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

Echo One at the top end of Main Street."
This got me quite excited.
I listened for Euan. His task in this operation was the same as mine:
to confirm the "possibles" with a positive ID. I imagined him sauntering
along the sidewalk like me. He was short, with an acne-scarred face and the
world's biggest motorcycle, which he could just about keep upright because
his toes only brushed the ground. I liked to take the piss out of him about
it as often as I could. I knew the guy like a brother-in fact, probably
better; I hadn't seen any of my family for more than ten years. Euan and I
had been young soldiers together; we'd passed Selection at the same time,
and we'd been working together ever since. The fucker was so unflappable I
always thought his heart must have been only barely beating. I'd been with
him in Hereford when the police arrived to tell him that his sister had been
murdered. He just said, "I think I'd better go to London then and sort
things out." It wasn't that he didn't care; he just didn't get excited
about anything. That sort of calm is contagious. It always made me feel
secure to have guys like him around me.
I hit Main Street and spotted Bravo One right away.
I got on the net: "Alpha, this is Delta. That's confirmed-Bravo One,
brown pinstripe on faded blue."
He always wore that brown pinstriped suit jacket; he'd had it for so
long that it sagged in the pockets, and there were constant creases in the
back from wearing it in a car. And the same old faded and threadbare jeans,
the crotch halfway down between his balls and his knees. He was walking away
from me, stocky, slight stoop, short hair, long sideburns , but I recognized
the gait. I knew it was Sean Savage.
Bomb maker number one for the Provisional Irish Republican Army-PIRA.
I followed him to a small square at the bottom end of Main Street, near
the governor's residence, where the band of the resident British infantry
battalion would fall out after the changing of the guard. It was where
Simmonds suspected the PIRA team might plant their bomb.
Alpha, the base station controlling the operation for now, repeated the
message so that everyone knew which direction Savage was walking in. I knew
that Golf and Oscar Kev and Slack Pat would soon start moving up behind me.
There were six or seven cars parked up against the wall of an old
colonial building, taking advantage of the shade. I saw Bravo One push his
hand into his jacket pocket as he headed toward them. For a split second I
thought he was going for the initiation device.
Without checking his stride, Savage focused on one vehicle in
particular and headed toward it. I moved slightly to the right so I had a
clear view of the license plate.
"Alpha, this is Delta," I said.
"That's Bravo One now at vehicle Mike Lima 174412."
I pictured Alpha with the bank of computers in front of him in the
control room. He confirmed, "Roger that, Mike Lima 174412. That's a white
Renault Five."
"It's on the right, third car from the entrance," I said.
"That's nose in."  By now the keys were in Savage's hands.
"Stop, stop, stop. Bravo One at the car, he's at the car."
I was committed to passing him quite close now I couldn't just change