Bandit Country. Peter Corrigan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ and the SAS. But also for Lieutenant Charles Boyd.

      ‘I have four men tied up in the OP in Cross itself, but twelve men available here, a multiple of three bricks. That should do it.’

      Cordwain was not so sure.

      ‘I’d rather fly in some of the Special Projects team from G Squadron in Hereford.’

      ‘But we haven’t the time. And we don’t have enough evidence to go on. We’ll have egg all over our faces if we get G Squadron all the way over here and then nothing materializes.’

      Cordwain paused, clearly uneasy. ‘There is that, of course…’

      ‘James, twelve SAS troopers will take out anything the Provos can throw at them.’ Boyd appeared invincibly confident. Cordwain studied him for a moment. The young officer clearly still felt himself to be on a roll after the successful Tyrone operation, and wanted to add further lustre to his laurels. That was no bad thing, so long as it did not lead to overconfidence. But his brashness was appealing, and it was true that they had very little to go on. Cordwain did not put a lot of faith in Early’s chances of infiltrating the South Armagh Brigade, but here on a platter was a chance to wipe them out wholesale; the ultimate ‘clean kill’.

      ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll make out the necessary orders. But what I’m giving you is a reactive OP, Charles. I’m not giving you licence to run amok through the countryside. I want you to keep that stretch of the Fane under observation and only to react under the most stringent circumstances. The last thing we need is twelve troopers staging a rerun of the OK corral in Armagh. And we will also liaise with Lieutenant Colonel Blair of the Greenjackets. His men will form your back-up – and Early’s – until this op is over. Is that clear?’

      ‘Perfectly. If you’ll excuse me then, James, I’ll go and give the boys a Warning Order. They’ll be chuffed to fuck.’

      Boyd left like a schoolboy let out for the holidays. Cordwain stared at the map thoughtfully for a long time. It was disquieting, to say the least, to be sanctioning an operation with so little intelligence to go on, but then intelligence was so thin on the ground in this part of the world. Not like Tyrone, or Belfast, where there were ‘Freds’, renegade Republicans, aplenty.

      If this operation turned out as successfully as he hoped they might even be able to dispense with Early’s services, and that would be another bonus. Early was a hot potato, with his MI5 handlers to be placated and his stubborn bloody-mindedness. Not a team player, but then undercover agents seldom were.

      Cordwain shook his head as though a fly buzzed at it, trying to free himself of a sense of unease. He had the strangest feeling that Boyd did not quite know what he was up against, and he had an urge to cancel the whole operation, or at least scale it down. But it was on his plate alone. He could not involve the RUC, because they were not equipped to deal with a face-to-face confrontation with a heavily armed band of terrorists, nor with the covert surveillance that was needed to track them down. No, this was a job for the SAS alone, the sort of mission that they specialized in and relished.

      Why then the uneasiness?

      He bent over his desk, and began writing the orders that would take Boyd’s command out into Bandit Country.

       6

      Kilmurry, County Louth

      The bar was crowded with people, hot, noisy, hazy with tobacco smoke. In one corner a knot of musicians were playing a frantic, foot-tapping jig and most of the throng were clapping and stamping in time with the music. Pint glasses, empty and full, stood by the hundred on the bar and the tables or were clasped in sweaty hands.

      In the upstairs room the hubbub below could be heard as a vague roar of sound echoing up through the floorboards. The long upper room had been booked in the name of Louth Gaelic Football Club. The irritating noise seeping up from the noisy bar below would nullify the effectiveness of any bugs planted in the place.

      There were twenty-three men in the room, sitting round a long dining table or lounging against the walls. Heavy duffle bags littered the floor and on the table itself crouched two angular, blanket-draped shapes. The men were smoking rapidly, talking in low voices, chuckling or scowling as the mood took them. They comprised the bulk of two PIRA brigades. Some of them were elated at their numbers, some were nervous.

      Eugene Finn entered the room rubbing his hands and smiling his cold smile.

      ‘Don’t worry, boys. The dickers are all in place and the landlord knows the form. This is a private room. The Gardai will need a warrant to enter it and we happen to know they don’t have one.’

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4QAYRXhpZgAASUkqAAgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP/sABFEdWNreQABAAQAAABQAAD/4QRUaHR0cDov L25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wLwA8P3hwYWNrZXQgYmVnaW49Iu+7vyIgaWQ9Ilc1TTBNcENl aGlIenJlU3pOVGN6a2M5ZCI/PiA8eDp4bXBtZXRhIHhtbG5zOng9ImFkb2JlOm5zOm1ldGEvIiB4 OnhtcHRrPSJBZG9iZSBYTVAgQ29yZSA1LjAtYzA2MSA2NC4xNDA5NDksIDIwMTAvMTIvMDctMTA6 NTc6MDEgICAgICAgICI+IDxyZGY6UkRGIHhtbG5zOnJkZj0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMTk5 OS8wMi8yMi1yZGYtc3ludGF4LW5zIyI+IDxyZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24gcmRmOmFib3V0PSIiIHht bG5zOnhtcE1NPSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvbW0vIiB4bWxuczpzdFJlZj0i aHR0cDovL25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wL3NUeXBlL1Jlc291cmNlUmVmIyIgeG1sbnM6eG1w PSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvIiB4bWxuczpkYz0iaHR0cDovL3B1cmwub3Jn L2RjL2VsZW1lbnRzLzEuMS8iIHhtcE1NOk9yaWdpbmFsRG9jdW1lbnRJRD0idXVpZDo1YzRhODg4 MS0zMjViLWFlNGUtYWVmYS02NDY4YzJiM2IwNjgiIHhtcE1NOkRvY3VtZW50SUQ9InhtcC5kaWQ6 NzJCMTNCMzA3OTlFMTFFNTg2RUQ4OTgyNTA4MjgxOTMiIHhtcE1NOkluc3RhbmNlSUQ9InhtcC5p aWQ6NzJCMTNCMkY3OTlFMTFFNTg2RUQ4OTgyNTA4MjgxOTMiIHhtcDpDcmVhdG9yVG9vbD0iQWRv YmUgUGhvdG9zaG9wIENTNS4xIE1hY2ludG9zaCI+IDx4bXBNTTpEZXJpdmVkRnJvbSBzdFJlZjpp bnN0YW5jZUlEPSJ4bXAuaWlkOjA3MzI3NjU0OTAyMjY4MTFBRjM1Qzc3NEZEQkVERDRGIiBzdFJl Zjpkb2N1bWVudElEPSJ4bXAuZGlkOjA2MzI3NjU0OTAyMjY4MTFBRjM1Qzc3NEZEQkVERDRGIi8+ IDxkYzpjcmVhdG9yPiA8cmRmOlNlcT4gPHJkZjpsaT5hcnRkeGY8L3JkZjpsaT4gPC9yZGY6U2Vx PiA8L2RjOmNyZWF0b3I+IDxkYzp0aXRsZT4gPHJkZjpBbHQ+IDxyZGY6bGkgeG1sOmxhbmc9Ingt ZGVmYXVsdCI+QmFuZGl0IENvdW50cnlfUEIgR3JpZC5pbmRkPC9yZGY6bGk+IDwvcmRmOkFsdD4g PC9kYzp0aXRsZT4gPC9yZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24+IDwvcmRmOlJERj4gPC94OnhtcG1ldGE+IDw/ eHBhY2tldCBlbmQ9InIiPz7/7QBIUGhvdG9zaG9wIDMuMAA4QklNBAQAAAAAAA8cAVoAAxslRxwC AAACAAIAOEJJTQQlAAAAAAAQ/OEfici3yXgvNGI0B1h36//iDFhJQ0NfUFJPRklMRQABAQAADEhM aW5vAhAAAG1udHJSR0IgWFlaIAfOAAIACQAGADEAAGFjc3BNU0ZUAAAAAElFQyBzUkdCAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAD21gABAAAAANMtSFAgIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEWNwcnQAAAFQAAAAM2Rlc2MAAAGEAAAAbHd0cHQAAAHwAAAAFGJrcHQAAAIE AAAAFHJYWVoAAAIYAAAAFGdYWVoAAAIsAAAAFGJYWVoAAAJAAAAAFGRtbmQAAAJUAAAAcGRtZGQA AALEAAAAiHZ1ZWQAAANMAAAAhnZpZXcAAAPUAAAAJGx1bWkAAAP4AAAAFG1lYXMAAAQMAAAAJHRl Y2gAAAQwAAAADHJUUkMAAAQ8AAAIDGdUUkM СКАЧАТЬ