Silencer by Andy McNab

Author:Andy McNab [McNab, Andy]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Literature & Fiction, Genre Fiction, Action & Adventure, War, Mystery; Thriller & Suspense
ISBN: 9781846573927
Amazon: B00H7XEBRG
Goodreads: 18189491
Publisher: Audiobooks
Published: 2012-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

5

I moved the aluminium sliver up between my front teeth with my tongue and spent about ten minutes rolling it tight.

Plasticuffs are made of polycarbon resin. They’re a grown-up version of the used plastic ties that littered the floor, operated by a roller-block retention system, a little square buckle at one end that locks onto the teeth of the cuff itself and holds it in place. Normally the only way to get out of these things is by cutting them off, like Bruce had done with his kukri.

I manoeuvred my tightly rolled aluminium pin between the roller block and the teeth of the cuff and pushed. The pin slipped. At my second attempt I put pressure on the cuff with my secured hand to expose more of the area where the cuff went into the roller block, worked the pin back into position using my mouth and my free hand, and bit down hard. The block disengaged and the cuff started to come undone.

I widened the loop but didn’t undo it totally. If they came back, I’d need to look like I was still their prisoner. I squeezed my swollen hand out of the cuff, popped the pin back into my mouth and stood up.

I pulled up my boxers and jeans. I didn’t button them or fasten the belt because that wasn’t how they’d expect to find me, but at least they were over my arse and the zip held them in place.

Keeping well away from the window, I scanned what I could of the warehouse. I saw the Toyota and a left-hand-drive Merc van with PRC plates. Fuck knows where the other had gone – and, more importantly, for how long – but this was a good sign. Absent vehicles meant absent people.

I couldn’t see any sign of a camera in my cabin, but these things were so small I couldn’t be sure. But if there was one on the roof, looking down at the door and window, I’d soon know.

The installation was a new-build. There weren’t any tyre marks on the polished concrete floor. It had the feel of a council leisure centre: white concrete blocks about two-thirds of the way up the walls, then pressed steel. The whole area was roughly the size of half a football pitch – plenty big enough to house a bunch of Portakabins.

A steel landing ran from the top of the steps that Sophie had climbed when we arrived, along the front of all four cabins. There were lights on at the top level, but I couldn’t see any movement. There wasn’t any down below either.

I moved to the door and started to push – first at the top third, then at the lower third, trying to work out where the bolt was. I was sure I’d heard only one being thrown. Both top and bottom gave a little, so it was probably in the middle.

I crawled beneath the window and rose to my feet to its left. The mesh was chain-link with a plastic covering, anchored by steel bars on the outside of the frame.

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