Boy Soldier by Andy McNab Read Free Book Online Page A

the lights would relay pictures back to the small bank of TV monitors inside the house.
    The house was like a fortress. Fortress Frankie. Everything used in its defence had been bought at either the local B&Q store or an electrical repairs shop and then been adapted by Frankie for his special requirements. He had security down to a fine art.
    He reached the cottage. All seemed in order: the garden gate was still closed. He ran one hand down to a point just below the latch and felt the tip of the match head he had wedged there while closing the gate that morning. No one had opened the gate. No one had reason to: Frankie never got any mail.
    He took the bike inside, locked the front door, and went into every room, checking that nothing had been disturbed.
    Most of the rooms had bare, original floorboards or old carpet, but in the kitchen Frankie had fitted a cheap vinyl covering in an imitation marble tile pattern. In front of the sink unit a thick rug was super-glued to the vinyl. Frankie grabbed one edge of the rug with both hands and pulled, lifting the rug, the covering and the hidden trapdoor beneath.
    The rotting wooden steps disappeared into darkness. A torch lay on the first step. Frankie switched it on and descended into the cellar. It was damp and musty, and because of the closeness to the river, a few millimetres of water covered the floor even in the summer months. But apart from the isolated location of the cottage, the cellar had been its major attraction.
    Against one wall was a stack of wooden boxes. Frankie moved them to one side and shone a torch into a small hole halfway up the wall. The piercing beam picked out the coffin-sized cave a metre and a half into the tunnel. In it was a bin liner full of clothes, tinned food and most of Frankie's savings. Beyond the cave, the narrow tunnel stretched away into darkness for nearly twenty metres. At the far end, a camouflaged escape hatch went up to ground level in the tree line to the right of the cottage. If ever the house came under attack Frankie's best chance of survival would be concealment. The cave was one of his hides; there were two more out in the woodlands.
    He went back up to the ground floor and looked at the TV monitors to make sure the detectors had tripped on the way in. The reassuring green glow of the muddy track from the IR cameras told him all was well.
    That was it. Drill over. Frankie could relax, as much as he ever relaxed. He would make himself a meal and then settle down to another night in front of the telly.

9
    'Your granddad was a good bloke.'
    'Was?'
    Kev Newman shrugged, took a long drink from his pint of bitter and sat back in his chair. It seemed to have difficulty in containing him. 'Figure of speech.'
    It was easy to see why he was known as Big Kev. He was massive. He'd looked tall in the photograph but in the years since then he'd bulked up in a big way. Now muscle was gradually turning to fat, but with hands like shovels, Kev still looked like the wrong man to pick an argument with.
    The Victory Club was heaving, very different from Danny's first visit. The 'old and bold', the name given to ex-SAS men, had turned out in their droves to give their mate a good send-off. Ties were loosened, jackets were draped over the backs of chairs, the beer was flowing and the room was alive with animated conversation and laughter. The funeral was over and the wake was well and truly underway.
    Getting into the Victory had been easier for Danny second time around. He'd arranged for Harry the barman to sign him in under the name of Carisbrook and it had been no problem, specially as he was more suitably dressed in jacket and tie.
    He spotted Kev Newman as soon as he walked in with a bunch of his mates. Big Kev wasn't easy to miss. The group got in their first round of drinks, and as they made their way towards a corner table, Kev was waylaid by another veteran. Danny waited until Kev was alone and then moved in and introduced himself.
    If the big