[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He looked more emaciated than ever, and his thick beard glistened with the blood of his fallen comrades.Clutching an Uzi, he sprayed rounds at the soldiers in a wild arc, forcing them to take cover behind the rear Hilux.Stray rounds struck a middle-aged woman in a white suit as she fled from her Ford Focus.The poor woman didn’t make a sound.Just crumbled in the middle of the road.Her right leg trembled.Then it stopped.Reza made a run for it, heading for the bridge.Sahin lined up the retreating Iranian from a distance of fifty metres and unloaded four rounds into his back.Reza dropped.The Komando containment team, thirty men decked out in fireproof riot gear, surrounded Reza.Ten or more attack dogs snarled on their leashes.Sahin motioned to Gardner and his mates to hurry up.Climbing out of the Jeep, Gardner moved towards the van.Spent cartridges littered the road twenty-five metres from both the front and rear Hilux.The windows were starred, the rubber on the tyres peeled off the rims.He saw two dead guys at the back of the rear vehicle.Their heads were obliterated, brain matter speckled along the greasy tarmac in a starburst pattern.‘Good fucking work,’ he said, impressed.‘They got what they deserved,’ Sahin said coldly.Gardner glanced over Sahin’s shoulder and saw the attack dogs hungrily biting off flaps of flesh from Reza’s corpse.Turning back to Sahin, he said, ‘I thought you were best friends with the Iranians these days?’Sahin shook his head, tucked his thumbs between his utility belt and his army-issue combats.‘We don’t trust anybody.’Gardner eyed the van.Swore he could hear the faint tick-tock of a timer device.His muscles were sapped of energy.He bit his bottom lip, drier than a fig leaf, and tried to shut out the background noise.‘Got the hazmat suit?’ he asked Weston.Dooley sprinted to the Jeep.Returned with a Level A reflective suit.He helped ease Gardner into it, then slipped the glove over his right hand.Popped an earpiece into his right ear and put the helmet over his head.‘Toolbox?’ Gardner’s breath steamed on the helmet visor.Dooley handed him a metal box.Gardner gripped its handle.‘Good luck,’ Dooley said.Gardner turned and took the long walk towards the van.The suit constricted his movements and after forty metres he’d worked up a sweat that poured down his forehead and on to his eyelids.The heat and discomfort seemed to reflect the grinding in his skull.You’ve got one shot at this, he told himself.Get it wrong, Istanbul gets vapourized.He tried not to think about what would happen if the nuke detonated.The first explosion was the conventional one.That would fry him, turn him to dust.The explosion would in turn activate a neutron trigger, a small disc of highly radioactive material that would cause widespread damage with a death toll of anything between thirty and fifty thousand.And that wouldn’t be the end of it.A nuclear cloud would drift across the fallout zone, endangering hundreds of thousands of people with exposure to massively high doses of radiation poisoning.Gardner stopped at the van.He looked towards the Bosporus, dark and slick as a whale’s back.Might be the last thing you ever see, he thought.Static crackled in his right ear.‘Joe, can you hear me?’ Land said.‘Loud and clear.’‘This is a three-way line with Lieutenant Steve White.Steve’s an engineer on the Trident submarine the HSM Vigilant.He’s going to talk you through the disarming process.’‘Don’t worry about a thing, mate,’ White said in an accent so Welsh you could bottle it and sell it as Taff Valley water.‘This is a bloody tough gig, but Leo here tells me you’ve got demolitions experience, so you’ve got the basic skill set in place.It’s just a matter of guiding you through the interesting bit.’‘I’ll be fine, mate.Let’s get this over with and then we can share a pint in Hereford.First round’s on me.’The doors of the van were open.Gardner placed the toolbox just inside on its floor.He prised it open and removed a torch.The van lit up like a cave.Placing his right hand on the floor, he slid up into the van.Inside, the heat rose again.Gardner felt his clothes clinging to his legs and torso.He was soaked through.Once again an image of the radio station flashed across the surface of his mind.The way the building toppled, the smoke plume billowing into the bright blue sky, a dozen small fires breaking out among the mountain of concrete and steel, slab and cable.All that death, all of it unseen in the fury of the explosion.He thought about how the nuke would be like that – except a million times bigger.‘Can you see the top of the device?’ White asked him.‘Looking at it now.’‘What’s the timer say?’Gardner angled his head.The LCD display was a blur through the steam and sweat.‘Zero-zero-three.’ Three fucking minutes.‘OKaaay,’ said White.He sounded like he was talking more to himself than Gardner.‘This type of nuke should be battery-operated.You should see a red or black cable connecting the timer to the battery attached to the side of the actual nuke.’‘I see it,’ Gardner said.‘It’s a red wire.’ The glossy wire was a quarter of an inch thick and ran from the timer to the canvas box strapped to the back of the nuke.‘I’m going to need you to cut that wire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.He looked more emaciated than ever, and his thick beard glistened with the blood of his fallen comrades.Clutching an Uzi, he sprayed rounds at the soldiers in a wild arc, forcing them to take cover behind the rear Hilux.Stray rounds struck a middle-aged woman in a white suit as she fled from her Ford Focus.The poor woman didn’t make a sound.Just crumbled in the middle of the road.Her right leg trembled.Then it stopped.Reza made a run for it, heading for the bridge.Sahin lined up the retreating Iranian from a distance of fifty metres and unloaded four rounds into his back.Reza dropped.The Komando containment team, thirty men decked out in fireproof riot gear, surrounded Reza.Ten or more attack dogs snarled on their leashes.Sahin motioned to Gardner and his mates to hurry up.Climbing out of the Jeep, Gardner moved towards the van.Spent cartridges littered the road twenty-five metres from both the front and rear Hilux.The windows were starred, the rubber on the tyres peeled off the rims.He saw two dead guys at the back of the rear vehicle.Their heads were obliterated, brain matter speckled along the greasy tarmac in a starburst pattern.‘Good fucking work,’ he said, impressed.‘They got what they deserved,’ Sahin said coldly.Gardner glanced over Sahin’s shoulder and saw the attack dogs hungrily biting off flaps of flesh from Reza’s corpse.Turning back to Sahin, he said, ‘I thought you were best friends with the Iranians these days?’Sahin shook his head, tucked his thumbs between his utility belt and his army-issue combats.‘We don’t trust anybody.’Gardner eyed the van.Swore he could hear the faint tick-tock of a timer device.His muscles were sapped of energy.He bit his bottom lip, drier than a fig leaf, and tried to shut out the background noise.‘Got the hazmat suit?’ he asked Weston.Dooley sprinted to the Jeep.Returned with a Level A reflective suit.He helped ease Gardner into it, then slipped the glove over his right hand.Popped an earpiece into his right ear and put the helmet over his head.‘Toolbox?’ Gardner’s breath steamed on the helmet visor.Dooley handed him a metal box.Gardner gripped its handle.‘Good luck,’ Dooley said.Gardner turned and took the long walk towards the van.The suit constricted his movements and after forty metres he’d worked up a sweat that poured down his forehead and on to his eyelids.The heat and discomfort seemed to reflect the grinding in his skull.You’ve got one shot at this, he told himself.Get it wrong, Istanbul gets vapourized.He tried not to think about what would happen if the nuke detonated.The first explosion was the conventional one.That would fry him, turn him to dust.The explosion would in turn activate a neutron trigger, a small disc of highly radioactive material that would cause widespread damage with a death toll of anything between thirty and fifty thousand.And that wouldn’t be the end of it.A nuclear cloud would drift across the fallout zone, endangering hundreds of thousands of people with exposure to massively high doses of radiation poisoning.Gardner stopped at the van.He looked towards the Bosporus, dark and slick as a whale’s back.Might be the last thing you ever see, he thought.Static crackled in his right ear.‘Joe, can you hear me?’ Land said.‘Loud and clear.’‘This is a three-way line with Lieutenant Steve White.Steve’s an engineer on the Trident submarine the HSM Vigilant.He’s going to talk you through the disarming process.’‘Don’t worry about a thing, mate,’ White said in an accent so Welsh you could bottle it and sell it as Taff Valley water.‘This is a bloody tough gig, but Leo here tells me you’ve got demolitions experience, so you’ve got the basic skill set in place.It’s just a matter of guiding you through the interesting bit.’‘I’ll be fine, mate.Let’s get this over with and then we can share a pint in Hereford.First round’s on me.’The doors of the van were open.Gardner placed the toolbox just inside on its floor.He prised it open and removed a torch.The van lit up like a cave.Placing his right hand on the floor, he slid up into the van.Inside, the heat rose again.Gardner felt his clothes clinging to his legs and torso.He was soaked through.Once again an image of the radio station flashed across the surface of his mind.The way the building toppled, the smoke plume billowing into the bright blue sky, a dozen small fires breaking out among the mountain of concrete and steel, slab and cable.All that death, all of it unseen in the fury of the explosion.He thought about how the nuke would be like that – except a million times bigger.‘Can you see the top of the device?’ White asked him.‘Looking at it now.’‘What’s the timer say?’Gardner angled his head.The LCD display was a blur through the steam and sweat.‘Zero-zero-three.’ Three fucking minutes.‘OKaaay,’ said White.He sounded like he was talking more to himself than Gardner.‘This type of nuke should be battery-operated.You should see a red or black cable connecting the timer to the battery attached to the side of the actual nuke.’‘I see it,’ Gardner said.‘It’s a red wire.’ The glossy wire was a quarter of an inch thick and ran from the timer to the canvas box strapped to the back of the nuke.‘I’m going to need you to cut that wire [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]