by Robin Crumby
“If you’re going to vomit, make sure you do it downwind, can you?” shouted Jones, leaning in next to him.
“I’m not a complete lightweight. Just give me a minute,” he replied, gulping air to try and regain control.
“Good signal sir,” said the man on the radio. “Trying again now. Chester, Chester, this is Guardian Angel.”
“Reading you loud and clear Guardian Angel. Go ahead.”
“Requesting fire support mission. Target coordinates,” he said flicking his head torch on and double-checking the map reference in the plastic pouch on his lap, “Zulu One-Seven, Charlie One-Two.” The radio operator flicked his head back at Jones who nodded in agreement to confirm the order.
“Copy. Target co-ordinates are Zulu One-Seven, Charlie One-Two,” repeated the voice of the radio. There was a small delay before he continued, “Guardian Angel, that’s showing on my screen as a friendly target.”
“Confirm, we have eyes on the target. No civilians in these zones. Request non-lethal rounds only. Smoke and phosphorous.”
“Copy, Guardian Angel. Will need clearance from the CO. Hold in position.”
***
Terra was bored and tired. They had been cooped up in front of the castle for the last two hours. The driver had turned the engine off to conserve fuel which meant the temperature inside the truck had plummeted. Despite Briggs’ bravado, there was no sign of progress. She was beginning to think she should just curl up and try to get some sleep. The driver and passenger door opened simultaneously and Briggs and Copper got back in, bringing with them an icy blast of freezing night air.
“Are we going to be here much longer?” asked Terra, unable to resist a yawn.
“Let’s hope not,” replied Victor contemptuously. “We’ve left them no option. They’re surrounded, cut-off from their chain of command. They’ll come to their senses and agree terms.”
“Not if Jack and his team have anything to do with it,” cautioned Copper.
Terra sat up hearing Jack’s name, suddenly spying an opportunity.
“Why don’t you let me speak to Jack? I could talk him round. He’d listen to me.”
The three men turned to face Terra, with obvious suspicion.
“I bet she could as well,” said Briggs with a knowing smile, before seeming to dismiss the idea. “No, we’ll keep you in reserve for now. I reckon they’re ready to throw in the towel. They don’t want a fight.”
Just then, from behind them came a terrifying sound that seemed to split the air. There was a ground-shaking explosion towards the end of the spit that lit up the castle and the interior of the vehicle, dazzling all of them.
“What the hell was that?”
“That was no mortar round. That was a round from the Chester. What the hell are they doing? Victor, you said they wouldn’t risk collateral damage.”
“Looks like we underestimated them,” said Victor, cowering in the back.
“Any casualties?” asked Copper winding down his window and speaking to one of his men from the hospital.
“Maybe it was a warning shot. It was way down the spit, beyond where those animals are. There was no impact, perhaps it was a dummy round.”
“They’re not targeting us, they’re trying to start a panic, a stampede.”
With a deafening screech, another round landed near the East jetty in a fireball that they felt as well as heard, so close to them. This time, debris rained down around them on the roofs of cars, sending the refugees running screaming for cover. The bombardment was closer this time, perhaps designed to scatter the crowds further away from the castle.
Above the screams of those outside running in all directions, Terra could hear something else. Terrified animals were whinnying and lowing, desperate to escape the small enclosure behind the lighthouse. She noticed many of the refugees were surging closer to the castle walls. Others were already running headlong back towards the spit and the safety of Milford village, leaving behind everything they had brought with them.
Another explosion landed even closer, no more than a hundred yards from the lighthouse, smoke spreading out towards them before dissipating in the night breeze.
The next round seemed to land in the surf, sending spray high into the air. Terra didn’t know what to think. There was widespread panic all around them. Their driver jumped back into the vehicle and started the engine, slamming the gear stick into reverse.
“Hey, where are we going?” asked Briggs.
“If we stay here, we’re going to get hit. They’re getting closer. We need to pull out.”
“We’re not leaving. That’s exactly what they want us to do. Get in closer to the walls. They’re not going to risk hitting the castle.”
“The rest of them are scattering.”
“Fools. It’s a diversion, nothing more. They’re trying to drive us away. Get the men back to their stations. Keep watching the beach.”
“They’re all running away boss.”
“Fine, I’ll do it myself. Copper, bring your men.”
***
When the first round landed behind the castle, Zed stood up and cheered, almost losing his balance before sitting down again. It was a magnificent sight. The sky lit up in a blinding explosion that framed the castle and the lighthouse, like a grand fireworks display.
As they got closer, through the scope fixed to his helmet, Zed could make out half a dozen men on the beach looking around them nervously, their focus gone. The sniper beside him fired two shots, no longer worried about stealth or surprise, taking out two of the armed men. The rest looked around in panic trying to locate the R.I.Bs in the darkness. They didn’t have long to wait.
The two assault craft raced in at twenty knots as the two men kneeling on the bow of each boat opened up with their HK MP5 submachine guns, raking the beach and scattering the defenders. By the time they cut their engines and surfed the last few meters in, most of the defenders had run away or were lying wounded in the breaking waves.
The first boat bumped aground and Zed saw the men on the bow jump down scanning left and right covering the beach. The rest of the civilians were already waiting their turn at the top of the rope. As soon as they got the all-clear, the first of them lowered themselves over the side of the wall. Zed couldn’t tell who it was from below. They waved them down one after another until the first boat was full.
The second R.I.B had just landed when the water around the boat seemed to come alive as bullets landed all around them. There was a hiss of air escaping from one of the inflatable panels near the stern. It had narrowly missed one of the engines. Looking east, Zed could now see a small group of Briggs’ men taking up positions, firing blindly towards them.
Jones’s men returned fire, keeping their heads down as they waved three more down the shingle and into the waiting boat. A hail of bullets ripped up the beach, ricocheting off the brickwork and sparking off the pebbles. Zed was still looking up anxiously for Riley when, to his relief, he recognised a female shape coming down the rope. It had to be her. She was the only woman left in the place. He watched nervously as she lowered herself over the edge. In her haste, her boot seemed to lose grip and slip from a protruding stone. Her body rotated round and crashed against the wall. She fell the last ten feet, landing awkwardly, twisting her ankle and falling painfully on her hip.
One of the soldiers stumbled up the beach to help her but went down clutching his shoulder, just above the Kevlar body armour he was wearing. Jones was waving them on, shouting at one of his men to go help. There were now shots coming from the other boat which was safely away and providing covering fire to the men on the beach. Copper’s men were well dug in, advancing from cover towards them, diving behind groynes and rocks as they fought their way closer.
“Keep firing,” shouted Briggs. “Keep their heads down.”
Seeing Riley lying prone on the ground, shielding her head from the bullets, something in Zed snapped. He was tired of feeling like a spare wheel.
He
threw himself over the side. Misjudging the depth of the water, he found himself immersed up to his chest. The cold stole his breath away. He steadied himself, holding on tightly to the side of the R.I.B as his feet slipped on the shingle, trying to gain purchase.
His good hand reached for the Colt pistol, wrestling with the Velcro loop securing it to the holster in the Kevlar chest plate. He lowered the night vision scope again and scanned for targets. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust.
He was suddenly knocked off balance. A bullet seemed to glance off his helmet, dislodging his scope, which clattered on the ground next to him. He ripped the helmet from his head and was relieved to find he was unharmed. When he looked up again, Riley was right in front of him, flattening herself to the wall.
He levered her up with his stump and helped her down the beach towards the waiting boat. Another volley of bullets ripped up the shingle around them and she stumbled again, clutching her calf in agony.
“Come on, Riley. I can’t carry you.”
She was crying, gasping in pain. She could barely walk and limping heavily, supported by Zed. With only one good hand, he found it impossible to keep the weapon raised and pointed towards the muzzle flashes along the beach.
As they approached the boat, Jones’s men seemed to intensify their covering fire, seeing their struggle. Zed deposited Riley with her back against the side of the boat, raising his weapon again, scanning for targets.
Without his support, she tumbled backwards over the side of the boat and onto the rigid fibreglass floor. For a second, she disappeared from view and Zed threw himself in on top of her as bullets tore up the rubber surround of the R.I.B.
“Time to go, time to go,” shouted Jones.
They pushed off and accelerated backwards against the breaking surf. Waves swamped over the back of the boat and covered Zed and Riley in freezing cold seawater before they could lever themselves up on their knees.
As they reversed away from the beach, Zed could see more figures lowering themselves down the rope but they were too late. Briggs’ men were advancing up the beach towards their landing area. He took stock of those around him in the boat. Jones was breathing heavily but seemed to be unharmed. They had three additional male passengers who all looked terrified and soaking wet. In all the confusion, Zed realised that Jack was not amongst them. He was still back on the beach.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Jack cursed his luck, watching the R.I.B reverse away from the beach. He heaved his large frame up the rope, hand over hand, until, to his surprise, he came face to face with Flynn. Flynn had his arms crossed, dumbfounded to see Jack and the others still here.
Flynn reached down and helped him the rest of the way, until he flopped over, exhausted, trying to catch his breath.
“What are you doing still here?”
“There was no time. Riley and the rest of them made it out though.”
Once Jack had mastered his breathing, he sat up and counted heads. There were still twelve of them left behind, stuck at the castle, waiting to be rescued.
He smiled at Sam and Nathan, grateful for their loyalty. Will and Scottie had also volunteered to stay behind, along with a few others closest to Jack.
“Joe got away, so that’s one less thing to worry about. Sister Theodora can sing for her supper now.”
“She won’t give up you know,” warned Tommy. “She’ll blame the rest of you for,” he waved his hands, searching for the right expression, “obstructing justice, or something.”
“She can try,” shrugged Jack. “Have you managed to get hold of Captain Armstrong yet?”
“We’re still trying, but all we’re getting’s static. We’ve tested all the equipment. There are no problems this end.”
“Could something have happened in Portsmouth?”
“Maybe Lymington and Southampton are under attack too?”
“I doubt it. It would take a massive coordinated effort for an attack of that scale. I’m not convinced Briggs has that kind of clout, or not yet anyway. Besides, I’ve never known Armstrong not to maintain radio contact. They just installed that new transmitter in Southampton the other week to boost the signal.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. Nothing seems to be getting through.”
“Could someone be jamming our signal?” asked Will.
“Unlikely, I don’t see how, unless…”
“Go on Sergeant.”
“You mentioned that some of these guys used to be CID and local law enforcement. Some of those anti-terrorist teams might have access to fairly sophisticated tech that could disrupt mobile signals. It’s possible that someone with a bit of hardware and programming skills could modify the frequencies and disrupt our military communications, but I’d say it’s unlikely.”
“Anything we can do about it?”
“Well, those hand-held walkie talkies should still work. They use traditional maritime frequencies, so if we have the range we might be able to relay a message via the Americans. It’s worth a try. But remember, we’re on an open channel. They’ll hear every word. Be careful.”
“Even if we can get a message through, what can Armstrong do? It would take hours to get another team up here by boat. Lymington is closer but they’re a small detachment, like us. I’d say we’re on our own for now.”
“We’re in your hands, Flynn.”
“If you’re right Jack, the prisoner is what this is really all about. They’re here for him. So really, there are only two things we can do. Hold out till the morning or hand him over before anyone else gets killed. That’s probably the least worst solution.”
“We open those gates and we’re all dead, you realise that?”
“Don’t be so dramatic Will,” reassured Jack. “The Sergeant’s right. Let’s just give them what they want. It’s the only way,” he shrugged.
***
Briggs was growing impatient. It was well after two in the morning and Victor’s whole plan seemed to be unravelling. The firefight on the beach had closed off Hurst’s escape route once more, but had come at a heavy cost. Two of Copper’s men were badly injured and another two boatloads had got away, from right under their noses.
Terra could tell he was fuming. Someone would pay before the night was out, that was certain. For some reason, they had underestimated the Allied response. They had never foreseen the intervention of the Americans. The bombardment of the beach and landing area had taken them all by surprise. Terra’s ears were still ringing. Her left hand was still trembling from the explosions so close at hand. She imagined this was what American military planners meant by “shock and awe”.
“Stay as close to the castle walls as you can. They won’t risk killing their own people,” reassured Briggs.
As they walked back from the beach towards the waiting vehicles, an old man wrapped in a threadbare blanket had the audacity to stand in their path and address Briggs.
“How much longer do we have to wait for them to open the gates?”
Briggs stopped mid-stride, with a look of undisguised disgust. He slapped the old man hard across the side of his face.
“They will be open when I say they’re open. Didn’t I promise you food and shelter? Then that’s what you’ll get. Now get out of my way.”
The old man shrunk back, stepping aside, clutching at his reddening cheek. The crowd parted to let Briggs and his men through. Terra spotted Victor and the Sister talking animatedly. It looked like he was trying to placate her about something. The Sister caught sight of Briggs over his shoulder as he approached, pushing Victor out of the way.
“No one said anything about killing,” said the Sister reproachfully. “This whole operation has been shambolic. I would never have agreed to be a part of this if I’d known.”
“Sister, with respect, they shot first. We were not the aggressor,” defended Victor.
“Nevertheless, I refuse to condone murder. You either agree to resolve this peacefully or I walk away right now.”
“I ass
ure you we’re all here for the same reason: to see justice done.”
“Well, you promised me, you promised all of us, that this would be a bloodless coup. I want no more bloodshed and certainly not in my name.”
With a look of disdain, she turned on her heels and walked back to her group who were waiting a short distance away, huddling together in the shadow of the castle walls.
Briggs watched her leave and kicked at a stone at his feet in frustration.
“I’m warning you Victor. Sort this mess out. I’ve had about enough of amateur hour.”
Victor resolutely met Briggs’ stare, the sparkle in his eyes undimmed.
“Terra, remember the story I told you about how Agamemnon finally ended the siege of Troy?”
Terra looked confused for a second and then remembered.
“I assumed you were joking.”
“It’s time we used our secret weapon. Don’t you see? Jack trusts you. It’s the only way.”
Terra was unconvinced, blinking back at him, wishing there was another way.
“But they haven’t seen me for nearly six months. They may not even remember me.”
“Of course Jack still remembers you. Don’t be so coy. He probably still loves you,” sneered Briggs. “He’d do anything for you, isn’t that what you told me?”
Terra straightened the folds of her coat and shrugged. Perhaps he was right. Jack had always had a weakness for her. With the right degree of pressure, she could always twist him around her little finger, couldn’t she?
How could he forget the times they had spent together? Even Terra remembered fondly the many nights she had been invited back to the lighthouse. Sharing the tiny bedroom, waking up to stunning views of the island and the Solent. Those times had meant something to both of them, hadn’t they?
She would never describe what they had as love, but they both got what they wanted out of the relationship. The only difference was that she was the one who left to start a new life with Briggs, albeit under strained circumstances. For Jack, there had been no such closure. He was sure to still have feelings for her. She knew it was wrong to take advantage, but perhaps this was the way to resolve this situation without further loss of life. Plus, Victor was counting on her, she couldn’t let him down.