"Энди Макнаб. Удаленный контроль (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

I settled into my seat and started to think about Kev and his family.
I'd been there when he first met Marsha; I was best man at their wedding and
was even godfather to Aida, their second child. I took the job seriously,
though I didn't really know what I was supposed to do on the God front.
I knew I'd never have any of my own kids; I'd be too busy running
around doing shit jobs like this one. Kev and Marsha knew that, and really
tried to make me feel part of their setup.
I'd grown up with this fantasy of the perfect family, and as far as I
was concerned Kev had it. The first marriage fell apart, but this one seemed
absolutely right. His job with the DEA was now mostly deskbound in D.C. He
loved it.
"More time with the kids, mate," he'd say.
"Yeah, so you can be one!" I'd reply. Lucidly Marsha was the mature and
sensible one; when it came to the family, they complemented each other
really well. Their home at Tyson's Corner was a healthy, loving environment,
but after three or four days it would get too much for me and I'd have to
move on. They'd make a joke of it; they knew I loved them but somehow
couldn't handle people showing so much affection. I guessed that was why I'd
always felt more comfortable with Euan. We were both made from the same
mold.
As for Slack Pat, he was completely off the scale. Half the world
seemed to be his best friend, and he was still working on the others. Even
when he opened the fridge door and the light came on he'd have to launch
into some sort of chat-up routine. When he started the bodyguard job in
Washington, a real estate agent took him to look at an apartment in
Georgetown, by the university. The way he told the story, he saw a building
with people coming in and out.
"What's that then?" he asked.
"One of the best restaurants in Washington," she said.
"Half of Congress seems to go there."
"Right, I'll take it," he said. The moon was in a new quarter or some
shit like that and I thought for a while he reckoned he'd turned into Donald
Trump. He told me he used to eat there every day and knew every waitress by
name. He'd even started going out with one of them. Maybe it was her who got
him into drugs. I hadn't seen it myself, but I'd heard he had a problem. It
made me sad. We'd all seen the results of addiction during our time in
Colombia. Pat had called them losers.
Now it seemed he was one himself. Hopefully it was just one of his
phases. The transfer at Heathrow had been easy. The boys didn't get stopped
at the security checks probably because Special Branch had been informed and
the flight to Dulles had taken off on time.
I hoped McGear and Kerr were going straight to the hotel.
I hoped they'd be playing the good tourists and wouldn't blow it by not
checking in. If I ever lost a target, I'd look in all the places where he
might be his place of work, the pub, where the kids go to school, where he
lived, or even the bookie's. I needed to know as much as I could about them,
because once you're inside your target's mind you can second-guess every
movement, even understand why they do what they do. Un fortunately, all I
knew so far about McGear and Kerr was that they liked drinking Budweiser and
must be dying for a smoke. So I had to start with the hotel.