Nick Stone 19 - Line of Fire by Andy McNab

Nick Stone 19 - Line of Fire by Andy McNab

Author:Andy McNab [McNab, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781473543607
Published: 2017-10-19T04:54:41+00:00


43

I heard a muffled curse and turned. 007 was on his hands and knees, half in, half out of the van. He would recover soon. I ran the two paces back, grabbed the door and rammed it shut, yanking it along its rail with enough force to guillotine whatever was in the way. I didn’t see where it had made contact but I didn’t care. By then I was moving towards our tents. My legs took a time to get the blood pumping. It was more of a drunken stumble at first, and I was hoping against hope to see the team rolling out of the domes to back me as we headed for Yulia, then got the fuck out of there.

There was no Jeep, no Beamer. No domes.

But there was movement behind me. 007 wasn’t giving up, and I hadn’t expected him to. I turned left and headed for the toilet block. I needed to make distance and get into cover, then double back to lift Yulia.

It wasn’t happening. 007 was making ground, and he was still in control: no shouts; no compromise. I had to stop him.

I reached the block, circled it until I was in dead ground for a few precious seconds while I stopped, chest heaving, back against the concrete block, trying to suck oxygen into my lungs. My face was already drenched with sweat; my clothes clung to me.

Pushing out my right hip to create a platform, I raised my cuffed hands as high as they would go. They were so swollen that the skin either side had joined above the plastic, but that didn’t matter. That was going to help me. It made the cuffs tighter. I swung them down, pulling my wrists apart as they hit my hip. It didn’t happen. The restraining bracket in the little box of the cuffs didn’t break. I lifted my arms again. Do it hard enough and it would happen, I knew. Up, deep breath, and I was just about to bring my arms down again as 007 turned the corner and rammed into me, arms out to take me down.

We went straight down onto the grass together, each scrambling about, trying to recover. I kicked out, bucked against his bulk, trying to get my arms over his head. I’d only survive this if I got him in a bear-hug with the plasticuffs still on.

Snot streamed from his nose in reaction to the effort.

I finally managed to wrap my legs around his body, and got my plasticuffed forearms either side of his head, my hands in front of his face. I pulled back with my bodyweight so the cuffs were against his throat, and pushed with my knees into his back. He knew what was happening but it was too late. I pulled back as hard as I could, opening my ballooned fingers as if that would help the plastic get closer to his throat. His hands shot up to try to pull them away. He’d done a bit of this himself.



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