Payback. Part 13

Danny and Elena waited for Fergus to speak, both of them wondering what he could say that would go even part way to satisfying Joey's curiosity.

'You're right,' he said at last, looking directly at Joey. 'It wasn't an accident. I've been shot.'

Danny and Elena stared; the last thing either of them had expected to hear was the truth.

'I'm going to have to trust you, Joey,' Fergus continued. 'Can I do that?'

Elena couldn't believe what she was hearing. 'Trust him? Of course you can't trust him. This is my dad you're talking to!'

Fergus managed a slight smile. He knew they were in big trouble: his wound was bad and there was no way he could just get out of the car and walk away when they reached London. They needed Joey's help, and while Fergus had no intention of taking Elena's untrustworthy and unreliable dad totally into his confidence, he wanted to give him the impression that he would.

A white van pulled into a parking s.p.a.ce a few metres away and Fergus waited until the driver got out and ran through the rain towards the lights of the service area.

'You two go and get yourselves a cup of tea,' he said to Danny and Elena. 'I need to have a little chat with Joey.'

For a moment Joey's eyes widened in alarm. 'Wait a minute! You're not carrying a gun, are you?'

'You've got nothing to worry about, I'm completely unarmed.' Fergus didn't bother mentioning the PE and detonators nestling in his jacket pockets. He turned to Danny. 'Give us a while and bring me back some tea, plenty of sugar. And some food. And watch out for the CCTV.'

Elena grabbed her laptop bag as she got out. 'I'd better check my e-mail, see if there's anything from our friend. And I must call Jane to tell her I'm OK.'

The rain was still falling heavily. Danny and Elena pulled down the baseball caps they were wearing low over their eyes and ran through the puddles towards the shop and fast food area.

'He's not really gonna trust him, is he?' asked Elena as they reached the shelter of the buildings.

Danny laughed. 'My granddad doesn't trust anyone. He must be planning to do some sort of deal.'

Elena frowned. 'Deals with my dad don't usually work out too well. Come on, I'm hungry.'

They bought tea and sandwiches and a one-hour access card for the service area's hotzone and took them to a quiet corner. Elena made her call to Foxcroft and then checked her e-mail; there was a brief message: Your friends are missing. Have they contacted you? Report.

'Don't reply,' said Danny. 'We'd better check with my granddad first.'

'Take them some tea and sandwiches, and ask him what he wants me to do. But don't be long.'

'Why?'

'Because I'm going into the Deep Web. Don't want to miss it, do you?'

Danny hurried away and Elena spoofed her ID, calling herself Gola, the name she had used on her previous journeys into the Deep Web.

She began hitting the websites she had used before to gain access to the Intelligence Service's internal computer system and George Fincham's personal e-mails. That time she had been helped by a hacker using the name Black Star, who was surfing the dark corners of the Deep Web.

Elena was good at hacking, but compared to the experts who dwelt down in the Deep Web she was still a novice, a script kiddie. She keyed in a name and hit the site where hackers receive credits for their exploits, and where Black Star had first popped up on her screen.

Just like last time, Elena knew she would need a script written by an experienced hacker to get her past the firewalls protecting the Northwood mainframe. Just like real fire doors, firewalls are sometimes left open; if she could get through them, Northwood would be hers and she could go wherever she wanted.

Danny came back and sat down next to Elena. 'My granddad says don't reply to the e-mail. How's it going?'

'Takes time, Danny,' said Elena without looking away from the screen. 'But at least I know the way now.'

She bounced further down into the Deep Web, asking on the websites for any scripts that could help her. It was like being in an ever-expanding universe that seemed to stretch away into infinity.

The sandwiches were long finished and the half-drunk tea was stone cold when a pop-up suddenly appeared on the screen.

h.e.l.lO AGAIN GOLA. REMEMBER ME? I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR YOU. YOU HAVEN'T BEEN HERE IN THE DARKNESS FOR QUITE A WHILE. WANNA READ WHAT BLACK STAR HAS FOR YOU? I CAN GET YOU IN THERE. Y OR N?

Elena smiled. 'This guy must live on the Deep Web.'

'You sure it's Black Star?'

Elena pressed the Y key. 'We're just about to find out.'

I KNEW YOU WOULD. ROOT ACCESS GONNA BE PRETTY HARD TO GET, EVEN I'LL NEED HELP. MAYBE BLACK STAR AND GOLA CAN WORK TOGETHER? IT'LL BE THE ULTIMATE EXPLOIT. Y OR N?

Soon they were reading Black Star's proposal. It said that Black Star would send two scripts to give root access. One script would run from Gola's laptop and would tunnel its way into the Northwood system.

That was the good news; the bad news was that the second script had to be burned onto a CD and then someone would have to put that CD into a computer inside Northwood.

Danny was staring at the screen. 'How are we gonna get in there? It'll be guarded like the Crown Jewels. And if we do ever manage it, we know who that someone will be, don't we?'

Black Star explained that once Gola's laptop and the Northwood computers linked up, the two scripts, working together, would give root access. It was the only way, said Black Star, but if successful, it would have to be the biggest exploit of all time.

I WON'T SEE WHAT YOU SEE, BUT HEY, WHO CARES!! YOU WANT THE INFORMATION, I JUST WANNA BE PART OF THIS EXPLOIT. WILL YOU GO FOR IT GOLA? Y OR N?

Elena knew it was their only way of hacking into the mainframe. If even Black Star needed help, what chance would they they have? She hit the Y key. have? She hit the Y key.

OK! WHAT AN EXPLOIT! WE'RE GONNA BE FAMOUS FOR THIS! YOU READY TO DOWNLOAD? Y OR N?

By the time they got back to the car with more tea and sandwiches for Fergus and Joey, the two men had made their deal.

Elena told Fergus the details of the Black Star plan as he sipped his tea. The whole concept of hacking and exploits was alien and strange to the SAS veteran and at first he was doubtful. 'So what does Black Star get out of this?'

'The credit,' said Elena. 'It's what hackers live for; it's all all they live for. It's our only chance.' they live for. It's our only chance.'

Fergus nodded and finished the last of the tea. 'Joey and me have come to an arrangement. He'll be helping us for a little while.'

It was Elena's turn to be doubtful. 'And what does Joey get out of it?'

Joey looked mortified. 'Shame on you, daughter! You know full well your old dad would do anything to help out another human being in trouble.'

'Yeah, right,' said Elena, turning towards the steamed-up car window. She raised her hand and wiped away the condensation. The rain had stopped. 'Isn't it time we got moving?'

They drove back towards London slowly, and at around midnight Fergus told Joey to pull the car off the motorway and find a quiet place where they could grab a few hours' sleep. He was employing ultra-cautious tactics: arriving on the outskirts of the city during the early hours and cruising the deserted streets would only invite trouble and the possible interest of a police patrol car.

But Fergus was in too much pain to sleep. Instead he tried to think of a way of getting Danny into Northwood while he listened to Joey's deep, rumbling snores and Elena's frequent complaints as she jabbed her dad in the ribs and told him to shut up.

Soon after first light they were on the road again. They stopped at another service area and Danny and Elena went inside for hot food and drinks. As they ate and sipped tea, Fergus outlined his plan for Northwood.

Even Joey listened intently. His eyes widened as he took in the details and he looked at Danny as Fergus finished speaking. 'Rather you than me, son.'

Elena was still in a bad mood from listening to hour after hour of her dad's snores. 'I thought you said you'd do anything to help out someone in trouble.'

'Yes, darling, but there's anything and anything anything, and this definitely comes in the anything anything category.' category.'

Fergus s.h.i.+fted his weight slightly in the back seat. His leg was throbbing constantly and the pain was increasing. He wanted to do the job himself, but he knew it was impossible. 'It is is dangerous, Danny. Are you sure you want to do it?' dangerous, Danny. Are you sure you want to do it?'

There was no hesitation. 'It's got to be done. Once this is over and we prove your innocence we can get you to hospital. So we'd better get on with it.'

Fergus decided they should wait until after the early morning scramble before driving into London, and they joined the A40 approaching west London at around ten.

The traffic was still surprisingly heavy and slow moving. They were close to Northolt when they spotted the reason why: a police road block.

'Trouble,' said Joey as he slowed in the queue of vehicles filing past the armed officers and parked blue Land-Rovers.

Fergus stared out through the windscreen. 'Don't panic. It's not for us. The police aren't involved in this.'

Very few cars were actually being stopped; the volume of traffic was so heavy that it would have meant the whole of west London grinding to a standstill. Most vehicles were being allowed to drive slowly by, as officers peered inside to check out the occupants.

Joey was lucky, partly because the old red Ford Fiesta in front of them was directed to pull over. Three officers, all wearing flak jackets and carrying MP5 machine guns, approached the car, and without getting too close ordered the young driver, who was alone in the car, to step out.

Joey wound down his window and smiled broadly as he pa.s.sed the lone police officer at the roadside.

'What's happening, officer?' he called as the car crawled slowly by.

The officer was already looking at the next vehicle. 'Stick your radio on.'

CHAPTER 33

The third suicide bombing had taken place in Birmingham less than two hours earlier. This time only two people died, thanks largely to the heroic actions of a Big Issue Big Issue seller out early in the New Street area. seller out early in the New Street area.

It was a regular pitch: he usually recognized many of the office workers who pa.s.sed by on their way to offices and shops in the redeveloped part of the city. Most of them avoided buying one of his magazines; some adopting the no-eye-contact tactic, others using the old 'Got one already, mate' line, when he knew perfectly well that they hadn't.

Monday morning was never a good time for sales; most people were too fed up at the prospect of returning to work after the weekend. But it was a bright, cloudless morning in the Midlands, and suns.h.i.+ne usually did help sales. So the Big Issue Big Issue seller, who went by the name of Wilf, was out earlier than usual. seller, who went by the name of Wilf, was out earlier than usual.

He spotted the smartly dressed teenager because he looked lost. And nervous. And because he was wearing an expensive-looking duffel coat over his s.h.i.+rt and tie, while most people were in much lighter spring clothes.

Wilf's only interest at first was in the possibility of a sale; he was skilled in sizing up potential buyers. He put this kid down as a well-off student, probably here for a job interview.

Slowly the young man moved up the incline towards Wilf, and at exactly the right moment not too aggressive, in your face or confrontational Wilf stepped towards him and smiled. 'Big Issue, sir?'

The young man reacted as though Wilf was about to mug him. He almost jumped in the air, his eyes bulged in terror and he pulled his duffel coat closer round his body. It was almost as though Wilf had woken him from some sort of trance. He stood, frozen, for a moment and then shook his head vigorously and walked on.

Wilf watched him for a few seconds and then shrugged and turned away. 'Have a nice day.' He thought nothing more of it, but a couple of minutes later the teenager was back.

'Excuse me?'

Wilf knew it wasn't a sale; they never came back. The kid wanted directions. 'Yes, mate?'

'Can you tell me how to get to the BBC? It's at a place called the Mailbox.'

Wilf recognized the Newcastle accent instantly; his own girlfriend was a Geordie. He pointed up the incline and gave easy directions to the new BBC centre.

The teenager listened intently and then nodded.

'Got an interview, have you?' asked Wilf.

There was no reply; the young man simply walked away.

It was the mention of the BBC that did it. Wilf had watched the news, heard the stories of the smartly dressed young teenage bombers and their carefully selected, high-profile targets. He'd listened to the appeals from politicians and police officers for the public to remain vigilant and alert. And he was suddenly certain that beneath the young man's smart duffel coat there was a bomb strapped to his body.

'b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!'

The teenager was already about ten metres away and walking quickly. More people were moving up from New Street now and Wilf targeted the one he thought least likely to panic. He went up to a middle-aged man carrying a briefcase.

'Excuse me?'

'No, thanks.'

'What?'

'I don't want a magazine. I bought one once before and found it completely unreadable.'

'Look, I don't want to sell you a magazine, I need your help.'

The man could see that this was no advanced selling technique; the Big Issue Big Issue seller really did look worried. 'What is it?' seller really did look worried. 'What is it?'

'Have you got a mobile?'

'Yes.'

'Right. Well, don't panic when I tell you this. I think there's a kid heading towards the BBC at the Mailbox with a bomb strapped to his body.'

The man's eyes widened, but Wilf continued before he could say anything in response. 'Phone the police, say that Big Issue Big Issue Wilf told you. They know me. Tell them the kid has got fair hair and he's wearing a black duffel coat. Oh, and he's from Newcastle.' Wilf told you. They know me. Tell them the kid has got fair hair and he's wearing a black duffel coat. Oh, and he's from Newcastle.'

The man nodded and reached into his pocket for his mobile phone as Wilf started to move away.

'Where are you going?' called the man as he began punching in numbers.

'I'm gonna see if I can stop him, talk him out of it. He's just a kid. Make the call. Please! Please!'