[Jack Harvey Novels 03] Blood Hunt by Ian Rankin

Author:Ian Rankin [Rankin, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-07-31T09:45:26+00:00

PART FIVE

BIRDY

FOURTEEN

REEVE TRIED TO EAT the proffered breakfast on the plane but found he had no appetite. Instead he asked for an extra orange juice, and then for another after that. Heathrow was busier than Orly had been, but he still couldn’t spot anyone waiting for him. He went down to the Tube station and made the call from the telephones there.

“Hello?” a voice answered.

Reeve waited.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jay,” he said.

“I think you must have a wrong number.”

“Oh?”

There was a long pause at the other end. Reeve watched the units on his card click away. The voice came back on.

“Hey, Philosopher, is that you?”

“Yes.”

“What’s new, pal?”

Like they’d spoken only last week and had parted the best of friends. Like Jay wasn’t in charge of a band of mercenaries with orders to hunt Reeve down and terminate him. Like they were having a conversation.

“I thought you were dead,” Reeve stated.

“You mean you wish I was.”

“Every day,” Reeve said quietly.

Jay laughed. “Where are you, pal?”

“I’m at Orly.”

“Yeah? Then you must have met Mickey.”

“He gave me your number.”

“I hope he charged you for it.”

“No, I charged him.”

“Well, I knew you’d be tough, Gordon.”

“You don’t know how tough. Tell your paymasters that. Tell them I’m taking this personally. Not a job, not a mission, just personal.”

“Gordon, you’re not really at Orly are you? Don’t make me run all the way out there.”

“Maybe we’ll talk again.”

“I don’t think so, Philosopher.”

And Jay put the phone down first.

Reeve took the Tube into central London.

He thought about Jay. Paddling ashore with him in darkness, hitting the coast just south of Viamonte. Their target, Rio Grande, was twenty miles to the north. They were on the Isla Grande de Tierra del Fuego, the western half of which belonged to Chile. If their escape route back to Viamonte was compromised, their best bet was to head west. A forty-mile walk from Rio Grande would take them into Chile.

Jay was carrying the transmitter, Reeve most of the rest of their kit. It was a 100-pound load. Additionally, he carried his M16 rifle and 200 rounds. The M16 came fitted with an M203 grenade launcher. The other armaments consisted of a 66mm antitank missile, fifteen HE grenades, a 9mm Browning, and an assortment of SAS flash-bangs, more for cover than anything else.

He carried binoculars, a night-sight and tripod-mounted 60x telescope, a sleeping bag and quilted trousers, a change of clothing, Arctic dried rations and compo rations, plus a hexamine stove for cooking the latter.

And the song Jay had been singing had somehow stuck in his head, so he couldn’t think straight.

They’d begun their march under cover of darkness, aiming to complete it before dawn. That first night, they knew they probably wouldn’t reach a good spot for an OP. They’d just find a good hiding place, maybe making a scrape and lying doggo all the next day under their netting and camouflage. And that was what they did. They maintained radio silence throughout. If only Jay was as easy to shut up…

“Fucking Argies better not expect me to eat their scummy corned beef again.

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