Slingshot: A Spycatcher Novel Read Online Free PDF

quickly reversed. Within seven seconds it was off the bridge, out of sight, and heading west away from Gdansk.
    The defector had been kidnapped.
    Though they all had different objectives, Will and his team had failed, the SVR team had failed, and the Polish AW and ABW men had failed.
    Will watched the SVR officer. He had a clear line of sight and could easily shoot the man. But Will lowered his gun as he saw the Russian lift the Polish operative, carry him off the bridge back onto the island, gently lower him to the ground, lean down, pat his hand on the Pole’s shoulder, and stand before him for a few seconds before running away into the fog.
    Will glanced at Delta 9. “Help the Pole!”
    He turned east, ran across open ground toward the central road, sprinted harder when he was on it, tucked his handgun into his waistband, dashed between buildings, ran across more open ground, and barely slowed as he saw three men.
    One of them was a dead hostile, lying still and awkwardly on the ground. His neck or back had been broken. Another man was next to him on the ground. He was Delta 1. Standing over him was the last hostile. He was very big, and his physique was made all the more imposing by the body and head armor. The man was grappling with the Q team leader, but clearly was on the verge of overpowering him.
    Will slowed to a brisk walking pace. He felt overwhelming anger and frustration that everything tonight had gone wrong. Reaching the large hostile, he saw the man turn to face him. Will kicked his armored chest with such tremendous force the hostile was lifted off his feet. He looked at Delta 1. “Are you injured?”
    Delta 1 shook his head and started to push himself off the ground. Will walked over to the prone hostile, stamped his foot on the man’s unprotected throat and pressed hard. He looked at Delta 1 again. “This has been a bloody mess.” He pressed harder with his foot and kept it firmly in place as the hostile grabbed his ankle with two hands and tried to wrench his leg away. Shaking his head, he muttered, “The defector’s as good as dead.” He looked down at the hostile. “Who sent you?”
    The man tried to speak but was choking.
    Will lifted his foot a fraction.
    “We’re ”—the hostile coughed—“private contractors.”
    “Who sent you?”
    “Don’t . . . know. My boss did, but”—his eyes glanced sideways toward his dead colleague—“he can’t talk anymore.”
    Delta 1 moved to the dead body, expertly searched the man’s clothing, looked at Will, and shook his head.
    “You’re British?”
    “Me and a couple of others. The rest of the team came from all over.”
    Will nodded and stamped his foot down. The hostile arched his back, and his limbs thrashed for thirty seconds before he became motionless. Will looked away from Delta 1 toward the bridge. “Come with me.”
    Will jogged back toward the western bridge, Delta 1 by his side. They reached the beginning of the bridge and saw the Polish operative sitting against a wall, his face covered in his blood. Delta 9 was by him, attending to his wounds with a battlefield medical kit.
    Will crouched down in front of the Pole. “Do you speak English?”
    The operative opened his mouth, winced in pain, and nodded.
    “Okay. We’re British intelligence officers. We came here tonight to protect you from the SVR unit, but I let you and your men down. I’m sorry that you didn’t get the Russian defector.” He glanced at Delta 9. “How bad is he?”
    “He’s only got flesh wounds, but they’re pretty nasty and he’ll need medical attention.”
    Will returned his attention to the Pole. “We going to take you to a hospital.”
    Police sirens rang out in the distance.
    “Help is on its way.” The Polish operative grimaced as he adjusted position. “I’ll be looked after. But you need to get out of here. If they find you, the police and security services will arrest you for operating illegally in Poland.” He breathed in deeply