Dark Winter

Three-letter acronyms make an unbelievable plot disturbingly real

Dark Winter by Andy Mcnab is the sixth of nineteen books in his Nick Stone series and is reputedly based on McNab’s experiences in the S.A.S.

His story is long on excitement and technical details, making it an enjoyable and disconcertingly credible read.

Synopsis

Nick Stone is an ex S.A.S. soldier turned government assassin. The British and American authorities hire him to rid the world of “undesirables”. In Dark Winter, his handler tasks him with the elimination of a terrorist cell that is threatening much of Western Europe with a biological plague.

Nick and his enigmatic female partner make short work of the terrorists until they discover Nick’s real identity and strike back. They leave Nick with an ethical dilemma. Which is more important, the life of somebody he loves or those of thousands of strangers?

Review

Andy McNab’s Dark Winter is short on emotion. You won’t read this story for the compelling characterisation or empathy. The human touches are clumsy. But then, you wouldn’t expect a former S.A.S. trooper to be in touch with his inner self. Where McNab wins out is his convincing portrayal of a government agency. Even one hell-bent on wiping out terrorists without the general public noticing a thing. The technicalities are so commonplace it is easy to believe they must be true.

Of particular note is the plethora of three-letter acronyms he throws into his story:

M.O.E. – Method of Entry
N.B.C. – Nuclear, Biological and Chemical (protective suit)
V.D.M. – Visible Display Marks (on a car, think go-faster stripes)
D.L.B. – Dead Letter Box
S.O.P. – Standard Operating Procedure (we use this one in my office)

If you have ever worked for a large organisation, you will recognise the corporate gibberish. McNab backs up the jargon with rational policies and procedures. The hit squad even go through a pre-mortem before starting a killing spree. They want to prepare themselves for what might go wrong. A half-competent project manager organising an office move would tell you to do the same.

McNab’s workaday banality makes his story disturbingly plausible.

It did leave me wondering how real-life spooks deal with Compliance and Audit. I imagine those conversations would genuinely cause you to lose the will to live.

Excerpt

We passed the door and I started to count.  One, two, three… each house we passed, I pressed one of my digits into the palm of my hand… eight, nine, ten, and then I started again … eleven, twelve…

We got to the junction with Walker, turned right and were walking over the little footbridge almost immediately. The stream two meters below us was muddy and rainbowed with oil. We turned right again the other side, on to a worn mud path. I put my arm around her and smiled ‘I’ve got seventeen. You?’

‘Yep’

‘Looks empty.’

‘Yep, shut-up.’ She was counting again and I joined her. One, two, three…

The stream was about two meters wide, its steep bank the other side almost right up against the backyards of the houses, with just a narrow well-trodden path between them. By the looks of it, it was pretty popular with people coming out to toss their garbage into the river. Old cigarette packets and buts, drinks cans and bits of paper were scattered everywhere. The place was a shit-hole.

It looked as if the waste ground between us and the main drag was being cleared for redevelopment. A chipboard fence, painted white, had been erected to keep people out, but it was already covered in graffiti and mostly pushed over.

Nine, ten, eleven… The front of a house might bear no resemblance to the back; the front might be well looked after and painted green, the back neglected and painted red. Terraces can be a special nightmare. Some of these had the same aluminium units at the front, others still had their old sash windows.

Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…

Dark Winter by Andy McNab