by FARMAN, ANDY
The sound of a car engine swiftly drew all eyes back to the dock in time to see a police car, ‘Gendarmerie’ emblazoned on its side, approach the jetty, flashing its headlights rapidly.
“Captain?” asked the rating on the 23mm cannon, again in the aim.
“It’s okay, just two of our supercargo arriving in borrowed transport.”
The car halted on the jetty beside the freighter. Two special forces troopers exited the vehicle.
Li depressed the transmit button on the microphone, updating his executive officer before getting busy putting the Dai alongside the jetty fuel valves, one of which was connected to a storage tank a high grade diesel.
“All back dead slow…get the sea duty and the security details topside.”
The Dai moved past the Fliterland again, with the sea duty linesmen taking post as Li skilfully backed them up against the jetty behind the freighter’s looming stern.
Lines were thrown to the two troopers who made the lines fast, securing the Dai to the side of the jetty.
An extending ladder was brought up from below and laid against the jetty’s side, and the dockside security party hurriedly climbed it and hustled away to form a perimeter.
The senior NCO commanding those SF troops re-boarded and reported that all was going to plan at their end. The dock was secure; the logging company’s Chinook at Kourou’s small airfield was being booby trapped even as they spoke and the other two detachments were ashore without incident and approaching their targets.
At the bridge, ropes were being tossed over the sides as a preliminary to wiring the road sections for demolition and the rain stopped as suddenly as if someone had turned off a tap.
“Fasser’s topside and begin fuelling operations…oh, and make to Bao, ‘Come and join the party’.”
As the fuelling crew appeared on the casing he shook his head in wonderment and spoke aloud to no one in particular.
“Damn me, but I think this could actually work.”
Route de l’Espace: ‘Ariane’ compound: French Guiana.
There is a road that runs from Brownsville USA, going south along the Atlantic coast all the way until it ends suddenly on the shore of the Beagle Channel at Tierra del Fuego. Pretty much as far as you can drive on continental America, clocking up thirteen thousand miles on that twisting and turning road from Texas. It follows the coastline for all but a twenty mile section where the original road runs straight through the cluster of rocket launch pads on the equator.
A newer section, a wide sweeping detour now cuts through the rainforest keeping traffic far away from the ESA and Soyuz sites. The no-longer-public section was renamed Route de l’Espace and came to represent the single most valuable item in the entire country.
Low lying and low profile reinforced concrete pill boxes at the side of the road command the approaches to the launch pads, each with five sets of twin thirty calibre machine guns spaced to provide 360° of overlapping coverage. The guns were set to fire at shin height, and anyone hit would then fall into the thirty calibre stream. It was a method first devised by the German Imperial Army way back in 1912 as the most effective method of despatching multiple attackers, rather than leaving some wounded, and still a threat.
At the southern entrance to the complex a rattrap gate allowed one vehicle at a time into a controlled search area with optical underside scanning built into the roadbed and ESA security staff checking for vehicle borne IEDs, weapons and stowaways. The exit gate could not open whilst the entry gate was closed.
Concrete lined drainage ditches had a dual anti-vehicle role, and outside the entry point a concrete blockhouse/Guardroom controlled access.
Captain Jie Huaiqing and his nine troopers moved along the roadway in Indian- file with its staggered spacing making fire from the flanks less likely to take out pairs of troops. It was basic fieldcraft.
They held to the roadway, not avoiding the occasional approaching vehicle. Trucks, cars and vans splashed past, adding a little more to their already soaked camouflage uniforms as the tropical deluge had not relented.
It suited Jie’s purpose, bad weather was better in his chosen line of work.
They moved with deliberateness and they moved as if they belonged, leaning forward slightly at the waist as that best allowed them to balance themselves under the burden of the 15 kilo cratering charges each carried.
After thirty minutes they saw stationary red tail lights ahead of them. After several minutes more Jie got the impression there was more than a single vehicle, the sound of idling engines confirmed that, but they were still well short of the ESA controlled area, now visible far ahead, its access point lit up.
Jie knew, in detail, the procedures that were in place here and a holding area was not included, that is to say one hadn’t been included six weeks before.
This was where fresh intelligence would have assisted.
A hundred yards on and he saw the lead vehicle in the queue move off slowly, continuing for the facility but the remainder sat there a quarter mile from the entrance and Jie left his squad in the undergrowth to recce ahead cautiously.
Half way along the column of trucks, vans and cars he was able to see that they were being held by two soldiers who were clearly not legionaries’ as one carried the shoulder flash of the 110th Infantry and the other wore the maroon beret of the airborne forces.
The driver of the baker’s truck at the end of the queue was listening to a music CD and jumped as legionaries appeared at each window, faces blacked with camouflage cream.
“Autorisant passé!”
The night and the rain hid them from the legitimate articles at the head of the queue but they had to work quickly before a further vehicle arrived to silhouette them for possible discovery.
The driver handed over the pass and then left the vehicle to open the truck for inspection and the troopers kept him busy with queries about his load and his movements.
Alone by the cab Jie leant in and ejected the music CD to surf the channels until he found the local news station.
Delivery men worldwide consistently collect polystyrene coffee cups, polystyrene fast food containers, cigarette packets and newspapers with which to decorate the front dashboard.
Between the news channel stories and speed reading newspaper articles, ignoring the obvious tabloid favourites’ of who-is-screwing-who by identifying the cliché’ bylines’, Jie gleaned an insight into local events in French Guiana since they had departed from China.
The plan to tie up the troops chasing illegal gold miners from Brazil had worked well, much better than expected in fact.
A television news channel had persuaded the gendarmes to allow a news crew to embed with one of their jungle patrols to better cover this increase of the illegal mining problem. The presence of a young pretty reporter may possibly have had some bearing on the gendarmes becoming a little over eager to please in the execution of their duties.
They not only turned away would-be miners they encountered at the border, destroying their tools, but they also stopped and searched Garimpeiros crossing back into Brazil, seizing any gold they were carrying.
If the eight man patrol of gendarmes believed the Garimpeiros would meekly accept the loss of their earnings and would not seek retribution and restitution at gunpoint then they were at best optimistic. The gendarmes had soon reported the TV crew and themselves were surrounded by ten times their number somewhere near the Surinam, Brazil and Guiana borders. Nothing more had been heard of them in almost two weeks. Under pressure from the media and the ministry the governor had taken what action he could, bearing in mind that he had zero chance of reinforcement from Europe.
By replacing the jungle fighting expert legionnaires’ at the ESA and Soyuz sites with the as yet non jungle qualified, but conventionally trained soldiers undergoing courses at the jungle warfare school, he had two hundred more boots on the ground searching for the missing reporter, cameraman and policemen.
This was good news Jie decided, f
ar less chance of an awkward ‘‘Who the hell are you?” moment from one of the genuine articles before they got inside.
Only here, out of all the locations in sight of the ocean was the blackout not in place.
The ESA perimeter was covered with pressure sensors, ultra-sonic movement alarms and lo-lite CCTV which required no illumination, but the checkpoint at the entrance was lit up as bright as day and it was towards this oasis of spot lights and 200 watt bulbs that Jie led his troopers.
The approaching squad were under observation as they approached, the barrels of a pair of ‘Thirties’ tracking them unerringly from the moment the holding area soldiers had informed the guardroom of armed ‘friendlies’ on the way.
Before them was a long stretch of straight, level road with the jungle and undergrowth cleared for twenty five metres at either side. That was a long way to go to reach any kind of cover from view if they should need to.
They were committed.
Three and a half miles beyond the entrance it was possible to make out the Italian Vega launch pad with a tall slim column in place and illuminated by floodlighting. The lighting was not for the benefit of the press, although it does make for eye catching footage and career defining photography, the primary purpose is simply to spot problems such as leaks and loose or missing inspection panels because at the end of the day even rocket scientists can screw up.
Unlit and invisible in the rain and night but only three quarters of a mile from Vega was the more substantial Ariane 5 pad. Accidents can happen so at no time was their dual activity taking place at both Vega and its relatively close-by neighbour.
Soyuz though, was six miles distant and an Ariane 5 rocket was in place there. Rain pelted its length, rattling off the casing of its fantastically expensive payload package with a sound identical to that which it was making on the rusted corrugated tin roofs of dilapidated and abandoned fishermen’s huts near the beach.
Two miles closer but half hidden behind jungle not yet cleared was the tall white final assembly building. The Ariane pads next customer was stood outside on a giant transporter that would deliver it at 3mph, slowly but surely once the Vega had lifted its package into orbit.
Jie and his men arrived at the illuminated entrance point just as the downpour came to a sudden end.
Once more ‘accidentally’ depressing the transmit switch of his radio Jie sang softly and tunelessly. “…voyez…Ces oiseaux blancs…Et ces maisons rouillées…” He waited for the acknowledging ‘click’ from the other end before he removed his bergen and left his men standing in a group, chatting quietly together in a non-threatening manner on the side of the roadway but studiously ignoring the French army regulars who were in evidence.
A junior NCO checking the driver’s documents of the vehicles that arrived and a second soldier ostentatiously covering him gave the newcomers an appraising look before ‘blanking’ them in return.
Captain Jie Huaiqing wore the rank of a ‘Sergent Chef’, a Colour Sergeant equivalent, owing to ninety percent of the legions officer corps being French regular army officers on secondment he would have been asking for trouble if he had posed as one of the ten percent raised from the ranks.
At the guardroom window though, he found not a senior army NCO in charge, but a marine lieutenant with a broken wing.
A fall during the descent of a slippery hillside on one of the jungle warfare courses cross country navigation exercises had put the marine out of action, but at these ‘all hands to the pumps moments’ even the walking wounded can be found a task within their limited abilities.
The officer nodded and pointed to his right arm in a sling by way of apology at not returning Jie’s salute.
“It’s always the one you can least afford to do without eh, sir?”
“The essential ‘W’ arm, Chief. Writing, waving and wanking.” The marine officer replied ruefully.
“And what brings you to these parts instead of seeking out beautiful reporters in distress over by the border?”
By way of reply Jie fished out the waterproof pouch from his map pocket at his thigh, withdrawing the book and thence the written orders from between its leaves.
Instead of opening the orders the officer turned the book, which Jie had placed on the sill and peered curiously at its cover, a picture of a sea turtle was self-explanatory as to the books purpose, the script being in Chinese logograms.
“You are a wildlife enthusiast, Chief?” he asked. “Plenty of that around here.”
Idly opening the front cover he looked at the stamps on the inside for the briefest of moments before turning to the colour glossy photographs in the centre.
Clearly not a fellow Herpetologist he closed the book.
“Well each to his own eh, Chief.” He said with a smile and returned it, opening the orders with a flick of his left wrist whereupon he held the creases flat with spread fingers against the writing shelf on his side of the window and began to read.
“Additional perimeter patrol, huh? I hope you are familiar with the ground so you know not to venture between the yellow markers and the fence?” he said glancing up from the orders.
Jie nodded in affirmation, emphasising it with a respectful “Yes, sir.”
“Or every damn alarm on the place will go off, again.” added the officer.
With a shrug the lieutenant handed the orders back.
“You need to book yourself and your men in, I can’t do it myself.” He added, nodding again at the limb in a sling.
“Not in that book!” he warned as Jie reach for an open binder nearby on the sill. “That’s for civilian cleaning staff…you need to unload your weapon and come inside. The binder is in the corner and a bit heavy for a one arm bandit to carry across.” He grinned. “I’ll buzz you through.”
Jie duly carried out an unload and looked across the road to his men, making a surreptitious thumbs up gesture out of sight of the marine officer at the window and the soldiers nearby as he placed the ejected magazine in a pouch and secured it.
A faint nod in reply came from Corporal Chui, his senior NCO.
On pushing open the door at the sound of the harsh electronic buzz he found himself in a guardroom typical of those anywhere in the world. Institutional light green paint from floor level, up to above average shoulder height and then cream up to and including the ceiling. A narrow rubber mat ran across a shiny floor and he knew without being told that to step off it onto the gleaming and highly buffed linoleum would not be met well. It smelled of floor polish, coffee and Gauloises cigarettes.
The marine officer had his ear to a telephone when Jie appeared.
“On the table in the corner, Chief.” he nodded to neatly arranged binders and logbooks on a shelf.
Jie however could see all manner of labelled registers and books identifying the contents as Fire Drills, Mileage Returns and archived Incident Logs, but he could see nothing to indicate a booking in and out register.
“Sir, I can’t seem to find it…?” he turned and the marine officer put down the telephone and smiled affably but ignored the question.
“So tell me Chief, how you come to have an April date stamp in a Shanghai library book when the war started in March?”
Time seemed to freeze, as it does at those times of discovery for the kid with his hand in the cookie jar, the burglar half inside the window when the light comes on, and the soldier with an empty rifle.
He froze for a heartbeat as realisation hit him. Somehow the French officer had been on to him from the start, and by allowing him inside he had both lulled Jie and his men into a false sense of security, and separated the leader from his men.
The sudden roar of the thirty calibre machine guns outside jarred him into action.
Jie drew back his arm to fling the weapon at the marine, to buy time to reach the Norinco inside his smock.
The marine officer had a Glock 17 held with confident ease in his left hand and shot Jie twice through the chest before the captain could complete the thro
w.
Jie’s legs folded beneath him, all strength leaving his limbs he found himself on his knees, too weak to reach the smocks zipper.
The marine officer crouched over him, the pistol in his left hand.
Jie stared at it.
“Ambidextrous…” Said the officer in a slightly apologetic tone “...and two years with the Embassy guard in Beijing, in case you were wondering.” He continued in good, but slightly accented Mandarin.
Jie felt the floor tremble and a thunderous sound announced the Vega rocket launching another replacement military communications satellite into orbit.
The roar muted that of the thirty calibre machine guns and its tail flames light even invaded the guardrooms interior noted Jie, but at its height, darkness came.
ESA Jetty, Kourou River: French Guiana.
Locating the valve for the diesel storage tank took but a moment but getting power to the pump in order fuel the Dai took long minutes before the switches were found in an electrical cabinet in the gatehouse but before that happy event a more worrying one occurred.
Snatches of gunfire were heard on the wind just before a column of fire rose into the heavens with a rocket and satellite riding upon it.
Captain Li queried the SF detachments warrant officer, Senior Sergeant Yen who tried without success to raise the two other teams on their tactical radio, looking a little comical, armed to the teeth yet in a singing voice that would strip paint from the walls he canted his head to one side, over the Thales radio microphone on his left shoulder and gave voice to a lullaby.
“Frere Jacques, frere Jacques, dormez vous? Dormez vous?”
There was no response from Dai’s or Bao’s teams, no indication that they had entered the site or not though either.
Unbeknownst to the captain, the Soyuz team had been approaching the northern entrance to the site. There was no issue with new procedures as signposts directed anyone with business with ESA or Soyuz to follow the detour to Kourou and use the southern gate.
