Crisis Four by Andy McNab Read Free Book Online Page B

escaped from any of the holes he had in him. Glen’s chest was just a mess of blood-matted hair.
    The team were going to be too busy to drink coffee, so with nothing useful to do I pulled up my left sleeve and peeled back the tubigrip. Ripping off the surgical tape holding the catheter in place, I carefully pulled it out, pressing down on the puncture wound with a finger until it clotted.
    I looked around for Sarah. She was in a world of her own, sitting near where the coffee flasks were stowed. She’d found the power point and an adaptor that fed a two-pin plug, and her fingers were tapping frantically at the keyboard once more.
    I looked back at Glen. There was still lots of shouting and hollering going on in there; I just hoped that whatever was on that computer was worth it.
    I looked out of one of the small round windows and saw lights on the coastline. We had a bowser inside the Chinook, feeding extra fuel. It looked like this was a direct flight and that we were on for tea and toast in Cyprus later that morning. I took a sip of coffee.
    As we crossed the coast and headed out to sea, I stared out of the window, my mind starting to focus on the deep sound of the two big rotors throbbing above us. I was cut out of the daze by a despairing shout: ‘Fuck it! Fuck it!’
    I looked up in time to see the bloke who’d been astride Glen’s chest climbing down slowly onto the deck, his body language telling me everything I needed to know. He swung his boot and kicked the vehicle hard, denting the door.
    I turned my head and stared back out of the window. We were flying low and fast across the water. There wasn’t a light to be seen. My ear was hurting. I reached into my pocket and checked around for the lobe. I sat there toying with it, thinking how strange it was, just a small lump of gristle. Hopefully they’d stitch it on all right – but what did it matter how bad I looked? I was alive.
    I stood up and went over to Sarah. It was my job to look after her, and that included keeping her informed of what was going on. She was still immersed in her laptop.
    I said, ‘Sarah, he’s dead.’
    She carried on tapping keys. She didn’t even look up to see me offering her a flasktop of coffee.
    I kicked her feet. ‘Sarah… Glen is dead.’ She finally turned her eyes and said, ‘Oh, OK,’ then looked straight back down and carried on with her work.
    I looked at her hands. Glen’s blood had now dried hard on them and she didn’t give a shit. If it hadn’t been for her fucking about and not telling us that the job wasn’t as straightforward as we were first told, maybe he’d still be here, a big fucking grin on his face. Maybe Reg 2 was right, maybe she had been trying to kill Glen at the FRV. She knew that I would have binned the patrol and gone with her if he wasn’t still in with a chance.
    The team were sitting against the wagon, opening flasks and lighting up, leaving Glen exactly as he was. We’d all been doing what we got paid to do. Shit happens. This wasn’t going to change their lives, and I certainly wasn’t going to let it change mine.
    As Sarah carried on hitting her computer keys I drank coffee and watched the line of the Cyprus coast appear, trying to work out what the fuck I was doing here.

APRIL 1998

1
    Friday 24 April 1998
    ‘Three gallons a day, that’s your lot,’ the bosun barked. ‘But two gallons have to go to the cook, so there’s one gallon – I’ll tell ye again, just one gallon – left over for drinking, washing and anything else ye need it for. Anyone caught taking more will be flogged. So will gamblers, cheats and malingerers. We don’t like malingerers in Her Majesty’s Navy!’
    We were lined up on either side of the deck, listening to the bosun gobbing off about our water ration. I was trying not to catch Josh’s eye; I knew I’d burst into a fit of laughter which Kelly wouldn’t find amusing.
    There were about twenty of us ‘new crew’, mostly kids, all dressed in the