Deathlist Read Free Page A

said.
    Stubbs grunted. ‘Telling you, mate. I missed my calling in life. I should have gone into stand-up.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Kinsella replied, widened his smile. ‘Put a wig on you and a pair of tits and you’re a dead ringer for Dawn French.’
    Stubbs pretended to look hurt. ‘Take the mick all you want, but I’m telling you. Women like a fella who can make them laugh. I seem to remember it was yours truly who was getting the dirty looks from Becky down the King and Queen last month.’
    ‘Becky Morgan? Sweaty Betty?’ Kinsella raised an eyebrow and pulled a face. ‘That’s nothing to brag about, mate. She’s had more pricks in her than a second-hand dartboard. Even the tide wouldn’t take her out.’
    The two Paras shared an easy laugh. Stubbs popped another stick of gum in his mouth, and for a moment Kinsella forgot about the hell that was waiting for them on the steep slopes of Pen y Fan.
    He reminded himself that they’d both trained hard for this moment. For the past year they’d stuck rigidly to the same routine. A ten-mile run before breakfast, circuit training in the afternoons followed by thirty lengths of the swimming pool at the end of the day. In the months leading up to Selection they’d thrown in some orienteering sessions and hill reps, heading down to the Chilterns at the weekends and loading up their Bergens with heavy rocks. They’d race each other up the big hills, empty their Bergens and then scramble back down again as fast as they could. Kinsella and Stubbs were as fit as they’d ever been. The pair of them were literally glowing.
    But Kinsella still felt anxious. Everything was on the line today. Fail the Fan Dance and he would be RTU’d, just another Selection hard luck story.
    I won’t fail. No fucking way.
    I’ve not come this far to give up now.
    Suddenly the truck slowed and the engine dialled down to a gentle hum. Kinsella tensed. We must be arriving at the starting point, he realised. Around him the other students gripped their dud rifles and sat up straight. Stubbs was chewing his gum furiously. Then the four-tonner jerked to a halt and the driver lowered the tailgate. From outside the truck Kinsella heard one of the DS guys barking at the students to ‘get off the wagons’, his throated voice cutting through the gloom like a chainsaw through rusted metal. Kinsella grabbed his Bergen and glanced across at Stubbs.
    ‘You ready for this?’
    ‘Do me a favour. I was fucking born ready.’ He flashed a sly grin at Kinsella. ‘Tell you what. If it doesn’t work out for you today, I’ll put in a good word for you when we get back to Colchester. Get Becky to give you a sympathy shag.’
    Kinsella screwed up his face. ‘You offering me sloppy seconds, Weasel?’
    ‘You know me, mate. I’m all about sharing.’
    They exchanged grim smiles. Then Stubbs turned and hopped down from the tailgate after the rest of the students, clutching his Bergen and his SLR. A vicious wind lashed across the blackened landscape and Kinsella felt a chill in his bones as he stepped forward. Then he took a deep breath and dropped down from the truck, ready for whatever Selection could throw at him.

FOUR
    0627 hours.
    Two miles to the north, a silver Ford Mondeo turned off the A470 and steered into a deserted lay-by.
    Kavlak sat behind the wheel. He was the more experienced of the two men. He’d spent ten years fighting in the White Eagles Serbian paramilitary unit and he knew how to stay calm under pressure. Petrovich was the younger guy. This was his first time on the job and he sat in the front passenger seat, sweating like a one-legged man at an arse-kicking contest. His eyes constantly glanced at the rear-view mirror to check that they weren’t being followed. His knees were bouncing up and down like a couple of jackhammers. The kid’s nerves were understandable, Kavlak figured. After all, they were sitting on a hundred pounds of military-grade C4 high explosive.
    There were six men on the