Inside the doorframe stood another mercenary, this one also tall, sporting an oldstyle, flat-top, military haircut. He wore wirerimmed glasses, military issue. Bobby now had small bandages on his head wounds. He spotted Delaney and let out a roar. He leapt up, rushed off the steps and tackled Delaney hard, sending both of them flying into the mud and gravel. The other soldiers formed a loose circle around them. “Lucky we got a medic with us,” Clive said.“Hey, Dima, come down out of there and watch that no one gets hurt.” The bespectacled soldier in the doorway moved out and down the stairs. His faded khaki T-shirt had Cyrillic writing on it and an elaborate military crest. Bobby was sitting astride Delaney’s chest, pummelling him with his fists. There was no real defence against an enraged attack like that. Delaney only tried to shield his face with his hands and forearms. “Move your arms out of the way, you little faggot,”
