Gradually, slow foot by slow foot, they wormed their way up the steep slope. When they got to the top, they could see the silhouettes of two men wandering aimlessly around, apparently poking the ground with their boots and chatting. Aleksey supposed they had no need to set up a covert position, as they assumed their quarry was in the lighthouse and secure, and that there was only one exit: the door. He could see one of the men had a pistol held loosely in his hand.
‘Got any ciggies left?’
Sound travelled extremely well in the cooling night air.
‘Nah.’
‘How much longer?’
‘Half an hour. Calm the fuck down.’
‘We’ve done our sodding time. I want some scoff.’
‘Yeah. Cuppa and a cheese toastie would go down right nice about now.’
‘Posh bloody house, but that kitchen’s shot to shit. I’m gonna have one of them huge fucking American fridges, ya know? Like that old cunt with the ice cream.’
‘Nice one. Ben and fucking Jerry’s chunky chunknuts. Wankers.’
‘Might make this island one of me places, you know? When it’s all ours.’
‘Thought you wanted bleeding Buckingham Palace. Have a crap on the throne.’
‘I’ll have both, and a castle somewhere.’
‘Nah, all too old. I’m gonna have a bloody footballer’s McMansion: more tarted up like. Can’t be doing with draughts and shit, know what I’m saying?’
‘Gonna be a lot of fucking bodies to scrape up first, mate.’
‘Nah, some fuckers’ll survive, and we’ll make them do it. Always wanted slaves.’
‘Oh, yeah. I’m having me a nice little sex slave, if you get my drift.’
‘You can have a stable of ‘em, you fucking wanker. If they’re not all pox’d and plagued like.’
‘Jesus. How much longer?’
‘We should maybe listen to Bailey. Maybe he’s picked the right side. Gonna need shovels full of dosh for a palace, slaves or no slaves.’
‘Nah. Don’t reckon money’ll be worth shit. Never did get the gold thing in all those movies. Who’s gonna want fucking gold when they’re all running round eating each other? You seen that movie with the Lord of the Rings guy, whatsisname? Most fucking depressing shit you ever gonna see. Brilliant bit though with all these half-eaten people in a cellar. Laughed me head off at that. Nah, Bailey’s full of shit. Was when he was RSM, still is—an’ who the fuck would make a wanker like him a bleeding regimental sergeant major? Another tosspot officer, that’s who. Do this Bailey’s way, an’ there’ll still be a shit load of wanker elites telling us what to do, only they won’t be callin’ themselves officers. But that’s what they’ll be—people who think they’re better than us cus they got schooling and money. Nah, our way it’s chaos, but it’sourchaos, yeah? We’ll be the officers of everything cus there won’t be anyone else, right?’
‘Yeah, guess you’re right. There’s education and education, if you know what I mean. An’ when it comes to food—the new currency—who’ll know more about getting that? Yeah, us. Bloody hell, I could do with one of those cheesy bickies we had the other day. Love those.’
‘Ritz?’
‘They ain’t cheesy. Nah, the rectangle ones with the creamy cheesy bit in the middle. You know. Bite off the top layer and lick out the filling? Shit, what are they called?’
‘Won’t be making no more of them, I guess. Who’d ‘a thought we’d fall in with these nutters? Hah, what do you call a biologist’s dog?’
‘I dunno. Experimented on?’
‘Laboratory Retriever.’
‘Riot. Shit, how much longer?’
They had no time left at all, although as Aleksey took one down to the turf and heard the other’s final gasp, he realised they wouldn’t appreciate the irony. The man beneath him struggled for a moment, but the gun was useless to him. Aleksey got his arm around the neck, put his other hand to the opposite check and twisted. The pop that resulted turned resistance into a limp sack of nothingness, so he relieved it of the gun and, keeping low, slid back into cover where Ben was waiting for him. He checked the magazine. Three rounds left. It was better than nothing.
Three down. Four to go.
