‘O’Neil found this when he stood on it,’ he said, gesturing toward the gaping hole in the ground. ‘Good job the carpet was strong, or he’d have fallen straight through!’
I leant over the edge of the hole, peering down into the darkness below. The tunnel ran downward for a hundred metres before changing direction, snaking out of sight. Its walls had the same ribbed, throat-like appearance of a tunnel burrowed out by laser drill. Light flickered down the tunnel as it was investigated by a section of Guardsmen.
‘That explains where our killers went,’ Puppy said.
The sergeant major regarded my 2ic quizzically. ‘Killers?’ he repeated.
I flicked my head upward. ‘There’s a dead civilian upstairs.’
‘Brilliant,’ he replied, sarcastically.
We fell silent for a moment, watching the Guard as they explored the gloomy tunnel. There was no way of knowing how long it had been there, or who had dug it, since the village had been conquered and held by so many different armies, all of whom had access to tunnelling equipment. It certainly wasn’t on our maps. The only tunnels we were aware of beneath Cellini were the three access tunnels that connected to the warren dug into Hill Kilo.
‘This is pretty bad,’ Puppy said finally.
‘No shit,’ I agreed.
The situation was worse than bad: it was severe. Within the space of half an hour, the Militia had demonstrated that they had the ability to close to within a few hundred metres of the village unchallenged, and that they had freedom of manoeuvre using the tunnels beneath it.
One of the sergeant major’s troopers looked back from his position at a window.
‘We need to get the fuck out of here –’ he began.
‘Don’t start getting dramatic!’ the sergeant major snapped, silencing the trooper. ‘We do need to move, though. We’re supposed to be observing the handling of the village, not getting hammered by missiles. I’ll speak with the platoon commander. Give me a moment.’
We waited whilst the sergeant major conferred with Mr Barkley over the net, watching as the Guardsmen continued their search of the tunnel. They stopped just before they reached the bend, afraid to move out of sight of their comrades.
‘Even the Guard are spooked,’ Puppy observed.
I looked around me at the other Guardsmen inside the building. Through their visors I could see something I hadn’t seen in a Guardsman before: there was genuine fear on their faces, like they expected the worst at any moment. The only thing that stood between them and the horde of Militia waiting on the edge of the forest was a thin line of FEA soldiers, all of whom were undoubtedly even more frightened than they were. To make things worse, somebody was helping the Militia to retake the village, somebody who had the ability to move freely amongst them. Their ambitious land-grab had turned into a desperate siege.
‘They really are going to come for Cellini ...’ Puppy prophesised gloomily.
‘I don’t know,’ I replied, ‘but if they do, then they’ll go for the hill first. The boss will pull us back to the east of the village, just in case we have to support the rest of the platoon.’
‘Or just in case we have to make a run for it.’
Suddenly the enemy fire resumed, accompanied by a series of explosions that rocked the village. They sounded far louder than that of a smart missile.
‘What the hell was that?’ Puppy exclaimed as we exchanged worried glances.
‘I don’t know, but it sounded like it came from within the village …’
18
Retreat
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We ran through the maze of streets and alleyways, hurrying away from the sound of the battle and toward the safety of the hill.
Something was seriously wrong. Nobody seemed to know who was under contact - not even the Guardsmen who had been with us when the gunfire had started. All they knew was that the explosions we’d heard had been the result of large detonations on several key FEA positions on the village outskirts.
A ferocious battle was being fought somewhere out to the east. We didn’t know who was fighting who, but it was clear that a large enemy force had materialised somewhere within the village. The Militia had also resumed firing from the forest again, harassing the defending FEA companies as they reeled from the explosions. The result of all this was utter chaos, with bands of soldiers and Guardsmen running through the streets in apparent disarray.
Mr Barkley had instructed us to move back to the warren entrances, just in case. The unthinkable had suddenly become a very real and dangerous possibility: if the Militia forced the FEA into retreat, then the resulting stampede of frightened soldiers would make it difficult for us to withdraw back to the hill.
We emerged onto the square, where we found a steady flow of civilians moving toward the western street and the relative safety of the hill. According to One Section, observing from the high ground, there was already a large crowd of desperate villagers building around the warren entrance, begging the FEA to let them flee into the bowels of the hill. So far there hadn’t been violence, but with the gunfight raging on the opposite side of the village it was only a matter of time before sheer terror got the better of them.
I watched the refugees as we crossed the square, remembering a similar sight on the bridges outside Dakar. Like sheep driven by a pack of wolves, they fled fearfully toward the warren, desperate to escape the streets of Cellini. They had no faith in the soldiers defending their village at all, it seemed, and had already decided that all was lost.
We occupied a building on the western edge of the square, right on the corner of the street that ran back to the warren entrance. The tunnel itself was no more than a hundred metres away, close enough for us to see the growing mass of villagers being held back by the FEA soldiers.
The sergeant major had Three Section take control of a building on the opposite side of the street, keeping us close together so that we could withdraw quickly toward the tunnel if required. It was possible that the FEA soldiers charged with guarding the warren wouldn’t let us in, in which case our weight in numbers might become useful.
‘Why don’t we just withdraw?’ Myers asked, as we took our positions at the windows, growing anxious as the civilians continued to flee. The sound of the battle to the east was growing steadily closer.
‘We probably will,’ I replied. ‘But under control. Besides, brigade has to give us the green light to abandon the village. The platoon commander won’t just break orders - not unless he has to …’
The young trooper frowned. ‘Who cares about the village? We should all fall back to the hill.’
‘We will if we need to,’ Puppy assured him. ‘There’s no point running too soon. The Militia should get beaten back by the FEA.’
Thapa snorted. ‘It doesn’t look like they are …’
‘Trust me.’ I pointed toward Hill Kilo. ‘When those automated guns start firing, the Militia won’t last five minutes.’
‘I haven’t heard a single shot fired from that hill, let alone an automated gun.’
I said nothing. I hadn’t heard anything either.
‘Loads of yellow respirators,’ Wildgoose observed from one of the windows, changing the subject.
I nodded moodily. He was right. There were indeed tens of civilians wearing yellow respirators, and just as many wearing blue jumpsuits. I didn’t know much about colonial fashion, but it appeared that civilians liked to wear colourful respirators and brightly coloured jumpsuits. My description of the executioner was completely useless.
‘I hope we bug out soon,’ Myers said nervously.
I sighed, not taking my eyes off the civilians flowing across the square. ‘If the FEA show the slightest sign of breaking, then we won’t have a choice anyway. This place will be overrun within minutes, especially seeing as there’s already Militia within the village.’
The young trooper pointed at the civilians angrily. ‘Why didn’t these mugs just shop them in? They must have known there were Militia here all
this time.’
‘Maybe they didn’t. Maybe the Militia were hidden in the warrens.’
‘Maybe the civvies did know where the Militia were,’ Puppy countered, ‘and they just kept their mouths shut because they were scared.’
Myers shook his head. ‘Well I don’t know about you, but I wouldn’t help hide a bunch of blokes who enjoy hanging my mates up for bunting.’
Suddenly someone amongst the crowd of civilians caught my eye.
‘Hello …’ I said, craning my head to get a view onto him, ‘… what’s this lad up to?’
Rifles raised instinctively as everyone looked to see the man I had spotted. Unlike the others, he was headed in a different direction to the flow of human misery, deliberately keeping the crowds between him and us in an attempt to remain out of sight.
He was wearing a bright yellow respirator …
‘It’s him!’ I hissed, running for the door. Boots scraped across the building as my fire team hurried after me.
‘Andy, what’s up, mate?’ Puppy asked.
I didn’t have time to explain - the civilian in the yellow respirator had already seen me burst out into the open.
For a moment, the man stared at me from amongst the press of bodies, surprised by my sudden appearance.
I pointed my finger at him like a gun. ‘You!’
The civilian bolted, pushing an elderly man to the ground in his haste to escape.
‘Stop that fucking prick!’ I bellowed, and the square echoed with horrified screams as I charged after the man, trying to get a clean shot with my rifle.
The man ran toward a nearby building, using his shoulder to smash through its airlock door.
I wasn’t going to let him get away this time. Forgetting my own safety, I forced my way through the parting crowd in pursuit.
‘Andy!’ somebody called out to me from behind, but I didn’t stop. The airlock door, damaged by the man’s entry, swung precariously on its hinge. I exploded through it, sending the door crashing to the ground.
I heard a clang of metal as something heavy toppled to the ground, and I followed the sound into a large lounge-type room. A heavy cabinet had been pulled over, revealing a tunnel similar to the one the assassin had used earlier.
Pounding boots and heavy panting confirmed that my men were behind me.
‘Follow on!’ I ordered with a wave, sprinting into the tunnel beyond. I wasn’t going to let the man escape again.
The man was fast, snaking through the bends in the tunnel in his effort to throw me off the chase, but I was still closing on him. Endless hours of thrashing myself in the gym meant that very few people could keep up with my pace.
I flicked on my rifle torch as the man led me deeper underground. The torch light flickered across the tunnel walls, catching glimpses of the man’s blood-stained blue jumpsuit as I closed on him.
‘Stop!’ I shouted, my voice echoing through the tunnels. ‘I swear I’ll shoot!’
The man wasn’t listening, so determined he was to get away. I waited until I had a clear shot, and then fired up the tunnel, having to purposefully aim well clear of my target in order to stop my darts being autocorrected. The dart bounced up the tunnel, sparking as it struck the rocky walls and narrowly missing his head.
‘Fucking stop!’ I shouted, adjusting my aim so that the second dart wouldn’t miss.
Realising the futility of his bid to escape, the man in the blue jumpsuit finally stopped. I skidded to a halt, no more than five metres behind him.
I suddenly became aware of my heaving chest and pumping heart. It had been quite a chase. None of my men had managed to stay with us, their footsteps echoing along the tunnel as they struggled to catch up. The man I was after was incredibly fast, it seemed, but not fast enough.
‘Turn around!’ I ordered.
The man didn’t move. He was facing away from me, so there was no way of telling if he was hiding a weapon.
‘Turn around!’ I repeated. ‘I won’t ask you again!’
For a moment the man hesitated, and then he slowly turned around to face me, his arms by his side. My eyes flicked over him, searching his body for weapons, but he appeared to be unarmed. His jumpsuit was stained with blood, no doubt sprayed over him as he’d cut his victim’s throat. The glare of my rifle torch concealed his face behind his visor.
‘Get down!’ I ordered, and the man dropped to his knees.
'I said get down!' I pointed at the floor, indicating that kneeling down was not good enough for me. A man on his knees might not be able to kick or run, but he could still draw a concealed knife or pistol.
The man took the hint, slowly lying down on the ground with his arms in front of him.
I heard heavy breathing over my shoulder and Myers came to stand beside me, hefting his rifle to aim at the man who now lay facing the ground.
'Fit bastard, isn't he?' he panted.
I ignored the comment, stepping toward the man with my rifle aimed at his head. 'Cover me.'
'Roger.'
Myers followed behind, the two of us keeping to opposite sides of the tunnel so that we both had a clear shot.
The remainder of my section arrived just as we closed in toward our quarry.
'Don't move,' I growled at the man in warning, 'or I will shoot.'
I saw no obvious signs of weapons or equipment on the man as I stooped over him, though the blood-stained jumpsuit he wore was loose fitting so that anything could be hidden underneath. I swung my rifle onto my back and dropped onto my haunches, and then began running my hands over his torso in my search for weapons.
My eyebrows raised in surprise as soon as I felt the man’s body beneath his baggy jumpsuit; his skin felt soft, like a layer of blubbery fat.
'He’s wearing gel armour,' I said.
I detached my bayonet from my rifle and grasped a section of his jumpsuit and pierced it, using the serrated edge at the bottom of the blade to tear it open. Sure enough, he was wearing a full suit of gel armour, the same brand new Union issue equipment we had seen previously, with combat clothing visible beneath. The man was dressed like a soldier, but not just any soldier.
'This guy's dressed in Guard uniform,' Myers gasped.
I nodded my agreement. 'He must have been using it to help him move around the village, changing from Guardsman to civilian and then back again.'
'We should kill him,' Griffiths blurted from behind me.
I looked back at him briefly, surprised by the hatred in the Welsh trooper's voice.
'We need to find out what he knows,’ I replied.
'What’s there to know?’ he said darkly. ‘The bastard is working for the Militia. We should just kill him …'
Griffiths had barely spoken since witnessing Sanneh’s death - not that he spoke much anyway - he was filled with hatred, and his desire for vengeance had surfaced at the sight of our captive.
I ignored Griffiths’ call to execute the man, instead searching his body. Finding no visible weapons around his back, I grabbed his arms and jerked them downward roughly, and then pulled a zip tie from my belt kit and used it to cuff his hands behind his back.
'Roll over,' I ordered, pushing against his side to ensure he understood my command.
The man rolled over, and I inspected the front of his jumpsuit.
‘She’s a fucking butcher,’ Myers seethed through gritted teeth.
My eyes flicked up to the captive’s visor, and I realised that it was indeed a woman that we had captured, not that it made a difference, she had chosen to fight against the Guard, and regardless of her motive or loyalty, she would face whatever wrath they had in store for her once we handed her over. Our small platoon was hardly equipped to handle prisoners, and we had no intention of bringing any back to Paraiso with us.
I resumed my search, and then suddenly stopped. My eyes returned to the woman’s face, and my jaw fell open as I recognised her.
‘It can’t be,’ I said in total disbelief.
Myers leant close to s
ee the woman’s face for himself. ‘What the hell ...?’
I grasped the woman’s respirator and pulled it away from her face, the lights from our torches forcing her to blink as she pressed her lips tightly against the toxic air. For a moment I forgot the fact that she couldn’t breathe, instead staring at her face in utter bewilderment.
‘Yulia? Is that you?’
‘What the fuck are you doing, Moralee, you screaming belter?’ the sergeant major hissed as he stormed up the tunnel toward us. ‘Don’t just run off without telling anyone!’
He stooped over me, demanding an explanation, but I didn’t look up. I was still shocked that the man I had been chasing was in fact Yulia, the guard captain who I had fought beside a week ago outside Dakar.
What was she doing here?
I remembered myself, returning her respirator to her face and pulling the straps back over her hair. The motors whirred as they removed the toxins from the air so that she could breathe once more.
The sergeant major’s frown deepened. ‘Who is this, anyway?’
‘Captain Kristov,’ Myers answered for me. ‘Our liaison officer.’
‘Who?’
‘The woman from Dakar,’ I said, as we lifted her to her feet.
I stared at Yulia in disbelief as the section crowded around her, unsure whether to attack her or pat her on the back. Our eyes locked together, each of us apparently shocked by the sudden encounter.
‘What are you doing here?’ Myers demanded. ‘Why were you killing all those people?’
‘We did not kill anyone who didn’t deserve to die,’ Yulia said, her lip curling slightly. ‘They were all traitors.’
‘What do you mean, traitors?’
‘They were undercover Guardsmen - working to help the Militia …’
The troopers in my section stared at her blankly, unable to comprehend what she was saying. I could almost hear their thoughts. Undercover Guardsmen … helping the Militia?
‘How many undercover Guardsmen are there?’ I asked.
She looked back at me. ‘I am not sure. Ten, maybe twenty… They have been secretly working with the Militia for several days. There are also many more traitors within the Guard battalion itself. They have been marking your positions for the Militia, as well as planting explosives. They want your mission - the Guard’s mission - to fail. They are traitors to the people of Edo, just like the president …’
RECCE (The Union Series Book 4) Page 29