"Payback" - читать интересную книгу автора (McNab Andy)

12

Fergus and Danny lay on the sandy earth next to the long stretch of tarmac road cutting through the remote stretch of Andalusian countryside. It was an hour before first light, the time when the night seems to be at its darkest.

Fergus had paced the distance from the road junction several kilometres back. They had not begun the long march until after dark and had left their final approach until Fergus stood off from the area and observed it from higher ground to ensure they were not walking into a trap. When he was sure it was safe, they moved in. Now they were in exactly the right position at exactly the right time.

The faint drone of an engine broke the silence.

‘Our lift,’ said Fergus quietly. ‘When I get up, you follow, and stay directly behind me.’

Danny could feel the tension as the adrenalin began pumping round his body. The moment he had dreamed of for so long had finally arrived. ‘Why did you decide we should go back?’ he asked.

Fergus gave a short, ironic laugh. ‘Because basically, whichever way you look at it, we’re in the shit. Sometimes, for all the training and preparation, you have to go with your gut feeling. My gut feeling is we take the ride that’s been offered. At least this way we’re doing something active, instead of running away. And you can’t run away for ever – didn’t you tell me that once?’

‘Yeah,’ answered Danny nervously.

‘And anyway,’ said Fergus as the noise of the engine grew louder, ‘I never much fancied a boat trip. Always been a crap sailor. But it is a gamble, Danny – and remember, if there’s more than one person in there, we don’t get in. I go first, and if I push you away, you run, and you don’t look back.’

Fergus had a lot of experience with what they were about to do. Back in the days when he had infiltrated FARC, the drug runners had used this system to avoid government helicopter gunships as they covertly moved their processed cocaine out of Colombia.

The engine noise was coming closer and Danny couldn’t stop himself from clambering to his knees to get a first glimpse. ‘I can’t see a thing – where is it?’

Fergus reached up, grabbed Danny and pulled him to the ground, as the roar of the aircraft’s engine was suddenly just a couple of metres above them. ‘There!’ shouted Fergus. ‘Stay down!’

They felt the back blast of the propeller and then heard the tyres screech as they made contact with the tarmac. Danny still couldn’t see the aircraft as it carried on along the improvised LS. Fergus was holding onto him tightly. ‘Stay behind me!’ he yelled. ‘I don’t want you walking into that propeller.’

He’d seen it happen before. A lot of pumped-up, over-eager young men had died needlessly by running around in the dark and getting chopped to death by the unseen propeller.

The sound of the Cessna grew louder again as it taxied back along the road towards Fergus and Danny. One wing passed over their prone bodies and then the plane turned again to face into the wind. The pilot had landed into the wind; take-off had to be the same to obtain extra lift.

The back blast of the propeller sent sand and grit flying into the air. Danny felt it hit his face, making his skin sting, as his nose filled with the smell of aviation fuel. He shouted at his grandfather, ‘What’s happening? Does he know we’re here?’

Fergus ignored him and kept his eyes fixed on the aircraft. He knew the pilot was looking at them at that moment. The reason they had lain right next to the road was so that he could see them on his approach. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have landed.

A red torchlight began to flash. Fergus pulled Danny to his feet and, bending low, moved towards the light in a direct line. The pilot had opened the cockpit’s rear door. Fergus looked inside, saw that the man was alone, then pushed Danny into the aircraft and climbed in after him. He slammed the door and slapped the pilot twice on the shoulder, indicating that they were ready to go.

The engine roared, the Cessna gathered speed and within seconds they were climbing into the dark sky.

In the cockpit Danny could smell coffee and see the dull glow coming from the instrument panel. He realized why the pilot hadn’t needed landing lights: he was wearing NVGs. They looked like a pair of miniature binoculars, suspended about two centimetres in front of the pilot’s eyes by a head harness.

A green glow was coming from the NVGs. The pilot could see as well as he could in daylight; the only difference was that everything appeared like a green negative film. And Fergus knew that the plane must also be fitted with a Nitesun torch, an infra-red searchlight which, together with the NVGs, had made them – and the road – perfectly visible during the landing.

Danny peered out of a window. Far below he could see clumps of lights where there were villages or small towns. In a few places vehicle headlights cut through the darkness.

The pilot took off his NVGs and switched on the aircraft’s navigation lights. Bright flashes appeared at the end of each wing.

Fergus was looking down at the shape of the coastline, traced by the lights hugging the shore. They were heading north.

Without looking back, the pilot passed a flask over his shoulder. Fergus took it and began to pour out the hot, sweet-smelling coffee.

The aircraft climbed higher and Danny’s spirits soared with it. He was going home. At last.