The Big Breach - Index of

The Big Breach; From Top Secret to Maximum SecurityCompliments of http://www.192.com- `I am deaf and dumb' in the local language. It was a worn and clich‚druse, but perhaps it would be enough to deflect further interest from abored and tired policeman. My cover would not withstand furtherscrutiny - stuffed into a holster in my trouser band was a loaded 9mmBrowning and in the poacher's pocket of my grubby overcoat a vial ofmorphine and two Joint Services standard issue shell dressings. Allwere hostages to fortune, but the benefits of carrying them outweighedthe risks of their discovery. The pistol would also counter the threatfrom the armed muggers (usually hungry and drunken off-duty Bosniansoldiers) who lurked in the unlit alleys. The morphine and shelldressings were to counter the biggest threat in central Sarajevo - thedeadly, calculated sniper's bullet or the indiscriminate and randomshelling which killed everyday and blanketed every Sarajevan with theconstant fear of imminent death.Stepping from the shadowy, stinking doorway I reflected that at least Iwould only face these hazards for a few hours until Angus returned withthe sanctuary of the armoured Land Rover. Sarajevans, like the womanscurrying home half a block in front of me, had to put up with it dayin, day out. I wondered what sort of a life she led. It was impossibleto gauge her age. Head down, shuffling wearily but urgently with aheavy bundle of firewood, wrapped in heavy clothes against the dampcold, she could have been a teenager, a mother or a grandmother. Forsure, she would have lost at least one member of her family or a closefriend to the shelling and sniping siege. No one had escaped thatgrief.I must have blacked out for a second when the shell exploded, andregained consciousness gasping to refill my lungs, emptied by thecrushing blast. My heart was racing so fast I could feel its every beatin the throb of my head and my ears howled with white noise. Anexcruciating pain shot through me from my right leg, stabbing into meas my chest moved to suck in air. Gingerly, as my breathing stabilised,I opened my eyes and it took a moment to work out what had happened.Whether it was the shock wave from the exploding shell or myinstinctive leap for cover, I had been thrown back into the doorway andwas lying in a contorted, twisted heap, wedged head uppermost into thecorner. Still too shocked to move, I looked down at my right leg, thesource of my agony. There was nothing from the knee down. I closed myeyes and swallowed hard, trying not to throw up. Shifting my weighteased the pain slightly and slowly, with my right hand, I explored mylower body, dreading the worst. My hand brushed against leather,perhaps my boot. Glancing down, alarmed and apprehensive, it was indeedmy Timberland, with my lower right leg still inside it. Still scarcelyable to breathe, head throbbing, I felt along its length and realisedwith ecstatic relief that it was still attached to my upper leg. Ihadn't lost it, it was just twisted at an excruciating angle underneathmy crumpled body. Gingerly, I rolled further to my left. The pain easeda bit more. A bit further and there was an excruciating twang as theligaments at the back of the twisted knee uncrossed themselves.Groaning and panting for breath, I straightened my leg, relieved that Iwas in one piece. Little Harris was right - I'd heard the shell comingin and it had landed far enough from me not to cause serious injury.Lying still for a few minutes, I calmed my breathing. White noise stillrang in my ears, though it was subsiding. Suspecting that my eardrumsmust have been blown out, I put my hands to my ears to check for blood.page- 107 - To purchase the original limited edition hardback version of this bookplease call 08000 192 192 or go to http://www.192.com