DropZone - By Andy McNab Page 0,1

irritated. ‘And he’s ticking the boxes.’

‘But not necessarily the right ones,’ Sam cut back. ‘Jake’s too interested in himself. There’s no way I’m bringing him onto the team until I’m absolutely sure. You know that. And it’s my word on this – that’s the agreement.’

‘You saying I’m a bad judge of character?’

‘You picked me,’ said Sam, and the smile that flickered across his face was anything but warm.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Sam broke the silence. ‘So what about Ryan?’

‘If he’s gone, he’s gone,’ came the reply. ‘Unsuitable. We’re better off knowing now than halfway through an operation. I’ll try and trace him, find out what happened. But he’s no longer your concern. Anything else?’

Sam knew the conversation was over. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Good,’ said the voice. ‘Keep me posted on the team – and on Jake.’

The phone went dead. No goodbyes, no farewells, just silence.

Sam replaced the receiver and leaned forwards, resting his arms on his desk. In the gloom of his office, lit as it was by only a simple desk lamp, Sam stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet. The thing looked tired and beaten, like it had been dropped just a few too many times off the back of a truck. He slid open the second drawer, pulled out a thick folder and flicked through it.

From the pages of the files inside, the photographs of four faces stared out: two male, two female. Of the males, one was serious, collected, had eyes that looked like they could spot a flea on a rat’s arse at a couple of miles. The other had a wildness about him, like he was ready to jump out of the photo, steal your girlfriend and ride off into the sunset. The girls were just as different. One had haunted eyes in a pale face that showed nothing but determination. The other looked like she wanted to take on the world in a bar fight, and come out not just the winner but with her makeup intact and not a hair out of place.

Sam picked up another two files. Jake and the missing Ryan stared up at him. But it wasn’t Ryan’s disappearance that bothered Sam; it was what he’d do if Jake didn’t make the grade. And, deep down, Sam had a hunch he wouldn’t. Not just because Jake’s attitude was all wrong, but because if a mission went tits up and the team were facing a total shit storm, Sam’s gut instinct told him that Jake would bottle it. He was prepared to give Jake the training, but if he didn’t shape up there was no way in hell Sam was going to put the team at risk.

After a few moments, Sam replaced the files in the cabinet and walked to his office door. Reaching out, he flicked the room to darkness, then slipped away into the night. But one thought haunted him: when Jake screwed up, just how the hell was he going to find anyone else?

1

The yell from above shattered the night like a brick through a window.

Ethan jarred to a halt, earphones halfway to his head. He’d been out for another late-night walk to clear his mind. It hadn’t worked.

Looking up, he saw someone falling from the roof of the block of flats he called home; a silhouette racing towards him, getting bigger, closer, on target for a direct hit he knew would kill him.

His breath caught in his throat.

His voice didn’t.

‘Shit . . .’

Keeping his eyes pinned on the figure, Ethan quickly pulled himself out of its way, turning back up the street to a vandalized bus shelter that was tagged to hell.

Suddenly another sound filled the darkness, like bed sheets flapping in the wind, followed by a whoop and a shout of ‘Yeah – nailed it!’ and the silhouette exploded in the sky, expanding from a black smudge to a black oblong. Its descent slowed dramatically. It drifted away from Ethan, riding wind and moonlight.

Stunned and staring, he watched as the shape floated down just ahead of him, a human figure dangling underneath what he now guessed was a parachute. It landed gently, silently.

Ethan couldn’t believe it: some idiot had just parachuted from the top of the block of flats – his block of flats. He watched as the figure rapidly gathered in the parachute to nothing, bundling it up as though rolling the night into a ball, then jogged towards him.

A van in the road next to him sparked to life. Another figure