Read Online Last Light by Andy McNab - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andy McNab
Tags: Fiction, thriller, Suspense, adventure, Action & Adventure, Intelligence Officers, British, Crime thriller, Stone, Nick (Fictitious character), Panama
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chips earlier and made me crawl over to wipe up my bile from the floor with the used paper as they drank more tea.
There was no more filling in, not even an acknowledgement of me being there. I had just been left to stew as Sundance lay half asleep on the settee. Trainers was wide awake and on stag, smoking his roll-up, draped across the two armchairs, making sure I didn't have any stupid ideas.
I slowly stretched out flat on my stomach to lessen the pain from the kicking, and rested my face on my hands, closing my eyes to try to get some sleep. It was never going to work: I could feel the blood pumping in my neck and couldn't stop thinking about what might happen to me next. My Beachy Head trip could still be on the cards with these two; it all depended on what the Yes Man had to say yes to, I supposed.
In the past, I'd always managed to get out of even the deepest shit with just the thinnest layer still stuck to me. I thought of my gunshot wound, sewn-back on earlobe, and dog-bite scars, and knew how lucky I'd been on those jobs in the last few years. I thought of other jobs, of being blindfolded and lined up against the wall of an aircraft hangar, listening to the noise of weapons being cocked. I remembered hearing the men each side of me, either quietly praying or openly crying and begging. I hadn't seen any reason to do either. It wasn't that I wanted to die; just that I'd always known that death was part of the deal.
But this did feel different. I thought of Kelly. I hadn't spoken to her since this job started. Not because there had been no opportunity1 had agreed timings with Josh last month it was just that I was too busy with preparations, or sometimes I just forgot.
Josh was right to fuck me off when I did get through: she did need a routine and stability. I could see his half-Mexican, half-black shaved head, scowling at me on the phone like a divorced wife. The skin on his jaw and cheekbone was a patchwork of pink, like a torn sponge that had been badly sewn back together.
The scarring was down to me, which didn't help the situation much. He wouldn't be getting too many modelling offers from Old Spice, that was for sure. I tried to break the ice with him once by telling him. He didn't exactly fall about with laughter.
I turned my head and rested my cheek on my hands, watching Trainers suck on the last of his roll-up. I supposed I'd always known the day would come, sooner or later, but I didn't want this to be it. Stuff flashed through my mind as if I was a split second away from a massive car crash, all the sorts of things that must hit any parent when they know they're about to die. The stupid argument with the kids before leaving for work. Not building that tree-house. Not getting round to filling out a will. The holidays not taken, the promises broken.
Josh was the only person apart from Kelly I cared for and who was still alive.
Would he miss me? He'd just be pissed off that we had unfinished business. And what about Kelly herself? She had a new start now would she just forget all about her useless, incompetent guardian in a few years?
SEVEN
Monday 4 September Sundance's StarT ac short, sharp tones cut the air after a long, painful night.
It was just after eight. I didn't bother to move from the prone position because of my kicking, but tried instead to convince myself that the pain was just weakness leaving the body, something like that.
Trainers jumped up to turn off the BBC breakfast news, showing the embankment, as Sundance opened up his phone. He knew who it was. There was no preliminary waffle, just nods and grunts.
Trainers hit the kettle button as the StarT ac was closed down and Sundance rolled himself off the settee. He gave me a big grin as he brushed back his hair with spread fingers.
"You have a visitor, and dye know what? He doesn't sound too pleased."
It was the witching hour.
I sat up and leant into the corner of the brick walls as they pulled the armchairs apart and put their
There was no more filling in, not even an acknowledgement of me being there. I had just been left to stew as Sundance lay half asleep on the settee. Trainers was wide awake and on stag, smoking his roll-up, draped across the two armchairs, making sure I didn't have any stupid ideas.
I slowly stretched out flat on my stomach to lessen the pain from the kicking, and rested my face on my hands, closing my eyes to try to get some sleep. It was never going to work: I could feel the blood pumping in my neck and couldn't stop thinking about what might happen to me next. My Beachy Head trip could still be on the cards with these two; it all depended on what the Yes Man had to say yes to, I supposed.
In the past, I'd always managed to get out of even the deepest shit with just the thinnest layer still stuck to me. I thought of my gunshot wound, sewn-back on earlobe, and dog-bite scars, and knew how lucky I'd been on those jobs in the last few years. I thought of other jobs, of being blindfolded and lined up against the wall of an aircraft hangar, listening to the noise of weapons being cocked. I remembered hearing the men each side of me, either quietly praying or openly crying and begging. I hadn't seen any reason to do either. It wasn't that I wanted to die; just that I'd always known that death was part of the deal.
But this did feel different. I thought of Kelly. I hadn't spoken to her since this job started. Not because there had been no opportunity1 had agreed timings with Josh last month it was just that I was too busy with preparations, or sometimes I just forgot.
Josh was right to fuck me off when I did get through: she did need a routine and stability. I could see his half-Mexican, half-black shaved head, scowling at me on the phone like a divorced wife. The skin on his jaw and cheekbone was a patchwork of pink, like a torn sponge that had been badly sewn back together.
The scarring was down to me, which didn't help the situation much. He wouldn't be getting too many modelling offers from Old Spice, that was for sure. I tried to break the ice with him once by telling him. He didn't exactly fall about with laughter.
I turned my head and rested my cheek on my hands, watching Trainers suck on the last of his roll-up. I supposed I'd always known the day would come, sooner or later, but I didn't want this to be it. Stuff flashed through my mind as if I was a split second away from a massive car crash, all the sorts of things that must hit any parent when they know they're about to die. The stupid argument with the kids before leaving for work. Not building that tree-house. Not getting round to filling out a will. The holidays not taken, the promises broken.
Josh was the only person apart from Kelly I cared for and who was still alive.
Would he miss me? He'd just be pissed off that we had unfinished business. And what about Kelly herself? She had a new start now would she just forget all about her useless, incompetent guardian in a few years?
SEVEN
Monday 4 September Sundance's StarT ac short, sharp tones cut the air after a long, painful night.
It was just after eight. I didn't bother to move from the prone position because of my kicking, but tried instead to convince myself that the pain was just weakness leaving the body, something like that.
Trainers jumped up to turn off the BBC breakfast news, showing the embankment, as Sundance opened up his phone. He knew who it was. There was no preliminary waffle, just nods and grunts.
Trainers hit the kettle button as the StarT ac was closed down and Sundance rolled himself off the settee. He gave me a big grin as he brushed back his hair with spread fingers.
"You have a visitor, and dye know what? He doesn't sound too pleased."
It was the witching hour.
I sat up and leant into the corner of the brick walls as they pulled the armchairs apart and put their
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