Free The Rock by Chris Ryan

of chap who didn’t like to get his hands dirty. Leo’s too posh to muck in, you thought. Am I right?’
    ‘I didn’t think you’d be riding to the rescue.’
    ‘Yet here I am. So what does that tell you?’
    ‘That you’re more bent than a boy band.’
    Land scraped brain matter off the sole of his shoe. ‘You and I aren’t so different, you know. We might come from different camps, but we’re fighting a common enemy. And we’re both taught that killing is only acceptable when it achieves a goal. Call it necessary murder.’
    Gardner shook his head. ‘I’ve seen my fair share of dead people. Mates coming home in body bags. Wives and kids breaking down in tears. Killing’s never a good thing.’
    ‘War is different.’
    ‘So they say.’
    Land rested the peashooter on the bathroom counter. ‘John Bald’s the enemy. He must be stopped.’
    Gardner’s mind drifted over the shower curtain. Six months ago he’d been on the piss with Stone, swapping old war stories and jokes about the Kabul nightlife. Allegiances used to count for something. Now he was lying dead in a bathtub, and it seemed like the whole world didn’t give a fuck about loyalty or honour.
    So where does that leave John? he wondered. Bottom line, John betrayed me. He’s no more honourable than Killen. Than a fucking snake.
    ‘I just saved your life,’ Land said. ‘The least you can do is see through the mission to tail Bald. If you want to walk away from the Firm afterwards, that’s up to you. You don’t have to take up the job offer; dammit, I’ll even sort an alternative position. Perhaps something not as glamorous. A desk job. Or guard duty for a lesser-known royal maybe.’
    Gardner quit the bathroom. The smell was making him nauseous. Land hovered in the doorway.
    ‘What’s it to be?’
    Gardner’s rucksack sat on the bed. He wanted to pick it up, flip Land the bird and bug out of the Rock. Out of this nightmare.
    ‘We don’t have much time,’ Land continued. ‘Killen’s out there. That bastard’s going to try to intercept Bald by hook or by crook, and we can’t let that happen.’
    ‘Bald’s in hiding. How will Killen know where to look for him?’
    Land snooped out of the hotel window. Main Street was quiet.
    ‘That plunge in the water has dulled your senses a tad, mmm? Think about it: Gibraltar is crawling with police. The border with Spain is on high alert for a crazed gunman on the loose, namely Shai Golan – the man whose acquaintance you made at the King’s Hotel. Given that kind of police presence, Bald isn’t going to risk smuggling the cocaine across the border. And he’d never get the stuff past airport security. So that leaves only one way off.’
    ‘By boat.’
    Land clicked his fingers. ‘He
has
to leave via the marina. Our sources indicate that a man matching Bald’s description reserved a cruiser yacht called the
Defiant
two days ago. All Killen has to do is show at the marina and wait for his chance.’
    Gardner recalled something from Rio.
    ‘John can’t pilot a boat. That’s why he called me to Brazil.’
    ‘Either he was telling fibs, or he’s got help. Whichever it is, Bald simply has no choice but to go old-school and ship out his drugs. And MI6 needs him to succeed. Once he’s on the boat we’ve got him red-handed and your mission will be over. This is it, Joe. One more step.’
    Gardner searched his eyelids. Just this last job. ‘If I do this,’ he said, ‘I want be back in the Regiment one hundred per cent.’
    ‘Impossible. I told you so a week ago.’
    ‘I’ll do whatever undercover work needs doing, but I’m fucked if I have to report back up to some rich prick in a suit with a semi-detached in Fulham. No offence.’
    ‘Plenty taken. But no one can do what you’re asking.’
    ‘Talk to Major Josh Oliver.’
    ‘I hardly think the new Commander of 22 SAS is going to be a sympathetic ear.’
    ‘Just talk to him.’
    Major Oliver. Just plain old Josh back when he and