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

after we got on board, not that we knew, so far below water. A Chrysler MPV
was waiting at the dockside; somebody took my bergen, and that was the last
I saw of it. For the next week I just had to wait in a hotel room in Cairo
while the head I'd brought back was confirmed as Zeralda's. If not, we might
have been sent back to get the correct one.
I still didn't know why I'd been asked to bring back Zeralda's head and
I still didn't care. All that mattered was that George was coming to Boston
in a few days' time, and I'd be getting Nick Stone's shiny new US passport,
social security number and Massachusetts driver's licence. I was about to
become a real person.
I looked around the train. Most of my fellow travellers had now got
bored looking at the dickhead cleaning his teeth and wiping the foam that
ran down his chin, and were buried in their papers. The front pages were
plastered with the war in Afghanistan, reporting that everything was going
well and there were no casualties. Northern Alliance fighters were
silhouetted against the sunset as they stood watching US Special Forces
soldiers carrying enough kit on their backs to collapse a donkey.
I looked out and chewed on my brush. To my right, and running parallel
with the track, was the coast road, also cutting through the icy marshland.
We were overtaking a taxi, his side windows festooned with patriotic
imagery; there was even a little Stars and Stripes fluttering from his
aerial. I couldn't see the driver, but knew he just had to be an Indian or a
Pakistani. Those guys didn't want to leave anything to chance in these
troubled times.
The marshland petered out, and whitewashed, weather-boarded houses
sprang up either side of the train, then the blur of supermarkets and used
car lots also draped in the Stars and Stripes. I felt my pulse quicken with
anticipation. I didn't have to work for the Firm any more, didn't have to do
any more jobs for George. I really felt I'd been given a new start, that
life was coming together. I was free.
Six.
I shoved the toothbrush into my brown nylon holdall as the train came
to a halt and people stood and got their hats and coats on. The automatic
doors drew back to reveal the signs for Wonderland Station, and I stepped
out of the carriage, hooking the holdall over my shoulder. I got an
immediate and fierce reminder that I wasn't in North Africa any more. The
temperature was several degrees below zero. I zipped up my fleece jacket,
which did nothing to keep out the bitter wind as I joined the throng heading
for the barrier.
She was standing by a ticket desk, dressed in a green nylon Puffa
jacket and a Russian style black sheepskin hat, her breath billowing about
her face as we both waved and smiled.
I got through the barrier and threaded my way through the crowd. Taking
her in my arms, I planted a big, exaggerated kiss on her forehead, hoping
that the toothpaste routine hadn't been in vain. I ran my fingers gently
down her cheek as I drew back and we exchanged huge smiles.
Her large green eyes stared into mine for several seconds, then she
hugged me hard.
"I missed you big-time, Stone."
"Me too." I kissed her again, properly this time.