The Spear of Destiny - By Julian Noyce Page 0,81

he said, “Designed in 1949 by the Russian general with the same name. Mikhail Kalashnikov. Still being used around the globe. Over 75 million rifles built. Weighs a little over ten pounds. Doesn’t freeze or stick in any condition. Even if you get sand in it.”

He took the AK-47 and handed it to Natalie. To her the weapon felt heavy and cumbersome but she took it and held it across her waist.

“Are you okay with it?”

“Yeah I’ll be fine,” she answered, already getting used to the weight of the gun.

“You could have it without the stock but I think it’s better for you with it. It’ll be easier to control.”

“Is that everything?”

“We need acouple of those vests your men are wearing, but not new ones. They’d stand out. We need to look like we’ve been doing this for a long time.”

While Al Massri went to sort out the vests, Hutchinson spoke to Dennis, while keeping his voice low.

“Pete I don’t think I can do this.”

“Of course you can.”

Dennis looked at his friend. Hutchinson, despite the weapons, the handgun and the thigh holster, still looked like an academic.

“We just need to make you look the part.”

Dennis reached forward and removed Hutchinson’s spectacles.

“Hey! I need those for reading.”

“How bad is your eyesight?”

“I can see fine. I need them to be able to read at a distance.”

Dennis spun around, looking for something for Hutchinson to focus on.

“Can you see that six wheeler lorry over there being loaded?”

“Yes of course I can.”

“Can you see what it says on the driver’s door?”

“I can see it. I can’t read what it says. It’s too far away. I’d need my glasses for that.”

“But you can see.”

“Yes. I can see as far as the horizon allows. I just need glasses for reading.”

“That’s good enough.”

Dennis put the spectacles in the older man’s shirt pocket. Then he reached up and ruffled the older man’s hair. Hutchinson took a step back.

“Pete!” he said reaching a hand up to smooth his hair over again. Dennis grabbed the hand to stop him.

“Don’t! Trust me! You look better like that. More rugged.”

Hutchinson looked to Natalie for approval. She nodded.

“I like the look Jim.”

“Really?” he asked, convinced he looked like a senior citizen yob.

“Really,” she affirmed.

Dennis took a step back and looked Hutchinson’s attire up and down.

“Khalil. Have you got any cargo style trousers and possibly a denim style shirt? Oh and two keffiyehs. I’d better wear one too.”

Fifteen minutes later and Hutchinson was looking more like a private contractor. His clothes were now casual, more military like.

“Hold the gun across your chest like this. Gun muzzle pointing down. Finger on the trigger. That’s it just there. Hold that pose.”

“That’s quite a transformation,” Natalie said, “Wow. You do actually look the part.”

“Yeah you do,” Dennis agreed. “Just try to look tough all the time.”

Hutchinson took a stance which made Natalie laugh.

“No don’t raise your eyebrows,” she chuckled, “Try to look serious. That’s it. You’ve got it.”

“I must admit,” Hutchinson said, “I do now feel that I can pull this off.”

“Good,” Dennis said, “Just a bit of confidence is all that is needed. Now we just need to see if you can shoot. Khalil! A few practice rounds.”

The big man nodded. He took a handful of extra ammunition clips and once again led the way.

“I must say,” Hutchinson said as he and Natalie walked alongside Dennis, “That you have a really good knowledge of guns. Are you also a good shot?”

“I have a small confession to make.”

‘What is he going to come out with now’ Natalie was thinking.

“You know when I told you and the metropolitan police that I did some training with the SAS,” he looked at them both for confirmation, “I lied. I learned to shoot with these guys.”

“What?” Hutchinson said, “You mean you were one of them. A terrorist.”

“Will you stop using that word around here,” Dennis said glancing nervously about, “They prefer the term ‘freedom fighter.”

“Freedom fighter. Terrorist. Isn’t that the same thing?”

“That depends on which side you’re on.”

Natalie was genuinely interested.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I went out with them on a few nights. Only as an observer though. I want you to know and understand that. I didn’t have any weapons nor did I engage in anything other than report their story. We didn’t use cameras. I was only permitted to use a Dictaphone.”

“Did you take Kim whatshername with you?”

“No. It was too dangerous for her. Just me and my cameraman Greg. We went out onto the beach here at

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