Bad Soldier: Danny Black Thriller 4 Read Free Page A

reached them, but he did his best to hide it. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said in his very best English. The blond guy looked him up and down, and Romano could tell from his body language that he was in charge of this four-man unit. ‘I am taking you to your helicopter.’
    The unit leader looked over Romano’s shoulder towards the distant Land Rover. ‘Fuck’s sake, Manuel,’ he said with an unpleasant sneer. ‘I know the I-tais are shit drivers, but couldn’t you park a bit closer?’
    Romano felt an embarrassed frown cross his forehead. ‘No . . . I mean, I could  . . .’ He jabbed his thumb towards the vehicle.
    ‘Forget it, shit-for-brains.’ The man looked over his shoulder. ‘Danny and Spud could use the workout, right lads? Especially Spud. Need to get him match fit. He’s spent the last six months in hand to gland contact.’
    Romano didn’t know what he was talking about. The blond man pushed past him and started walking towards the Land Rover. The woman looked at the two guys – Danny and Spud, had he called them? – then she jogged after the blond man.
    This really wasn’t going the way Romano had wanted. He turned to Danny and Spud. ‘I could maybe help you . . .’ he said. Neither man even glanced at him. They were watching the unit leader, with murder in their eyes. Romano jogged alongside them as they followed after the woman and the blond man. ‘So guys,’ he said, ‘where are you headed?’
    No response. Just dark scowls. As they approached the Land Rover, Romano saw that the blond man had already taken the front passenger seat. The woman was opening up the back of the vehicle ready to receive the flight case. The rain was falling more heavily now. Everyone was soaked.
    Danny and Spud loaded up. Romano meekly took his place behind the wheel. When the others were installed in the back seat, he turned the ignition. The windscreen wipers flapped noisily as the vehicle trundled across the airfield.
    ‘Fuckin’ Sicily,’ the blond man said. ‘I thought it was meant to be all sunshine and sardines.’
    ‘And organised crime,’ Phil Collins said darkly. ‘Right up your street, eh, Tony?’
    Tony – that was obviously the blond man’s name – looked in the rear-view mirror. ‘Do us a solid, Caitlin love, stick a .762 in that bald cunt’s skull, save me messing up my hands.’
    Caitlin, the woman, smiled. ‘Mind if I do it later?’ she said in a very pronounced Australian accent. ‘Don’t want to mess up the upholstery for this two-pot screamer.’ She jabbed Romano on the shoulder.
    ‘Caitlin, Tony, cut it out,’ said the man with dark hair.
    ‘What’s that?’ Tony said in an exaggeratedly loud voice. ‘Did Danny Black say something?’ He smiled nastily. ‘Last time I checked, Black, I was unit commander. So do us all a favour and keep your cakehole shut, eh?’
    Romano looked in the rear-view mirror. If Danny Black looked annoyed, it was nothing compared to the expression on Spud’s face, which was filled with undisguised hate. Tony looked over his shoulder at the same time. ‘Spud, mate, relax. You should learn to enjoy yourself.’ He sniffed and faced forward again. ‘You could get run over by a bus tomorrow.’ As he said this, he pulled a handgun from his ops waistcoat and ostentatiously started checking it over.
    All of a sudden, Romano could barely breathe with the tension. He’d given up wanting to find out what these people were here for. He just wanted them out of his vehicle before the pot boiled over. He even twitched nervously when Tony said, ‘How far to the chopper, Manuel?’
    Romano pointed to his ten o’clock. The LZ was visible 100 metres away through the rainy twilight. A steel-grey RAF chopper – a Wildcat – was there, surrounded by three more military vehicles, the beams from their headlamps cutting through the rain.
    ‘How about dropping us a little closer than half a mile to the LZ?’ Tony said. ‘Unlike you,