Authors: Colin Forbes
Tags: #Tweed (Fictitious Character), #Insurgency, #Suspense, #Fiction
'Yes.' Brad licked his lips. 'You said something about
plenty of diversion.'
'You, Moke,' Miller went on, turning to a soldier with a
face which had a Mongolian cast. 'Saw where I got through
the hedge across the road?'
'Yeah, I did.'
'You go into the field opposite with two automatic rifles
and a ton of ammo. You huddle well down near the hole facing the entrance. At the right moment you start firing
non-stop. Aim for the sandpile I've marked here on my
map. The large half-round circle is the quarry at the back.
That way, aiming for the sandpile, which probably has
several men behind it, you won't hit Brad's jeep. Got it?'
'Piece of cake.'
'Moke, that's what it won't be.' Miller couldn't stop his
temper breaking out. 'All of you, this is going to be tough.
We'll kill them all, but it won't be easy. One of them is a
woman.'
'Don't have to worry about her,' said Brad.
'I guess not.' Miller paused. 'She's the one who threw
the grenade that could have blown you into the sky. Now,
Alan, while I move up this side of the quarry you go up
the other side, take out the machine-gunner.'
Alan walked a few paces back along the road, stared up
at the side Miller would tackle. He studied it before he
came back and spoke.
'Should be OK. If it's grassy like your side. A silent
approach is needed to catch a machine-gunner
off guard.'
'So you follow Moke through to the other side of the
hedge, crawl through the high grass until you reach a point
where you can cross over to the base of the slope. That's it. I will climb to the summit, then I can look down and
see all of them. Should be a massacre. Timing is vital. So
first we synchronize watches . . .'
When they had completed that task he gave each man
precise timing to the minute. Some of the timings varied.
For example, Moke would let Alan get across and up on
his slope before he started firing through the entrance.
'You'd all better drink some water before we start. . .'
He took bottles from the first jeep, handed them round.
He was careful to take the bottles back. No attack force should be lumbered with anything except the weapons they'd use.
Miller again checked his watch while Brad, rather reluc
tantly, climbed behind the wheel of his jeep. Stu joined
him. Alan and Moke cut across the road and vanished
through the hole in the hedge, started crawling through
the grass quickly.
Miller, his Magnum tucked inside his belt, picked up his automatic rifle, checked the action, loaded up. Then
he began his climb up the slope, his long legs taking
large and careful strides. Below him he heard Brad start
revving up.
The tension was growing inside the quarry. Tweed glanced at his watch without letting his two companions see him do
it. There were a lot of hours left while the blowtorch sun
roasted them. It was a question of stamina.
Looking down, he'd seen Lisa behind the sandpile frequently talking to Newman. He almost wished Paula
had stayed behind the sandpile to calm Lisa down. He
glanced at Paula and she winked at him. Then the blank
expression came back on to her face. She was leaning back
against the bunker-like cave, showing no signs that she was
in any hurry for something to happen.
'This reminds me,' Lisa was saying, 'of when I was
hiding in the basement area with that tramp. Keeping so
quiet while Barton and Panko spoke to him.'
'That was in Bedford Square,' Newman commented. 'Rather a long way from here.'
'But at least I'm here with you. I was thinking of when
403
I'd been hit by Delgado at Reefers Wharf and was rushed
to the clinic. Lying in bed I felt so frustrated because I
couldn't speak.'
'But you did speak. You gave us the clues about getting
to Hamburg. Which were vital.'
Keep her talking, he thought. It will keep her mind off
the heat, the present situation.
'Then,' he recalled, 'you had a really tough time when
you were grabbed by Delgado in Flensburg. But you saved
yourself.'
'I'm glad I choked him with those handcuffs,' she said
with satisfaction. 'Some people would be haunted by that kind of experience. I won't be. It was a case of him or me
— and I was determined it wouldn't be me. Like Bedford Square. If Barton had come down those steps I was going
to snatch the bottle from the tramp, hold it by the neck,
smash it and shove it in his rotten face.'
'Well, I doubt that we'll see them again.'
The light aircraft with Barton at the controls and Panko
next to him was now flying some distance away from the
quarry. It was a deliberate manoeuvre on Barton's part.
'Where hell is blue Mercedes?' Panko asked.
'We'll just have to hope it reappears on the road it was on, keeping our distance well clear of that road.'
Barton was as puzzled as Panko. Earlier the Mercedes
had at one moment been driving along the road, then it
had vanished. The disappearing act had happened while
Barton was flying the aircraft further away from the road
to avoid being spotted.
When he had turned the plane round the car had gone.
Barton had not seen the quarry and couldn't imagine
where the car had gone. If it was hiding from them he
couldn't see where it could have hidden. There were no convenient barns it might have slipped inside. No
buildings of any sort as far as they could see. He took
the plane to a greater altitude.
'We tell Thunder?' Panko suggested.
'Oh, that would be really smart. We phone a powerful man like that and say sorry, we've lost it. He'd give us a
medal, I don't think.'
'Phone Oskar?'
'Oh, sure. Phone Oskar, a man who bites your head off
when you don't get something right. Any more brilliant ideas, Panko? If you have, keep them to yourself.'
'Try to help . . .'
'Panko, I'll tell you how to help. Sit still. Keep your
friggin' trap shut.'
Moke had darted through the hole in the hedge after Alan, had crawled through the deep grass, was now opposite the entrance. He held back opening fire while Alan, crawling
almost at the speed of a rabbit, reached a hole facing the
bottom of the slope below where Harry crouched in his
cave. Alan rushed across the road, paused at the foot of
the slope, looked up, saw nothing, began to ascend the
slope, keeping below the rim, an automatic rifle in his
right hand.
While this happened Brad, with Stu beside him, was
revving up like mad. He nodded to Stu to warn him.
Stu raised his automatic rifle, nursed a grenade in his lap, gripped well above his knees.
Miller was halfway up the slope on his side of the quarry,
crouching low. He wanted to reach the summit while
the jeep careered round the interior of the amphitheatre,
keeping the enemies' heads down. He held his automatic
rifle in his left hand - he was left-handed. He heard the
jeep take off, wished he could see it, but dared not risk
giving away his position.
By now Moke was blazing away, sending a hail of
bullets at the sandpile on the left. He paused just before
the jeep appeared, swung inside the quarry. Then he
resumed his relentless firing. Moke thought the operation
was going well.
In Tweed's cave, Paula, hearing the jeep starting to rev up, suddenly stood up, began climbing the sand slope
above her before Tweed could stop her, before he could
say a word.
Her ascent was swift. In her right hand she held the last grenade. Marler and Butler, stationed on the far side, saw her wriggling figure, fighting its way higher and higher.
Both men were paralysed
with fear for her. She was totally exposed.
'You crazy cow,' Marler said aloud, appalled, certain
she wouldn't survive.
Tweed stared up, terror-stricken for the first time in his life. He had never felt more helpless, more affectionate, even thought of going up after her. Nield, also looking up,
sensed what was in his mind.
'Stay where you bloody well are,' he snapped. 'Marler
put us here. So here we stay.'
As he spoke he had grabbed Tweed by the arm, to imprison him in the cave. Tweed nearly hit him to gain
his freedom, then realized the sense of what Nield had said
so ferociously. He continued watching, unable to take his
eyes off her.
Paula made a last spurt, arrived at the rim, hauled herself
over, breathless but out of sight of the quarry. She looked down. She looked up. Then she saw him. A tall, massively
built man with white hair. He was higher up, about thirty
feet away.
She had rolled over to get clear of the rim. Now she stood
up, took the pin out of the grenade, hoisted her arm, as she
had once done playing netball at school. Something caused
Miller to look round. He saw her, saw the grenade leave her hand, come hurtling towards him. He flung himself
down, rolled away from her like a top spinning, felt the
ground slope beneath his body, continued the roll. The grenade landed the other side of the slope, detonated.
Shrapnel burst into the air. A sliver hit him in the chest.
His flak jacket saved him, but he felt a bruised rib where the sliver had ricocheted off him, tearing a second hole in
his camouflage jacket. Who cared about a bruised rib?
He stood up, pulled the Magnum .375 out of his belt,
went back. Paula was looking up. His head and body
appeared, no more than thirty feet from her. That was
when she remembered she'd left her shoulder bag in the
cave — with her Browning automatic inside it.
He aimed the Magnum at her point-blank.
The muzzle looked to her like the mouth of a cannon.
She froze, braced herself.
His eyes, staring into hers, weren't human.
He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. The firing mechanism had jam
med.
'You'll get yours later, honey.'
He started hurrying up the hill towards the summit. He could have used the automatic rifle to finish her off. But the bitch had delayed him. His timetable had gone all to
hell. He could hear constant shooting in the quarry below,
the jeep screaming on its wheels.
Behind their sandpile Lisa and Newman had seen
nothing of the near-tragedy above them. The jeep had swung in through the entrance like a torpedo. Stu was
firing non-stop with his rifle, spraying gunfire round the
walls of the quarry. Firing at random. Brad aimed the
jeep for the blue Merc parked below the summit of the
quarry.