by Ellis Major
“No, Mister Charlie they are not the cheeriest of souls. They are men of what they call the Jihad. I fear for you all.”
“They’ve gone now, though,” Roddy pointed out, hopefully. “We could escape.”
Yusuf turned mournful eyes on him. “If I allow you to escape, they will have my whole village killed,” he told them. “I should have waited. I should have waited” He shook his head sadly. “I am sorry but it is too late.”
“Bit of a bleak outlook then,” Charlie muttered.
Yusuf just nodded. “Now please,” he gestured towards the prison block as some of his guards levelled their Kalashnikovs. “I am sorry, but these things happen. It is the will of Allah.”
It was at that precise moment Lance elected to make an appearance. “Good afternoon, please do nothing,” he called politely, as he strolled into the western edge of the camp.
Such was the surprise for everyone that, by the time the prisoners thought about rushing the guards, Lance’s words had registered.
Lance was smartly attired in a suit and bowler hat. He had a neatly furled umbrella hooked over one arm and was carrying a small silver tray in his hand. On the tray sat a large jar of Charlie’s favourite marmalade.
“Your marmalade, Sir.” Lance addressed Charlie whilst nodding politely to Yusuf. “I do apologise for the delay.”
“My er, servant, Lance,” Charlie explained to Yusuf. “He’s very dedicated.”
Yusuf frowned and started waving them all nervously towards the prison block. “How did you find us?” he demanded.
“A lucky guess, Sir,” Lance responded smoothly. “As an English butler, it is part of my training to follow my master to the ends of the Earth and, indeed, beyond if necessary.”
Yusuf shrugged. “Your new owners can ask you about that,” he muttered. “They will be here soon.”
He banged the grille closed, locked it, and stomped off with the key.
All eyes turned to Lance. He stepped away from the door, out of sight of the guard, and, as everyone opened their mouths, raised his finger to his lips.
“Would you mind?” He handed his tray to Barbara, telling her to hold it very still. He lifted off his bowler hat, upended it and tugged gently at the lining. From beneath it he produced a small automatic. Lance then twisted the end of the umbrella which came off in his hand. This turned out to be a silencer which he screwed onto the automatic. He raised the handle of the umbrella to his mouth, pressed a part of the fabric and simply said ‘in position, over’. Two clicks from somewhere within the umbrella immediately greeted his words.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” he whispered. “We’re getting you out of here but no noise, ok. When things kick off simply do as I say.” He then held his finger up to his lips once more. He was obviously concerned that they might be overheard.
It is hard to describe the silent suspense and tension in which they all stood there, with the obvious exception of Lance. He simply replaced his bowler and retrieved the bottle of marmalade from Barbara, taking it firmly in his hand after placing the tray on one of the bunks.
Having glanced through the grille and seen nothing untoward in progress, Lance jerked his head at Charlie. His teeth were faintly bared in a strange menacing grimace. “Get Babs,” he mouthed. “She’s sensible. I need you to do the rounds and keep ‘em calm, ok. When I give the word help keep everyone against the walls then you count ‘em out and bring up the rear – tail end Charlie, mate, that’s you. Watch backs, ok.”
Charlie tapped his nose. “Got you Cap’n. Babs it is.”
Babs came over on tiptoe, eyes glittering expectantly.
“Unhook the brolly, please, Babs,” Lance mouthed. “Hold it by the handle.”
Babs nodded, carefully removed the makeshift radio and waited for instructions.
“Please feel very gently along the shaft and you’ll find a button,” Lance whispered. “Locate it but don’t press it.”
“Gotcha.” Babs ran her fingers daintily along the shaft until she identified said button and then gave the thumbs up.
“When I nod twice,” Lance mouthed “Press the button and say ‘Go’ to the handle. You should hear two clicks as I did. You’ll know the message has been received and understood.”
Babs winked and took up station opposite Lance near the entrance, her thumb near the button and the handle resting on her cheek.
Charlie quickly did the rounds of those who’d been too busy whispering to notice what had been going on by the door.
“Lance has been setting Babs up with the brolly,” he hissed. “The fun may be starting shortly. We need to stay back against the wall when it does. We have to stay calm and do what we’re told. I chase you all out.”
‘Shortly’ turned out to be a fairly loose and optimistic term. The tension built for a few minutes but dissipated gradually as the ‘fun’ conspicuously failed to get under way.
It was over an hour, although it felt a lot longer, before Lance stiffened slightly and everyone else stopped what they were doing – which wasn’t much, it has to be said. Mostly they were waiting in nervous silence. All those present knew that hostage rescues don’t always go to plan. The prospect of dying in or around a grubby hovel built from breeze blocks is unlikely to raise your mood a great deal. Even so, Charlie had done his best. He’d whispered that Lance knew what he was up to and it would all depend on keeping their heads down and doing exactly what they were told. His sublime confidence in Lance was reassuring to some ears, but sounded mildly deluded to others. To Rowena, it sounded a fraction too buoyant and she thought that Charlie might find himself shocked into momentary indecision if something went wrong. She thought she’d better stay close to keep an eye on him. It was a kind thought, and fateful too.
The sound of shouting, which had caught Lance’s hyper-sensitive military ears, grew louder and Scarface appeared over the ridge once more. His shouting appeared to be directed at someone behind him, although no one else was in sight at that stage.
Lance promptly nodded twice at Babs, Babs pressed the button and said “Go!” to the handle. There were two unmistakable clicks and Lance grinned.
Within a few seconds a distant banshee wailing began.
“Bagpipes,” Charlie gasped. “What the…”
“Stay up against the walls.” Lance issued his sharp reminder immediately before popping his gun through the grille and casually shooting the distracted young guard through the shoulder. The guard fell to the ground with a howl.
A quick glance revealed that Lance’s request had been obeyed. He twisted the top on the jar of marmalade then placed it firmly against the base of the rear wall opposite the door. Having done so, he moved with remarkable alacrity to join some of the others against one of the side walls.
There was a load crump, followed by the clatter of falling blocks. The blast had blown a large hole in the rear wall.
“Through the hole ASAP and run for the ridge. Charlie, last out remember; check it’s clear.” Lance led the way through the smoke and dust as Scarface and his troupe, two of whom had now almost managed to catch up with him, started to realise that an escape might be under way.
Scarface spotted the writhing figure of the guard, gave a howl of rage, and hurtled towards the prison, rapidly outstripping his two companions. They were hampered by their guns. Those emerging from the damaged rear wall were out of his sight line, but he’d heard the explosion and could see the smoke and the dust billowing up from the back of the building.
In seconds, everyone except Charlie and Rowena were out. Rowena had been hanging back, watching Charlie and waiting her turn. Charlie was bringing up the rear, as instructed.
When Scarface reached the fallen guard he snatched up his Kalashnikov and a grenade. Rowena was just starting to clamber through the hole in the wall. She stumbled and fell. She had been checking over her shoulder to make sure that Charlie was following and a block had somehow got itself in her way.
Then everything seemed to slow down, ho
rribly.
Lance had his back to Scarface, as Scarface rounded the block. Lance was urging people up the ridge. Rowena was struggling to her feet as Charlie came through the wall. Scarface moved forward, raising the Kalashnikov in one hand as he did so. He aimed it straight at the nearest target, Rowena. She saw him and opened her mouth. She began to raise her arms as if to ward off the bullets.
“Charlie…” She gasped the one last word.
And then it happened! There are moments in life when a person does something almost impossible, whether it’s a footballer executing a perfect overhead scissors kick or a Judge handing out a punishment that actually fits the crime. Everyone stares open-mouthed, almost unable to accept what their eyes are seeing. This was one such moment.
It was astonishing, it was glorious, it was incredible, it was awe-inspiring, and it was brave to the point of utter insanity. Charlie Tiptree, young man about town, idly rich drone, pimp, pianist and singer, became a hero!!
In the blink of an eye, he pushed Rowena to the ground behind him and leapt up in front of Scarface, straight into the line of fire and seemingly certain death. It was a solo Charge of the Light Brigade – straight at the guns.
“You fucking arsehole,” Charlie yelled, closing down Scarface. “Come on you fucker! Have you got the guts you miserable turd!”
When he heard this, Lance started to turn and bring up his gun, but it was too late. He was moving so fast but he was still too slow. With a growl of something between hate and delight, Scarface made sure the barrel of his weapon was pointed straight at Charlie’s chest.
He sure had the guts.
He pulled the trigger.
There was a click - and that was the last thing Scarface heard.
Poor old Scarface! Yusuf’s funds couldn’t run to more than one magazine for each weapon and Scarface had wasted the one in that particular Kalashnikov on blowing Charlie’s organ to smithereens. The organist was able to continue to entertain, thereby proving that music is mightier than the gun. Scarface’s expression would have been comic but for the gravity of the situation.
Lance grunted in relief as he shot Scarface right between the eyes. Scarface died, slightly frustrated at not having killed Charlie, but relieved at having already pulled the pin from the grenade in his other hand. This unpleasant object now rolled from Scarface’s lifeless grasp to within a couple of metres of Rowena’s beautiful face and even closer to Charlie. The organist might be in trouble again!
Everyone had frozen - with three exceptions. Rowena sank to the ground, Lance yelled at the top of his voice. “GRENADE, DOWN!”
And Charlie?
Charlie was still alive and he was on a roll!! Charlie was invincible, for now at least. He didn’t hesitate. He ignored Lance, pounced on the grenade, snatched it up and lobbed the evil object neatly over the top of the prison block. This bonkers act complete, he threw himself on top of Rowena, enveloping her, his back towards the fractured wall.
The rest of the escapees had thawed at Lance’s words and wasted no time in hitting the proverbial deck. The grenade exploded the instant it touched the ground just in front of the prison shack. Its unexpected arrival startled, and then instantly killed, the two of Scarface’s assistants who’d rushed up in his wake. They were both toting fully loaded weapons – not that anyone in the escape party could see this – and were therefore far more dangerous than the late, unlamented (by the escapees, at least) Scarface.
Some fragments from the grenade came blasting straight through the grille at the front, through the building and out through the hole in the rear wall. All except three whizzed harmlessly overhead and buried themselves in parts of the surrounding landscape.
Given their low trajectory and the position in which Rowena was lying, the first would have left a nasty scar in her side, the second would have torn a bloody chunk out of one of what were amongst the most shapely shoulders in the Academy, and the third would have entered her skull straight through one of her lovely blue eyes and killed her pretty much instantly. As it was, they entered Charlie’s back at different points and cracked assorted ribs in coming to a rapid halt. Rowena was a lucky, lucky girl!
Such are the wonders of adrenalin that Charlie didn’t really notice he’d been injured. He felt a few twinges as he pulled himself up and helped Rowena to her feet, but he was alive and buzzing!!
“Charlie,” she gasped, her beautiful eyes shining at him, her hair everywhere, her face smudged with dust and grime. “Charlie, you’ve saved my life twice in a minute. When you put your mind to it, you really do know how to impress a girl!”
She grabbed his arms and kissed him full on the lips as if she really meant it. Charlie felt rather glad he’d made the effort (even though neither of them realised that with the grenade fragments he’d actually saved her life three times).
“Just looking after the assets,” he muttered gruffly when he got the opportunity. “Sorry about the language.”
“Oh Charlie,” she kissed him again. Charlie thought his feet were going to leave the ground.
“Charlie!” Geoff’s voice had a rather strangled quality to it. “That was...”
“Bleedin’ bonkers, but bleedin’ ‘andy,” Barbara finished.
“Charlie, you’re the dude,” Lance cut in. “But get the fuck over this ridge right now.”
A short burst of automatic fire gave handy emphasis to his words. There was a general scurry to follow his order.
As the escaping group neared the top, crouching low, they heard a clumping sound and a mighty Wagnerian figure crested the ridge in front of them.
“Angelina,” Eve cried.
Lady Boston, for it was indeed Eve’s sister, had clad her twenty stone, six foot five inch frame in desert fatigues and a helmet. In one huge hand she was carrying a machine gun so large it looked to have been borrowed from a tank. In the other hand she was carrying a box of ammunition. A belt fed from the box to the fearsome gun.
“Afternoon all. Like the toy?” She actually laughed as she took aim and let off a short burst. This blew the prison apart and cleared her field of fire.
Beyond the prison what remained of the group of Scarface’s group was pinned down by the patter of machine gun fire from several directions. A couple of foolhardy types had made an effort to break out - their bodies lay on the ground – but the rest had hunkered down.
“THROW OUT YOUR WEAPONS,” Lady Boston roared, so loudly it probably rattled the windows in Port Said.
When she was not immediately obeyed she loosed off another burst which threw stones and rock all over the crouching group.
Barely had the deafening clatter from her shots subsided when they heard the deep throb of a powerful engine. Something that looked like a dune buggy made out of scaffolding poles shot into sight across the other side of the Wadi El Paradiso.
“Is that the Duke of Kirkness?” Charlie called out, squinting.
“It is,” Lady Boston confirmed. “Cora insisted on coming too. She’s driving.”
“Cora you poppet,” Charlie yelled. “Welcome to the Wadi.”
Cora, the Duchess of Kirkness, raised an arm and waved gaily as she edged the vehicle a foot or two further forward. Her husband fired off a short burst from the gun he was manning above Cora’s head.
This seemed to do the trick. There was some confused shouting and weapons were hurled away by the sheltering group. Three figures then approached gingerly on foot from different directions and called instructions from a distance. When the instructions weren’t obeyed immediately, a couple more warning shots were fired.
“Jonny brought some colleagues along,” Lady Boston told them, her gaze never moving from the prone group. The Men of the Jihad had now started to disrobe and, once completely naked (and thus evidently weapon free) stand up with their hands in the air. They were told to walk forward one by one where they were then tied up.
“You’ll remember him from Essex, Charlie. Very proficient,” Lady Boston told them. “Jonny and Lance
planned all this in about half an hour.”
She didn’t relax her vigil until the figures below gave the all clear and indicated that it was safe for the hostages to walk back down the slope.
“Where’s that lanky one, Petey was it?” Lady Boston demanded. “Is he ok?”
Jonny nodded to everyone and explained that Petey had spotted a laggard from Scarface’s crew and chased him off.
“Want him to get away,” Jonny explained. “Take word back to his people that we can turn up anywhere, any time.” Even as he spoke Petey came loping over the ridge and nodded to Jonny. Petey had a rather grizzled, scary look about him. “Gone,” he grunted. “I put a couple over his head.”
At that moment Cora drove her buggy up to the group and hopped out. Her husband jumped down and ran off across the Wadi with barely a how do you do.
Cora gave a little twirl. She was wearing an outfit knocked up out of camouflage material although it was far too stylish ever to have been manufactured for military use.
“What do you think?” she trilled. “Mrs McTavish ran this up for me in less than eight hours, the dear! We were in such a rush to get out here that I didn’t think she’d do it, but she is a positive genius with that old sewing machine of hers. She’s seventy eight you know!”
There was a general murmur of appreciation at the outcome of Mrs. McTavish’s efforts before Cora went on to extol the virtues of her ‘jalopy’.
“Bally fast,” she said. “I want one for the Estate. Scotty says I can have one if the auction for the hunt goes well.”
“Cora, darling!” Charlie cried. “Won’t you want one with a roof or doesn’t it rain on your estate.”
Cora gave a little moue. “Spoilsport!”
“Nice trick with the grenade, guys, over by the jail.” Jonny made his remark as one or two of the girls started to discuss technical details with Cora (sartorial rather than mechanical). “Where did you get it from?”
Charlie felt a hand slip into his arm. Rowena had stayed close to him. Kissing him, holding his arm again and smiling like that – this was turning out to be quite a day! He was even still alive.