Andy McNab - Agressor

There was another prolonged and totally indiscriminate exchange of gunfire as the camera zoomed in on two kids jumping from a first-floor window to escape the flames.

Hazel hit the remote and the TV died. 'Enough. Not in my house.'

I sat next to Silky on the veranda as the sun came up, listening to last night's events being endlessly dissected on the radio as I cut orange after orange for her to put through the juicer. Getting the Tindalls breakfast seemed the least we could do to repay their hospitality, and I hoped it might help put a spring in their step. The atmosphere had been pretty subdued after Hazel switched off the TV. We'd helped clear up in near silence, then gone to bed. Hazel hadn't been at all happy about the way the real world had come in uninvited, and Charlie had been tense, preoccupied.

'Hear that?' Silky whispered. 'They now estimate about sixty dead and a hundred and sixty injured.' She poured another few oranges' worth of juice into a jug. 'That's over half the people who were in the building. It's terrible.'

'It's not so bad, you know, as sieges go.' In the corner of the paddock, the old bay was treating himself to an early-morning dust bath. 'You have to work on the basis that they're all dead from the beginning anyway. Even a single survivor is a bonus in a situation like that.'

She stopped squeezing and straightened up. 'I keep thinking about that poor child. The one who'd been burned. Did you see the soldier holding him?'

I cut another couple of oranges and passed them across. It seemed to be taking an awful lot of fruit to produce not very much juice. 'The place was probably rigged with explosives. We saw one lot go off. I'm surprised there aren't many more dead.'

'But all those soldiers looked out of control. They didn't know what they were doing.'

'You know, if twenty per cent or fewer get dropped it's a success. What those soldiers were doing was reacting to what was happening, whether it was the correct thing to do or not.'

'Dropped? What is dropped? Killed? For a panel-beater, you seem to know an awful lot about these things…'

'Don't you box-heads read Time magazine?'

Silky pulled a face before going back to her task. 'You certainly don't. The only magazines you read have parachutes on the cover.'

I was still laughing when Hazel appeared in the doorway in her dressing gown. Her hair was a mess and her eyes were red and shiny.

Silky jumped to her feet. 'Hazel, are you all right?'

Atear rolled down her cheek. 'He's gone.'

'Gone?' I said. 'What are you on about?'

'He's not here.'

A lot of thoughts raced through my mind in the next split second, and all at a thousand miles an hour. Charlie had withdrawn into his shell after the news broadcasts. 'That stuff really seemed to get to Hazel,' I'd said. 'She's been like that ever since Steven died,' he'd replied. 'She wants to shut out the real world, keep us all from being hurt like that again. That's what this place is all about.'

He'd been very morose all evening, come to think of it, but I'd put that down to the Toohey's; it had been looking more and more like he had a drink problem. And all that stuff about shooting horses… fuck, he wouldn't have taken it into his head to drive off into the night and top himself, would he? He wouldn't have been the first.

Silky wiped her hands on her jeans and wrapped her arms around Hazel. 'Charlie has gone somewhere? Would you like some coffee, or maybe some tea?'

I glanced across at the parking area at the side of the house. The Land Cruiser was missing. 'Maybe he's gone to fetch some croissants.' I gave her my biggest smile. 'I noticed a little bakery about a thousand miles back.'

Silky glared at me as she comforted Hazel. 'It's not funny, Nick.' She was right; wrong time, wrong place.

'I'm sorry. You sure he hasn't left a note or something?'

She shook her head. 'He didn't say anything to you? You two were talking together a long time out here.'

Silky's head bounced between the pair of us as she tried to get Hazel to sit down. 'Anyone want to tell me what's going on?'

I touched her hand. 'Later.'

She got the hint. Hazel finally sat down and Silky disappeared inside the house to make that tea she'd promised.

'I'm scared that something's happened, Nick. He wasn't himself when he came to bed. You sure he didn't say anything?'

Silky was back in the doorway. 'Hazel, the telephone's ringing. Do you want me to-'

Hazel was already moving. Silky stared at me quizzically but I wanted to listen, not speak.

I started through the door, but Hazel was already on her way back. 'That was Julie. The Land Cruiser's at the train station. What's happening, Nick? Everything's going to fall apart again, I just know it…' She buried her face in the front of my shirt, and clung to me like a woman drowning.

At last she raised her head. 'Please help me find him, Nick. Please…'

Even with the door closed, the racket Julie's kids were making carried into her father's office. Then the TV came on, and cartoon voices took over from their shrieks and the clatter of small feet across wooden floors.

I looked up from Charlie's desk. 'He won't have done anything stupid, Hazel. You know that's not his style.'

She nodded as if she wanted to believe me, but couldn't quite bring herself to. 'I pray you're right, Nick. I want him home.'

She'd already told me Charlie had been suffering from depression over the last few weeks, and the episodes had been getting worse and more frequent. She wanted so much to convince herself he wasn't off in the bush having a final dark night of the soul.

'Promise you'll try to find him for me?' She sounded lost, bewildered. She had changed out of her dressing gown but her hair was still a mess, and she'd given in to little bouts of weeping over the last hour. I'd never seen her look so vulnerable, and I wanted to do whatever I could to make her smile again.

She leaned down and switched on the worn, stained-plastic PC for me. I listened to the modem shaking hands with the server on the line. I certainly wasn't going to admit to what Charlie and I had talked about. Maybe without realizing it I'd said the wrong thing and got him all sparked up. 'You go back to Julie, Hazel. I'll give you a shout if I find anything.'

As she left the room, the PC played the Windows music and went into msn. It was a very uncluttered office; the desk, the swivel chair I was sitting in, a filing cabinet, and that was about it. A venetian blind over the window cast big wedges of light and shadow. There was a strong smell of wood.

The monitor sat in front of me, covered with kids' stickers. Shrek had a starring role on the mouse mat. A glass tankard full of sharpened pencils and pens, engraved with a winged dagger, doubled as a paperweight.

Family pictures were Blu-tacked to the walls. It didn't surprise me to see that there were none of Charlie's SAS days. There'd always been two types of guy in the Regiment: the ones who displayed nothing to do with their past, no certificates or commendations, no bayonets or decommissioned AK47s dangling off the wall. Work was work, and home was home. Then there were the others, who wanted it all to hang out for the whole world to see.

I picked up the tankard. Everyone got presented with one when they left. I couldn't remember where mine was. The squadron sergeant major had handed it to me almost as an afterthought when I gave him my clearance chit. 'Hold on,' he'd said. 'Here, I think this one's yours.' He'd fished around under his desk and given me a box, and that was that. 'See you around.'

Fair one. I was the one who'd chosen to leave. When you're out, you're out. There isn't a Good Lads Club or annual reunion or any of that malarkey.