DropZone by Andy McNab

minute? I’ve a little job for you. Right up your street, I think.’ Then he glanced at Ethan. ‘And, Ethan – make sure you’re in early tomorrow. Seven thirty, OK?’
    ‘Yeah, no worries,’ said Ethan, and Johnny followed Sam out of the shop.
    Ethan thought again about the AFF and felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. The tandem had been amazing, had totally blown his mind. He didn’t want to just do that again; he wanted to skydive properly, do what Johnny did. But fifteen hundred quid? No chance, he thought. No chance at all. He spent the rest of the day trying not to think about skydiving.
    For him, it was just impossible.
    The next day Ethan arrived at FreeFall dead on seven thirty, skidding to a halt beside the café. To his surprise, Johnny was already there, sitting outside, shades on. He smiled, waved. Ethan returned the gesture.
    ‘So,’ he said, slipping into a chair in front of Johnny, ‘what’s this all about? Why are you here? Did Sam ask you to be in early too?’
    Johnny just grinned and pushed his shades back. ‘You still thinking about that skydive?’
    Ethan nodded. ‘Too right I am. Can hardly think of anything else. Bit of a pisser about the AFF, though.’ He still felt gutted.
    ‘True,’ said Johnny.
    ‘I’ll get over it,’ said Ethan. ‘I’ve been thinking I might do it next summer. You know, celebrate the end of school with it or something. If I keep working here and maybe take another job as well, I should be able to save up enough.’
    Johnny nodded thoughtfully then leaned forward. ‘Look,’ he said. ‘Here’s the thing . . .’
    ‘What thing?’
    ‘It’s all been taken care of.’
    Ethan didn’t understand. ‘What do you mean? What are you on about? What’s been taken care of?’
    ‘You. The AFF. It’s sorted.’
    ‘Shut up,’ said Ethan. ‘And don’t be a dick.’
    ‘I’m not being a dick,’ Johnny insisted. ‘It’s true. That’s what Sam wanted to see me about yesterday. He wants me to help him put you through the AFF.’
    Ethan opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Surely Johnny was just taking the piss.
    ‘Sam will be teaching you,’ Johnny told him. ‘He’s the business, as you know. Doesn’t miss a trick and doesn’t let you jump unless he’s confident you’re not going to spin out and kill yourself.’
    ‘You’re not serious, are you?’ said Ethan, but Johnny simply went on:
    ‘I’ll be doing the filming. I need the practice anyway. We’ll be able to assess every single jump you do, show you what you’re doing wrong, what you’re doing right. And you’ll have a nice little souvenir at the end, won’t you? A little bit of Ethan Hollywood all of your own.’
    At last words formed in Ethan’s head. ‘But . . . who?’ he asked. ‘ Who’s sorted it? This doesn’t make sense . . .’ And it didn’t. He’d spent the whole of yesterday dealing with the fact that he wouldn’t be able to do his AFF until next summer at the earliest, and now here was Johnny telling him he’d be doing it right away. It sounded nuts.
    A throaty growl interrupted his thoughts as Sam pulled up in his Defender and climbed out.
    ‘Ethan. Johnny,’ he said, striding over to them. ‘Ready?’
    ‘I sure am,’ said Johnny, standing up. ‘Ethan’s still in shock, though, aren’t you, mate?’
    Ethan looked up at Sam and slowly got to his feet. ‘How am I supposed to pay for this?’ he asked. ‘It’s OK you helping me out by teaching and filming and stuff, but it’s still going to cost, isn’t it? And I just don’t have the cash. I really don’t. I mean, fifteen hundred quid . . . that’s—’
    ‘A lot of money, I know,’ said Sam, cutting Ethan off. ‘But hasn’t Johnny told you? It’s all sorted.’
    Ethan nodded. ‘Yeah, he said, but—’
    ‘Then here’s a little tip: shut up and accept it, right? I have ways of getting extra funding when I need it. That’s