Andy McNab - Exit Wound

SUMMARY:
The breathtaking new Nick Stone thriller from the bestselling author ofBravo Two Zero. Three tons of Saddam Hussein's gold sit in an unguarded warehouse in Dubai. For two of Nick Stone's closest ex-SAS comrades, it was to have been the perfect, victimless crime. But when they're double-crossed and the robbery goes devastatingly wrong, only Stone can identify his friends' killer and track him down. As one harrowing piece of the complex and sinister jigsaw slots into another, Stone's quest for vengeance becomes a journey to the heart of a chilling conspiracy. Ticking like a time-bomb, brimming with terror and threat, Andy McNab's latest Nick Stone adventure is a high-voltage story of corruption, cover-up and blistering suspense - the master thriller writer at his electrifying, unputdownable best.

EXIT WOUND

Andy McNab

BANTAM PRESS

LONDON TORONTO SYDNEY AUCKLAND JOHANNESBURG

Contents

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Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781409085904

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TRANSWORLD PUBLISHERS 6163 Uxbridge Road, London W5 5SA A Random House Group Company www.rbooks.co.uk

First published in Great Britain in 2009 by Bantam Press an imprint of Transworld Publishers

Copyright Andy McNab 2009

Andy McNab has asserted his right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

This book is a work of fiction and, except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9780593059524 (cased) 9780593059531 (tpb)

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About the Author

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 Military Medal (MM) during his military career, McNab was the British Armys most highly decorated serving soldier when he finally left the SAS in February 1993. He wrote about his experiences in three books: the phenomenal bestseller Bravo Two Zero, Immediate Action and Seven Troop .

He is the author of the bestselling Nick Stone thrillers. Besides his writing work, he lectures to security and intelligence agencies in both the USA and UK. He is patron of the Help for Heroes campaign.

PART ONE

November 1988

The twin props of the Dornier Do 28 Skyservant went into hyper-scream as we lifted from Tempelhofs rain-lashed runway and climbed steeply through the West Berlin gloom. There was normally room for a dozen or so bodies in these things, but not in this one. The seats had been stripped out and the four of us had to sprawl on the cold steel floor.

The aircraft pitched and yawed like a dinghy in a gale. Gripping a rib of the bare fuselage, I pulled myself up to a window. Either Dex was trying to keep us below the cloud cover or failing to get above it. The West glowed and twinkled like a giant Christmas tree down there. A neon Mercedes sign seemed to throb on every other rooftop. The nightclub district was virtually a firework display. If we got back from this job in one piece, perhaps wed go there and let off a few of our own.

The Luftwaffe had Do 28s coming out of their ears, and most of their flights out of Tempelhof, the Americans main military airfield here, were milk runs. They took off from the island of West Berlin several times a day and followed one of the three air corridors across the Soviet-occupied East to reach West Germany proper. Nobody gave them a first glance, let alone a second, and that was the way Dexter Khattri and his seven-month-old ponytail liked it. His aircraft was going to be making a slight detour.

I felt like I was being spirited into occupied France to help out the Resistance. Going by the creaks and rattles and the rush of cold air into the cabin from all the leaks in the airframe, SOE could have used this very plane the noise was so loud I thought the door had slammed open. Id noticed rain leaking round the jamb after it was closed, so it was obviously loose. Maybe it had finally blown off.

I folded another turn into the bottom of my beanie to give the back of my head some padding. Then I pulled up the zip of my black Puffa jacket the final centimetre and braced my back and feet against the floor, knees up, hands in pockets. If theyd made matching Puffa trousers, Id have opted for three pairs.

The Dornier lurched again and my head rolled on the protective woolly band. Dex was swinging us left and right. This time I didnt want to look out of the window in case I saw why.

It could be that we were weaving between the tower blocks. I pictured the local kids faces pressed against their bedroom windows, wondering what the fuck was going on. Red Ken said that was what had happened last time. Dex had stuck a torch under his chin, Halloween style, and given them a wave. They were probably still having nightmares.

The Berlin Wall was intact, but only just. It still boasted mines, dogs, electric fences, machine-guns on fixed arcs, everything the Communist regime needed to stop its citizens leaking West, but nowadays even the guards wanted to jump ship. Everybody knew it would be over very soon, one way or another. Only a year ago, Ronnie Reagan had stood at the Brandenburg Gate and delivered his If you seek peace, Mr Gorbachev, open this gate! Tear down this wall! speech. But for now they were still the bad guys and Dex and the three of us under Red Kens command were about to cross into their airspace.

My headphones crackled as Dex quipped: Not far now, chaps home for tea and wads before first light, what?

The aircraft plunged to rooftop height. He gave a little chuckle. You can cross radar off your worry list I think we bought that last week. The chuckle became a laugh. If not, I hope youre wearing sensible shoes. Its a long walk home.