Recoil - Andy McNab [1]
Andy McNab joined the infantry as a boy soldier. In 1984 he was ‘badged’ as a member of 22 SAS Regiment and was involved in both covert and overt special operations worldwide.
During the Gulf War he commanded Bravo Two Zero, a patrol that, in the words of his commanding officer, ‘will remain in regimental history for ever’. Awarded both the Distinguished Conduct Medal (DCM) and the Military Medal (MM) during his military career, McNab was the British Army’s most highly decorated serving soldier when he finally left the SAS in February 1993. He wrote about his experiences in two phenomenal bestsellers, Bravo Two Zero, which was filmed in 1998 starring Sean Bean, and Immediate Action.
His novels include Remote Control, Liberation Day, Dark Winter, Deep Black and Aggressor and are all bestsellers. He is also the author of four novels for children, Boy Soldier, Avenger, Payback and Meltdown as well as Quick Read novel, The Grey Man. His new novel, Crossfire, will be available from Bantam Press later in the year. Besides his writing work, he lectures to security and intelligence agencies in both the USA and the UK.
www.booksattransworld.co.uk/andymcnab
Acclaim for Andy McNab:
‘McNab’s great asset is that the heart of his fiction is non-fiction: other thriller writers do their research, but he has actually been there’
Sunday Times
‘McNab is a terrific novelist. When it comes to thrills, he’s Forsyth class’
Mail on Sunday
‘Addictive . . . Packed with wild action and revealing tradecraft’
Daily Telegraph
‘Firmly established as one of the UK’s top thriller writers, McNab draws heavily from his experiences in the world’s most highly skilled special forces unit to make his fiction explosive, pacey and authentic’
Express Magazine
‘The word page-turner seems coined for McNab’s work’
Crime Time
Also by Andy McNab
Non-fiction
BRAVO TWO ZERO
IMMEDIATE ACTION
Fiction
REMOTE CONTROL
CRISIS FOUR
FIREWALL
LAST LIGHT
LIBERATION DAY
DARK WINTER
DEEP BLACK
AGGRESSOR
and published by Corgi Books
PART ONE
Zaïre, Central Africa
2 October 1985
14:27 hours
1
Davy had offloaded his 175 Yamaha and gone ahead to recce the valley. He’d be back soon, unless the rebels had caught him. We’d been training Mobutu’s troops against these guys, and we knew that knitting baby bootees and collecting china thimbles wasn’t high on their list of favourite hobbies.
When you’re up against the kind of guys who routinely machete off an entire village’s lips because one of the locals has been overheard saying something not nice about the president, you know it’s time to check chamber.
Our four ancient, rusting Renault trucks were spread out and static just below the crest of the high ground. The drivers had killed their engines the moment we got here. It wasn’t something you’d normally do with old wagons like these, in case they refused to fire up again, but we didn’t have a whole lot of choice; the Zaïreans had only been able to find us a couple of dozen jerry-cans of fuel at such short notice, and those engines drank like a Swede on a stag night.
The early-afternoon sun was relentless. So were the flies. The fuckers had found us within minutes and it took a never-ending Thai hand dance to keep them out of my face. I wiped sweat from my eyes with the corner of a red gingham tablecloth I’d ripped in half and draped over my head and shoulders. I’d put the other half to good use too: it covered the working parts of my GPMG.
I opened the top cover and let the belt of 7.62mm link drop out. I lifted the feed tray, peered into the empty chamber and smoothed away a few grains of sand with a finger. We’d been bouncing along dirt tracks all the way from Kinshasa, and even the high commissioner’s table linen couldn’t stop the stuff finding its way into every nook and cranny. It didn’t matter that my nose and eyes were full of grit, but it would if it got into the working parts and the gun jammed at just the moment I needed it to go bang.
Satisfied that the feed tray and chamber were shit-free, I cradled the