Liberation Day by Andy McNab Read Free Book Online

seconds later the music stopped, just as Greaseball tried wiping the vomit from his mouth before realizing his hands were bloodstained.
    Hubba-Hubba appeared in the doorway and for a moment looked appalled by what I had nearly finished.
    “What?”
    “Glasses,” he said.
    “What?”
    “One of the boys needs his glasses.”
    I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Fuck him, just get rid of them. We’re running out of time.”
    “He can’t. He needs them, they’re difficult to get. Really expensive to buy here.”
    He rooted around on the floor next to the bed, then pulled back the blood-soaked covers as I finished what I’d come to do.
    I grabbed the top sheet, pulled it from under Greaseball, and wrapped Zeralda’s head in it.
    Hubba-Hubba stood over the headless body. “Can you turn him over?”
    “What?”
    “Turn him over. They could be under him. You have the gloves.”
    I did as I was told. The precious glasses were under his legs, one lens cracked and bloodstained.
    Hubba-Hubba picked them up between his thumb and forefinger as if he were holding a scorpion. “They can go now. I’ll put them in the car.”
    Lotfi hadn’t returned, but I knew what he was up to.
    I wiped the knife blade on the bed and put it back into the bergen, then pulled out a black garbage bag and threw in the shrouded head.
    And that was it. I’d never cut off a man’s head before, and I hadn’t been looking forward to it one bit. But after seeing Zeralda with the boys, I’d had all the incentive I needed. In fact, I felt pretty good as I turned to Greaseball.
    The roar of burning fuel now filled the night. Flames licked higher and higher, brushing against the sky. The police could only be minutes away.
    Greaseball raised himself up from the bed. “You can’t kill me, I am too important. No one but Zeralda is to be killed—you know that, don’t you? You can’t kill me, that is not your decision to make, you are just the tools.”
    I looked him straight in the eye, but said nothing, feeling angry and deflated as he spat out some vomit. Then he almost smiled. “How do you think your people knew that he would be here tonight? You cannot kill me, I’m too important. You need me. Now, stop being stupid and crawl back into your kennel until required.”
    Windows were being smashed about the house now, to feed the fire we were going to start in here. Lotfi and Hubba-Hubba would be stacking furniture for good measure. This was the bit they’d really loved during the training.
    Lotfi pulled the last of the squeeze bottles from his bergen. They’d been half-filled with boiled dishwashing liquid, then topped off with gasoline and given a good shake. He gave the bed a squirt, then saved the rest for Zeralda. One match and this place would be an inferno.
    Greaseball made a run for it into the house and Hubba-Hubba started after him.
    “Leave him. Not enough time.”
    The phone rang and we all jumped.
    It could have been anyone—maybe the police, maybe one of Zeralda’s family, or one of his pedophile pals. Whatever, Hubba-Hubba turned and gave the phone a good squirt as well.
    “Come on,” I shouted, “time to move. Let’s light up, let’s go, let’s go!”
    I shouldered my bergen, and heard the rush of fuel being ignited in the room next door. Lotfi ran past me and out into the courtyard. I followed as Hubba-Hubba transformed the bedroom into a furnace.
    There was no great plan for the next part—just run down to the boat and get out to sea for a pickup and some hot sticky black tea and a noseful of diesel fumes.
    As I ran through the perimeter door I saw the flaming fuel from the bung flowing out of the breach and down the incline, exactly like it said in the script. The sky was bright orange. After all that practicing, all that rehearsal, it looked just beautiful. I stood there for what seemed like ages, looking at the flames as the heat gently seared my skin. I was almost sorry that we wouldn’t be around to see