Exit Wound by Andy McNab

every airline.
    Red Ken’s plan had few moving parts. Keep it simple, stupid, was a principle all three of us knew worked, and as we were all stupid to be on this job it was a good one. We were going to play a round straight off the plane at six thirty. That was when we’d meet the man who’d organized it – organized it far too much, in fact, even down to the passports.
    Red Ken wouldn’t give any more details about who he was. ‘He doesn’t want you to know until you meet, son. He’s a funny fucker like that. But he’s going to make us all a lot of cash – so just wait.’
    I’d been bombarding him with questions for days. For starters, why had Red Ken, Dex and Tenny been picked as a crew?
    ‘Because we’re good.’ Red Ken was serious. ‘There can’t be any room for fuck-ups. That’s what Special Forces are about – in and out before anyone knows. This isn’t about running into a bank with sawn-offs and grabbing the till. This is about lifting gold that no one knows exists – it needs to be done covertly. That’s your reason, Nick.’
    I explored the chicken-something while Dex put on his headphones and laughed too loud at a movie.
    Red Ken leant across the spare seat between us and gave me a nudge. ‘He was like that when we came over last time. I even think it’s the same film.’
    The final of the two recces had been a week before the funeral. Tenny would have been on his post-tour leave, before returning to the battalion to go through the process of getting out – having massively boosted his pension.
    Dex caught us laughing at him and pulled off one earphone. ‘What?’
    Red Ken pushed himself forward so his head was nearly between the rests. ‘I was saying Nick should apply to your club.’
    ‘You’d love it.’ One earphone was still on his cheek. ‘I’ll introduce you to the pro and maybe we can get your game up. Then I’ll—’
    I reached between the seats, pulled back the earphone and let go.
    ‘Very funny.’ He broke into a laugh and then his eyes were back on the screen.
    I bit the cellophane off my rectangle of cheese. ‘I wish I was like knob-head Laughing Boy, not a worry in the world, just getting on with life and a dodgy G-and-T.’
    Red Ken sat back in his seat and stared at the blank screen in front of him. ‘That’s not the way, mate. You got no one meeting you when you get back from the trip?’
    ‘Like I said at the funeral, no one.’
    ‘That’s harsh. I’ll have my girls waiting for me. The youngest, Charlotte, has just brought my first grandchild home for a second christening. It’s a girl.’ He ripped the end off a citrus handwipe. ‘The Brits got pissed off over the fact she was going to get christened in Sydney. It’ll be a great day. Looking forward to it big-time.’

15
    We dumped our bags at the hotel and had a quick shower and shave. We had to look the part: no stubble on the car-showroom salesmen. The choice of hotel was perfect – near the airport and the golf club, and just short of the city proper. It had seen better days, but fitted our apparent budget.
    Half an hour later we met up again in the foyer, golf bags beside us and spiky shoes hanging from the straps.
    Red Ken turned down the concierge’s offer of a hotel car. We could have been going to any of the eight or nine courses, so why give away a precise destination when we didn’t have to? Hailing a cab from the main drag didn’t turn out to be easy. It got to the point where Dex was thumbing hopefully at every 4x4 that passed. As if.
    Red Ken had been smoking in the shade along with the rest of the social lepers. He took me to one side. The sun bounced off his gigs as he moved his head and grinned. ‘You might not like who we’re meeting up with this morning any more than we do, but it’s too late to say no. Just think of what this gives us, Nick. Think about Janice and the kids. That’s why we’re here. Besides, you have to look after us two, right?’
    Dex wandered back,