Hunter Killer by Chris Ryan

the front room and walked along the hallway to the one double bedroom at the back of the flat. It was bare – almost spartan. Plain white walls and a built-in cupboard along one side. ‘Like a cell in a psychiatric ward,’ Clara had joked first time she saw it. Danny opened the cupboard and shifted some shoe boxes off the floor before peeling up a rectangle of old carpet and removing the loose floorboard that it covered.
    A chilly draught wafted up from underneath the floor, and a smell of damp. Danny buried his hand into the cavity and his fingers made contact with a dusty old shoe box. He grabbed it, and pulled it up to floor level. His fingers smeared the dust as he opened the box.
    There were bank notes inside. A mixture of sterling and American dollars. Out in Afghanistan, there had been money swilling around. Some of it, the guys had been given float money for when they were out on ops. A lot had been confiscated from militants out in the field. The guys had handed a proportion of it back to the ruperts, but they’d kept a far greater chunk and smuggled it back to the UK, where they’d distributed it among the rest of the squadron. A nice little backhander that everyone at Credenhill knew about and which nobody would admit to. The lads in the Regiment risked their lives for a pittance. Nobody begrudged them a little private income on the side.
    There was about two and a half grand in here. In a corner of Danny’s mind he’d been setting it aside against the day when he and Clara moved in together. Not that he’d ever mentioned it to her. Until that time, it was just fine where it was. Untouched, except for now. He removed a crumpled fifty-pound note, replaced the box in its hiding place and strode back to the front room. Kyle was still in the far corner. He’d grown paler, and there was a thin mist of sweat on his forehead. Danny held up the note like a guy trying to catch the attention of a barmaid. Kyle took what looked like an involuntary step forward. His bruised face actively twitched.
    ‘Danny,’ Clara breathed. ‘He needs help .’
    ‘He needs to get out of here,’ Danny replied. He turned, walked to the front door and opened it. Seconds later, Kyle was there. He stepped over the threshold, then eagerly took the note Danny brandished under his nose.
    ‘If I hear you’ve been touching Dad up for money,’ he said, his voice dangerously quiet, ‘I will call the police. And when they’ve finished, I’ll get to work on you. Understood?’
    Kyle pocketed the money, then wiped a drop of mucus from his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Twat,’ he said.
    Danny didn’t react. He just watched Kyle disappear into the rain before slamming the door closed. He stalked back to the front room where Clara hadn’t moved. ‘Don’t say it,’ he scowled at his girlfriend.
    There was an uncomfortable silence while Danny peered through the curtains to check that Kyle wasn’t still lurking somewhere outside.
    ‘Will they really hurt him?’ Clara asked in a small voice. ‘The Poles, I mean?’
    Danny let the curtains fall shut. ‘Probably,’ he muttered.
    ‘And you’re okay with that?’ she said. ‘He’s your brother, after all.’
    ‘Yeah,’ Danny said. ‘I’m okay with that.’
    And that might have been the end of the conversation, had Clara not given him a look that made Danny feel as if he was the most heartless bastard she’d ever met. ‘I’ve done everything I can for him, Clara. I’ve dug him out of more holes than I can count. If I can’t stop him screwing his life up, maybe these Poles will knock some sense into him.’
    And that really was the end of the conversation. ‘I’m hitting the sack,’ Danny said. ‘I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and a lot to do.’
    He turned his back on Clara and marched back to the bedroom. He kicked off his clothes and noticed a smear of blood just above his left wrist, from shooting the guy in the mouth. He didn’t even bother to wipe it off