“And you’ll get them to incriminate themselves?” Crabbie said.
“I’ll try to.”
“And what if it’s a double cross and they bring a couple of gunmen with them?” Crabbie asked.
“You know that factory. We can see for miles round there. If we don’t like what’s coming we can get out of there. But anyway, you’ll be there with a Heckler and Koch MP5, as will Lawson and me …” I suddenly realised I’d been getting ahead of myself. “Uhm, that’s if you lads are in. I should have—”
“Of course we’re in, sir,” Lawson said matter of factly.
Crabbie nodded vigorously. “Oh aye. We’re in. Do you think there’s anyone else we can trust though? For back-up.”
“I doubt it,” I said. “What do you think?”
“We’d have to lie to them. As soon as we mention that we’re trying to trap ACC Strong … well, alarm bells will be ringing. And if we lie to them and Strong shows up … Confusion, to say the least.”
“In house,” Lawson said. “The three of us. We’ll take him down.”
26: THE FACTORY
The abandoned factory was a movie trailer from an entropic future when all the world would look like this. From a time without the means to repair corrugation or combustion engines or vacuum tubes. From a planet of rust and candle power. Guano coated the walls. Mildewed garbage lay in heaps. Strange machinery littered a floor which, with its layer of leaves, oil and broken glass was reminiscent of the dark understorey of a rainforest …
Yeah, I know.
Circles.
That’s why I’m getting out. I wasn’t joking about retirement, but I have a slightly different plan, one that won’t involve me selling my soul to the paramilitaries.
Crabbie signalling me with his torch.
The torch on and off and on and off to tell us that a car was coming.
A momentary ellipse. A fragment of a second. But enough to move us from prologue into body … This was it. I was confident. I had prepared the ground. Walked the terrain. I had sent home the aged night watchman, telling him that there was a police operation underway. I had gotten the best bullet-proof vests and Heckler and Koch MP5s from the armoury. I had taken Crabbie and Lawson to the UDR base in Woodburn and gotten two hours’ range time shooting the MP5s. Shooting, reloading, shooting until they were utterly familiar with the gun. Lawson was the more— Crabbie was running towards me.
“What is it?” I said.
“Two vehicles. One of them is a van, one of them is a car. I don’t like it.”
“We can abort. We can get out of here before they pull up,” I said.
“I don’t know,” he muttered.
“Let’s see who gets out of them,” I said, running to the broken window.
I checked my watch. It was five to twelve.
Sure enough it was a van, but there was only one man in it: Selden, wearing an anorak and carrying a torch. The other car was a white Bentley Mulsanne Turbo – Strong’s car. How did we not twig that he was on the take? Jesus.
“False alarm,” I said to Lawson. “Everything’s going according to plan.”
Lawson was hiding in the deep shadow in the corner of the factory with his sound-recording equipment.
It was all deep shadow in here, perfect for vanishing men. There was only one working light from an arc light the night watchman had set up. The only ambient sources were the street lights on the dual carriageway below us and the stars and moon. Lawson was next to the arc light switch and at the first sign of trouble was to kill the light. Would he know what trouble meant? He’d have to.
Selden and Strong walked up the path to the factory entrance together. Thick as bloody thieves.
“OK, Crabbie, get in the corner over there and cover me,” I whispered.
I zipped up my leather jacket.
Leather jacket, bullet-proof vest, jeans, Adidas gutties, lucky Che T-shirt again.
When they came in the door it was Selden, the handler, who said: “Hello?”
I let them walk in a little further before I answered: “Gentlemen, it’s good to see you.”
“About this—” Strong began, but Selden cut him off.
“Come over here, Duffy, I need to know that you’re not recording this.”
“Why would I do that? It’s going to incriminate me as much as it’ll incriminate you.”
“Nevertheless.”
I walked over, carrying the machine gun.
“I thought you said no guns,” Selden said.
“No guns for you, but I’m not meeting the two of you without protection. Get on with your search. I’m wearing a vest but it’s loose enough for you to look underneath it.”
Selden patted me down and found no wire.
“He’s clean,” Selden said.
Strong looked around the factory. “Are you alone?”
“I’m alone.”
“What about the redoubtable Sergeant McCrabban?” Strong said suspiciously.