"Энди Макнаб. Последний свет (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

by running through what had happened, convincing myself that I'd said the
right things in the right way at the right time. Then I threw my hand in. It
was too late now to worry about it. I'd just have to wait and see.
Trainers and Sundance reappeared. I looked up, trying to read their
expressions.
They didn't look good.
The first kick was aimed at my chest. My body re flexed into a ball but
Sundance's boot connected hard with my thigh. By now my chin was down, my
teeth were clenched, and I'd closed my eyes. There was nothing I could do
but accept the inevitable, curled up like a hedgehog, my hands still cuffed,
trying to protect my face. I started to take it and just hoped that it
wouldn't carry on for long.
They grabbed my feet and dragged me towards the centre of the room. One
of the mugs rattled over on the tiles. I kept my legs as bent as I could,
fighting against them being stretched out to expose my stomach and bollocks.
I opened one eye just in time to watch a Caterpillar boot connect with my
ribs. I brought my || head down further, in an attempt to cover my chest. It
must have worked, because another boot swung right into my arse this time,
and it felt as if the inside of my sphincter had exploded. The pain was off
the scale and to counteract it I tried to clench my cheek muscles together
but to do that I had to straighten my legs a little.
The inevitable boot flew into the pit of my stomach. Bile exploded from
me. The acid taste in my mouth and nose was almost worse than the kicking.
It was past midnight and I was curled up back in my corner. At least
they'd taken the cuffs off now. The lights were off and the
TV flickered away with a Channel 5 soft-porn film. They'd had pie and
chips earlier and made me crawl over to wipe up my bile from the floor with
the used paper as they drank more tea.
There was no more filling in, not even an acknowledgement of me being
there. I had just been left to stew as Sundance lay half asleep on the
settee. Trainers was wide awake and on stag, smoking his roll-up, draped
across the two armchairs, making sure I didn't have any stupid ideas.
I slowly stretched out flat on my stomach to lessen the pain from the
kicking, and rested my face on my hands, closing my eyes to try to get some
sleep. It was never going to work: I could feel the blood pumping in my neck
and couldn't stop thinking about what might happen to me next. My Beachy
Head trip could still be on the cards with these two; it all depended on
what the Yes Man had to say yes to, I supposed.
In the past, I'd always managed to get out of even the deepest shit
with just the thinnest layer still stuck to me. I thought of my gunshot
wound, sewn-back on earlobe, and dog-bite scars, and knew how lucky I'd been
on those jobs in the last few years. I thought of other jobs, of being
blindfolded and lined up against the wall of an aircraft hangar, listening
to the noise of weapons being cocked. I remembered hearing the men each side
of me, either quietly praying or openly crying and begging. I hadn't seen
any reason to do either. It wasn't that I wanted to die; just that I'd
always known that death was part of the deal.
But this did feel different. I thought of Kelly. I hadn't spoken to her
since this job started. Not because there had been no opportunity1 had
agreed timings with Josh last month it was just that I was too busy with