"Yes, well, you can enjoy it if you want. I'll just endure it."
The Gulfstream landed, Lacey at the controls, and taxied up to the RAF compound and straight inside a hangar, where they found Villiers leaning against one of two Land Rovers, smoking a cigarette. He'd driven one himself and Achmed was at the wheel of the other.
"Good to see you." He shook hands all round.
"That's a great tan you've got, Colonel," Billy said. "Been on holiday, have you?"
"Cheeky young bugger," Villiers told him. "You'll find robes and head cloths in the back. Sort yourselves out and we'll get moving."
Which they did. Harry said, "Jesus, do I look as bad as you lot?"
"Worse," Dillon told him. "Believe me, Harry, worse."
"I'll take you and Harry, General," Villiers said. "You two go with Achmed and we'll get out of here."
T he encampment was by a pool, an outcrop of rock sheltering it, and a few scattered palm trees. There were three bivouac tents beside a roaring fire, five Land Rovers in all.
They had a meal--canned soups, Heinz beans, and new potatoes all mixed into a kind of stew--but the bread was the local unleavened kind.
Billy wiped his plate with a piece. "That was good. I thought you'd be giving us goat."
"Not you, Billy." Villiers called to Achmed. "One of my bottles of whiskey and the tin cups. Scotch, I'm afraid," he said to Dillon.
"It'll do to take along."
It arrived, and Villiers unscrewed the cap and poured a generous measure into each cup, Billy declining as usual. Villiers handed the bottle back to Achmed.
"The night is cold, but if you take a whiskey sup for yourself, do it in my tent that the others may not see."
"Allah is merciful and so you are, Sahb."
He slipped away and Villiers said, "So let's go over it again. Barry Keenan, bomber extraordinaire, and his friends Kelly and Casey, will be delivered to Al Mukalli to board the freight train leaving at four A.M. It proceeds north to the Empty Quarter at approximately eight A.M. I presume Keenan will have done everything he needs to do by then with the explosives."
"I would think so," Dillon said.
"So, we're at Tank Five, where you and Billy board and have the fifteen miles to the Bacu to do the business. After which, the train still works, the bridge is intact, and Kate Rashid's Scorpion is hovering around, hoping to pick up Keenan and company."
"With Rashid Bedu all the way back to Hazar and the airport," Dillon said.
"I know, so I'll come and get you with my Scouts. It should take about four hours. I can't promise, mind you. These roads can be hell and it is desert country."
"Ah, well, something to look forward to, Billy." And Dillon smiled.
I n London the following afternoon, Hannah called at Rosedene, since Henry Bellamy had told her he intended to be there. She waited in reception, talking to Martha, and finally Bellamy joined them.
"How is he?" Hannah asked.
"Poorly, running a fever, and not happy with himself. Look, I don't know the details of what happened and I don't want to, but it's left him depressed."
"Can I see him?"
"Of course, but don't overdo it."
Quinn lay against high pillows, a robe covering his bandages, his eyes closed, but he opened them when she pulled a chair up.
"Superintendent. Good of you to come."
"How do you feel?"
"Lousy."
"I can sympathize. I was once shot three times. It hurts like hell, but it passes."
"Not what's going on in my brain. I let Dillon and Billy down. I faced that guy and froze, the gun shook in my hand, I couldn't pull the trigger. He'd have probably finished me off if Billy hadn't shot him."
"Well, Billy would. He and Dillon have at least one thing in common. They're killers by nature."
"And I'm not?"
"No, in spite of your war record. None of this is anything to be ashamed of, Senator."
"I haven't seen Dillon. Will he be coming in?"
"No, he's in Hazar."
"Damn. I should be there," Quinn said. "Tell me what he's doing there."
A t Fuad, Keenan and his men spent the day meticulously checking the material that Colum McGee had provided. Keenan even made them unscrew the casing several times and check the insides.
"Jesus, is this necessary, Barry?" Casey asked.
"Only if we want to look busy. I'd like the Countess to think she's getting her money's worth. I've checked the specifications of that bridge again. I figure that with forty tons of high explosive on board, all I need do is use one big block of Semtex as an igniter linked to the other stuff with det cord."
"The old-fashioned way?" Kelly said.
"The old-fashioned, simple way." Keenan smiled. "And I'm always in favor of that."
A t the Scouts' camp, it was early evening. Villiers appeared with Lacey and Parry and everyone sat around the fire.
Lacey said, "I've worked out that we can make the Tank Five area in thirty minutes. I'd say we should leave at six. You'll want to get yourselves established at the Tank, maybe do a recce."
"That sounds fine by me," Dillon said.
"The only thing is," Villiers put in, "I'll have to leave with my men around three-thirty. We'll drop you off at the RAF compound and you'll have to sit it out until your six o'clock takeoff."
Dillon turned to Lacey. "We'll see you then."
Ferguson said, "So will I. Besides Dillon and Billy, you'll have two passengers, Squadron Leader."
Lacey smiled. "Of course, General," and he and Parry got in a Land Rover and Villiers drove them away.
A fter midnight at Fuad, Carver gave the Scorpion a thorough check and topped up the tanks from jerry cans, helped by a couple of Bedu. Keenan and his men carefully packed holdalls with Semtex, timers, and the det cord, and stowed them carefully away, then they went back to the block house that was the communication, weapon, and explosive store.
"What's your pleasure?" Colum McGee asked.
Keenan had a look at the rifle racks. "An AK47 will be fine for each of us, and a bag of magazines."
"What about pistols?"
"Okay, three Brownings."
McGee laid them out on the trestle table. The three men armed themselves and returned to the Scorpion. Kate Rashid had appeared with Rupert and was talking to Carver. He checked his watch.
"Ten past one. We might as well go. The weather report's good. No wind to speak of. Should be a smooth run."
Kate Rashid said, "On your way, then. Make history."
"No, thanks, I spent years in Ireland doing that. This time I prefer to make a buck. I'll see you at the Bacu."
Carver was already at the controls. Keenan climbed in after Casey and Kelly and slid the door closed. A moment later, they started to lift off.
T he flight was as smooth as Carver had predicted, and the sky was luminous with stars scattered like diamond chips around a half-moon. Al Mukalli wasn't much of a place, only the odd light was showing. It seemed more like an old-fashioned whistle-stop than anything else. There were flat-roofed buildings, a small web of railway lines, wagons parked to one side, and two railway engines, one of them linked to a long line of freight cars, some open to the sky.
As the Scorpion started to descend, two men dropped out of the train and looked up and another man got out of the guard's van at the rear. The Scorpion landed, and Keenan opened the door and got out with Casey, and Kelly passed out the holdalls and rifles.
Carver called. "Right, I'm out of it. I'll see you at the Bacu," and he took the Scorpion up and away.
The three Arabs stood waiting as Keenan and his men approached. They all wore the usual head cloths, but only one wore a robe. The others were in white oil-stained overalls.
"You were expecting us." Keenan made it a statement.
The one in the robe said, "Yes, Sahb, I am Yusuf, the guard." He pointed to the older, bearded man. "This is Ali, the train driver."
His English was good. Keenan nodded
to the younger man, who was powerfully built. "Who's he?"
"Halim, the fireman. They speak no English."
"I understand you are all Rashid?"
He could see the pride on Yusuf's face. "Yes, Sahb, we are of the clan."
"And the Countess?"
"Our leader, the blessed one, praise be to Allah."
"So you have been informed what is expected of you?"
"Indeed, Sahb."
"Good." Keenan walked to the engine, aware of the gentle hum of escaping steam, the unmistakable smell. He looked inside. "My granddaddy drove one of these back home. When I was five, he took me up there on the footplate. They're firing up, getting ready for the run."
"A right old stink on it," Kelly said.
"You've no soul, no poetry," Keenan told him, and said to Yusuf, "Take us to your van."
Yusuf led the way, mounting the iron steps at the very rear of the train to a railed platform. He opened a door and led the way in. Two oil lamps hung from the ceiling. There was a desk, long leather-covered benches, a small stove with a kettle on it, and a gas cylinder underneath. At the other end was a washbasin, a narrow door beside it labeled Toilet, and another door. Casey and Kelly put the holdalls with the Semtex and timers down.
"Anything to eat?" Casey asked.
"Dates, Sahb, dried meat, bread."
"Jesus," Casey said.
Yusuf added, "There is tea in the cupboard, Sahb, English tea."
Keenan turned as Kelly produced a half bottle of whiskey from one of the bags. "I'll have a go at that." Kelly unscrewed the cap and handed him the bottle. Keenan took a long pull and handed it back. He said to Yusuf, "We still leave at four o'clock?"
"Yes, Sahb."
Keenan glanced at his watch. "Forty-five minutes. Right, we'll check the freight cars and you can show me where the explosives are."
The open ones were loaded with oil pipes. The explosives were in the two enclosed cars in the center of the train, stacked in boxes and clearly visible when Yusuf slid back the doors. Ladders gave access to the roofs at each end of the cars, and down through trapdoors inside.
Keenan said, "That's fine. I can get in while we're traveling." He turned to Yusuf. "Tell me, what happens to you on the other side of the Bacu, afterwards, I mean?"
"We have friends in the hills, Sahb, we will be safe."
"That's all right then. Let's go back and try that tea of yours."
A t six o'clock, when the Gulfstream taxied out of the hangar at the RAF compound, Dillon and Billy were ready to go in black jumpsuits and titanium waistcoats. The parachutes and weaponry were on the floor by the door. Parry closed it, then returned to the cockpit.
Dillon and Billy sat opposite Harry and Ferguson, while the Gulfstream turned at the end of the runway and awaited takeoff instructions. It was already less dark, but the moon still made a fine display.
Harry looked very tense. "Bleeding crazy. How can you jump from a thing like this? It's suicide."
"We did it in Cornwall two years ago," Billy said. "My first jump. I'm still here, aren't I? You worry too much."
A t the airport at six-thirty, Kate Rashid, Dauncey, and Abu and two Bedu, all armed with AKs, climbed into the Scorpion. Carver, in the cockpit, looked over his shoulder. "The weather's changed. There's a bit of a headwind. It might take us a little longer."
"Just get on with it," Rupert Dauncey told him and turned to Kate. "Here we go then, cousin. What was that remark of yours? To make history?"
She was wearing a black jumpsuit and a burnoose, the hooded Bedu cloak. "I'm all in favor of that, darling. Give me a cigarette."
He lit two, passed her one, and they started to rise.
A t the same time, the Gulfstream, approaching the target area, descended from five thousand feet to one thousand. Parry came from the cockpit, wearing headphones skewed a little so that his left ear was free.
"Four minutes, gentlemen."
Dillon and Billy strapped on their parachutes and suspended the AKs across their chests. Dillon looped a pair of Nightstalkers around his neck. They were standing now and waiting. Lacey started to reduce power. "Open the door," he told Parry over the headphone.
Parry did as he was told and dropped the steps. There was a mighty rush of wind as Lacey throttled back almost to stalling speed.
"Now!" he shouted. "One thousand feet."
Dillon went out on the first step and dived, Billy close behind him. Parry wrestled with the door and Ferguson turned to help him. Lacey boosted speed and turned away, climbing for the return to Hazar. It was quiet again.
Ferguson returned to his seat, and Harry said, "God help them."
I n the light of the half moon, with dawn touching the horizon, the desert below and its many dunes was clearly visible and the line of the railway unmistakable, the huge oil pipelines running on both sides. The wind was stronger now, and Dillon found himself drifting. Billy was close at hand and a little higher.
Dillon got the Nightstalkers to his eyes and checked the line to his right, but there was nothing. He turned to the left, and there was Tank Five about a mile away, a blockhouse of some kind, and a water tower.
The ground was coming up fast, and a moment later he landed in soft sand between two enormous dunes and rolled over. He divested himself of his chute and started to cover it, when his name was called. He turned and found Billy halfway up the side of one of the dunes.
He finished burying his chute. Above him, Billy was doing the same and then started down. Dillon lit a cigarette and waited.
"Piece of cake," Billy told him as he arrived. "But I couldn't see any sign of the target."
"I did, thanks to the Nightstalkers. A mile down the line that way." He looked at his watch. "A quarter to seven. We'd better get moving," and they started down the side of the track.
T here was much more light now as they reached Tank Five, the trip having taken a good half hour because of the difficulty of walking in the soft sand, which was being whipped up by the increasing wind.
The blockhouse, when they reached it, was a poor sort of thing constructed from concrete breezeblocks. There were a couple of windows, the frames long gone, and a wooden door which opened with difficulty, sand drifted against it. Inside, the pumping mechanism was rusted with age.
"That's not worked in years," Billy said. "Where do they get the water from? Maybe we got it wrong, Dillon, maybe it isn't a water halt anymore?"
They went outside and looked up at the tank, high on four rusting iron legs. A canvas tube was suspended from the underside of the tank, hanging beside an iron ladder. There was some sort of brass fitting on the end and Dillon examined it.
"It's certainly damp. There's a little seepage. I'll take a look."
He climbed the ladder and reached the top of the tank, which was covered, but there was an inspection hatch. It creaked open, and when he looked inside, the water level was almost to the top. He went back down the ladder.
"It's full. Obviously, the pumping system isn't working. Maybe the well ran dry. They probably couple a water tank to the train every so often and refill this tank that way."
"So it's still working. Thank God for that. Now what?"
"I'm going to check in with Tony Villiers."
W ho was pushing hard, seated in the front Land Rover, the other four in a line behind him. They were in a small sandstorm, which could have been worse but was bad enough, for he and his men had had to cover their faces. In fact, he was lucky to hear his Codex and get it out of the left breast pocket of his bush shirt.
"Dillon here. I'm just touching base. Billy and I have made it to Tank Five. What about you?"
"We might reach the other side of the Bacu by eight-thirty, but I can't guarantee it. We've got a touch of sandstorm here."
"Yes, it's a bit like that here," Dillon told him. "Do your best. I'll call again to confirm the train's arrival."
"Good hunting," Villiers said.
Next, Dillon tried Ferguson, but got a no-response signal. Al
l this he had done while sheltering inside the blockhouse with Billy.
"What happens when the train arrives?" Billy asked. "Do we stay in here?"
"I don't think so, just in case someone decides to take a look." Dillon went out and examined the terrain at the rear of the tower. There was a steep slope, large rocks and boulders here and there, sand drifting against them. "We'll take cover up there. When the train starts moving again, the blockhouse and tower will give us some cover as we come down the slope."
"We'll have to be damn quick. How do we board?"
"The guard's van at the rear."
"What if there isn't one?"
"There always is, Billy." Dillon glanced at his watch. "A quarter to eight. Time for the moment of truth."
There was a sound, a kind of whisper in the distance, and then a long, drawn-out whistle.
"Here she comes, Billy, let's get under cover." They started up the slope and bedded down.
T he door by the toilet in the guard's van opened to a metal ledge. There was a coupling to one of the open cars loaded with oil pipes, a wooden plank walkway giving access across four open wagons in all. Then came the enclosed cars containing the explosives, the ladder to each of them leading to the roof. Finally, the water tank and the coal tender. The point was that the engine was totally reachable and there were small access doors at each end of the enclosed wagons.
All of which suited Keenan's purposes. During the trip from Al Mukalli, he and Casey and Kelly had laid their charges, opening the access doors between the two explosive wagons, linking them with det cord. The block of Semtex was in the front wagon, and the det cord also linked to chemical fuses Keenan had stuck in some of the explosives packages.
It hadn't taken long. He'd decided on a couple of timer pencils, after all. They were ten-minute jobs and already in place in the Semtex block and ready to be broken at the appropriate moment when the train was halted on the bridge.
In fact, for the past hour or so, Keenan had enjoyed himself more than he had in years. Casey and Kelly had returned to the guard's van and the whiskey bottle, but Keenan had made his way up to the engine and joined Ali and Halim on the footplate.
Midnight Runner (2002) Page 20
