Mercenary at heart - стр. 6
Michael: ‘Ready as I'll ever be.’
Voice on the phone: ‘Well, if this thing works out, you'll be able to live a quiet life. In addition, this may be our last assignment together.’
Michael: ‘Don't say that, Fred. I think we'll still have time to work together.’
The voice in the receiver: ‘Well, I wish you good luck, and may everything go well the first time. You understand me? We may not get another chance, so follow through and let's get this over with once and for all.’
Michael: ‘I heard you. Thank you. I'll do my best. If I don't come back, leave without me.’
The guy tucked the phone away in his pocket and, after another walk around and survey of the roof's perimeter, went back to his observation post and started looking for the person he needed in the stands.
Michael (out loud): ‘Where are you? Show yourself…’
Childhood and adolescence
The early years
738. On a late January evening, four men were relaxing in an Ounvilshen bar after a hard day's work. Among them was Michael's father George. He was socialising with his friends, drinking beer from a large glass mug. The atmosphere was relaxed and comfortable. Everyone was sharing their latest news and problems with the others. The mates listened to each other and supported each other. Finally, it was George's turn when all the problems and news of the others were sorted out.
Fred: ‘So, what's new with you?’
George: ‘Nothing in terms of work. Things are going pretty well, but not well enough to close the mortgage and feel secure in the full sense of the word.’
Buddy #1: ‘Ha ha, who here feels well-off? Look at you, finding the problem. You can never have too much money.’
George: ‘I mean, our expenses are about to multiply…’
Fred: ‘What do you mean?’
George: ‘Folks, I'm gonna be a daddy soon! That's what I want to drink to!’
Fred: ‘When?’
George: ‘The doctors said late February to mid-March.’
Fred: ‘Oh, you're so quiet! Let me give you a hug, Silver!’
Buddy #2: ‘What's it gonna be? A boy or a girl?’
George: ‘A boy.’
Buddy #1: ‘Have you thought about a name yet?’
George: ‘Yeah, we're going to call it Michael. We both like that name. There's no other options.’
Fred: ‘Well, let's drink to the future Michael Silver and his glorious father. May the kid be born healthy and strong and show this world that the Silvers are no hooey!’
The friends roared, and each began to clink their beer-filled mugs with each other. Some had beer overflowing over the edge, dripping onto the table and leaving small puddles.
745, summer. Michael sat on the penultimate step of the stairs at his parents' house. George was standing in front of him, bent over, tying the laces of the boy's trainers. His father shook his head and pronounced: ‘Okay, that's it. It's done. But, you know, it's about time you learnt to tie your own shoelaces. You might start getting teased at school because you don't know how to do it.’