"Энди Макнаб. День независимости (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

to need the caving ladder after all. Made from two lengths of steel cable
with alloy tube rungs in between, the whole thing was about nine inches wide
and fifteen feet long, designed for cavers to get up and down potholes, or
whatever they do down there.
Lotfi brought out the two poles we'd picked up at the hardware store,
the telescopic jobs you can stick a squeegee on if you want to clean high
windows. Like all the other kit except for the timing unit, this should be
coming back with us; but if anything got left behind, it couldn't have a B&Q
label on it.
He taped them together to make one long pole, just slightly shorter
than the wall itself. Lotfi used it to lift the large steel hook that was
attached to one end of the wire ladder, and eased it over the top of the
wall.
I checked chamber on my Makharov yet again, and the others copied.
Then, after a shemag check, we were ready to go. I stepped closer.
"Remember, if we have a drama no head shots." I'd been boring these two
senseless for days about this, but it was imperative we didn't fuck up
Zeralda's head. I didn't know why, but I was starting to make an
educated -well, sort of guess.
I checked traser: with luck, just over twenty-two minutes left before
the tanks became infernos. I tapped Hubba-Hubba on the shoulder.
"OK, mate?"
He started to climb, with me steadying the waving ladder under him.
Caving ladders aren't climbed conventionally; you twist them through ninety
degrees so that they run between your legs and you use your heels on the
rungs, not your toes. Back at the mining camp, watching these two trying to
get up and down had been like a scene in a slapstick comedy. Now, with so
much practice, they glided up and down like chimpanzees.
Hubba-Hubba disappeared over the top of the wall and I heard a faint
grunt as he landed the other side. Then came the slow metallic creak of
bolts being gently prised open, while Lotfi retrieved and rolled up the
ladder before stashing it back in his bergen along with the poles.
The door opened and I moved through into a small courtyard, hearing at
once the gentle trickle of one of the ornamental fountains. I couldn't see
it, but knew from the sat photos that it was in front of me somewhere.
Lotfi followed close behind me. It was very dark in here, with no
lights on at all this side of the house. The building's irregular shape
meant that light from another part of the building could easily be hidden.
If we hadn't seen the car turn up, we wouldn't have known there was anyone
at home.
I felt leaves against my shemag as I stood by the compound wall,
looking and listening as my face became wet with condensation once more.
Hubba-Hubba closed the door behind us, bolting it shut so that if we screwed
the job up and Zeralda was able to do a runner, it would take a while for
him to escape.
Once they had got their berg ens back on, I was going to lead. I wanted
to be in control of my own destiny inside this cage. Pulling out my
Makharov, I followed the building around to the right. I still couldn't see
anything, but I knew from the sat pictures that the floor of the courtyard
was paved with large tiles in bold blue North African patterns.