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

I was still giving a running commentary when Alpha came back on the
net.
"Hello, all call signs, all call signs, I have control, I have control.
Golf, acknowledge."
Kev acknowledged. The police had handed over; it was Kev's show now.
The targets started to move away from the vehicle, so I pushed the
button four times. Golf came back: "Stand by, stand by!"
That was it; we were off.
I let them walk toward the main square, and then I got up. I knew we
wouldn't lift them here. There were far too many people around. For all we
knew, the players might want to go out in a blaze of glory and start
dropping the civilians, take them hostage, or, even worse, go into kamikaze
mode and detonate the device.
Alpha came back on the net.
"Hello, all call signs, all call signs cancel, cancel, cancel! I do not
have control! Cancel!
Golf, acknowledge."
At once I heard Kev's not-so-formal reply: "What the fuck's going on?
Tell me what's going on?"
"Wait .. . wait ..." Alpha sounded under pressure.
There were voices in the background.
"All stations, all stations, the police need another ID, they need to
be sure.
Golf, acknowledge."
What do they want, introductions?
"Hi, I'm Danny, bomber and murderer, I enjoy traveling and working with
children."
We were in danger of losing them if we didn't act soon.
Alpha came back: "All stations, ATO is moving to check the vehicle.
Delta, we need that confirmation." The ATO is the ammunitions technical
officer.
I acknowledged. There was obviously some sweating going on in the ops
room. The boss was getting a hard time from the police; it sounded like a
chimpanzees' tea party in there.
The terrorist team would be crossing the border within minutes. Once
they were on the other side, they could detonate the bomb with immunity.
I was now on the other side of the road, and wanted at least to get
parallel to them so I could see their faces again. I had to reconfirm the
players, then stick with them.
More activity on the net. I could hear the tension in Alpha's voice
now, telephone lines ringing, people milling about.
Kev cut in: "Fuck the ops room, let's keep on top of them until someone
somewhere makes a fucking decision. Lima and Zulu, can you get forward?"
Zulu came on the net for himself and Lima, very much out of breath:
"Zulu and Lima, we... we can do that."
"Roger that, move up, tell me when you're there."
Kev wanted them beyond the health center. They were running hard to get
ahead of the targets; they didn't care who saw them as long as the players
didn't. But we still hadn't got control.
Kev came back on the net: "Alpha, this is Golf. You need to get your