"Энди Макнаб. Последний свет (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

There would be some damage, there'd be the odd cut or bruise, but there
shouldn't be any fatalities. The shaving cream top was there because I
didn't want to detonate it by accident. The press el on the right was
exposed. This was the one that would initiate the shoot.
Next to the box I had a set of binos mounted on a mini-tripod and
trained on the killing ground. I was going to need them to if watch the Yes
Man as he moved about the crowd and ID'd the target.
The lunch-box contained a big, green, square lithium battery, and a
mess of wires and circuit boards. I'd never tried to make things look neat;
I just wanted them to work. Two purple plastic coated wire antennas stuck
out of the rear of the box, trailed along the desk, over the window-sill I'd
pushed it up against, then dangled down the outside wall. I had the window
closed down on them to cut out as much noise as possible.
The loudest sound in the room was my breathing, which started to
quicken as the witching hour got closer. It was only outdone by the
occasional scream of delight from a tourist at ground level or a
particularly loud PA system from the river.
All I could do was wait. I crossed my arms on the desk, rested my head
on them, and stared at the bulbs that were now level with my eyes, willing
them to start flashing.
I was shaken out of my trance as Big Ben struck two. I knew the snipers
wouldn't move into their fire positions until the last moment so that they
didn't expose themselves longer than necessary, but I really wanted those
lights to start flashing at me.
For about the millionth time in the past twenty minutes I pushed down
on the uncovered press el resting the side of my head on my forearm to look
inside the box, like a kid wondering what his mum had made him for lunch. A
small bulb, nestled amongst the mass of wires, lit up with the current
generated by my send press el I wished now that I'd burnt another hole in
the lid for the bulb inside to join the others but at the time I couldn't be
arsed. I released it and pressed again. The same thing happened. The device
was working. But what about the other three that I'd built for the snipers?
I'd just have to wait and see.
The other thing I did for the millionth time was wonder why I couldn't
just say no to this stuff. Apart from the fact that I was soft in the head,
the answer was the same as always: it was the only thing I knew. I knew it,
the Firm knew it. They also knew that, as always, I was desperate for cash
again.
If I was truthful with myself, which I found pretty hard, there was
another, much deeper reason. I got my eyes level with the bulbs once more
and took a deep breath. I'd learnt a few things since attending the clinic
with Kelly.
Even at school there was desperation in me to be part of something
whether it was joining a woodwork group, or a gang that used to rob the
Jewish kids of the dinner money they'd wrapped in hankies so we couldn't
hear it rattle in their pockets as they walked past. But it never worked.
That feeling of belonging only happened once I joined the army. And now? I
just couldn't seem to shake it off.
At last. The middle bulb, Sniper Two's, gave five deliberate,
one-second pulses.