Red Notice by Andy McNab Read Free Book Online

set in that glass and I’m guessing it’d be time to put your head between your legs—’
    ‘And kiss your arse goodbye.’ Tom leaned his back againstthe door, knees bent, creating a platform with his thighs. ‘Jockey, get up there and have a look.’
    Jockey climbed onto Tom’s legs, put one Hi-Tec assault boot on his shoulder, then the other, and peered through the window. Five seconds later he was back down and on the net. ‘Alpha, this is Blue One – we have an IED in the basement, blocking our advance. At least twenty kilos of PE. There’s a tunnel beyond it. Has to be X-ray One’s escape route.’
    Bryce started to move his team back the way they had come. He knew what was about to happen.
    Tom did too, and followed. The ATO (Ammunition Technical Officer) would take care of the IED, and the police would take back operational command of the incident. Military Aid to the Civil Power (MACP) was always a bit of a slap in the face for the Met. It meant armed assistance when the police were unable to cope – with riot, organized crime or terrorism. It was always a big deal for them to hand over control of a criminal situation to the military on UK soil, so they didn’t waste a minute snatching it back.
    Gavin’s voice crackled in the Blue team’s ears. ‘Alpha, roger that. Blue One, stay with the IED until the ATO arrives. All other call-signs withdraw. Move back to the holding area. Out.’

13
    ‘LASZLO’S GONE.’ GAVIN tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. ‘And he’s left a bloody great IED as a farewell present. Days like this make me wish I was a Frog . . .’
    Ashton nodded. ‘Or a Russian.’
    The Compagnies Républicaines de Sécurité (CRS) were specially trained to deal with riots and other circumstances that fell awkwardly between the maintenance of law and order and outright war. The Interior Ministry of the Russian Federation had its own armed troops to deal with major riots, terrorism and low-level insurrection.
    ‘Fuck it.’ Gavin brought his fist down on the table. ‘We’d have had him if that lot –’ he jerked his head in the vague direction of central London ‘– had got their shit together.’
    ‘Some you win.’ Ashton got to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. ‘OK, wrap it up. We need to be out of here before the media circus hits town.’
    Woolf continued to bark instructions into his phone. ‘That’s what I said, and that’s what I want: a nationwide lockdown. Every airport, seaport and railway station. Get it done now .’
    He broke the connection and met the 3i/c’s stare.
    ‘We waited too fucking long,’ Gavin said.
    ‘Bollocks. You messed up, pure and simple. And now we’re going to have to go and find him all over again.’
    Gavin gave a snort. ‘Unless he grows wings, how hard can it be? It’s a fucking island, isn’t it?’
    ‘It took three years to track him down the first time. He may be a mass-murdering psychopath to us, but he’s the number-one poster boy in South Ossetia. You just saw how men – and even women, for heaven’s sake – are prepared to die for him. Laszlo is like a god to them. If he goes underground again, the Russian network will make damn sure we don’t get anywhere near him.’
    ‘You’d better crack on before he does, then.’
    ‘ Crack on? Of course we’re going to bloody crack on.’ Woolf was close to blowing a fuse. ‘Because while you Special Forces “blades” are diving for cover, we’ll have every toe-rag reporter in our faces, every paper in the world printing pictures of Laszlo’s victims and demanding to know why we – we, not you – failed them.’ He grabbed his papers and stormed out of the room, but rather spoiled the effect when he realized he had left his mobile behind and had to retrace his steps, avoiding Gavin’s eye, to collect it.
    Gavin packed up his kit as sirens wailed and the beat of TV-network helicopters filled the air. He grinned at the landlord. ‘Mate, you can have