SAS Black Ops - Iraqi Freedom - Action & Adventure Thriller by PM CROWLEY

Author:PM CROWLEY
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: War & Military, Genre Fiction, War, Action & Adventure, Literature & Fiction
Published: 2012-07-04T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

By the time I woke in the cheap hotel bedroom, Spiller and Mickey were already awake. I threw the blankets back and swung my legs out, extracted the SIG from under my pillow and stuffed it back in the weapon's holster on the dresser top. Mickey entered the room as I stood and rubbed my eyes. "Tea, Jonny..." he said placing a steaming oversized white mug on the top next to my weapon. I yawned, scratched my head and tried to find my bearings.

"Where's Spiller, Mickey?" I inquired hoarse, lifted my tea to my lips and took a gentle sip. I put the cup down and grabbed my fags. Mickey moved in close to keep his voice low. I lit the cigarette lazily and the tobacco burnt orange.

"He's in his room, Jonny. He's going through his computer and papers. The guy's shitting himself, so he is. You might want to have a wee word with him."

I moaned softly. "Christ's sake." Why Spiller couldn't just stuff it to the back of his mind for a few hours was beyond me, unless of course he had something to worry about, something which he hadn't told me. "Alright, Mickey: I'll go and see if I can't put his mind at rest," I replied, tugged my cigarette and tried my tea again. It was still too hot. "You start bagging everything up, Mickey, whilst I go and talk to him."

I strolled barefoot and naked, apart from a pair of khaki shreddies, across the worn carpet, turned right and walked directly into Spiller's small room. He was dressed in his cream-coloured suit, with a white, open-neck shirt underneath.

"Morning," I said friendly: "Are you nearly ready for the off then?"

He looked up at me from his laptop, and replied warmly. "I am just familiarising myself with a few of the facts, Mr Davies."

"Facts come back to haunt people, Professor. As I said last night, you'd be better off keeping it vague. Facts are like supplying the enemy with ammunition." I yawned again. It was a crap night's sleep on a lumpy mattress with a drool-stained pillow. God alone knows what forensics would have made of it. Not all of the stains looked like drool; some of them had a distinctively unpleasant odour to them. An odour I couldn't cancel even when I threw my T-shirt over the top.

"I think it might be time to get things out in to the open, Mr Davies. To tell the truth, last night was somewhat of an epiphany. I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my mind. As my old schoolmaster always said, Mr Davies, 'the truth is always the best policy'. "

"It’s your choice, mate."

I felt too tired to argue the toss with him. If Spiller wanted to sit in front of a Parliamentary Select Committee and spill his guts; that was his business. If I was in his position, I'd lie through my teeth. This is Britain, modern Britain where people and the truth are sacrificed on the altar of someone else's ambition on an hourly basis.

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