empty mag fell to the ground. He pulled a full one from his jacket pocket, reloaded and released the top slide catch with his thumb as he ran on. It rammed forward, picking up a round at the top of the mag and loading it.

  Stopping just a metre short of the targets, Danny was close enough to put double taps into their heads as Lee ran up to join him; they continued firing until they ran out of ammo.

  They unloaded their weapons and glanced at each other. They'd done well. All targets were punctured with their double taps and they had put down fire continuously as they moved forward.

  Phil had watched the whole exercise, and for once there was a slight smile on his face.

  That evening he called Fergus in Manchester. 'We're done. As ready as we'll ever be.'

  'How did Danny get on?'

  Fergus waited while Phil considered his reply, and when it came, it was almost exactly what he had expected.

  'He can be cocky, and headstrong, and sometimes he thinks he knows it all without being told. But he's done good. And I've got to admit, he's a tough little bastard. How's phase two going?'

  Fergus smiled into the telephone. 'Going to plan. See you in Manchester.'

  5

  Manchester, England

  'We've checked you out, Mr Watts.'

  'I would have been worried if you hadn't.'

  'Ex-SAS. More medals than David Beckham. Quite a hero, before it all went wrong.'

  'If you've done all your checks, you'll know that I've been officially pardoned.'

  'Oh, we have. We know everything about you; we followed the stories with great interest. You're famous. We like that.'

  Fergus and the Headingham twins were standing in a large yard enclosed by a high fence topped with barbed wire. The stench of petrol and charred rubber and leather hung in the air as they inspected the remains of four burned-out coaches. They were totally destroyed – nothing more than blackened skeletons.

  Two pristine coaches with matching black gloss livery and darkened windows stood well away from the wrecked vehicles; across the yard a couple of young guys leaned against the wall of a huge workshop with open double doors. Inside, another coach was being steam-cleaned.

  Fergus was meeting Teddy and Will Headingham for the first time. He'd seen the surveillance pics and read the int: identical twins, twenty-two, privileged background, same prep school, public school and university – Oxford, of course – same degree in chemistry, now partners in business together, running a fleet of luxury coaches to football matches on the continent – at least that was their legit business.

  But Fergus was more interested in his own first impressions of the Headingham twins. Up close, it really was almost impossible to tell one from the other. From his manner and in the way he dominated the conversation, Teddy was obviously the senior partner. He was maybe a couple of centimetres taller than his brother, but they were both strikingly good-looking, tall and slim, with blond hair and piercing, cold blue eyes. And both were dressed in lightweight, stone-coloured Paul Smith suits.

  They looked immaculate, completely out of place in the coach yard, unlike the two young guys leaning against the workshop wall, who were staring at Fergus as though they w
ere just itching for the signal to do him some serious damage.

  Fergus nodded towards them. 'That your own muscle? Bit young, aren't they?'

  'One might say that perhaps you're a bit old, Mr Watts,' said Teddy. 'And hardly in prime physical condition. I couldn't help but notice the limp. They didn't mention that in the newspapers.'

  'I get the job done.'

  'Oh, indeed you do. You're an expert at what you do – that's why we contacted you. And as for our own security team, they may be young, but they too get the job done.'

  Fergus looked back at the burned-out coaches. 'So I see.'

  Teddy's pale face coloured a little. 'Touché, Mr Watts.'

  Fergus was still looking at the blackened remains. 'So, who did this?' he asked.

  'We've no idea,' said Will quickly. 'Possibly business rivals.'

  Fergus almost smiled. 'Bit drastic. And you say this is the third incident?'

  'The first time, when my car was taken and burned out, we thought it was just joyriders,' Will explained. 'But then the upstairs office was trashed. And now this. And all in the last two weeks.'

  Fergus turned and looked at him. 'I didn't know the ticket-sales business was so cut-throat.'

  'We do a lot more than sell tickets,' said Will defensively. 'We provide exclusive luxury packages for sporting events. Travel, tickets and hotel accommodation.'

  'Yeah, you can spare me the sales pitch.' Fergus turned to Teddy. 'All I need to know is if you want me to review your security. But like I told you, I don't come cheap.'

  Teddy nodded. 'Let's go and talk.'

  Fergus glanced over to where the two heavies were still attempting to look menacing. 'You think they'll let us in?'

  'This place is for the workers,' said Teddy dismissively. 'We'll go to our apartment. It's more private, and somewhat more salubrious.' He took the keys of a BMW 7-series from his jacket pocket and nodded towards the vehicle, which was parked close to the main gates. 'I'll lead the way. And as we're still waiting for Will's replacement car, perhaps you won't mind if he travels with you.'

  6

  The listening device had been fitted into a back tooth, replacing an earlier filling in Fergus's mouth. It looked exactly like a normal filling but was actually a tiny microphone powered by the electricity in Fergus's body.

  The device had originally been developed for use by the American Drug Enforcement Agency, whose undercover operatives needed to be able to record their encounters with drug dealers for evidence in court. A receiving station had to be positioned within a hundred metres, but the suitcase-sized piece of kit could easily be set up in a car or a nearby building.

  Fergus was behind the wheel of a new Land Rover Discovery. It was the right sort of vehicle for the job, but then nothing had been left to chance; everything had to be right.

  As soon as he pulled away from the yard, the team was with him.

  'Stand by, stand by! That's Bravo One mobile, left from the yard. Danny has.'

  Danny's life with his grandfather had turned full circle. When he had set out to find Fergus more than a year earlier, he had been the target of a surveillance operation by MI6. Now he was part of a special surveillance team himself.

  He squeezed the pressel on the gear stick of the silver Mazda he was driving to activate the concealed microphone.

  'Danny still has Bravo One held at lights, indicating right. Phil, can you?'

  The answer came back immediately in Danny's radio earpiece.

  'Phil can.'

  'Roger that, Phil. Lights to green, Bravo One mobile. That's right at the lights.'

  The Land Rover made the right turn but Danny continued straight on. A few moments later the Land Rover passed a junction on the left and Phil turned his green Vauxhall Vectra onto the road, behind Fergus's vehicle.

  'Phil has Bravo One.'

  Danny was pleased that he'd got the first part of the job right, knowing that it would be his turn to take up the follow again before long. It was a relatively simple job: they had a pretty good idea where Fergus was heading because of previous surveillance work. But it was important to keep eyes on him – for his safety and to see if anyone else was following him. It was also vital, after all the training and practice, for the newly formed team to gain experience of working smoothly together on a real operation.

  'That's Bravo One indicating left at the roundabout. Lee, can you?'

  Lee was behind the wheel of his blue Ford Mondeo, two cars behind Phil.

  'Lee can.'

  Danny was already driving back towards a junction where he could comfortably slip in as the following vehicle once again. He knew the road network well. Since moving into an MI5 safe house on the edge of Manchester, one of the team's main jobs had been to familiarize themselves with both the city roads and the Greater Manchester area.

  All that had been happening while phase two of the operation was completed. And phase two had gone exactly to plan: Fergus had expertly carried out the very acts of sabotage and vandalism that the twins were now asking him to investigate.

  The tooth microphone was working perfectly. Each car had a receiving station concealed under the rear seat, and as Danny took a right turn and came into range, he heard Fergus's voice clearly in his earpiece.

  'So, what do the police reckon about these three incidents?'

  Will's sarcastic laugh and cynical reply was more distant, but still quite audible. 'The police have been their usual inefficient selves, Mr Watts. They come, they make notes and then they tell us they'll be in touch if there are any developments, which there never are.'

  'So you've no idea who might be doing this?'

  There was a pause before Will spoke, as though he were racking his brain to work out who might have the nerve to target their company. 'One of the Moss Side gangs, perhaps – there are a lot of them. Trying to muscle in on a legitimate business so they can launder illegally gained money, perhaps.'

  'This business of yours . . . If you don't mind me saying, it must have taken quite a lot of cash to set up.'

  'Oh, it did, but Mummy helped with the finance, and we're doing tremendously well. It was Teddy's idea, while we were still at uni. We read chemistry, but neither of us liked the thought of being stuck in some laboratory working for someone else. The business makes a lot of money and gives us time for the sort of lifestyle we enjoy.'

  'And what's that?'

  Will laughed. 'We like a good time. Clubs . . . interesting people. We have quite a number of celebrity friends.'

  In the Mazda, Danny shook his head as he listened. Mummy! He hadn't met the twins yet, but just listening to Will was enough to turn his stomach. All that money and privilege, and all they were interested in doing was messing up people's lives with drugs. If the int was right. And Danny was already thinking that it was.

  He dropped a gear and told himself to focus on the job, just like his grandfather always told him, then he heard Fergus's voice again.

  'So you've had no contact from anyone? No demands? No threats?'

  'No, nothing at all. To be absolutely honest, Mr Watts, we're completely in the dark.'

  Danny smiled as he heard the words: phase two had been a total success.

  'Lee's held at the lights. Bravo One through and still mobile. Lee does not have.'