Once A Pilgrim: a breathtaking, pulse-pounding SAS thriller. James Deegan

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ understood that he was going to be the first through the door.

      He nodded and took up position.

      Carr pressed the door handle and pushed it open.

      Geordie stepped through.

      Directly in front of him, an insurgent began to turn, lifting an AK47 and swinging it around.

      Geordie fired two quick shots into his face, and the man was punched backwards and straight out of the open window.

      To the right, a second insurgent turned to engage the SAS man, who beat him to the shot and pulled his trigger…

      Nothing.

      It couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

      ‘Shit,’ screamed Geordie. ‘Stoppage!’

      He began to drop into the kneeling position, reaching for his pistol, knowing that he would not have time to draw it and take out the threat, knowing also that Carr would hear and respond.

      The big Tynesider felt the impact of the round in his mid-thigh at the same moment that he heard the report of Carr’s weapon sounding over his head.

      The shooter was flung backwards against the wall; just to make sure, Carr stepped forward, put the barrel of his weapon to the man’s forehead, and shot him again.

      Then he turned to Geordie. ‘You okay?’ he said.

      ‘What do you fucking think?’ said Skelton, through gritted teeth. ‘I’ve been fucking shot, you daft twat. Fuck me, it hurts.’

      ‘It’s only a flesh wound, you big girl,’ said Carr, with a sniff. ‘Sort your weapon out.’

      Geordie nodded, cleared the stoppage, and stuck in a new magazine.

      It was as the mag was slapped home that Carr looked down, and immediately saw that it was far from a flesh wound.

      Geordie’s leg was sticking out at an unnatural angle, indicating that the round had hit bone; Carr knew that he could bleed out quickly from a shot to the femur, especially if the femoral artery was damaged.

      ‘Oh, bollocks,’ he said. ‘Right, Geordie. I’m going to pull you over to the wall over there and prop you up. Keep an eye on the doorway, okay?’

      Another nod.

      Sweating, Carr dragged Skelton the ten or twelve feet over to the side of the room. It was a bastard – he weighed more than 270lbs with all his kit, and he couldn’t help much, and Carr felt horribly vulnerable, especially when he had to turn his back to the door to sit him up.

      Once that was done, Carr pulled the tourniquet from his chest rig.

      ‘Keep watching that fucking door,’ he said, feeling for the entry point on Geordie’s leg.

      He found it, and then located the exit wound on the back of the thigh. It was large, and wet with blood, and full of bone splinters.

      Shit, he thought. But at least the artery appeared to be intact.

      ‘Okay, mate,’ he said. ‘It’s fine. I’m going to put this on, yeah? It’s going to hurt a bit.’

      Carr applied the tourniquet and pulled it tight.

      Geordie let out a low moan of animal pain; he was a hard man, and Carr knew he must be in something near agony.

      ‘That’s done, mate,’ he said, wiping his bloodied hands on his combats. ‘Now listen, I need to go and clear that last room. Anyone but me comes through that door, you kill them. Got it?’

      ‘I’m coming,’ said Geordie. ‘You can’t do it by yourself.’

      He tried to stand, but fell back down.

      ‘Ah, shit,’ he said. ‘That does fucking hurt. Give me a hand up.’

      ‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Carr. ‘Stay here.’

      Geordie gave him a thumbs-up with his left hand, his right wrapped round the pistol grip of his Diemaco, which was aimed at the doorway.

      Carr smiled, returned the thumbs-up, and stepped out and back into the hallway.

      Looking at the door to the last room, readying himself to step through that breach.

      And then the handle started to move, and the door began to open.

      Carr moved to the wall, flush to the door, and took aim.

      A bloodied hand gripped the side of the door recess, and then a man of sixty or so stepped out, unarmed, hands cradling his belly. His white shirt was stained red with blood from a gunshot wound to the stomach, and when he looked at Carr the Scot saw shock but no fear in his eyes.

      He smiled at Carr and nodded – as if he was acknowledging a stranger in the street, on a nice summer’s day. But then another man, much younger, stepped out behind him.

      The second man looked at Carr for a split second, yelled ‘Allahu akhbar!’ and raised his hand.

      Carr was diving back into Geordie’s room when the suicide vest detonated, and the force seemed to propel him even quicker.

      Momentarily stunned, he came to a few moments later, lying in a heap in the floor, his ears ringing, covered in plaster and dust, and coughing and choking.

      From outside, somewhere across the street, he could hear a voice shouting, ‘John! John!’

      He sat up and looked around himself.

      His hearing became clearer, and he realised that the shouting was coming from Geordie.

      ‘Jesus man,’ said Skelton, his own pain momentarily forgotten. ‘Fuck me. You okay?’

      Carr patted himself down, and stood up. ‘Motherfucker,’ he said. ‘That was close.’

      He could feel the heat before he saw the flames.

      ‘Geordie,’ he shouted. ‘We’ve got to get out. The place is on fire. I’m gonnae have to help you up. It’s going to hurt, bud.’

      Skelton shot him a withering look. ‘Just get on with it,’ he said. ‘It’s not like I can fucking hang around, is it?’

      Carr keyed his radio. ‘Steve, house clear. We’re coming out the front. Get some guys over here to pick up Wayne, he’s down at the back.’

      He helped Geordie to his feet, and they made their way quickly down the stairs, the injured man hopping on his good leg and cursing as he went; the flames were confined to the top floor, close to where the guy had detonated, but still the heat drove them on.

      Outside, the assault teams had cleared the grey villa, and they were now starting to regroup, ready to move out.

      In the distance, one or two shadowy figures СКАЧАТЬ