Читать книгу The Angry Sea - James Deegan - Страница 51

38.

JOHN CARR WOKE with a start in the cool morning light, feeling damp and gritty-eyed.

It took him a moment to realise that he’d fallen asleep outside, on one of Konstantin’s sun loungers.

He looked at his watch.

05:45 hrs.

He rubbed his eyes, stood up from the lounger, and padded into the villa through the open glass doors.

A security guy was asleep on the sofa.

Carr walked past him into the kitchen.

Made himself a cup of tea, and walked back out to the poolside with that in one hand and a stale chocolate brioche in the other.

Thought for a second, went back inside and prodded the security guard with his foot.

The man awoke with a start and a gasp.

‘Morning, pal,’ said Carr, cheerily. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Yuri,’ said the guard, rubbing his eyes and sitting up in shock. ‘I…’

‘You report to Oleg, right?’

Oleg Kovalev was Konstantin Avilov’s head of security, a former Russian Foreign Intelligence Service spook and a good friend to Carr.

‘Yes.’

Carr bit into the brioche, started chewing.

He wiped a smear of chocolate from the corner of his mouth with his thumb, and looked down at the Russian.

Early fifties, he guessed, and thickset, with that hard, Eastern European look about him.

‘Spetznaz?’ he said.

‘No,’ said Yuri. ‘VDV.’

‘Airborne,’ said Carr, with an appreciative nod. ‘Me too. Afghanistan?’

‘Yes, for two year,’ said Yuri, proudly. ‘Also, First Chechen War.’

‘That’s some bad ju-ju,’ said Carr, with a grin.

He took another bite of the brioche.

The Russian security man relaxed, and smiled back at him.

‘You know my wee daughter’s asleep upstairs?’ said Carr.

The smile faded slightly, shading into confusion.

‘So answer me this, Yuri,’ said Carr. ‘When you were on stag – you know, sentry duty – in Afghanistan, or Chechnya, did you fall asleep?’

Now the smile well and truly fell from the Russian’s face. ‘No,’ he said.

‘No,’ said Carr. ‘I bet you didn’t. Because the Muj didn’t fuck about, did they?’

Yuri said nothing, but Carr knew he’d understood. On more than a few occasions, Soviet sentries had dozed off, and had awoken to find their camp overrun, and themselves and their muckers about to be skinned alive by gleeful mujahideen.

Carr finished off the sweet bread, and washed it down with a mouthful of too-hot tea.

He paused.

Trying to decide whether to bollock the fucker, or punch him.

The look of contrition in the Russian’s face softened Carr a little.

‘Listen, Yuri,’ he said, ‘I’m going to let it go this time, but if you let me down again you and me are away round the back of the block, and then Oleg’s going to have a go, and then when you get out of hospital you’re looking for another fucking job. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes,’ said Yuri. ‘I am sorry.’

‘Good man,’ said Carr. ‘Don’t worry about it. But it doesn’t happen again, understood?’

The Russian nodded.

‘Go and make yourself a strong black coffee, splash some water on your face, and keep alert.’

Carr took his tea outside and drank it while watching the sun rise over the hills to the east.

Felt the humid air warm a degree or two.

Another day in paradise, for some.

He finished the tea, threw the dregs into a flowerbed, and went back inside.

Had a piss, and a quick shower, and then padded along the cold tiles to the study.

He booked a pair of lunchtime flights back to Heathrow for himself and Alice, and then went to pack his kit.