by AFN CLARKE
There was no time to think this through completely as Bill and Gerry cleared the second room, where two more guards lay sleeping. There was a small bathroom off the room and a door leading to a kitchen. We returned to the main room and Al felt around the door then placed charges against the hinges. We retired outside. Al looked at his watch and blew the door just as Danny blew the mouse-hole charge.
The steel door hung drunkenly on its hinges, beyond were stairs leading down to the next level.
Cautiously I led the way down, hugging the wall. The stairs turned to the left and I peered around the corner and stared into a empty hall like bunker that had been stripped clean of whatever had been in there. I pulled a grenade from my belt and tossed it into the hall. There was a brilliant flash and a deafening explosion followed by a cloud of smoke. Al and Bill rushed past me and down into the hall. The next minute was total confusion with shouts, screams and the sound of small arms fire.
It was all over in seconds, and Al's voice came through the earpiece.
"Clear," he said calmly.
The smoke hung in the hall like a sea fog and there were a couple of very bloody looking bodies on the floor, looking like discarded rag dolls. Bill was at the far end of the hall kneeling down beside an injured man. I went over.
It was one of the guards I had seen up at the house in Scotland.
He stared blankly at the hole in his stomach, pulling gently at the edges of the wound with blood soaked fingers.
"How do we get down into the bunker?"
The injured man looked up into my face uncomprehendingly. A bubble of blood at the corner of his mouth inflated and deflated with his breathing. The bubble burst as he opened his mouth but made no sound. The man's eyes cleared for an instant and he pointed down the hall.
"Lift shaft.... over there." He paused and sighed, then shook his head wearily. "Only way in.”
"How many people down there?”
"Don't know." He looked up again quite sharply and his eyes showed panic. So far the shock of the wound had insulated him against the pain, now he realised he was dying and the pain was beginning to seep through the jangled nerves. He coughed and a dribble of blood ran down his chin, and I watched as the eyes glazed over and the life slowly went out of him.
Gradually the sound of voices drifted into my consciousness and I turned to see Al over by the lift door. He had already prised it open and staring down the shaft.
"I'll sever the cables, we don't want the car coming up when we're going down."
I followed Bill through the hall moving from doorway to doorway, stopping at each one and throwing it open. Most of the rooms had been offices at one stage, some in the process of being rebuilt but not yet finished. We cleared them all and found nothing. Al's voice crackled through the radio again.
"OK, I’m just going to blow the cables."
There was a soft explosion and Bill and I ran to where Al was already dropping a rope into the elevator shaft.
The cable was neatly severed. Al tested that the rope was secure and then swung himself over the edge and disappeared down into the black depths. Bill and I waited. We didn't have to wait too long.
"I'm at the bottom, on top of the lift itself. It has an inspection hatch, so I can get through."
Danny's voice crackled through the earpiece. “Unit one this is two. Going in.”
"Unit one. Blockhouse is clear. Seems like there's only a skeleton crew. They're busy packing up. Now descending to lower level."
“Roger that. Entering the DU facility now. Minimal resistance.”
Once we were underground our communications would be cut off from the other unit.
“Gerry stay up here so we can communicate with Danny.”
I followed Bill down the rope and landed on top of the elevator.
"Hold it. There's movement down here." Al whispered his voice low and urgent.
I heard it too, just a faint sound that didn't seem as if it came directly from below us but a bit further away, which meant the elevator door was open. We had no choice but to take a peek.
I slowly lifted the maintenance hatch and looked inside. It was empty, but the door was open and I could the sound of distant voices down a corridor.
Bill swung down inside the elevator just as Al slid down the rope. I swung myself down and together Bill and I cautiously peered into the corridor. I could see a couple of Marika Keskküla's personal guards waiting for us and tossed a grenade into the corridor. The explosion was incredibly loud in the confined space. Dust and debris swirled around and the lights flickered.
I could hear a low moaning and cry of pain. I followed Al and Bill out of the elevator into the corridor. The bodies of the two bodyguards lay on the floor five metres down the corridor that led to a door that was hanging off its hinges. Beyond I could see a short corridor with two doors leading off and one at the far end. Bill and Al were already halfway down. Working together they fired through the first door and then burst in. They were out within a few seconds and dealt with the other door the same way. That left the one at the end.
I followed behind as they carefully approached the door. It was rather like the twin doors of a lift shaft and Al extended his hand toward the button on the right hand side. I was still down by the carnage caused by the grenade and was just about to join them when the doors at the end sprang open with a swiftness that surprised us.
Al didn’t stand a chance and was cut to pieces by the fusillade that issued from the barrel of the sub-machine gun held by a man in the room. Bill was just too late diving for cover and was hit in the upper chest. I felt a bang on the side of my head and everything went black for a moment or two. I fell forward, crashing against the already shredded door and rolled onto the floor to come up against the body of one of the guards.
The rattle of machine guns died away, to be replaced by the insistent voice of Gerry in my ear.
"What's going on down there?"
I collected my senses and glanced up the corridor. Al was a crumpled heap on the floor,
Bill had pulled himself back into one of the doorways. He was injured but moving.
"Gerry, get down here, but be careful. Al's dead and Bill's hurt. Relay the information to Danny."
"Roger. Just watch yourself."
I was partly hidden by the door that had fallen off the top hinge and lay in front of me. Now that I was the only one able to do anything about the guy in the room up ahead, I felt suddenly calm and in control. There must be a CCTV camera in the wall somewhere for the bodyguard to know exactly when we would be in front of the door, but where I had no idea. The wall opposite was a blank apart from those sliding doors and there was nothing on this side. Bill lay half in and half out of the door on the left-hand side.
"Bill, can you hear me?" There was no reaction. "Gerry, I think Bill's radio must have been hit. I can see him moving but he can't hear anything. Wait a minute he's trying to signal."
Bill was making a gesture of some sort. He was pointing.
"Gerry, you can come on down. I know where the camera is."
Moments later, Gerry appeared in the lift car. He joined me and was about to go forward to look at Peter when I stopped him.
"No. The camera is above this door looking down the corridor." I moved forward and peered up at the wall above the door. There it was. I took my balaclava off with my other hand and put it over the lens, then went up to check on Bill. As I did so, Gerry ran forward and flattened himself against the wall at the far end beside the door.
"I’m OK. One round clipped my shoulder the other hit the radio. Just get in there and get the bastard," he said, gritted his teeth against the pain.
I joined Gerry and he pressed the button. The door shot open and a hail of bullets poured from the submachine gun of the guard inside the room. Bob rolled in a grenade and we flattened ourselves against the wall as the explosion ripped through the room. We both rolled into the room as dust boiled from the door, going on opposite sides. The guard was dead, th
rown against the wall by the blast, beyond him another door badly damaged and hanging from its hinges.
In the second office, Marika Keskküla stood beside an incongruously large mahogany 'Partner's' desk smiling from behind armoured glass, now pockmarked from bullet strikes and shrapnel. She looked as calm and beautiful as if she was ready to attend a formal cocktail party, dressed in her familiar black suit with string of black pearls at her throat.
“Mr Gunn. We meet again.”
I knew that firing at the glass would be futile so lowered my gun and walked slowly forward.
I didn't take my eyes off her. “Gerry, secure the building, and get Danny down here.” He ran off down the dust filled corridor. “There is no way out, Mrs Keskküla.”
She smiled even more, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Do not be too sure about that. And please, call me Marika.” She walked around from behind the desk and approached the glass that separated us, placing her index finger on it, tracing the outline of my face, now just inches away.
“I could use someone like you in my organisation. Someone with your skills, to share my, how shall I say, assets.” She looked me up and down somewhat coyly. Teasing. Appraising.
“I don't need the money.”
“Who’s talking about money?”
“Power?”
“It certainly has its attractions. But no, I like adventure. Life can be so boring, don't you think?”
Marika Keskküla's eyes narrowed at a sound behind me and I saw Danny’s reflection in the glass.
“What's going on Thomas?”
“All clear at the facility?”
“Secure and ready for detonation.”
I smiled at Marika. “Your finished here Mrs Keskküla. Your enterprise is over.”
Rage flooded across her face, directed mostly at Danny, then she turned her glittering eyes on me. “You cannot take away what is in my head.” She smiled brittlely. “And there is always a price to pay, Thomas.” She turned and walked back to the desk, reached down and picked up a small remote device, turned and raised it. “Such a pity.”
Danny grabbed me and bundled me out of the room ahead of him just as the explosion ripped through the room from the small mine. It threw us against the far wall of the corridor. I lay stunned, shrapnel wounds to my left arm and cuts on my face and left leg. Danny lay beside me moaning softly. I reached across and rolled him over.
It was bad. He had taken most of the blast saving my life.
“That wasn't such a good idea was it mate,” he murmured softly.
“Gerry,” I shouted. “Danny's been hit.” I looked back into Marika Keskküla's office but there was sign of her. “Tell Paul to check out the submarine pen, the Keskküla woman may have an escape boat or something.”
“Well this is fucked-up isn't it mate?” Danny muttered, his eyes trying to focus on my face.
“It’s not the movies, Danny. That's for sure.”
“That's a fact,” he said softly. “God it's cold in here.”
It wasn't.
The air conditioning in the bunker kept the temperature at a steady 72°F, but Danny was bleeding out and I knew the feeling as the cold overwhelmed your body, and that almost peaceful strange sense of everything slipping slowly away crept across your mind.
Except for the pain.
He groaned and I pulled out a morphine ampoule stuck the needle in his leg. After a moment he calmed down and smiled.
“Stay with me Thomas.”
“Never going to leave you Danny. And shut the fuck up, save your strength.”
He giggled and closed his eyes. “Whatever you say, Boss.”
Gerry helped me carry Danny along the corridor that led to a second elevator he had discovered. Once we had loaded Danny in, we went back for Al. It took less than fifteen seconds to reach ground level.
“Nothing in the sub pen, Thomas,” Paul's voice crackled over the radio.
“Meet us at the blockhouse door.”
“Roger.”
The helicopter arrived on time, landing on the roof of the submarine pen. I climbed in and helped as Gerry and Paul passed up Al's body and then gently loaded Danny on board. The rest of team followed, and within moments we were airborne. Dawn crept slowly across the sky as flames and small explosions destroyed what was left of Marika Keskküla's arms facility.
Danny lay in my arms, pale, shivering with cold even though we had wrapped him in survival blankets. He looked at me, urgency in his eyes.
“Watch your back, Thomas. Radley's not your friend. He runs the Increment.” The rest of the Team looked at each other as if they had suspected all along.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I'm bloody sure, these men here are the only friends you've got,” he shouted, the effort making him cough up more blood. “Don't forget your promise,” he said fiercely grasping my arm. “The kids. My sister.”
“I promise.”
He relaxed, smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. “We had good times, Thomas. Good times.”
“Yes we did.”
He opened his eyes and I knew he was slipping away. Then he started to sing, staring at me intently, gripping my arm.
“Over in Killarney, many years ago
My mother sang a song to me
In tones so sweet and low.”
He sang softly, slowly and I joined in as the helicopter clattered through the lightning sky, and death slowly crept over him.
“Just a simple little ditty
In her good old Irish way
And I'd give the world if she could sing
That song to me this day.”
The rest of the team joined in on the chorus as Danny died in my arms, the words drifting from his lips in that last gasp breath.
“Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don't you cry!
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that's an Irish lullaby.”
I held him as tears coursed down my face, and we continued to sing, softly, a gentle anthem to our fallen brothers.
NINETEEN
Radley's men were dismantling their equipment when we arrived back at the Hall. The bodies of Danny and Al were taken off the helicopter and driven away, and I knew that their families would be notified that they had been killed in an 'accident'. Nobody would ever know the real circumstances of their courageous deaths. It is the nature of Special Forces in peacetime. To the rest of the world, we were non-existent.
Ron and George were busy helping the technicians load the vans in the driveway.
The coup in Pakhia had been averted. Marika Keskküla's DU ammunition enterprise destroyed, the ISEC headquarters in Scotland euphemistically 'under investigation' and Hamish McDougall had apparently tended his resignation to the Prime Minister.
But, in spite of this I knew that for me, this was not over. Mary had been admitted to a private psychiatric hospital as she had descended into a catatonic state. The prognosis was not encouraging. My family and my life had been destroyed and I still had a score to settle.
Julie was sombre, uncommunicative, which was understandable under the circumstances. She had grown fond of Danny. I was in pain, tired, hungry and needed a plan.
“Some of the information we pulled off the ISEC systems server was quite interesting, including names of some people I know. Particularly General the Lord Dalton Percy, who has been in my cross hairs for quite some time,” Radley was saying, standing at the end of the kitchen watching as Paul, myself and the remainder of the team ate ravenously, polishing off plates full of filet mignon with asparagus and croquet potatoes, washing it down with several bottles of 1986 Chateau Pétrus from Calder Hall's cellar.
Wealth has some advantages and I am a pretty good cook given a decent kitchen and access to the best ingredients. I wondered how much longer this would last. I was a ticking bomb to Radley, with almost unlimited funds, and he wouldn't want me shadowing his every move
.
Julie sat watching us, observing, assessing, distant.
“He has been known to lobby for military contracts for certain less than savoury dealers representing dubious Governments, and on several occasions had meetings in Rome with Marika Keskküla.”
“Supplementing his meagre pension no doubt,” Paul commented dryly.
“Interesting family background. His grandfather was originally from County Donegal. Owned a property that was once a Knights Templar castle.”
“I smell conspiracy theory.”
“Maybe,” Radley carried on ignoring the comments. “But when you put together young Mrs Keskküla, certain Generals with access to Government Ministers, such as Hamish McDougall, with a factory in Belfast making DU ammunition and a coup attempt in a foreign country, then we certainly have cause to suspect an international conspiracy of some sort. The Belfast facility was to provide DU ammunition to an ultra right wing Protestant group, with the aim of wiping out all the opposition. The idea being to create instability and force the Government to increase security measures within the UK.”
“Just what the British National Independent Party wants.”
“Precisely. And now we can thwart their plans.”
“Status quo.”
“There are worse things.”
“And me?” I asked pointedly.
“Her Majesty's Government thanks you for your duty.”
“And now you'd like me to gracefully disappear.”
“It would be best. The people responsible for your father's death are dead, or at the very least incapacitated....”
“I'm not finished yet.”
“Yes you are. This was never your own personal revenge mission, Mr Gunn.”
“Thomas,” Julie's voice cut through the charged atmosphere. “It's over. You've done all you can. It's over.”
