Hunter Killer: Danny Black Book 2 by Chris Ryan

Author:Chris Ryan [Ryan, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2014-08-27T16:00:00+00:00

08.00hrs

There were parts of Heathrow to which the public had access. There were parts for which only members of the aviation services were authorised. And there were parts that few people ever got to see. This Portakabin, a restricted area in the shadow of Terminal Two, was one of them. A white Transit van was parked up alongside it, next to which was Danny and Spud’s Discovery. A member of D squadron – Danny recognised the face but couldn’t put a name to it – stood at the entrance, his assault rifle slung across his body. He gave Danny and Spud a nod of greeting, but remained rooted to the spot. It wouldn’t do for any unauthorised personnel to enter this Portakabin, not least because its contents made a mockery of the security procedures thousands of holidaymakers were undergoing at that very moment.

Danny and Spud were there. So too was their ops officer Ray Hammond. He watched unsmilingly as the two Regiment men dealt with the hardware laid out on a table in front of them.

There were two rifles: HK416s. Danny and Spud stripped one of them down each, until each weapon was no more than a tight bundle of grey metal, wrapped in grey rags to stop the moving parts rubbing against each other. The guys each had a sturdy North Face holdall, about three foot in length. They each stowed their bundle and returned their attention to the rest of the gear. Their Regiment-issue Sig P266s were laid out – these too they wrapped up and stowed. Ammuntion for both weapons: 5.56s for the rifles, 9mm for the handguns, neatly packed in small cardboard boxes. Lengths of bungee cord to strap the rifles to their bodies. Fragmentation grenades, two each. Flashbangs, same number. A single Claymore mine – Spud took it in his holdall. Sand-coloured hessian backed with strands of wire so that it could be shaped into whatever form they needed for desert camouflage, but now folded into a neat square. A trenching tool. A pack of silvery thermal sheeting – the only thing that could hide an OP from thermal imaging devices.

‘What’s with that?’ Danny asked.

‘We’ve had trouble with the Yemeni government in the past,’ Hammond said. ‘They have their own spy planes. Wouldn’t put it past them to shop your location to the bad guys if they see you. Chances are you’ll have to put in an OP. Use that if you want to stay totally hidden.’

Danny continued to work his way through the gear. There was worn paper mapping of the area they were heading for. Radio packs. A GPS handset, a Leica NV spotting scope, and two sets of night-vision goggles. Empty ops waistcoats, ready to be filled once they were on the ground. A sat phone each, of course, and a compass. A fistful of MRE packs. A thin wad of American dollars – $2,000 each. Ridiculously, this was the only thing Hammond made them sign for. Like the kind of people they were likely to encounter would want to issue receipts.

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