Last Light by Andy McNab Read Free Book Online Page B

pulled from his jacket.
    The rest of us sat in silence. The driver just looked ahead through his sunglasses and Trainers turned round in his seat to try to see what Sundance was up to, taking care to cover my handcuffs so the DIYers couldn't see that we weren't there for the kitchen sale.
    I wasn't really thinking or worrying about anything, just idly watching a young shell-suited couple load up their ancient XRi with boxes of wall tiles and grout. Maybe I was trying to avoid the fact that the call he was making meant life or death for me.
    Sundance shook me out of my dreamlike state as he slumped back into the Merc and slammed the door. The other two looked at him expectantly probably hoping to be told to drive me down to Beachy Head and give me a helping hand in my tragic suicide.
    There was nothing from him for twenty seconds or so while he put his seat-belt on. It was like waiting for the doctor to tell me if I had cancer or not. He sat for a while and looked disturbed; I didn't know what to think but took it as a good sign, without really knowing why.
    Eventually, after putting the StarT ac away, he looked at the driver.
    "Kennington."
    I knew where Kennington was, but didn't know what it meant to them. Not that it really mattered: I just felt a surge of relief about the change of plan.
    Whatever had been going to happen to me had been postponed.
    At length Sundance muttered, "If you're fucking with me, things will get hurtful."
    I nodded into the rear-view mirror as he gave me the thousand-metre stare. There was no need for further conversation as we drove back up the Old Kent Road. I was going to save all that for later, for the Yes Man. Leaning against the window to rest my arms and ease the tension of the handcuffs on my wrists, I gazed like a child at the world passing by, the glass steaming around my face.
    Somebody turned on the radio and the soothing sound of violins filled the Merc.
    It struck me as strange; I wouldn't have expected these boys to be into classical music any more than I was.
    I knew the area we were driving through like the back of my hand. As a ten-year old I had played there while bunking school. In those days the place was one big mass of minging council estates, dodgy secondhand-car dealers and old men in pubs drinking bottles of light ale. But now it looked as if every available square metre was being gentrified. The place was crawling with luxury developments and 911 Caireras, and all the pubs had been converted into wine bars. I wondered where all the old men went now to keep out of the cold.
    We were approaching Elephant and Castle again. The music finished and a female voice came on with an update on the incident that had shaken London. There were unconfirmed reports, she said, that three people had been killed in a gun battle with police, and that the bomb blast in Whitehall had produced between ten and sixteen minor casualties, who were being treated in hospital. Tony Blair had expressed his absolute outrage from his villa in Italy, and the emergency services were on full alert as further explosions could not be ruled out. No one as yet had claimed responsibility for the blast.
    We rounded the Elephant and Castle and headed towards Kennington, pulling over as two police vans sirened their way past.
    Sundance turned to me and shook his head in mock disapproval. Tut-tut-rut. See you you're a menace to society, you are."
    As the news finished and the music returned I continued to look out of the window. I was a menace to myself, not society. Why couldn't I steer clear of shit for a change, instead of heading straight for it like a light-drunk moth?
    We passed Kennington tube station, then took a right into a quiet residential street. The street name had been ripped from its post and the wooden backing was covered in graffiti. We turned again and the driver had to brake as he came across six or seven kids in the middle of the road, kicking a ball against the gable end of a