"Энди Макнаб. Немедленная операция (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

there was anything beyond the little world we lived in. I didn't realize
there was a choice, and I didn't bother to look.
In the sort of place that we lived, a really good job would be getting
on the print or the docks. Next level down would be an underground driver on
London Transport. Other than that, you went self-employed.
I landed up working more or less full-time for the haulage contractor,
delivering Britvic mixers and lemonade during the summer.
I managed to get extra pallets of drinks put on the wagons, sold them
to the pubs, and pocketed the proceeds.
In the wintertime I delivered coal. I thought I was Jack the lad
because I could lift the coal into the chutes. I couldn't move for old
ladies wanting to make me cups of tea. I thought I knew everything I needed
to know. I pitied the poor dickheads at school, working for nothing. I was
making big dough; I had all the kit that I'd wanted two years ago.
I lost my virginity on a Sunday afternoon when I was fifteen. My mate's
sister was about seventeen. She was also willing and available, but very
fat. I didn't know who was doing whom a favor. It was all very rumbly, all
very quick, and then she made me promise that I wasn't going to tell
anybody. I said that I wouldn't, but as soon as I could, like the shit that
I was, I did.
The contract work finished, and I started working at McDonald's in
Catford, which had just opened. Life there was very fast and furious.
I was sweeping and mopping the floors every fifteen minutes. I could
have a coffee break, but I had to buy all my own food. There was no way I
could fiddle anything because it was all too well organized.
I hated it. The money was crap, too, but marginally better than the
dole-and besides, the McDonald's was nearer to home than the dole office.
I started to get into disappearing for a while. A bloke and I did his
aunty's gas meter and traveled to France on day passes, telling the ferries
our parents were at the other end to collect us. On the way back we even
stole a life Jacket and tried to sell it to a shop in Dover.
I had no consideration whatsoever for my parents.
Sometimes I'd come back at four in the morning and my mum would be
flapping. Sometimes we'd have the police coming around, but there was
nothing they could do apart from give me a big fearsome bollocking. I
thought I was the bee's knees because there was a police car outside the
house.
I started going off the rails good style, sinking as low as tipping
over Portaloos so I could snatch the occupants' handbags. One day three of
us were coming out of a basement flat we'd just burgled in Dulwich when we
were challenged by the police. We got cornered near the railway station by a
handler and his dog.
As soon as the police gripped me, I was scared. I bluffed in the van
because the other two weren't showing any fear. But as soon as we got
separated at the station, I wanted to show the police that I was flapping. I
wanted them to take pity on me; I wanted them to see that I wasn't that bad,
just easily led.
The station was a turn-of-the-century place with high ceilings, thickly
painted walls, and polished floors. As I sat waiting in the interview room,
I could hear the squeak of boots in the corridor outside.