Hellfire (2011)

by James Holland

  Tanner patted him on the shoulder. ‘Good work, mate.’

  *

  Eleven o’clock. Two hours left. There were ten trucks in all and as the ninth trundled forward the chatting drivers broke up their conversation and began returning to their vehicles.

  ‘Now!’ hissed Tanner. He, Sykes and Farrar scuttled across from their hiding place at the far edge of the quay towards the second truck, while de Villiers, McInnes and Ferguson hurried, crouching, towards the third in the line. Leaving Sykes and Farrer crouched at the passenger side of the lorry, Tanner moved round the back and crept towards the driver’s door. He and Ferguson had had some discussion about the best way to make their attack, but eventually they had agreed to try to reach the driver’s door undetected, then open it, jump up and stab the man in the kidney. Certainly, a blade in either kidney was the most effective way to kill a man silently: the pain was so intense, it caused the body to shut down instantly. The risk would be the time it took to jump up and the difficulty of hitting their mark. However, as Ferguson had pointed out, an assault was the last thing the driver would be expecting and the human brain always took a second or two to react to shock. As long as they made their moves swiftly and decisively, they had every reason to feel confident of success.

  Tanner crouched low by the truck’s cab. Above him, he heard the driver strike a match, then smelt cigarette smoke. The man sighed, then began humming to himself. Tanner took out the flick-knife, holding it, blade still folded in his palm. A change of plan … One, two. He heard the catch of the door on the truck behind him – Ferguson. Three. He stood and opened the door.

  ‘Was?’ said the driver, startled. Tanner punched him hard in the side of the head. The man gasped, rolled over, and Tanner opened the passenger door for Sykes and Farrer.

  ‘Is he dead?’ asked Sykes.

  ‘I just knocked him out – cleaner and easier. No point killing a bloke for the sake of it.’

  ‘It’s just a bit of a squash with him here too.’

  ‘Stop complaining, Stan. It’s only a couple of miles.’

  The lead truck’s engine started, slits of lights came on, and Tanner saw another man run back past him.

  ‘I forgot to ask,’ said Farrer, ‘you do know how to drive this thing, don’t you?’

  Tanner laughed. ‘An Opel Blitz? Oh, I think so. With or without an ignition key.’ He felt the dashboard. ‘Good.’ Turning it, he saw the red light and pressed the starter button – no need for choke. A couple of turns and then the engine sputtered into life. Seeing the truck ahead move forward, he thrust the Opel into gear, released the handbrake, and rolled forward. The wing mirrors had been left in place and he saw the headlamp slits behind them.

  ‘I think that’s de Villiers at the rear,’ he said, as they drove around the harbour’s end.

  ‘Good,’ said Farrer. ‘I’m sure we’d have heard something if there’d been a problem.’

  They headed south, the barrels clanging together as they drove over a rock or a rough part of the track, then climbed a short, sharp incline and turned on to the edge of a landing ground where a number of aircraft were lined up, dark shapes in the starlight.

  Sykes whistled. ‘Look at all those lovely planes! Let’s hope this fuel dump’s nearby.’

  It was. At the far end of the landing ground, they drove down the escarpment and turned into an old quarry where a large number of barrels had already been stacked. Following the truck in front, they pulled to a halt behind it.

  ‘I’ll stay with the truck,’ said Farrer.

  ‘Stan, you ready?’ said Tanner.

  ‘Yes – but what about matey here?’

  ‘Leave him to me,’ said Farrer. ‘Go now.’

  Tanner and Sykes jumped down as a number of men hurried towards the truck. By the time they had walked to the back, German troops were already climbing on to the body and laying two planks from the tailgate to the ground.

  Someone spoke to them but they didn’t reply and walked to the Opel behind. At the driver’s door, Tanner said to de Villiers, ‘Stay with the truck. Where’s Ferguson?’

  ‘Beside me,’ de Villiers replied.

  ‘Tell him to get down here.’

  Flickering torches and barked orders. Barrels of fuel were being rolled out of the truck like beer into a cellar. Tanner and Sykes ducked round to meet Ferguson, then Tanner whispered, ‘Come on, let’s get going.’

  Someone bumped into him, muttered something and walked on, but in the darkness they were able to use the shadows and slip clear of the work parties now swarming over the trucks.

  ‘It’s not going to need much,’ said Sykes, as they crouched at the edge of the quarry. He had already prepared his devices: five-pound packets of Nobel’s 808 cartridges, detonators already fixed, with a strip of safety fuse running from each detonator to the time pencil.

  ‘I’m setting these on white,’ said Sykes. ‘An hour and a half.’

  ‘Perfect,’ said Tanner. ‘They should blow at about one in the morning.’

  Sykes laid the first between two of the barrels, then added a second. ‘One more as a precaution,’ he said, ‘but that should be it.’

  Footsteps made them start. A German walked towards them, asking something, his tone harsh, angry, even.

  Damn it, thought Tanner – but Ferguson now stepped forward. A flash of a blade in the starlight, and the German crumpled. Ferguson caught him and dragged him into the shadows.

  ‘Good work,’ said Tanner, impressed.

  ‘As you know, sir,’ said Ferguson, ‘speed and decisiveness are everything in close combat.’

  ‘The dark helps.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ferguson chuckled. ‘Just a little bit. Don’t think he saw me coming.’

  Calmly they made their way, unchallenged, to the far end of the quarry, set another device, then returned to their trucks. Tanner and Sykes got in beside Farrer.

  ‘All done,’ said Tanner, then noticed the driver on the floor. ‘He’s not woken up yet, then?’

  ‘He did, I’m afraid. I pistol-whipped him. A little too hard, unfortunately.’

  ‘Poor bugger,’ said Tanner. ‘Just not his night. Anyone spoken to you?’

  ‘Not really. They’re too busy unloading.’

  ‘Looks like they’re nearly done,’ said Sykes. ‘What about those aircraft?’

  ‘Let’s not push our luck,’ said Farrer.

  ‘But it’s not every day you find yourself within touching distance of a line of Jerry and Eyetie planes,’ said Tanner.

  ‘No,’ said Farrer, firmly. ‘Let’s rejoin the others and get the hell out of here.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Tanner.

  ‘I know I am,’ said Farrer. ‘In any case, we don’t have time. It’s nearly midnight.’

  A few minutes later, the truck in front started up and they were on the move again, driving away from the quarry and climbing the escarpment back up to the landing ground.

  ‘Breaks your heart,’ said Sykes, staring at the aircraft.

  ‘If that fuel dump blows, they won’t be going very far anyway,’ said Farrer. ‘Console yourself with that thought.’

  ‘All right, sir,’ said Sykes. ‘I’ll try.’

  They reached the harbour around ten minutes later, and climbed out once more, but as they got down and approached de Villiers’s truck, they saw the other three being challenged by several men.

  ‘Damn!’ whispered Farrer. ‘They’re being asked about the other driver.’

  ‘We need to be ready to run, then,’ said Tanner, cocking his MP40.

  As they approached de Villiers and Ferguson, they saw the German asking the questions pull out a torch and shine it in their faces. He was looking at them carefully, then asking for something. De Villiers felt in his breast pocket for his Soldbuch and handed it over. The German had begun looking at it when he saw Farrer, Tanner and Sykes nearing and shone the torch on them instead. ‘Und wer sind Sie?’ he said. Tanner squinted, but was conscious of the driv
er of the lead vehicle now approaching too. Damn it.

  ‘Wir wurden gebeten,’ said Farrer, ‘diese Fahrzeuge fahren hier.’

  ‘Sie,’ said the man, calling over the driver of the lead truck, ‘ist das wahr?’

  Before he could answer, a cry came from de Villiers’s truck where the bloody corpse of the driver had been discovered. Without waiting a moment longer, Ferguson stepped forward, stabbed the man with the torch, while Tanner, pulling out his Walther, shot the other three. Despite the silencer, though, it was too late. Men were shouting; the alarm had been raised.

  ‘Stick to me!’ called out Farrer, as a shot rang out.

  They ran across the quayside towards the rubble of a ruined building, more shots following them. Crouching beside the remains of a wall, Farrer did a quick head count. ‘We stick together,’ he said. ‘We’ll head into the town – the rubble will give us cover.’

  ‘And don’t fire,’ hissed Tanner. ‘It’ll give us away.’ He turned to Sykes. ‘Now’s the time for a diversion.’

  Torches were being shone, orders barked. A sub-machine gun opened fire, bullets pinging and ricocheting nearby.

  ‘We need to move,’ said Farrer.

  ‘Sykes and I’ll catch you up, sir,’ said Tanner.

  ‘We stick together.’

  ‘We need to create a diversion. Go, sir – we won’t be far behind.’

  Farrer clasped Tanner’s shoulder, then crouching, set off, the others following.

  Another burst of sub-machine-gun fire rattled out, and Tanner ducked instinctively, but this time it was further to their right.

  ‘Here – quick,’ said Sykes, passing a packet of TNT to Tanner. ‘It’s got a detonator in.’ With a pair of cutters he snipped the safety fuse so that it was just a quarter of an inch long, then struck a match and lit the end. Footsteps were approaching, and another burst of sub-machine-gun fire rang out, closer again this time, the bullets pinging nearby. ‘Now!’ said Sykes, and Tanner stood up and hurled the packet towards the trucks.

  Shouts of alarm, a furious volley of bullets towards them, but then the TNT blew. Crouching by the wall, head down, Tanner felt the explosion and the blast of heat just forty yards away. Then there was a second, louder explosion and he peeped up to see three trucks engulfed in flames and a fireball rising behind them. Debris showered down, and then Tanner was getting to his feet and yelling at Sykes to follow. Frantically, they scrambled up the rubble-strewn rise above the quayside. Where the hell were the others? Tanner glanced back, saw the trucks still engulfed in flames and thick smoke pitching into the sky. The survivors would be getting to their feet again soon, so he hurried on, Sykes close behind him.

  ‘Here!’ called a voice, and following it, Tanner hauled himself over another pile of rubble and into the remains of a street, where dark figures now stepped towards them.

  ‘Some explosion,’ said Farrer. ‘We’re one down. McInnes.’

  ‘Damn,’ said Tanner. ‘He was a good bloke.’

  ‘Yes, but we need to hurry,’ said Farrer. ‘We’ve got forty minutes to get back.’

  They moved off again, picking their way along empty, rubble-filled streets. From the harbour, the glow of the flames flickered, and as they crested the headland above the town, they saw vehicles moving back along the road towards the town and heard motorcycles. From the end of the harbour, a searchlight made sweeps down the length of the water and the shores either side.

  The hunt is on, thought Tanner, as they stole back towards the track on which they had first entered the town. Where was that gun position? Almost immediately he saw the barrel pointing skywards, no more than sixty yards away. They kept going, Tanner wincing at the sound of every step on the still night air, convinced they would be heard at any moment. Then vehicles were heading towards them, and Farrer led them south of the track.

  ‘’Ere, sir,’ Sykes whispered to Tanner, as the others crept on. ‘You remember those Murray Switches?’

  ‘Can you set one up before that M/T reaches us?’

  Sykes glanced up the track. ‘A quarter of a mile? I reckon so.’

  ‘Come on, then.’ Cutting back to the track, they found a couple of big stones. Sykes tied one end of some fuse around the larger one, then ran it across the track to the other side, where he set the switch to its pressure mode. Checking the tension in the fuse, now some four inches off the surface of the track, and content that it was tight enough, they ran, the vehicles now no more than seventy yards away.

  They were well clear when the device blew, the explosion sending a pulse through the ground and ripping the first of the vehicles into fragments. The second, too close behind, was also engulfed in the blast. Tanner watched the Krupp truck momentarily framed in the light of the explosion before it was enveloped in flames. Burning men tumbled out on to the ground, some screaming, others already dead.

  Tanner felt a wave of nausea, then said, ‘Come on, Stan, iggery,’ and dashed away.

  They caught up with the others as they were crossing the track beside the mouth of the narrow gully that led to the sea.

  ‘We’ve got just twenty minutes,’ said Farrer.

  ‘Then let’s go straight across the headland to the coast,’ said Tanner. ‘No need to head down the gully now.’

  They ran, more intent on covering the ground as quickly as they could than worrying about making a sound. In any case, the watch they had carried out earlier in the day had not revealed any gun positions along this stretch.

  12.50. Tanner could sense the open sea not far ahead, could smell it on the light breeze wafting over the headland. His legs ached, his lungs ached, and now he stumbled and tripped. Cursing, he got to his feet once more, heard Sykes say, ‘You all right, sir?’ grunted in reply that he was, and then ran on. 12.55. They reached the coast and paused to get their bearings. Damn it, where was the cove? Had they run past it? Then de Villiers said he recognized the curve of the rocks below – they were almost there, just another hundred yards or so. 12.57. The cove was now in view, and they were scrambling down the shallow cliff towards the sea. Where’s the sodding MTB? thought Tanner, his heart sinking. Please – please don’t let it have gone.

  At that moment, the three Packard engines roared into life and there, bobbing on the water, was MTB 270. A minute later, the four men were running up the narrow gangplank from the shore.

  ‘That everyone?’ said Charteris’s familiar voice.

  ‘Yes,’ said Farrer, ‘all but McInnes. I’m afraid he bought it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Charteris, pulling in the gangplank. ‘You cut it bloody fine, though. We’d have given you one more minute. Sounded like quite a party.’

  ‘Where’s Vaughan?’ asked Tanner.

  ‘Down below,’ said Charteris. ‘Guarding our agent.’

  Tanner breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank God,’ he said. ‘We got her out all right.’

  ‘Maybe, but we’ve still got to get back to Alexandria,’ said Charteris, as they slipped out of the little cove and headed out to sea.

  ‘This mission isn’t over yet, you know. Not by any means.’

  25

  There had been some discussion as to whether the enemy would have found the explosives down at the fuel dump in light of what had followed, but a little before one thirty, when they were some ten miles east of Tobruk, they heard a low, distant explosion.

  ‘That’s got to be worth all the effort,’ grinned Farrer, as they sat below in the galley.

  ‘It will be if we get back all right,’ muttered Vaughan.

  Tanja was sitting apart from the others. She looked exhausted, Vaughan thought, and, frankly, dirty, her hair unwashed, her dress dusty and stained. The glamour she had exuded during those heady days in Cairo had gone, yet there was no doubting her beauty. Unkempt hair and clothes in need of washing could not hide it.

  He had been stunned to see her. Stunned. Dumbfounded. Literally – he’d frozen, unable to think clearly, so much so that he’d nearly bungled the entire operat
ion. It had not occurred to him for one minute that she could be anywhere other than in captivity in Cairo. But she had been released, sent back into the clutches of the enemy, a double-agent. Or was she? He hardly knew what to think now. Not just Tanja, but Maunsell, Bowlby – all of bloody SIME, for all he knew – had been using him, lying to him. He felt so let down, so betrayed. So humiliated. Now she caught his eye. A look of real sadness, of regret – except he doubted it now. All a bloody act. He looked away. He could hardly bear to see her, let alone talk to her. What was there to say, after all? He’d thought everything of her, but now there was nothing.

  And everyone bloody well knew it, too. He looked at Tanner, out of German uniform now, arms resting on his knees, staring into space, lost in thought. Christ, he’d not even spoken to Tanner yet. Barely a word had passed between them since he’d heard him whisper, ‘Ask for Tanja.’ Tanner looked at him now, as though sensing Vaughan’s eyes on him, and gave an almost imperceptible nod.

  ‘Fancy some air?’ Vaughan asked him.

  Wordlessly, Tanner followed him out of the hatch at the stern of the MTB and on to the unmanned rear deck, where they sat down on the low cabin roof. Tanner took out a packet of cigarettes, offered one to Vaughan, then lit his and offered the glowing end to light Vaughan’s. Behind them, the wake glittered and sparkled with its strange phosphorescence.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tanner, eventually.

  ‘You knew,’ said Vaughan.

  ‘I guessed.’

  ‘How, Jack? How could you possibly have guessed?’

  Tanner told him of seeing Mustafa, of following him, first through the bazaar and then on the train north to Alexandria. He told him of his fight with the man they had been hunting so long, of finding Tanja on the train and of seeing the Junkers coming to get her, of finding Maunsell at El Teirieh and the oath of silence the intelligence chief had made him and Sykes swear.

  ‘Stan was all for us telling you yesterday,’ he confessed, ‘but I reckoned there had to be a reason why they’d not told you. And I suspected it would be her, but I couldn’t say for sure.’ He turned to Vaughan. ‘I was wrong on the first point, I see that now, and wrong on the second.’