Free Last Light by Andy McNab Page A

it and who does not. You do not.
    Personally, I am not in favour of you being given a second chance, but there is the broader matter of policy to consider."
    I didn't exactly understand what that meant, but it was a fair guess he'd been told to sort out this situation or he'd be severely in the shit.
    "Why kill the boy?" I said.
    "Why not the father? I presume he's the one moving this system."
    He kicked my thigh with his shiny toecap. It was pure frustration. I was sure he'd meant it to be harder, but just didn't have it in him.
    "Clean yourself up look at the state of you. Now go. These gentlemen will collect you from your residence at three."
    He gave 'residence' the full three syllables, enjoying every one. Sundance smiled like the village idiot as I hauled myself to my feet, the muscles in my stomach protesting badly.
    "I need money." I looked down like a scolded schoolboy as I leant against the wall, and that was exactly how I felt.
    The Yes Man sighed with impatience and nodded at Sundance. The Jock dug out his wallet from the back of his jeans, and counted out eighty-five pounds.
    'You owe me, boy."
    I just took it, not bothering to mention the six hundred US dollars he'd liberated from my pocket, and which had already been split between the two of them.
    Jamming it into my jeans, I started to walk, not looking at either of them as I reached the door. Trainers saw me in the doorframe and hit the shutter, but not before the Yes Man had the last word: "You'd better make good use of that money, Stone. There is no more. In fact, think yourself lucky you're keeping what you already have. After all, Orphan Annie will need new shoes from time to time, and her treatment in the States will cost a great deal more than it did at the Moorings."
    Fifteen minutes later I was on the tube from Kennington, heading north towards Camden Town. The dilapidated old train was packed tight with morning commuters, nearly every one radiating soap, toothpaste and designer smells. I was the exception, which was bad luck for the people I was sandwiched between: a massive black guy who'd turned his crisply laundered, white-shirted back on me, and a young white woman who didn't dare look up from the floor in case our eyes met and she sparked off the madman reeking of bile and roll-ups.
    The front pages of the morning papers were covered with dramatic colour pictures of the police attacking the sniper positions and the promise of a lot more to come inside. I just held on to the handrail and stared at the dot-com holiday adverts, not wanting to read them, instead letting my head jolt from side to side as we trundled north. I was in a daze, trying to get my head round what had happened, and getting nowhere.
    What could I do with Kelly? Nip over to Maryland, pick her up, run away and hide in the woods? Taking her away from Josh was pure fantasy: it would only screw her up even more than she was already. It would only be short-term, in any event: if the Firm wanted her dead, they'd make it happen eventually. What about telling Josh? No need: the Firm wouldn't do anything unless I failed. Besides, why stir him up any more than I had already?
    I let my head drop and stared at my feet as we got to a station and people fought each other to get on and off all at the same time. I got shoved and jostled and gave an involuntary gasp of pain.
    As the carriage repacked itself for the journey under the Thames, a pissed-off voice on the PA system told everybody to move right down inside the cars, and the doors eventually closed.
    I didn't know if the Yes Man was bluffing any more, probably, than he knew if I was. But it made no difference. Even if I did expose the job, that wouldn't stop Sundance and Trainers taking their trip to Maryland. There were enough Serb families short of a kid or two because Dad hadn't gone along with the Firm's demands during the latest Balkan wars, and I knew it hadn't stopped there.
    Try as I might, I couldn't stop myself picturing Kelly