Limit of Exploitation Read Online Free PDF

shoulder length jet-black hair is oiled back and combed into place. He checks his mirrors as Senka approaches.
    The kids in playground are giving it max as she looks around checking the street before getting in the X5.
    Marko gives her a sideways look. “And so? How did it go?”
    â€œShe is a stupid little girl that one. She has no idea what she has gotten herself involved in here.”
    Marko slowly nods in understanding, “Miroslav will want to make an example of her, and you know what that means. He’s still talking about trading her daughter. He’s not going to just hand her back.”
    â€œWe must get the child away before that happens Marko.”
    â€œMust we? Aren’t we taking enough risks already? What about our plans? Who comes to save us Senka?”
    Senka places a loving hand on Marko’s face. “Marko, my love, we still have our plans, but I just, I just can’t stand by while an innocent child gets trafficked like that.”
    â€œYou see yourself in that child don’t you?”
    Senka hardens up as bad memories come flooding back. She stares blankly at the kids playing. “My life was destroyed by pigs like Miroslav and the Zemun, why should that child’s be?”
    Marko tries for a reassuring smile but his eyes aren’t playing along. He fires up the X5 and slips it into drive.

Chapter 7
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FOB Eagle
    Alone and brooding, John sits on top of his Bergen Rucksack in the dusty shade of the blast walls; his rifle rests across his knees. He waits near the makeshift Helipad for the Chinook ride that will take him to Camp Bastion and the long journey home. Through the shimmering heat haze he idly watches soldiers on the other side of the Helipad gathering for a patrol, but his thoughts are elsewhere. Behind him a pair of boots are crunching towards him.
    “A dying sister in London eh? What a load of shite.” John turns his head at the broad Glaswegian accent. It belongs to Ian Braddock, the Company Sergeant Major. A long career soldier in his late thirty’s, Ian wears a greying crew cut and a days growth, he eyes John intently with hard grey eyes.
    “Yeah, apparently she’s in a bad way.”
    “That right? Fuck me son, is that the best you can do?”
    John returns his gaze to the patrol of soldiers as Ian lowers his voice. “You know, whatever it is John, looking at you, I can tell its drama.”
    “There’s something that needs sorting Ian, a problem I need to deal with.”
    “This problem have a name?”
    “It has a Serbian name, want to know anymore?”
    “No, do I fuck.”
    “I’ve never asked you for anything Ian, never asked for any special treatment or favours, but I need this one.”
    “Serbian eh? Doesn’t sound good to me.” Both men watch the departing patrol.
    “I remember you when you first got to this Battalion, alone in the world, angry at everyone. The Army became your family, and I’m not happy when our family members are hurting.” Ian lets that sink in, “Remember, we’re a big brotherhood son and we look after our own.”
    Eyes turn skyward as a distant Chinook is heard beating its way towards the FOB. As the patrol sprints out of the FOB, more soldiers take up defensive positions. Sanger sentry’s hunker down behind fifty calibre Browning machine guns and mortar crews stand ready in sandbagged pits, 81mm Mortar Bombs grasped in their hands.
    A dirty beige Chinook suddenly bursts into view shattering the silence. As it batters down hard and fast onto the FOB’s helipad, sand and grit from the downdraft blasts troops and buildings alike.
    Through their protective goggles John and Ian watch the roaring Chinook bounce down with its tailgate toward them. High above in a clear blue sky an Apache gunship circles menacingly.
    Through the billowing dust cloud they can just make out the Loadmaster standing on the aircrafts lowered tailgate giving a thumbs up to a group of assembled troops. His foot rests on an M60 Machine