tion id="ub0ea5bc4-4abb-5920-841c-24d8ae199084">
Sniper Fire in Belfast
SHAUN CLARKE
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by 22 Books/Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1993
Copyright © Bloomsbury Publishing plc 1993
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2016
Cover photographs © Alain le Garsmeur “The Troubles” Archive/Alamy (background); Shutterstock.com (soldier and textures)
Shaun Clarke asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008154943
Ebook Edition © November 2015 ISBN: 9780008154950
Version: 2015-10-15
Contents
OTHER TITLES IN THE SAS OPERATION SERIES
Martin was hiding in a shallow scrape when they found him. He plunged into despair when he heard their triumphant shouting, then he was grabbed by the shoulders and jerked roughly up on to his knees.
The rain was lashing down over the wind-blown green fields, and he caught only a glimpse of the shadowy men in olive-green fatigues, carrying a variety of weapons and moving in to surround him, before he was blindfolded, bound by hands and feet, and thrown into the back of their truck like so much dead meat.
‘Face down in the fucking mud,’ one of them said, ‘digging through to Australia.’ The others laughed. ‘Looks a bit on the damp side, doesn’t he? That should save him embarrassment. We won’t notice the stains when the bugger starts pissing his pants – and that won’t take long, I’ll bet.’
Lying on his side on the floor of the truck, feeling the occasional soft kick from the boots of the men sitting above him, Martin had to choke back his panic and keep control of himself.
After so long, he thought. After so much. Don’t lose it all now …
The door on the driver’s side of the truck slammed shut, then the engine coughed into life and the vehicle rattled across the hilly terrain, bumped over what Martin judged to be the rough edge of the field, then moved straight ahead along a proper road. Still in despair, though knowing he hadn’t lost all yet, he took deep, even breaths, forcing his racing heart to settle down.
When someone’s body rolled into his and he heard a nervous coughing, he realized with a shameful feeling of relief that he wasn’t the only one they had caught.
‘Shit!’ he whispered.
‘What was that, boyo?’ one of his captors asked in a mocking manner. ‘Did I hear filthy language from down there?’
‘Take off this bloody blindfold,’ Martin said. ‘You don’t really need that.’
‘Feeling a bit uncomfortable, are you? A bit disorientated? Well, you better get used to it, you stupid