Firefight (24 page)

*

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?