by Andy McNab
Keenan exaggerated every step, as if he was walking through long grass. He was losing some perspective through the NVGs so he took his time, hugging the wall. It wasn’t long before the concrete floor of the tunnel became wet underfoot. He carried on, placing his boots even more carefully. Silence was everything right now.
The signallers were behind him, putting the last of the re-broadcasters into position, antennae raised, on the other side of the open security gate, so that the team’s comms could be sent and received from both tunnels.
The Blue team assault group were close by, safety catches on, ready to go. Some knelt; others sat or leaned. Their foam-tipped, seven-rung black aluminium ladders lay securely on the floor. Nothing was left to chance: anything propped against a wall could fall and clatter.
Each had his NVGs on, respirator hanging off his free, non-weapon-firing arm by the head-straps. No one talked. There was no need.
Keenan kept advancing towards the target, Gavin’s voice – a cool, measured monotone – in his earpiece.
‘Sierra One, Alpha check.’
Keenan stopped and gently pushed his chest pressel twice.
‘Alpha, roger that.’
The net went dead once more.
Click-click, click-click.
Gavin’s response was immediate. ‘Is that Sierra One in position?’
Click-click.
‘Alpha, roger that. How close?’
Click-click, click-click-click.
‘Roger that, five hundred. The gun team still in position?’
Click-click.
‘Roger that. Any changes?’
Gavin waited for five seconds.
‘Alpha, roger that, no changes. Blue One, acknowledge.’
Jockey was number one on the door. Like the rest of the Blue team, he got slowly to his feet, picked up the ladders so they didn’t bang into each other, kept control of the weapons so they didn’t either. Slow and deliberate was the key to tactical speed.
Jockey checked that each line had formed up, either side of the security gate.
‘Blue team, moving now. Out.’
He led his ghost force into the Paris-bound tunnel.
83
LASZLO STARED RUEFULLY at his broken watch. The case hadn’t survived his dive for cover, but it was still capable of telling him that the minutes were ticking by.
As Sambor dragged Delphine back towards the buffet car, she gave a sudden cry. Laszlo barged past the hostages. Two of his men stopped tending their burns and jumped out of their seats to follow him. Laszlo burst into the buffet car. The British soldier was standing on the other side of the glass door at the far end.
He was unarmed. His arms were raised. He was delivering himself to Laszlo. The door opened.
‘Tom – no!’
Laszlo wasn’t going to allow himself to be distracted by the woman’s pitiful plea. Neither was his adversary. The man’s eyes were locked on his.
The battery in his hand, and the two leads connected to it, told their own story. The plastic square was still in place, keeping apart the jaws of the crocodile clip that would complete the circuit. He took a step closer, his other hand tightening the wire that would wrench away the plastic insulator. Laszlo saw the greasy, light-green substance bulging from the top of his jacket.
He sensed rather than saw the gunman immediately behind him thumbing down the safety catch of his weapon and lifting it, ready to fire. He raised a warning hand. ‘Don’t.’ He kept his voice slow and calm. ‘Can’t you see what he’s wearing?’ He switched to English. ‘I see that you have found my PE.’
The man smiled bleakly. ‘I’m afraid you’re now a couple of slabs short of a picnic.’
‘I don’t think we’ll miss them.’ Laszlo spent some moments studying Tom. He was wounded, beaten and bruised, totally swamped by the strength of his opposition, yet still he kept coming back. Just like Laszlo did. ‘There’s still more than enough left to do what I need it to do. I’ve bet my brother that the blast will be powerful enough to fracture the rock overhead. The English Channel will suddenly develop a plug hole.’
Laszlo turned to his brother and translated.
Sambor didn’t find it as funny as he did. ‘We kill the country!’
Laszlo patted his brother’s shoulder, then said to Tom, ‘I imagine you’re as intrigued as I am to find out if I’m right . . .’
The Brit shook his head. ‘I’m much more interested in whether you’ve thought this through.’ He nodded at the explosives strapped to his chest. ‘Are you feeling suicidal?’
‘Of course I’m not. I am a professional soldier, not some cheap street terrorist.’ Laszlo took a couple of steps, grabbed Delphine by the hair and pulled her towards him. ‘But I think your delightful companion might be.’
‘If so, she’ll take you with her. You won’t get out of this tunnel alive – not now. You know that.’
Laszlo tightened his grip on the woman’s hair and gave it a twist. She gasped with pain, but his adversary didn’t even blink. ‘There will be an assault, Laszlo. You will fight, and you will die. Whatever you have planned, you will not live to see it. None of you will.’
Laszlo shrugged. ‘If it were up to certain members of your government, I’d already be dead.’
‘That’s not true. We were sent to arrest you. It was a non-lethal arrest.’
Laszlo paused, intrigued. ‘So you were there, were you?’
‘Only a couple of minutes or so behind you. Your coffee was still warm.’
Laszlo was impressed.
‘But that’s history. You’ve now taken the non-lethal option off the table. Unless you help me. Come with me now. We disarm the device, then we walk out of the tunnel and live.’
Laszlo couldn’t help laughing. He shouted a translation to Sambor, who still didn’t share his amusement. Neither did the men behind him, who looked like they ached to take a shot.
‘If you choose to fight and die, that’s up to you. But these people, the real people, the innocent people, they don’t deserve to go down with you, do they?’
‘You disappoint me, Tom. I didn’t think you’d be so naïve. No one is truly innocent. And nobody cares about real people. Each corpse only costs your government . . . what? A little over a hundred thousand pounds in compensation. I’m sure that would be a very small price for them to pay for my death. Tom, you are a young man so you do not understand the subtlety of this situation. Some of your people have a strong vested interest in seeing me permanently silenced.’
Tom held his gaze. ‘So what? Set the real people free and we can walk out together. Then I’ll be able to protect you.’
Laszlo gave a mirthless smile. ‘You can’t really believe that. And I certainly don’t.’
‘At least free some of these people. Why do you need so many? You have the tunnel gift-wrapped, after all.’
‘Precisely my point. The tunnel is more precious to them than a million hostages. I will release these people when I am ready. So stop playing at suicide bombers and start being more productive. Go back to Folkestone and tell your lords and masters what you know and what you have seen, and why they must accede to my demands.’
‘Let me take her.’
Laszlo shook his head. ‘If you wish to keep Delphine and your child alive, you should go now, and do what I say.’
Sambor and the two Bears had inched towards the Englishman while Laszlo was speaking, their weapons up. He could probably feel their hot breath on the back of his neck. They’d be itching for a head-shot; they knew as well as he did that a high-velocity round could detonate the PE as easily as the crocodile clip snapping shut. But as their target moved back behind the glass once more, Laszlo lifted his hand and signed to them to back off.
Laszlo watched Tom fix his eyes on Delphine. What message was he trying to convey? That he would be back? That he would try to get her out? Whatever it was, her reply was a small, rather touching smile.
Laszlo gave a smile of his own. How foolish wome
n could be. To side with the underdog; to see hope where there should be only despair. Did they never understand the true dynamics of power?
A moment later, her lover jumped from the train and disappeared into the darkness.
84
THE TEAM STOOD in two single files against each of the tunnel walls. Three of Keenan’s four snipers lay over the tracks ahead of them. The fourth was confident he could take the 500-metre shot from a sitting position.
Keenan hit his pressel.
Click-click.
‘Is that Sierra One ready?’
Click-click.
Keenan took hold of an ankle of each of the two snipers in front of him. If either lost his sight picture now, he’d just move his foot. Keenan needed to know that at least half his team could get a shot on target on the ‘go’.
‘Alpha, roger that. Hello, all stations, I have control. Stand by.’
The snipers took first pressure on their triggers, maintaining the sight picture.
‘Stand by.’
They emptied their lungs of oxygen, then stopped breathing altogether.
‘Go.’
There were four dull thuds. Less than a second later, Laszlo’s PKM team toppled like bowling pins.
Jockey was straight on the net. ‘Blue team moving.’
85
‘YOU REALLY THINK he is going to do as you say?’
‘Sambor, my brother, we have a plan to execute, and I have a call to make. The last thing I need now is an Englishman with a rather badly fitted explosive waistcoat getting in my way.’
Once back in the engineer’s compartment, he picked up the radio mic, switched on the speaker and settled back into the seat, resting his boots on the oxygen sets bungeed to skateboards that Sambor and the fighters had lugged from their vans. ‘Mr Woolf?’
‘Yes, Mr Antonov. What can I do for you?’
‘It is time I allowed you to turn the power back on. Some people are sick, the elderly are suffering, women and children are crying. I’m sure their welfare is dear to your heart.’
‘And what are you willing to offer us in return? Let me have the ill and the old. They need—’
Laszlo laughed. ‘Oh dear, Mr Woolf, is that what they teach you in hostage-negotiation classes? You would have been better off in Las Vegas, learning some of the basic rules of gambling – for example, that it’s dangerous to bluff when you don’t hold any cards. But I’m a generous man. I’ll tell you what I won’t give you if you turn the power back on: five more dead bodies.’
‘Wait one moment, please. I have to seek permission, you understand.’
‘Of course, but hurry. I will give you two minutes. Then I start the killing. I know that your government does not care for these people, but you all have families. Think of your loved ones. What would you feel if they were on this train? You will all be directly responsible for their deaths. Will you be able to live with that? Will any of you be able to live with that?’
There was a click as Laszlo cut the comms and glanced down at the driver. His eyes were threatening to pop out of their sockets. Whatever Woolf thought, this man was in no doubt that he might only have two minutes left to live.
86
AIDED BY THEIR NVGs, the Blue team moved painstakingly slowly through the darkness. Only when they got to the train would the goggles come off and the SF-100 respirators go on. And then the ladders would go up and all hell would break loose.
Jockey was up front of the single file. Mentally, he rehearsed the sequence for the attack, from the moment the axe man in each four-man call-sign crazed the glass, to punching through the flash-bangs, to the entry itself, when they’d push, hit, elbow their way through the human shield with their 9mm Sig pistols raised.
To double the number of men dominating the battle space, a call-sign would blast in at each end of a carriage.
Gavin’s voice came through on the net. ‘All call-signs – stop, stop, stop. Blue One – confirm.’
Jockey halted and hit his pressel.
Click-click.
The men behind him came to a standstill too.
‘All call-signs, this is Alpha. Power will be turned back on in the train in less than five. I repeat, power back on in less than five. Blue One, acknowledge.’
Click-click.
‘Roger that. Blue Two?’
Click-click.
‘Roger that.’ Gavin went through the other call-signs before he pushed on with the rest of the information Woolf had relayed from COBRA. ‘The option is still a go. You will continue with the option. I say again, you will continue with the option. Blue One, acknowledge.’
Click-click.
‘Roger that. Can you talk, Blue One?’
Click-click.
‘What have you got for me?’
Jockey clicked his pressel once and spoke quietly. ‘Wait out.’ Whispering could carry further, and it was hard to understand over the net. Radios were good enough to pick up slow, gentle speech.
Jockey knew that as soon as they heard his instruction to wait, the team, the hangar and COBRA would all do exactly that. They could tell him to go and do the job, but not how to do it. They couldn’t see what he could see, or hear what he could hear.
Jockey raced through the options in his head. The route to target would be floodlit in less than five minutes. If they were still in the open, it would take a miracle for them to reach the carriages without being spotted. The op would go noisy. It would be a long, hard fight to get as far as the front three carriages. By then, all the Yankees and call-signs might be dead. To make matters worse, there was a gun position at the French end. If this kicked off, the gun would simply swing round and start hosing them down.
The decision took Jockey a matter of seconds. Realistically, there was only one option. He came back on the net, his voice quiet and calm.
‘Blue team, listen in. We will move to target in a new order of march. Blue Seven will take the lead. At the train, Blue Seven will make entry into the first carriage. It can then move forwards along the train, clearing the route towards the first three carriages.
‘All other call-signs will follow behind Blue Seven in the same order of march as now. Blue Seven will go static when it reaches Coach Four, the buffet car, which will be Blue team’s start-line.
‘On my “go”, Blue One to Six will exit on the right-hand side of the train and move to our entry point in double time – and make entry immediately.
‘Sierra call-signs: you will give cover forwards towards the gun position, and back onto the front three coaches. If at any time it goes noisy, Blue Seven will take on the threat while Blue One to Six bypass the contact and move to their target any way they can, in double time, and get on with the emergency response. Sierra call-signs will cover. Wait.’
Jockey gave the call-signs time to let it all sink in. He had more to say, and no one was allowed to come on the net before he spoke again. He gave it a couple more seconds. ‘Blue Two, acknowledge.’
Click-click.
Jockey ran through all the ground call-signs before addressing the hangar. ‘Alpha, acknowledge.’
‘Alpha, roger that.’
Blue Seven, with Vatu in the lead, were already on the way past him. Jockey and his assault group fell in silently behind.
87
LASZLO WATCHED THE driver close his eyes and pray. It was a curious sight, because he looked like a man who hadn’t done anything of the kind since he was a child. Except, perhaps, when his football team was two-nil down with ten minutes to go before the final whistle.
He switched the mic back on. ‘Mr Woolf, I still do not have power.’
‘Mr Antonov, as a gesture of good faith, we’re willing to restore the power to the train, and food and drink, as well as any medical care that may be needed.’
‘How kind you are, Mr Woolf.’ Laszlo bared his teeth in a smile. ‘And how stupid you must think I am. We have no need or desire for food, or care of any kind. If you were thinking of dressing your SAS as pizza
-delivery boys, you can tell them to stand down. And I know that the power can be turned on remotely. Make sure that it is done that way. If I see any Special Forces soldiers masquerading as electrical repairmen . . .’
For a moment Laszlo considered telling Woolf to call off Tom as well. But he decided against it. He admired Tom’s determination. He admired his sheer guts. And, more than anything, he enjoyed the fact that he didn’t have the slightest idea what was really happening here.
‘Mr Woolf, no more games. Just do it.’
He switched off the mic again and smiled at Sambor. ‘And the Lord said, let there be light and, lo, there was light.’
A moment later, right on cue, the fluorescent strips flickered and the air-conditioning unit began to emit a low hum.
The driver began to sob.
Ignoring the pathetic gratitude of the man on the floor, Laszlo stood. ‘You won’t have long now before they send in their dogs. Work quickly.’
Sambor nodded. But before he could move away, Laszlo gripped his arm. ‘And, brother, I think it’s time to put Delphine on the menu. If it’s the SAS team who were in Hampstead yesterday, they will know Tom. And very probably they will know her.’
88
LASZLO PUT DOWN his weapon and produced a roll of silver duct tape, which he proceeded to wind around Delphine’s neck. He dragged her across the buffet car, manhandled her up onto the far end of counter, and wound the tape around the stainless-steel shelving pillars behind her. Sambor did the same with her arms, waist and thighs. By the time they had finished, she looked like a badly wrapped present.
