The cash would come in handy for Anna and me, but it wasn’t going towards a yacht in the Bahamas.
4
The final set of lights seemed to keep turning red every thirty seconds, but I finally covered the remaining two hundred metres and turned down the ramp into our basement car park.
I was going to miss this place. I was going to miss the views over the Moskva River and Borodinsky Bridge. I was even going to miss the world’s most miserable front-desk jockeys.
There had been a brand-new government-issue concierge sitting there this morning, with the TV on full blast, smoking something that smelt like boiling tarmac. It was good to know the factory that made these old men was still going strong. The production line turned out only one model: guys who hated everything and everyone in creation.
I wound down my window and thrust my battered face towards the camera so Comrade Misery-guts upstairs could check my registration against the vehicle log and lift the shutter. It would have been easier to install a card-entry system, of course, but that would have meant fewer jobs for the boys. A lot of that old Communist stuff died hard.
My parking space was in the first row, directly opposite the entrance. The shutter clanked and groaned as it started its slow descent behind me while I climbed out and put the key in the lock; the fob needed a new battery.
A movement caught my eye. I looked across the bonnet to see two massive hulks emerge from the shadows, storming my way. There was drama in their stride. They might have been collecting for the Mormons, but I wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out.
I turned and shot back up the slope to the shutter, dived through the gap that was still left beneath it and took a couple of rolls on the far side.
I glanced back into the car park as I picked myself up. The two guys were piling towards me, dressed in black leather and looking very pissed off. Forties, maybe; efficient haircuts, a touch of grey at the temples. They’d seen a bit, judging by the state of their noses, but were now monstrously overweight. Either Diminetz’s guys had come all the way from Moldova for tea and cakes, or Anna was the most prophetic person on the planet.
I started running as fast as I could towards the shelter of the rush-hour Metro.
My feet didn’t feel a thing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
From the day he was found in a carrier bag on the steps of Guy’s Hospital, Andy McNab has led an extraordinary life.
As a teenage delinquent, Andy McNab kicked against society. As a young soldier he waged war against the IRA in the streets and fields of South Armagh. As a member of 22 SAS he was at the centre of covert operations for nine years – on five continents. During the Gulf War he commanded Bravo Two Zero, a patrol that, in the words of his commanding officer, ‘will remain in regimental history for ever’. Awarded both the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM) and Military Medal (MM) during his military career, McNab was the British Army’s most highly decorated serving soldier when he finally left the SAS.
Since then Andy McNab has become one of the world’s bestselling writers, drawing on his insider knowledge and experience. As well as three non-fiction bestsellers, he is the author of the bestselling Nick Stone thrillers. Besides his writing work, he lectures to security and intelligence agencies in both the USA and UK, works in the film industry advising Hollywood on everything from covert procedure to training civilian actors to act like soldiers and he continues to be a spokesperson and fundraiser for both military and literacy charities.
Also by Andy McNab
Novels featuring Nick Stone
REMOTE CONTROL
CRISIS FOUR
FIREWALL
LAST LIGHT
LIBERATION DAY
DARK WINTER
DEEP BLACK
AGGRESSOR
RECOIL
CROSSFIRE
BRUTE FORCE
EXIT WOUND
ZERO HOUR
DEAD CENTRE
Featuring Tom Buckingham
RED NOTICE
Andy McNab with Kym Jordan
BATTLE LINES
Quick Reads
THE GREY MAN
LAST NIGHT ANOTHER SOLDIER
TODAY EVERYTHING CHANGES
Non-fiction
BRAVO TWO ZERO
IMMEDIATE ACTION
SEVEN TROOP
SPOKEN FROM THE FRONT
For more information on Andy McNab and his books, see his website at www.andymcnab.co.uk
TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS
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First published in Great Britain
in 2013 by Bantam Press
an imprint of Transworld Publishers
Copyright © Andy McNab 2013
Andy McNab has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
Version 1.0 Epub ISBN 9781409032960
ISBNs 9780593065242 (cased)
9780593065259 (tpb)
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