Hard Target (21 page)

O’l Foul Mouth lounged back in his chair. ‘Just the part they were using.’ Major Revell had washed and shaved, and he still felt a thousand years older than the antique desk the colonel sat behind. ‘Yeah, well that’s as maybe, but because of the chance of a fucking stink from all the shitty liberals and fellow-travellers back home there ain’t gonna be no press, no medals, no hoo-ha.’

‘Then what’s our version, sir.’ That last word almost stuck in his throat.

‘We don’t know nothin’, sweet F.A. Our reply to the Reds’ accusation is to say that if independent observers are let in, they’ll see we didn’t do it. But of course the Huskies ain’t gonna allow that, because those same busy-bodies will see what’s left of the workshops. So we score that way. Shit, I know it ain’t much, but there’s times, like over the ‘80 Olympics, when just getting up their hairy nostrils is a victory.’ Lippincott shuffled the papers on his desk to no particular purpose.

‘Eh, those Limeys still around?’
Their sergeant is busy trying to find transport to get them back to their unit.’ The question seemed to have no supplement. Revell hoped the interview was over. ‘If that’s all, Colonel ...’

O’l Foul Mouth looked up sharply. ‘Don’t be in such a fucking hurry, Major, and tell the British the same, I got another little job for you...’ 

Document Outline

• PDF THE ZONE 1 Hard Target.bmp
  
• THEZONE01 06APR07.pdf
  
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• THE ZONE Back Cover.bmp