Akosua roved her scope over the grounds, taking note of the smoke and flames that had started to lick from the windows of the farmhouse. Just as they had departed, a couple of Molotov cocktails had been thrown into the downstairs rooms, an effort to hamper any subsequent forensic examination by the authorities.
'Sir!' she breathlessly exclaimed. 'They have Ramsey!'
Rey paused for an instant as the words sunk in, then jerking his rifle to scan the farmhouse with his scope, he suddenly saw two SAS troopers dragging a body between them, out and away from the scorching incineration that was now devouring the whole building.
'They must have managed to do a quick sweep before the fire took hold properly,' Akosua uttered, 'it looks like he is still alive.'
Rey gritted his teeth and agitatedly tightened his grip on his rifle, inwardly swearing to himself. As he homed in on the couple of men dragging and pulling Ramsey's body across the snow away from the inferno that had developed, he saw them drop him to the ground and crouch down. The injured man rolled over, his arm moving up to his head as he lolled about.
'Fuck it!' Rey spat. 'FUCK IT!'
He watched for a moment and then squeezed his trigger, a volley of shots that kicked up the soil and snow about Ramsey's body, sending the troopers diving away for cover. As Cohen and Akosua looked on aghast at the scene through their rifle scopes, they saw the head of their comrade abruptly and violently snapped back as a bullet finally blasted into his forehead.
Cohen tried to say something but nothing came out, Akosua became impassive and simply nodded at the action that Rey had taken.
'Move it!' Rey growled.
Seeing Rey's trailing Land Rover skid away from where it had attempted to pick up the GPMG team, Private Banks revved the engine of the Jackal to move on again. Just as he nosed the big vehicle forwards the ratcheting sound of automatic fire burst from the trees ahead and to the left and right of the track, raking the front armour and drumming across the metalwork.
In order to prevent any breakout via the rear of the farm compound, a detachment of Royal Marines had been called in from HM Naval Base Clyde, the headquarters of the Royal Navy in Scotland just twenty-five miles north-west of Glasgow. The team had set-up an ambush at the crest of the hill and was now intent on stopping the convoy before it could get away into the forest.
Loftus hastily swivelled the big 12.7mm heavy machine gun on its turret and blasted rounds in reply, sweeping the area in bursts of fire. Private Wilson cast aside the RPG launcher and threw a couple of fragmentation grenades into the tree line watching them blow funnels of debris into the air just as the first Land Rover caught up and swerved around the body of the Jackal, its occupants leaning out and joining in the melee as best they could.
Cruising up to the top of the hill, Akosua punched the 4x4 forwards as it rapidly became apparent that a situation was developing up ahead.
'Pull up alongside the Jackal,' commanded Rey, 'we have to keep moving or we'll have those helos back onto us, we're sitting ducks here!'
She skidded the heavy car around the hastily drawn up vehicles that effectively blocked the track and beeped madly on the horn to attract some attention. Loftus looked over and saw Rey waving that they should move forwards and he immediately took the hint.
'RPG into the trees on the left!' he bellowed to Wilson, who ducked down to retrieve the rocket launcher at her feet.
Loftus fired a sustained volley into the trees on the right hand side of the track, the withering cascade of shells ensuring that the Royal Marines could only duck and seek cover, providing an opportunity for Wilson to fire off an anti-personnel grenade to subdue their oppressors even further.
'Go!' Rey yelled at Akosua as the explosion threw up a massive spray of snow and dirt, although she needed no instruction to grab the opportunity to move forwards.
The convoy accelerated forwards again, lumping and bumping through the line of fire that was supposed to have contained them, although no-one had foreseen the presence of such heavy weaponry.
'Who the hell provided the slime on this?' Captain Lewis growled over his intercom, referring to the intelligence that had been supplied to him. 'I want them stopped before they can get to the road, take them out now!'
As the track progressed, the trees grew denser but the speeding vehicles kept pushing their way forwards, leaves and spindly branches whipping at the sides of the cars and whacking into the much bigger Jackal as it barged through.
As they eventually neared the tree line that marked the southern perimeter of the forest, Rey leaned out and signalled for them to slow down and stop.
All three vehicles skidded to a halt next to each other, and Rey quickly shouted up to Loftus.
'The helos are above us, tracking us, the canopy is too thick for them to get us here but as soon as we're out in the open they'll try to take us out. We'll go first and provide a target for them, I want you to follow up and take them down, fire everything you've got into them.'
Loftus nodded and grinned.
'Cohen!' Rey called through his side window back to the flat-bed of the 4x4. 'You'd better get out, this could turn nasty.'
The Private clambered out and banged the side of the cab as a mark of finality, nodding as Rey caught his eye.
Rey buckled himself into his full harness safety belt and just jerked his head at Akosua; she set her face into an expression of grim determination and abruptly engaged the clutch to make the car jerk forwards toward the strip of light that marked the edge of the forest and the beginning of the open terrain beyond.
As they accelerated clear of the tree line a helicopter immediately swooped in and took a line behind the 4x4. Bouncing over the rough ground, Akosua was aiming for a road that ran west to east and which offered a clear route to their agreed fall-back position. Although she could see the helicopter intermittently bobbing about in the door mirror as it weaved after them, she was aware of the faint hiss of a rocket being launched before she saw the rapidly approaching smoke trail catching up with them.
Akosua tried to swerve the 4x4 but the steering wheel was suddenly wrenched from her grasp as the vehicle bucked and then jumped, rotating onto its side before it crashed down and skidded to a halt in the snow. Although both occupants remained strapped into their seats, they took a dazed moment to grasp the reality of their current situation, finally understanding that they had been hit.
Rey's moment of comprehension was broken by the cracking thud of heavy machine gun fire and he realised that Loftus was hammering their attacker. A sudden explosion marked a turning point in the aural battle as the whine of an engine became the predominant sound, the waxing and waning of the Doppler effect on the sound of the rotor blades illustrating that the helicopter was flying a wholly irregular flight path.
Now hanging from her seat closet to the ground, Akosua groaned and slapped the heel of her hand against the release catch of her safety harness, immediately dropping before she had a chance to support her weight against the inevitable pull of gravity.
'Are you hurt?' Rey asked as he looked about the cabin for a hand hold to pull himself up by.
'Yes, I'm bloody hurt!' Akosua moaned irritably, groaning as she manoeuvred herself to plant her feet on the driver's door and actually stand up in the cabin.
'Seriously?' Rey asked anxiously.
'No,' she exhaled dourly, 'but I feel like I've been kicked in the backside by a horse.'
'Come on,' Rey chided, 'you climb out first and then I can get out.'
Akosua and Rey exited their overturned vehicle and bundled into the back of the remaining Land Rover that had hastily pulled up, lumping down onto the bench seat before they could take a good look around at the remnants of the crew.
'Where is everybody?' Akosua blurted out before she caught herself, suddenly realising what the implication was.
Private Joanna Moore coughed and leaned forwards.
'Banks, Wilson and Stiles are in with Sergeant Loftus, although I think that Stiles may have
been hit. Carlton was driving us but he was killed when we had the fire-fight at the hill. Corporal Hunt had to let him out when she took over. I don't know about the others.'
'Hurst and Ball were hit as they tried to join up with us,' Rey said in a low voice. 'Sniper fire. We lost Ramsey at the farm.'
Akosua looked sharply at him but said nothing.
In spite of the noise of the engine revving loudly as the Land Rover bounded over the last of the rough ground to the road, a silence descended upon the cabin as it became apparent that they had lost four or five team members.
'I suppose that considering the circumstances, we should count ourselves lucky,' Moore offered.
Rey nodded but looked earnest.
'It isn't over yet.'
The diminished convoy of two vehicles raced west along the tarmac of the road, leading them to a T-Junction where they turned sharply south, the picturesque view over Loch Nell all but ignored in the hasty bid to get out of the area as quickly as possible. Driving for half a kilometre on the smooth surface, the Land Rover and Jackal abruptly veered off onto rough ground for a short cut and started heading directly west.
Captain Lewis was faced with a stark reality; he had already lost two helicopters to rocket propelled grenades and although the crews had sustained no injuries during the attacks or their subsequent emergency landings, he could not risk another confrontation. The terrorists were now approaching the edges of the suburban areas of Oban itself and if they choose to head north they would be right into the town itself within a matter of minutes. A group of terrorists escaping was one thing, but an army helicopter crashing onto a local housing estate was a completely different ball game.
Inside, he was fuming that the intelligence he had been provided with made no mention of the possibility of such significant weaponry or resistance. Even with the extra precautions he had taken in - calling in a Royal Marine detachment - their preparations had been overtaken by the reality of events.
He had ordered the remaining helo to follow the two remaining vehicles from a close distance and had contacted his superiors, suggesting that a Typhoon FGR4 air-strike be launched from RAF Leuchars near to Dundee, assuring a direct hit and an end to the fiasco that was developing.
As it was, he was still waiting for a confirmation - it was not just the army top brass that was involved in the decision making process. He was aware that COBRA, the facility housing the Civil Contingencies Committee had been involved and it was inevitable that a delay would be introduced to their tactical decision making ability.
'Vehicles have entered a large forested area approximately one click south-west of Soroba, two clicks from the west coast,' reported the pilot of the helicopter to Captain Lewis through his intercom. 'They have stopped and appear to be digging in, they've deployed smoke and I cannot see them now, they may be making a last stand as they have nowhere else to go. You can't miss them, just follow the smoke.'
Captain Lewis grinned tightly and allowed himself to imagine that his luck may have just changed.
'Converge on last known location, take all appropriate measures to kill or capture targets.'
In spite of his order, it was a foregone conclusion that all of the terrorists would be killed. The opportunity to take even one prisoner had long since passed and especially since they had clearly demonstrated their own intentions when they had shot one of their own as he was being dragged from the burning farmhouse. The terrorists would probably commit suicide before they allowed themselves to be caught alive.
It had taken a good fifteen minutes for the SAS and Royal Marines to redeploy, forming a tight perimeter around the last redoubt of the terrorists. Captain Lewis had no worry that his targets had managed to flee the area; the eye in the sky had been watching their impromptu encampment the whole time and he eyed his troops surrounding the area, looking long and hard at the abandoned vehicles that had been urgently drawn up next to what appeared to be a crater in the middle of the forest.
Even at the distance he stood from the pit, he could see a couple of Claymore mines jabbed into the ground around the rim and the experience back at the farmhouse had engendered a deliberately cautious approach.
It was clear that the terrorists had descended a large rock shaft that appeared to have been carved out of the ground. It could easily have been a Neolithic flint mine, a simple excavation pit dug down over five thousand years ago to provide access to the raw material so suitable for knapping into blades and arrow heads. Equally, it may have been a much more recent attempt to mine gold deposits in the locale. Either way, nothing was moving apart from a few ropes swaying in the wind as they hung down into the gradually dissipating smoke composition that the terrorists had deployed.
It took a further ten minutes to move up to the edge of the crater, taking care of the anti-personnel mines dotted about the lip. The floor of the rock hole was out of sight, still covered by a thin layer of white and red smoke such that it appeared to be bottomless. If it had been situated near to Loch Ness it would have been all too easy to consider it as the grim lair of some macabre beast.
Whatever the case, it was obvious that there was some kind of recess at the bottom that could provide some cover, the entrance obscured by the a layer of smoke that sat like a rising mist, concealing the remaining terrorists and enabling them to shoot up at anything that peeped over the edge down into the hole in the ground. The terrorists had resorted to a last stand; they would either die by their own hands or at the behest of the forces now surrounding them.
Captain Lewis crawled up to the edge and looked down, mildly aware of something was nagging at the back of his mind as he gave his next order.
'Drop down as much CR gas as we have and anything that coughs, sneezes or vomits, kill it!'
He had considered that the terrorists may have been issued with gas masks and so after the CR gas had effectively dissipated, a few incendiary and fragmentation grenades had been dropped down for good measure, however, apart from a few flying shards of rock, nothing had moved or made a sound.
Calculating that the enemy they had been baiting down at the bottom of the stone burrow had been holed up for just over half an hour and that they had probably decided to commit group suicide by the blade since they had not heard a single shot, Captain Lewis suddenly grasped the flitting suspicion that had been buzzing about in the back of his mind.
'Is this a pit or cave entrance?'
The question had come too late. The half hour stand-off had been enough for Rey's team to traverse just over a kilometre on foot to exit on the west coast, although hidden underground for the entire journey, their escape route being a narrow natural tunnel formed aeons ago in the rock beneath the earth's surface.
It may well have been a prehistoric lava tube but was most likely a tectonic cave created over thousands of years. Seismic movement, glaciers and free running water had carved a valley like a jagged slash in the earth and over time the base had filled with rocks and debris but the stream of water had continued to flow, digging out a tunnel beneath the roof of boulders. After the ice age had passed, the stream had dried up and after the protective blanket of ice had receded the surface was once again exposed to the elements, the rocky valley floor being covered by soil carried on the wind and small boulders rattling down from the valley walls above, eventually creating a firmament that allowed a forest to grow over it to completely obscure the secret tunnel hidden well below.
Having reconnoitred the route with Loftus during their previous visits, Rey knew that it provided an excellent means of escape should the worst case scenario happen and as it dawned on the SAS Captain that he had lost his prey, Rey's team had already exited the cave tunnel near the Sound of Lorn.
Quickly launching an 8.5m Avon Rigid Inflatable Boat that they had prepared for such a circumstance, they cast off into the cold but clear waters that lapped against the sandy shore, easily pushing off into the shallows and engaging the supercharged engine mated to a jet drive with no fear of a prop fouling
against the seabed. As they sped across the waves, bouncing and dipping through the peaks and troughs, Rey had seen a trawler chugging over from its previous mooring off Gylen Castle on the Island of Kerrera.
It took a few minutes to cover the couple of nautical miles to the arranged rendezvous point and as the inflatable neared the side of the aged hulk that represented their final transport to safety a familiar figure appear on deck, dressed in the archetypal clothing of a sea fisherman, right down to his Wellington boots.
'Meneer Faber,' Frans called out from the bow rail of the trawler as he waved a hand in greeting, 'sorry dat ik laat ben!'
Chapter XXXI
Your taxi is waiting -
A German police officer had provided Jolene, Jackson and Dale with an impromptu guided tour of the floors of Burg Linn on the outskirts of Krefeld, detailing the escape path that Gertrude Verker had followed to freedom. As they walked through the large medieval complex, it was apparent that there was scant evidence of the Sun of the Sleepless and it was clear that the castle had simply been used as a convenient temporary holding place for the girl, an ideal location to keep her out of sight as they held her against her will.
The terrorists that had guarded her were long gone and the only indications of their activities were the hastily installed wireless video cameras placed in one of the delegate's suites and an impromptu security station set-up just outside of the door.
The tradesmen who had been working on the building renovations, electricians, plumbers, bricklayers and plasterers had given preliminary statements but they knew nothing of the guests staying in the top floor - their own working instructions had prohibited them from wandering up to the bedroom apartments and they could provide nothing of substance concerning the activities of what they assumed were guests of the museum authorities.
Sun of the Sleepless Page 51
