Rickard began the next run and Gray squinted through the lenses, trying to distinguish between bush and man-made object. As they got closer, he could finally see the distinct outline of a vehicle, followed by another and another, though none looked like a fuel truck. He saw something that might have been a stack of drums, and as he focused on it he saw pinpricks of light twinkling in the darkness.
A second later, the shells from the .50 calibre mounted machine gun reached the plane and began shredding the main cabin, slowly walking their way towards the cockpit.
‘Get us out of here!’ Gray screamed, but Rickard was way ahead of him, throwing the aircraft towards the treetops, ignoring screaming protestations from the engines and howls of wind coming through the punctured fuselage. They lost a thousand feet in a matter of seconds, and the pilot struggled to level out the angle, yanking back on the wheel with all he was worth. He screamed for Gray to grab the co-pilot wheel and help, but the hydraulics feeding the ailerons had been severely damaged, and even with both of them straining every sinew, the jungle loomed ever larger.
‘Pull up, you stubborn bitch!’
Both men were purple in the face, and Gray’s cracked ribs protested angrily at the exertion, but the nose finally began to point away from the ground and level out.
‘I have the controls,’ Rickard said, a polite way of telling Gray to get his hands off the wheel. Any over-compensation at this point would send them heading vertically and into a fatal stall.
Gray sat back and exhaled the breath he’d been holding for the last thirty seconds, but warning lights in the cockpit told him they weren’t out of the jungle yet. To compound their woes, the right engine coughed and threw out a shower of sparks, closely followed by a trail of burning oil. The plane juddered in response as Rickard fought to control her.
‘Grab the ’chute, Tom. It’s under your seat. The old girl’s only got a couple of minutes left in her.’
‘Okay, try and gain some height and level her up so we can jump.’
‘There’s only one ’chute.’ Rickard was still wrestling with the controls, trying to get what he could out of his injured aircraft before she met the ground for the last time. ‘Get it strapped on. You haven’t got long.’
‘No way. We’re going together or not at all. Tie the wheel off and let’s go.’
‘It isn’t that simple. If I take my feet off the rudder, she’ll yaw to the right and roll in a heartbeat. You go, now!’
Gray wasn’t in the mood to accept defeat so easily, and searched the cabin for something to jam against the controls. He found a tool kit in the locker but it wasn’t heavy enough by half. He continued the search, opening a second compartment but with no luck.
‘Tom, grab yourself a rifle and go! You’re out of time!’
A rifle.
Gray ran to the rear of the cabin and yanked the smuggler’s hatch open. There was one rifle left, along with a set of combat fatigues and a few magazines. He left those, but carried the rest back to the cockpit, where he began tying one end of the trousers to the co-pilot wheel and fed the other end through a leather strap on the side of the cockpit. He then jammed the barrel of the Kalashnikov onto the rudder pedal and wedged the stock under the seat.
The controls secured, he threw on the parachute and loosened the shoulder straps so that they left a couple of inches of play.
‘That’ll hold her for a few seconds,’ Gray shouted. ‘When we get to the door, I want you to put your arms through these gaps and hang on tight. Once we’re out, wrap your legs around mine and squeeze for all you’re worth.’
Rickard nodded, and Gray pulled him out of the seat and dragged him towards the rear door. He opened it to the expected buffeting, the rain soaking him instantly.
‘Hold tight,’ he ordered, and Rickard fed his arms through the webbing and clasped the opposite straps tightly.
‘You realise this doesn’t mean we’re engaged, or anything.’
Gray wondered how Rickard could joke under the circumstances, but there wasn’t time to ask.
‘Once we’re out, wrap your legs around mine. I’m gonna pop the ’chute straight away.’
Rickard nodded, and Gray mouthed a short countdown. On one, they leapt into the darkness, and Gray waited until Freddie’s legs were clenched around his before reaching for the release handle.
The sudden deceleration threatened to rip Rickard free from him, but the elder man managed to maintain his grip. Rickard’s grimace must have matched his own, Gray thought, as the pain in his ribs almost brought tears to his eyes. Away to the right, the Dakota flew onwards, her damaged engine now spewing fire as aviation fuel met red-hot metal.
‘You okay?’ Rickard shouted, and got a brief nod in reply.
Gray forced himself to focus on the jump instead of his ribs, and he scanned the ground for a suitable landing zone. Unfortunately, all he saw was foliage rushing towards them.
‘This is going to be rough,’ he warned, trying to steer the rig away from the taller of the mahogany trees. Seconds later, they hit, thin branches clawing at them as they descended through towards the jungle floor. The branches got larger closer to the ground, and Gray jarred his coccyx against one as thick as his thigh, sending a shudder up his spine and a streak of searing pain into his skull.
Thankfully, their journey ended a second later as the ’chute snagged in the crown of the tree, leaving them dangling three metres above the sodden ground. Rickard extricated himself and dropped the final distance, then waited until Gray did the same. Far away from them, the plane finally gave in to gravity, a hollow crump heralding the end of her ultimate flight.
Both men stretched and felt for signs of serious damage but declared themselves good to go. The question was: where?
Gray pulled out his satellite phone and toggled to the GPS view. It showed their current location, and he brought up the last entry to see how far they were from Smart and the others.
‘They’re four clicks in that direction,’ he told Rickard. ‘Reckon you can handle it?’
The older man smiled. ‘Just a walk in the jungle. Lead on!’
‘Will do, but I’ve got to make a couple of phone calls first.’
Smart woke with a start as the phone in his breast pocket vibrated against his chest. Realising that he wasn’t actually having a heart attack, he pulled the handset out and stabbed at the green button, his eyes still bleary from the little sleep he’d managed to grab.
‘Tom, what’s the latest?’
‘The lads dropped successfully at the airport, but soon after that we lost the plane. There’s no point taking the strip now, so I’ve told them to RV on me and we’ll head in to meet you guys.’
‘Is everyone okay?’ Smart asked.
‘Yeah, we’re fine,’ Gray assured him, ‘but be prepared for a hell of a walk home.’
‘We’ll cross that bridge later. Which direction are you coming in from?’
Gray explained the route they planned to take, and Smart promised to have a couple of scouts on the perimeter to guide them in.
‘Okay, we’ll be there in about two hours.’
Gray signed off and Smart passed the news on to the rest of the team. Sonny volunteered to do the meet and greet when the time came, and they all settled back into their defensive positions.
Smart knew that without the plane, getting the civilians to safety wasn’t going to be easy. It was at least twenty-five kilometres to the nearest friendly border, no mean trek given that they hadn’t had a proper rest or meal in over a day. The soldiers had been on the go for twice as long, which made it extremely hard to maintain the required level of concentration. Reactions would be compromised, meaning they could easily stumble into an ambush if the point man didn’t spot the danger signs in time.
He decided it would be best to let Tom’s team take over those duties, and hopefully allow them to get a few hours of sleep once they were out of danger. He expected the enemy were doing just that, as there hadn’t been any sign of th
em for a few hours.
He considered the possibility that they might have packed up and gone home, but knew they wouldn’t be so lucky.
‘What took you so long?’
Kgosi stared up at the huge figure of Fene, unable to tell whether the big man was joking or deadly serious. After the long march through rain-soaked jungle, Kgosi was in no mood for banter.
‘We had to keep well clear of the Agbi, that’s what took so long. Would you prefer we walk straight through their camp?’
Fene smiled and urged Kgosi towards the group of boys, who were sitting in silent expectation, seemingly oblivious to the rain and clearly hoping their next hit of whoonga wasn’t long in coming.
‘Men,’ Fene addressed them, ‘this is Kgosi. He is the leader of all the soldiers in the region.’
The children looked at the lieutenant, not really knowing what to say, simply praying it didn’t drag on too long while they waited for their chemical relief.
Fene faced his counterpart, the smile still on his face. ‘Would I prefer that you just walk through the enemy camp?’
Kgosi was both confused and annoyed, wanting simply to get some rest before the next engagement.
‘Yes,’ Fene said, ‘I would have preferred that. Sadly, that would have taken courage, something you obviously lack.’
Kgosi wasn’t accustomed to being humiliated, especially in front of a group of children. His hand went for the pistol he carried in a belt holster, but Fene was already on the move. The tall man’s right hand went to the handle of his machete and he pulled it out, swinging it in a wide arc towards Kgosi’s head.
For a moment, nothing happened. All seemed frozen in time, until a trickle of blood turned into a ribbon that ran across Kgosi’s throat. The head slid forward and dropped to the ground, closely followed by the former soldier’s torso.
‘Not even leaders can be excused for cowardice,’ Fene told the boys, before turning to address the men the corpse had once commanded.
‘That message came from Sese Obi himself,’ he told them. ‘Does anyone want to question it?’
As he expected, the men were content to remain silent, no-one wanting to suffer the same fate. Fene gave them another moment to take in the penalty for failure, then explained their mission.
The trooper sank to one knee and held up a clenched fist, causing the party to stop in their tracks, weapons at the ready. Gray eased his way forward, his civilian clothes looking out of place among those of his uniformed colleagues.
‘What have we got?’
The soldier pointed up the track, where the man on point was making a similar gesture. When Gray reached him, he could see the problem. An armed man was standing fifty yards away, his back to them as he smoked a hand-rolled cigarette. Another walked into view, their demeanour suggesting that neither of them expected to see action any time soon, confident in their roles as hunter rather than hunted.
Gray could make out more figures, most sitting on the ground, only their heads visible. It certainly wasn’t a scouting party, judging by the numbers, and that meant Len and the others were sandwiched between two armed units.
Gray tapped the point man on the shoulder and indicated that they should both fall back, and they quietly slid back to the rest of the team. He shared the situation with the rest of them and asked for ideas, then called Smart to let him know the situation.
‘Len,’ he said, without preamble, ‘you’ve got a large force to your north, just over a click away.’
‘I guess that settles it,’ Smart said. ‘We were thinking of heading for the eastern border, and they’ve just left us with no other option.’
‘Sounds like a plan. How soon can you get moving?’
‘Give us five minutes.’
Gray checked their respective positions on the GPS, then read off some coordinates.
‘We’ll meet you there in thirty minutes.’
His team had come up with the idea of playing rear gunners, holding off any attacks with a series of ambushes. It was the obvious choice, short of teleporting back to England, so they set off at a pace that would allow them to stick to the schedule while keeping an eye out for trouble.
‘Let’s get moving,’ Smart said. ‘We’ve got half an hour to cover a kilometre and meet up with Tom and the boys.’
Everyone began gathering what few possessions they had and quietly formed a tired line. The rain had finally relented, the only plus in what was an otherwise miserable situation. Sonny took the lead, while Smart, Campbell and Levine took up the rear: if they were attacked again, that was the direction it would likely come from.
Aware that the majority of the group were shattered, Sonny didn’t push them too hard. It was a gentle stroll as far as he was concerned, though he had little doubt some would find it taxing. That couldn’t be helped, and he was certain that in the weeks to come, their present discomfort would be forgotten, replaced with the relief at still being on the planet.
He hoped.
The general consensus among the Malundians was that this was an invasion from the south, the Kanto people following through on previous threats to take back the land stolen from them when the country split. Who was leading them was anyone’s guess, but it was highly unlikely that the invaders would be leaving any time soon. Their plan was obviously to take over the country, which meant the Agbi villagers he was transporting to the neighbouring country wouldn’t be welcome back any time soon, if at all.
Despite their predicament, Sonny knew it wasn’t their fight, and for once he was certain Tom Gray would agree. Saving a few villagers was one thing; defending an entire country was quite another.
His train of thought was interrupted as a round slammed into a tree a few inches from his head, and instantly the bush sparkled as AK-47s opened up on him. Sonny crouched and returned fire, keeping his head down while he sprinted back to the main group.
Smart ran forward to meet him and Sonny gave him a quick rundown.
‘Looks like a dozen at most, but we’re gonna have to break through if we want to make it to the border.’
Smart agreed, and called Campbell and Levine up from the rear. He also took Johnny Okeke to the side and explained that he was in charge of the group in their absence. ‘Once we break through, I want these people running for all they’re worth.’
‘They cannot all run, Mr Len. Some are too old, and they have already been through a lot.’
‘Then you either find people to carry them, or you leave them behind,’ Smart said.
The sergeant nodded, respecting the decision. As soon as the four instructors disappeared towards the conflict, Okeke began moving the less able to the front of the queue and assigned them to some of the stronger villagers, explaining just what was required of them. His grave look told them all they needed to know about the price of failure.
Up ahead, the firefight intensified as the British soldiers engaged, their volleys infinitely more accurate and deadly. The short, aimed bursts quickly found targets, while the return fire grew increasingly wild. Sonny saw a shape appear from behind a tree, the muzzle of a rifle blinking as it sent rounds towards him, but a double-tap caught the man in first the throat, then the chin, dropping him before he even had time to register his own death.
The enemy sought deeper cover and continued the fight, spraying the kill zone in the frantic hope of hitting flesh. Smart’s team were happy to let them do so, knowing that their ammunition would soon be exhausted.
As expected, the incoming chatter soon diminished to nothing, and the first of the enemy made a run for it, only to be cut down before he got a couple of yards. Others tried, mostly failing, but one managed to disappear into the bush. Seconds later, another two shots were heard from that direction, and the fight was over.
‘Len, we’re coming in!’
The sound of Tom Gray’s voice drifted towards them, and Smart’s team held their fire as some familiar faces emerged from the darkness.
Tom Gray was at their head, looking like a
lost tourist in his slacks and white, long-sleeve shirt.
‘I see you dressed for the occasion,’ Smart quipped.
Sonny was more interested in Gray’s recent injuries. He whistled long and low. ‘Looks like someone set fire to your face and then beat the flames out with a shovel.’
‘If only we could all be as handsome as you, Sonny.’
‘I hate to be a party-pooper, but can we get the fuck out of here?’
Levine’s words brought them back to the moment, and Smart began organising the defences.
‘My guess is, they had us surrounded, so we can expect trouble from our flanks any time now,’ he said, giving the new arrivals positions to the left and right of their current location. He sent Sonny to instruct the main party to move out, and asked more of Gray’s team to take the lead.
‘I’m guessing you’re the pilot,’ Campbell asked, seeing Rickard for the first time.
Gray made the introductions, adding how much help Freddie had brought to the rescue attempt, including the loss of his beloved plane.
‘Not to worry,’ Rickard smiled, ‘I’ll just write it off as expenses.’
The colour drained from Gray’s face as he tried to calculate how much it would cost to replace the flying fossil, and Rickard saw the discomfort on his face.
‘Don’t worry, son, I’ll leave you enough for a pot to piss in.’
Sonny returned at the head of the villagers and urged them to keep moving as he stopped to chat with his boss.
‘They don’t look good,’ Gray observed as the people passed. Getting to the border was going to be a nightmare, and that went for everyone. Having been on the run for the best part of two days, the group already looked on the verge of collapse, and at the moment they faced the prospect of another three to four days of forced march through a jungle crawling with people intent on wiping them out.
‘I think it’s time we made a stand,’ Sonny said, as if reading his mind.
‘That makes the most sense,’ Gray agreed. ‘Choose the best twenty locals and send the rest on ahead with the main group. We’ll dig in and show them what jungle warfare’s all about.’
4. Gray Retribution Page 11