By Andy McNab
Nick Stone – deniable operator for British Intelligence – has been assigned to hold out an officially-sanctioned assassination. while he realizes who the objective is, he refuses. yet he's then given a chilling ultimatum: fly to crucial the USA and end the activity, or the eleven-year-old orphan in his care gets killed. Stone arrives in sweltering Panama, as regards to brink. His existence is in items, yet issues in basic terms worsen while he unearths himself stuck on the centre of a deadly conspiracy related to Columbian guerrillas. enormous quantities of blameless lives are at stake. Their simply likelihood of rescue is Stone. yet he has a seriously injured good friend to rescue, miles of dense rainforest to navigate and the hardest determination of his lifestyles to make… ‘A middle thumping learn’ Mail on Sunday
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Extra resources for Last Light: Nick Stone Book 4: Andy McNab's best-selling series of Nick Stone thrillers - with bonus material
He used to be shouting stuff. What? Shouting for support? Telling me to forestall? It didn’t topic, the jungle swallowed it. I received stuck on wait-a-while, however it could have been tissue paper to me correct then. i'll listen the nylon poncho flapping in the back of me and the adrenaline pumped big-time. i'll see tarmac . . . as soon as on that he wouldn’t have the ability to seize me in these wellies. I misplaced my footing, falling directly to my arse yet gripping the Leatherman as though my lifestyles relied on it. It did. I seemed up at him. He dinked left and stopped, eyes extensive as saucers because the gollock rose into the air. My arms went down into the dust and that i slipped and slithered, relocating backwards, attempting to come back directly to my ft. His screams received greater in pitch because the blade flashed throughout the air. It should have been an inexpensive purchase: the blade hit a sapling and made a skinny tinny sound. He spun around, exposing his again to me in his frenzy, nonetheless screaming and shouting as he, too, slipped at the dust and directly to his arse. As he fell, the rear of the poncho stuck on a few wait-a-while and used to be yanked vertically. With the Leatherman nonetheless in my correct hand I grabbed the flailing fabric with my left and pulled again on it as difficult as i'll, now not realizing what i used to be going to do subsequent. All I knew was once that the gollock needed to be stopped. This used to be certainly one of Chan’s males, these boys who crucified and killed their sufferers. I wasn’t going to hitch the queue. I pulled back as he landed on his knees, yanking him thoroughly backwards directly to the floor. I grabbed one other handful of cape and pulled, constricting his neck by way of bunching the nylon of the hood as I acquired up. i may pay attention the rain hitting the tarmac open air as he kicked out and that i dragged him – and our noise – again into the jungle, nonetheless now not too definite what i used to be doing. He had his left hand round the hood of his poncho, attempting to guard his neck because the nylon squeezed opposed to it. The gollock was once in his correct. He couldn’t see me at the back of him, yet nonetheless he hit out, swirling round in desperation. The blade slashed the poncho. nonetheless screaming on the most sensible of his lungs in worry and anger, he kicked out as though he used to be having an epileptic healthy. I bobbed and weaved like a boxer, now not figuring out why – it simply appeared a average response to having sharp metal waved in my face. His arse bulldozed via leaves and palm branches. The fight should have appeared like a park ranger attempting to drag a pissed-off crocodile out of the water via its tail. i used to be simply targeting getting him again into the jungle and ensuring the whirling blade didn’t hook up with me. yet then it did – big-time – sinking into my correct calf. I screamed with ache as I hung on, nonetheless dragging him backwards. I had no selection: if i finished relocating he’d be capable to wake up. Fuck if a person heard us, i used to be combating for my existence. The crocodile thrashed and twisted round at the flooring as there has been one other almighty clap of thunder, a deep resonant rumbling that appeared to cross on for ever. Forked lightning crackled excessive above, its noise drowning out his shouts and the clatter of rain.