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.‘Oh, that’s got to hurt,’ he sympathized.‘Can’t be helped though, eh? So … let’s have a little talk.’The sting of Damon Tyzack’s hand slapping against his cheek cut through the fog of pain that was clouding Carver’s mind.‘Wake up,’ Tyzack insisted.‘We’re going to chat, talk about old times.Ironic, though, isn’t it?’‘Isn’t what?’ Carver mumbled.‘Me dragging you from the water.I mean, the helicopter, the ship – there’s a certain symmetry to it all.The only difference is, I’m in charge now.’Carver forced himself to straighten his whipped and bleeding back and look Tyzack in the eye.‘I never wanted to take you.Didn’t think you were up to it.Trench disagreed.He denied it, but the truth is he’d got a soft spot for you because of your father …’‘I really don’t think we need to talk about him.’‘Maybe, but he was ten times the soldier you’ll ever be.’This time, when Tyzack hit Carver, it wasn’t just a slap.Carver spat the blood from his mouth.‘Suit yourself,’ he said.‘But the fact remains, I didn’t want you.Trench did.Afterwards, of course, he admitted I was right.’‘Oh really, is that so? Well, I tell you what, since you’re so keen to tell your side of the story, why don’t you do that? And then we’ll examine the evidence, compare it with my account, and see who’s telling the truth …’56Back then he was not yet known as Carver.He was still Paul Jackson, the name given to him by his adoptive parents.His friends and brother officers in the Special Boat Squadron, the waterborne arm of British Special Forces, used his nickname, Pablo.So did Quentin Trench, Carver’s commanding officer.‘Pablo, I want you to take Damon Tyzack along with you as your second-in-command on the Maid of Dumfries job,’ he’d said one evening at SBS headquarters in Poole while they were in the officers’ mess, drinking their after-dinner coffees.‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Carver replied.‘He’s never had a job like this before.’‘Well, he’s got to start somewhere.This should be a pretty straightforward operation.Tyzack’s fully trained for it.And you’re just the man to make sure he doesn’t let himself or anyone else down.’Carver stuck to his guns.‘You know how I feel about him.It’s a character issue.I don’t trust him to react the right way under pressure.Don’t think the other men do, either.He’s not well liked.’‘Well then, it’s a good thing this is a military unit, not a bloody popularity contest,’ Trench snapped.‘Your reservations about Second Lieutenant Tyzack’s character were noted during the selection course.But so were the rest of his results, and they were superb.His powers of endurance are remarkable.He’s a first-rate swimmer-canoeist, his marksmanship is outstanding and he breezed through all the technical, tactical and theoretical aspects of the course.Scored rather better than you did when you first got here, as a matter of fact.’That was a cheap shot and Trench knew it.‘Look,’ he continued, trying to smooth things over, ‘I know there are other issues.I served under Tyzack’s father, best commanding officer I’ve ever known.But I’m sure you don’t think I would favour a man just because I knew his dad …’‘No, sir.’‘Good.Take Tyzack.Give him some responsibility.Let’s see how he handles it.’Three days later, Carver and Tyzack were both among the six men seated in the cabin of a Westland Sea King helicopter, flying low over the black waters of the Bay of Biscay.The wind was blowing about fourteen or fifteen knots: a good breeze, but no more than that, with the waves no worse than choppy.Rain was falling steadily, just enough for the clouds to obscure a waning crescent moon.Somewhere up ahead was the Maid of Dumfries, a 72-foot trawler, rigged for tuna-fishing.According to the intelligence, passed on to the SBS from the brains at MI6 who had come up with the idea for the operation, there were no fish in her hold [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]