Jim put his forearm across North’s throat and bent him backwards across one of the tables.
‘All right, all right,’ gasped Lt. North. ‘Easy now, it was just a test to see if you could handle yourselves.’
‘I know,’ said Jim. ‘That’s why I didn’t damage your men. I might need them to back me up on this mission.’ He removed his arm from Lt. North’s throat and allowed him to stand up.
‘Wait a minute,’ interrupted Cobb. ‘What about the cosh he tried to use on you?’
The marine tossed the cosh to Cobb to examine. ‘It’s made of rubber, we just use it for combat practice,’ he told him.
‘Impressive, very impressive,’ North told Jim when they had all recovered. ‘I can see why he wants you along. And you, Mr. Cobb, why don’t you show us this party trick of yours? I want to see exactly what will be happening.’
Cobb wandered over to the arms table and picked up a revolver, checking it was empty. ‘Being as we’re underground here we’d better go outside for this next bit,’ he told North.
Lt. North led him upstairs and outside the building, followed by Jim and the other marines. There was a large open space where the marines did their training in good weather.
Cobb handed the revolver to Lt. North. ‘Try to shoot me,’ he told him.
Lt. North did as instructed; pointing the gun at Cobb’s head he pulled the trigger, only to see him disappear before the hammer fell. ‘What?’ he muttered, then jumped as Cobb reappeared on his right with his finger pointed at North’s temple. ‘BANG!’ he shouted and then disappeared as North swung to face him. ‘BANG!’ Cobb shouted again as he tapped North on the back of the head.
North swung to where he had been but he had disappeared again so North lowered the weapon and said, ‘Okay, I give in. There’s no way I can defend against that. You win.’
‘Thank you,’ said Cobb from where he was standing, over against the building. ‘Now you see why it’s important to look after me, I’m the only way anyone is going to get back.’
‘Believe me, Mr. Cobb, that will be our number one priority,’ agreed Lt. North.
***
Lt. North and his men helped Cobb and Jim to choose their clothing. They kept their own boots but replaced their outfits with the dark trousers, roll-neck jumpers and black jackets the marines wore. The marines were very impressed with the boots that Jim was wearing. (They only had standard, navy issue boots.) He had them specially made; they were very flexible and extremely comfortable to wear. They were made of soft leather, so they were waterproof, but they had thick, chunky, rubber soles which meant that he could move in them quietly and they also gripped better than leather soles did. Jim wore them whenever he thought he might be sneaking across wet, tiled roofs to carry out a burglary. After much persuading, Jim ended up giving the marines the address of his bootmaker.
Great care had been taken to make sure that the buttons on the sleeves of the jackets had been removed and the metal buttons were covered in leather, so there was nothing that would reflect the light.
At one point the Lt. asked Cobb the time. Cobb took his Hunter out of his waist-coat pocket and pressed the winder to open the lid. ‘Just gone twelve,’ he replied.
‘A fob watch like that is not really practical when you’re out in the field. The chain can easily get caught up in your equipment.’
‘Out in the field?’ asked Cobb.
‘When you’re away from base, on patrol or an operation,’ Jim explained.
‘Ah, I see.’
‘So that’s why we’re going to give you both one of these.’ Lt. North held out two identical devices. They were some kind of instrumentation held on two leather straps, one with a buckle on. They looked like two, small belts. ‘They’re watches but instead of carrying them in your pocket, you strap them to your arm, like this.’ He slid back his sleeve to display the one that he was wearing. ‘They’re called “arm watches”.
‘Oh I say, how clever,’ said Jim.
‘Yes, the navy invented them. Very useful for our sort of work. They’re just normal watches, so they need winding and correcting occasionally. These have been synchronised with the rest of the team, so we’re all operating on the same time.’
Jim and Cobb took the arm watches and put them on. Both of them were determined that they would be taking them home with them at the end of the mission.
Next they equipped them with firearms. Both were given revolvers and then Sgt. Forbes took them over to the tables where the rifles were laid out. Jim noticed some unusual types. He asked the sergeant about them.
‘You have a good eye, sir. This is the “Winchester” rifle from Amerigo, “The Gun that Won the West” the Amerigons call it. We’ll be using them on this operation. It carries ten rounds. They go in here and they are chambered by using this pull-down lever under the rifle.’ He demonstrated the action. ‘It’s been engineered to use the same ammunition as your revolvers, so you only have to carry one type of ammo. As you know, British Army rifles are single shot and you have to reload after each shot but for our purposes it’s sometimes necessary for a greater rate of fire. That’s where the Winchester comes into its own. Now, let me show you how to use it.’
For the next hour he took Cobb and Jim through the drills on how to load, unload and deal with jams. Then, when they were familiar enough with the rifles, he loaded them with live rounds and took them to the firing range at the end of the room and allowed Cobb and Jim to empty the rifles into the targets. After checking where they had hit on the targets, he adjusted their sights accordingly and gave them more rounds to fire off.
This time because they had “zeroed” their sights, the bullets were actually hitting where they aimed. First they checked Cobb’s paper target. They were in the shape of men and it had several bullet holes in the head and a nice grouping of hits in a four inch circle in the chest area.
‘Not bad,’ the Sgt. congratulated him.
Jim’s target had one hole where each eye would be and a curved line of holes where the mouth would be, forming a smile.
‘You’ve done this before, haven’t you?’ Sgt. Forbes asked Jim, with a grin.
‘As the Amerigons say, “This isn’t my first rodeo”.’
Cobb looked at him. ‘So you’re not Deadshot Dick, eh?’
Jim smiled and replied, ‘Just be glad that I am.’
Just then Lt. North arrived. ‘Are they done?’
Sgt. Forbes replied,’ ‘Yes, sir. They’ve got the hang of the rifles and are probably as good as they’re going to get on the range.’
‘Fine. Empty your guns and come over here.’
Sgt. Forbes took their rifles and promised to clean them.
Lt. North took them to a table in the clothing section of the room. ‘Here’s a backpack for each of you. It’s exactly the same as the ones we carry. Take a look inside and familiarise yourself with the contents. Repack it if you like. While you’re doing that we’ll be upstairs in the briefing room going over the maps to understand the terrain. Come up when you’re ready, we’ve got sandwiches and coffee.’
Jim and Cobb emptied out the black, canvas backpacks and studied the contents. An oilskin poncho to keep the rain off and to use as a bivouac to sleep under, if necessary. Tins of food, only a couple so as to keep the weight down. Beef-jerky and cheese wrapped in grease-proof paper. Dry biscuits wrapped in tinfoil. Several bars of Kendal Mint-cake (Cobb noticed with a grin). Two hundred rounds of ammunition and several hand-grenades. A knife, fork and spoon combination set. A compass and a flare, waterproof matches. One of those new-fangled, battery powered lamps. An extra jumper and a couple of pairs of spare socks.
On one of the shoulder straps of the backpack was fixed a large, sheath knife so it was easily accessible and a metal water bottle in a canvas pouch. Jim removed the knife from its sheath and studied the blade. One side was sharp and mean, whereas the other side was jagged like a saw-blade. The front of the handle had a knuckle-duster attached to protect the ha
nd. (And for dusting knuckles with, presumably.)
Cobb removed the water bottle from the pouch. Taking the top off, he sniffed inside.
‘You put water in that,’ joked Jim.
‘No, really? I’d have thought that water would be a little too mundane for you. I’d imagined you’d fill yours with brandy or orange cordial perhaps, something like that.’
‘Well,’ said Jim, ‘having been out on patrol for real, I can tell you that brandy or cordial might seem like a good idea at first, and it’s fine until one of your comrades gets hurt and you need to clean the site of the injury. Your friend won’t be at all impressed if you pour sticky, orange cordial into his open wound.
‘And then there are the times when it’s really cold and you need a cup of tea to warm you up from the inside. Believe me, hot, orange cordial isn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds.’
‘So, no cordial then. What about the brandy?’
Jim took a silver object out of his trouser pocket and waggled it at Cobb. ‘That’s what we invented hip-flasks for.’
‘Water it is then,’ agreed Cobb.
Jim helped Cobb repack his haversack. There was an art to it, Cobb discovered. Instead of just bundling it all in, you folded up the jumper and the socks and put them so they lined the back of the haversack where the canvas rested against the wearer’s back, as padding. Next you laid the items that you didn’t want to get dented (tins and lamp) or explode (hand-grenades and ammo).
‘Slip a grenade into each sock, to stop them clanking against each other,’ Jim advised.
Lastly you put the oilskin poncho on top to protect them. The perishable foodstuffs such as the cheese, the biscuits and the mint-cake were put into the side pockets, where they were easily accessible.
As they worked they talked. ‘You know Cobb, you might want to go easy on these marines. These are really hard men and they don’t take kindly to someone getting in their face and giving them lip. I saw blokes like them in the army. The ones we sent on special missions. You shouldn’t go out of your way to antagonise them.’
‘You mean like how they attacked us?’ replied Cobb.
‘Oh, that was just a test to see if we could handle ourselves or whether we would have to have a nurse-maid.’
‘Well, we’ve both seen hard men before, Londum’s full of them.’
‘This is a different type. The so called “hard men” in Londum, what do they face? A beating? A short spell in prison, maybe a knife in the ribs in a bar fight if they’re really unlucky? For these marines, when they go out on a mission in some of the more far-flung parts of the British Empire, capture doesn’t just mean death. It can sometimes mean being skinned alive and then slowly roasted over an open fire. That takes a special kind of courage and because of that they deserve our respect.’
‘Well, maybe you’re right,’ Cobb conceded. ‘But I’d still rather have you guarding my back than one of them.’
Jim shrugged, he knew he wasn’t going to change Cobb’s mind anytime soon, so he left him with his prejudices and got on with his packing.
When they were finished they stacked their dark, mission clothing on top of the packs and then went upstairs to join the others in the briefing room.
The four men of Naval Party 7 were studying the Lake District maps attached to the walls. Cobb and Jim helped themselves to sandwiches and coffee and joined them. Together the six of them went over the area and details of the route they would take from the landing site to the portal generator. Next they picked alternate routes and then studied what new obstacles or topological difficulties that would involve. They also allocated rendezvous points for each route, in case they got separated.
The planning and instructions were repeated over and over until they were learned by rote. And time and again it was pointed out to them that the marines were the ones responsible for handling any contact with the enemy. Cobb was to remain out of it and Jim’s job was to protect him. Lt. North said to Cobb, ‘Now we don’t want either of you rushing out doing anything brave.’
‘Don’t worry; you’re not going to be getting any wayward heroics from me. I aim to survive this,’ he agreed.
‘What’s up? You scared that there might be a bullet out there with your name on?’
‘Oh it’s not that. It’s the thought of all those bullets flying around with, “To Whom It May Concern” written on them that worries me.’
Eventually after all the sandwiches and coffee were finished and Cobb was going dizzy from trying to memorise map references (with these Special Forces guys you weren’t allowed to write anything down, in case you were captured. They even taught him that if you consulted your map, you had to fold it back up in its original creases, so as not to show the actual area of the map you were interested in) the bell rang to notify them that someone was at the gate, requesting entry. Cobb checked his arm watch and realised that the afternoon had gone, it was already four o’clock. Must be the admiral, he thought.
One of the sergeants went to the gate and returned with the admiral in tow.
‘Afternoon gentlemen. How’s the mission planning coming along?’
‘Well Admiral, we think we’ve got it down pat. We won’t have to travel that far from the landing site, to be honest, our biggest problem will be avoiding patrols and troop concentrations,’ replied Lt. North.
‘Why don’t you talk me through it Lt.? I’ll have to approve it before I give permission for the operation to go ahead. However, if Mr. Cobb and Mr. Darby have seen enough then I see no reason to bore them with the details. Gentlemen, I have an orderly from the Officer’s Mess waiting outside to take you there and book you in. Please, go with him and I’ll see you for dinner tonight. Captain Somersby will be there and Lt. North will be joining us.’
‘Of course,’ said Cobb.
‘Good. I’ll see you at seven o’clock.’ He looked at the clothes they were wearing, the ones they had flown down from Londum in. ‘What you’re wearing will have to suffice. There is a war on after all so allowances must be made. Until seven then.’
On their way to the door Cobb stopped and turned to the admiral. ‘Is there something you’re not telling us about? I get the feeling that you’re hiding something from us.’
‘No, nothing at all, Mr. Cobb, I assure you,’ replied the admiral. ‘You’re probably just not used to the military way, that’s all. It can seem a bit insular, to outsiders.’
Sgt. Willoughby escorted them to the gate, where the orderly was waiting. As the gate clanged shut behind them Cobb turned to Jim and said, ‘More secret discussions that we’re not privy to. And I’m positive that the admiral just lied to us. If it wasn’t that Albion was relying on the success of this mission I’d tell them where to stuff their operation. We should watch our backs, Jim, there’s something going on.’
Back inside the briefing room the admiral motioned for Sgt. Willoughby to take a seat at the table where the others were seated.
‘Now gentlemen, for your information I have just lied to Mr. Cobb. There is an extra element to Operation Looking Glass of which our civilian friends are unaware. Nor are they to be informed, this is classified “Military Personnel Only”.
‘Allow me to tell you about a new device our boffins have created. It’s called the “Sunburst Weapon” and you’ll be taking one to the Lake District with you.’
Avalon
The Royal train chugged its way west through the dark night. It had been decided that they would arrive at dawn, even if it meant lying over in a siding. They had discussed the matter and as it wasn’t known yet whether King Arthur’s resurrection would involve exhuming the body, all concerned reasoned it was best handled in daylight.
King Victor had invited Queen Eloise to join him after supper, in his private carriage. She had brought Adele along with her as Adele had informed Queen Eloise that she had taught about King Arthur in her teaching days, so was familiar with the legends. Won Lungh had tried to follow them but had been turned away by the guards, so remai
ned in the corridor, awaiting her return.
The king invited them to sit and his Aide-De-Camp served them drinks.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Your Majesty, but I’ve bought Miss Curran along,’ explained Queen Eloise. ‘I must admit my knowledge of Glastonbury and the Arthur myth isn’t all that it could be, but it appears that Miss Curran here has made a study of it, so maybe she can give us some useful information.’
‘Good idea, Eloise. It will be helpful to have someone along who can guide us through the legend. Morgan le Fay might not be that reliable. By the way, how is she holding up?’ the king asked her.
‘Very well, bearing in mind she hasn’t been this active for many a year. Her carers have got her settled down for the night,’ replied Eloise.
‘And how’s her mind? I’m concerned that we may be running around the country on the advice of someone who has lost her reason to old age and senility. How do we know this isn’t some dementia-fuelled fantasy?’
‘Well, she occasionally has short periods when her mind seems to wander, although to be honest it does seem that during these episodes she is delving into her memories rather than conjuring up fantasies. She may be hazy about years that events took place in but as far as we can tell her recall of those events are pretty accurate. Of course, none of us were there, so we can’t tell for certain.’
The king sipped his drink, thoughtfully. ‘So be it, until proven otherwise we must proceed as if her information is genuine. Now then, Miss Curran, how come you know so much about Arthur’s legend?’
‘The Arthurian legend has always been an interest of mine so I have studied it at length. Also I’m a teacher by trade and we taught about Glastonbury as part of our religious syllabus in the schools where I worked, so I have visited it several times and taught about it often.’
‘Excellent,’ commented the king. ‘Now, tell us what you know about Glastonbury or should I say Avalon?’
The Londum Omnibus Volume Two (The Londum Series Book 12) Page 46
