Authors: Wilbur Smith
Wild Justice (2 page)
T
here was no set routine to the days in this new command of Peter Stride's, except the obligatory hour on the range with pistol and automatic weapons. No member of Thor Command â not even the technicians â were spared daily range practice.
here was no set routine to the days in this new command of Peter Stride's, except the obligatory hour on the range with pistol and automatic weapons. No member of Thor Command â not even the technicians â were spared daily range practice.
The rest of Peter's day had been filled with unrelenting activity, beginning with a briefing on the new electronic communications equipment that had just been installed in his command aircraft. This had taken half the morning, and he had been only just in time to join his striker force in the main cabin of the Hercules transport for the day's exercise.
Peter jumped with the first stick of ten men. They jumped from five hundred feet, the parachutes seeming to snap open only seconds before they hit the ground. However, the crosswind had been strong enough to spread them out a little even from that height. The first landing had not been tight enough for Peter. They had taken two minutes fifty-eight seconds from jump to penetration of the deserted administration block standing forlornly in one of the military zones of Salisbury Plain.
âIf they had been holding hostages in here, we'd have arrived just in time to start mopping up the blood,' Peter told his men grimly. âwe'll do it again!'
This time they had cut one minute fifty seconds off their time, falling in a tightly steered pattern about the building â beating the time of Colin Noble's No 2 striker team by ten seconds.
To celebrate Peter had scorned the military transports and they had run the five miles to the airstrip, each man in full combat kit and carrying the enormous bundle of his used parachute silk.
The Hercules was waiting to fly them back to base, but it was after dark before they landed and taxied into Thor Command's security compound at the end of the main runway.
For Peter the temptation to leave the debriefing to Colin
Noble had been strong indeed. His driver would have picked up Melissa-Jane at East Croydon Station and she would already be waiting alone in the new cottage, only half a mile from the base gates.
Noble had been strong indeed. His driver would have picked up Melissa-Jane at East Croydon Station and she would already be waiting alone in the new cottage, only half a mile from the base gates.
He had not seen her for six weeks, not since he had taken command of Thor, for in all that time he had not allowed himself a single day's respite. He felt a tickle of guilt now, that he should be allowing himself this indulgence, and so he lingered a few minutes after the briefing to transfer command to Colin Noble.
âWhere are you going for the weekend?' Colin demanded.
âShe's taking me to a pop concert tomorrow night â The Living Dead, no less,' Peter chuckled. âSeems I haven't lived until I hear the Dead.'
âGive M.J. my love, and a kiss,' Colin told him.
Peter placed high value on his new-found privacy. He had lived most of his adult life in officers' quarters and messes, constantly surrounded by other human beings. However, this command had given him the opportunity to escape.
The cottage was only four and a half minutes' drive from the compound but it might have been an island. It had come furnished and at a rental that surprised him pleasantly. Behind a high hedge of dog rose, off a quiet lane, and set in a sprawling rather unkempt garden, it had become home in a few weeks. He had even been able to unpack his books at last. Books accumulated over twenty years, and stored against such an opportunity. It was a comfort to have them piled around his desk in the small front room or stacked on the tables beside his bed, even though there had been little opportunity to read much of them yet. The new job was a tough one.
Melissa-Jane must have heard the crunch of gravel under the Rover's tyres, and she would certainly have been waiting for it. She came running out of the front door into the driveway, directly into the beam of the headlights, and
Peter had forgotten how lovely she was. He felt his heart squeezed.
Peter had forgotten how lovely she was. He felt his heart squeezed.
When he stepped out of the car she launched herself at him and clung with both arms around his chest. He held her for a long moment, neither of them able to speak. She was so slim and warm, her body seeming to throb with life and vitality.
At last he lifted her chin and studied her face. The huge violet eyes swam with happy tears, and she sniffed loudly. Already she had that old-fashioned English porcelain beauty; there would never be the acne and the agony of puberty for Melissa-Jane.
Peter kissed her solemnly on the forehead. âYou'll catch your death,' he scolded fondly.
âOh, Daddy, you are a real fusspot.' She smiled through the tears and on tip-toe she reached up to kiss him full on the mouth.
They ate lasagne and cassata at an Italian restaurant in Croydon, and Melissa-Jane did most of the talking. Peter watched and listened, revelling in her freshness and youth. It was hard to believe she was not yet fourteen, for physically she was almost fully developed, the breasts under the white turtle-neck sweater no longer merely buds; and she conducted herself like a woman ten years older, only the occasional gleeful giggle betraying her or the lapse as she used some ghastly piece of Roedean slang â âgrotty' was one of these.
Back at the cottage she made them Ovaltine and they drank it beside the fire, planning every minute of the weekend ahead of them and skirting carefully around the pitfalls, the unwritten taboos of their relationship which centred mostly on âMother'.
When it was time for bed she came and sat in his lap and traced the lines of his face with her fingertip.
âDo you know who you remind me of?'
âTell me,' he invited.
âGary Cooper â only much younger, of course,' she added hurriedly.
âOf course,' Peter chuckled. âBut where did you ever hear of Gary Cooper?'
âThey had
High Noon
as the Sunday movie on telly last week.'
High Noon
as the Sunday movie on telly last week.'
She kissed him again and her lips tasted of sugar and Ovaltine, and her hair smelled sweet and clean.
âHow old are you, anyway, Daddy?'
âI'm thirty-nine.'
âThat isn't really so terribly old.' She comforted him uncertainly.
âSometimes it's as old as the dinosaursâ' and at that moment the bleeper beside his empty cup began its strident, irritating electronic tone, and Peter felt the slide of dread in his stomach.
Not now, he thought. Not on this day when I have been so long without her.
The bleeper was the size of a cigarette pack, the globe of its single eye glared redly, insistent as the audio-signal. Reluctantly Peter picked it up and, with his daughter still in his lap, he switched in the miniature two-way radio and depressed the send button.
âThor One,' he said.
The reply was tinny and distorted, the set near the limit of its range.
âGeneral Stride, Atlas has ordered condition Alpha.'
Another false alarm, Peter thought bitterly. There had been a dozen Alphas in the last month, but why on this night. Alpha was the first stage of alert with the teams embarked and ready for condition Bravo which was the GO.
âInform Atlas we are seven minutes from Bravo.'
Four and a half of those would be needed for him to
reach the compound, and suddenly the decision to rent the cottage was shown up as dangerous self indulgence. In four and a half minutes innocent lives can be lost.
reach the compound, and suddenly the decision to rent the cottage was shown up as dangerous self indulgence. In four and a half minutes innocent lives can be lost.
âDarling,' he hugged Melissa-Jane swiftly, âI'm sorry.'
âThat's all right.' She was stiff and resentful.
âThere will be another time soon, I promise.'
âYou always promise,' she whispered, but she saw he was no longer listening. He dislodged her and stood up, the heavy jawline clenched and thick dark brows almost meeting above the narrow, straight, aristocratic nose.
âLock the door when I'm gone, darling. I'll send the driver for you if it's Bravo. He will drive you back to Cambridge and I will let your mother know to expect you.'
He stepped out into the night, still shrugging into his duffle coat, and she listened to the whirl of the starter, the rush of tyres over gravel and the dwindling note of the engine.
T
he controller in Nairobi tower allowed the British Airways flight from Seychelles to run fifteen seconds past its reporting time. Then he called once, twice and a third time without reply. He switched frequencies to the channels reserved for information, approach, tower and, finally, emergency, on one at least of which 070 should have been maintaining listening watch. There was still no reply.
he controller in Nairobi tower allowed the British Airways flight from Seychelles to run fifteen seconds past its reporting time. Then he called once, twice and a third time without reply. He switched frequencies to the channels reserved for information, approach, tower and, finally, emergency, on one at least of which 070 should have been maintaining listening watch. There was still no reply.
Speedbird 070 was forty-five seconds past âoperations normal' before he removed the yellow slip from his approach rack and placed it in the emergency âlost contact' slot, and immediately search and rescue procedures were in force.
Speedbird 070 was two minutes and thirteen seconds past âoperations normal' when the telex pull sheet landed on the British Airways desk at Heathrow Control, and
sixteen seconds later Atlas had been informed and had placed Thor Command on condition Alpha.
sixteen seconds later Atlas had been informed and had placed Thor Command on condition Alpha.
T
he moon was three days short of full, its upper rim only slightly indented by the earth's shadow. However, at this altitude it seemed almost as big as the sun itself and its golden light was certainly more beautiful.
he moon was three days short of full, its upper rim only slightly indented by the earth's shadow. However, at this altitude it seemed almost as big as the sun itself and its golden light was certainly more beautiful.
In the tropical summer night great silver cloud ranges towered into the sky, and mushroomed into majestic thunder heads, and the moonlight dressed them in splendour.
The aircraft fled swiftly between the peaks of cloud, like a monstrous black bat on back-swept wings it bored into the west.
Under the port-side wing a sudden dark chasm opened in the clouds like the mouth of hell itself, and deep in its maw there was the faint twinkle of far light, like a dying star.
âThat will be Madagascar,' said the captain, his voice over-loud in the quiet cockpit. âWe are on track.' And behind his shoulder the girl stirred and carefully transferred the grenade into her other hand before she spoke for the first time in half an hour.
âSome of our passengers might still be awake and notice that.' She glanced at her wristwatch. âIt's time to wake up the others and let them know the good news.' She turned back to the flight engineer. âPlease switch on all the cabin lights and the seat-belt lights and let me have the microphone.'
Cyril Watkins, the captain, was reminded once again that this was a carefully planned operation. The girl was timing her announcement to the passengers when their resistance would be at its lowest possible ebb; at two o'clock in the morning after having been awoken from the disturbed
rest of intercontinental flight their immediate reaction was likely to be glum resignation.
rest of intercontinental flight their immediate reaction was likely to be glum resignation.
âCabin and seat-belt lights are on,' the engineer told her, and handed her the microphone.
âGood morning, ladies and gentlemen.' Her voice was warm, clear and bright. âI regret having to waken you at such an inconvenient hour. However, I have a very important announcement to make and I want all of you to pay the most careful attention.' She paused, and in the cavernous and crowded cabins there was a general stir and heads began to lift, hair tousled and eyes unfocused and blinking away the cobwebs of sleep. âYou will notice that the seat-belt lights are on. Will you all check that the persons beside you are fully awake and that their seat belts are fastened. Cabin staff please make certain that this is done.'
She paused again; the belts would inhibit any sudden movement, any spontaneous action at the first shock. Ingrid noted the passage of sixty seconds on the sweep hand of her wristwatch before going on.
âFirst let me introduce myself. My name is Ingrid. I am a senior officer of the Action Commando for Human Rightsâ' Captain Watkins curled his lip cynically at the pompous self-righteous title, but kept silent, staring ahead into the starry, moonlit depths of space ââ and this aircraft is under my command. Under no circumstances whatsoever will any of you leave your seats without the express permission of one of my officers â if this order is disobeyed, it will lead directly to the destruction of this aircraft and all aboard by high explosive.'
She repeated the announcement immediately in fluent German, and then in less proficient but clearly intelligible French before reverting to English once again.
âOfficers of the Action Commando will wear red shirts for immediate identification and they will be armed.'
As she spoke her three companions in the front of the first-class cabin were stripping out the false bottoms from
their canvas flight bags. The space was only two inches deep by fourteen by eight, but it was sufficient for the broken-down twelve bore pistols, and ten rounds of buckshot cartridges. The barrels of the pistols were fourteen inches long, the bores were smooth and made of armoured plastic. This material would not have withstood the passage of a solid bullet through rifling or any of the newer explosive propellants but it had been designed for use with the lower velocity and pressures of multiple shot and cordite. The breech piece was of plastic as were the double pistol grips, and these clipped swiftly into position. The only metal. in the entire weapon was the case-steel firing pin and spring, no bigger than one of the metal studs in the canvas flight bag, so they would not have activated the metal detectors of the security check at Mahé airport. The ten cartridges contained in each bag had plastic cases and bases; again only the percussion caps were of aluminium foil, which would not disturb an electrical fields. The cartridges were packed in looped cartridge belts which buckled around the waist.
their canvas flight bags. The space was only two inches deep by fourteen by eight, but it was sufficient for the broken-down twelve bore pistols, and ten rounds of buckshot cartridges. The barrels of the pistols were fourteen inches long, the bores were smooth and made of armoured plastic. This material would not have withstood the passage of a solid bullet through rifling or any of the newer explosive propellants but it had been designed for use with the lower velocity and pressures of multiple shot and cordite. The breech piece was of plastic as were the double pistol grips, and these clipped swiftly into position. The only metal. in the entire weapon was the case-steel firing pin and spring, no bigger than one of the metal studs in the canvas flight bag, so they would not have activated the metal detectors of the security check at Mahé airport. The ten cartridges contained in each bag had plastic cases and bases; again only the percussion caps were of aluminium foil, which would not disturb an electrical fields. The cartridges were packed in looped cartridge belts which buckled around the waist.
The weapons were short, black and ugly; they required reloading like a conventional shotgun, the spent shells were not self-ejecting and the recoil was so vicious that it would break the wrists of the user who did not bear down heavily on the pistol grips. However, at ranges up to thirty feet the destructive power was awesome, at twelve feet it would disembowel a man and at six feet it would blow his head off cleanly â yet it did not have the penetrating power to hole the pressure hull of an intercontinental airliner.
It was the perfect weapon for the job in hand, and within a few seconds three of them had been assembled and loaded and the two men had slipped on the bright scarlet shirts that identified them over their tee-shirts and moved to their positions â one in the back of the first-class cabin and one in the back of the tourist cabin, they stood with their grotesque weapons ostentatiously displayed.
The slim, pretty, dark-haired German girl stayed in her seat a little longer, working swiftly and neatly as she opened the remaining coco-de-mer and transferred their contents into two of the netting bags. These grenades differed only from the one carried by Ingrid in that they had double red lines painted around the middle. This signified that they were electronically fused.
Now Ingrid's clear young voice resumed over the cabin address system, and the long rows of passengers â all fully awake now â sat rigid and attentive, their faces reflecting an almost uniform expression of shock and trepidation.
ââ The officer of the action commando who is moving down the cabin at this time is placing high explosive grenadesâ' The dark-haired girl started down the aisle, and every fifteen rows she opened one of the overhead lockers and placed a grenade in it, closed the locker and moved on. The passengers' heads revolved slowly in unison as they watched her with the fascination of total horror. âA single one of those grenades has the explosive power to destroy this aircraft â they were designed to kill by concussion the crew of a battle tank protected by six inches of armour â the officer is placing fourteen of these devices along the length of this aircraft. They can be detonated simultaneously by an electronic transmitter under my controlâ' the voice contained a hint of mischief now, a little undercurrent of laughter ââ and if that happened they'd hear the bang at the North Pole!'
The passengers stirred like the leaves of a tree in a vagrant breeze; somewhere a woman began to weep. It was a strangled passionless sound and nobody even looked in her direction.
âBut don't worry yourselves. That isn't going to happen. Because everybody is going to do exactly as they are told, and when it's all over you are going to be proud of your part in this operation. We are all partners in a noble and glorious mission, we are all warriors for freedom and for the dignity
of man. Today we take a mighty step forward into the new world â a world purged and cleansed of injustice and tyranny and dedicated to the welfare of all its peoples.'
of man. Today we take a mighty step forward into the new world â a world purged and cleansed of injustice and tyranny and dedicated to the welfare of all its peoples.'
The woman was still weeping, and now a child joined her on a higher, more strident note.
The dark-haired girl returned to her seat and now she retrieved the camera that had activated the metal detector at Mahé airport. She slung it around her neck and crouched again to assemble the two remaining shot pistols; carrying them and the cartridge belts she hurried forward to the flight deck where the big blonde kissed her delightedly and unashamedly on the lips.
âKaren,
Liebling,
you were wonderful.' And then she took the camera from her and slung it around her own neck.
Liebling,
you were wonderful.' And then she took the camera from her and slung it around her own neck.
âThisâ' she explained to the captain ââ is not what it appears to be. It is the remote radio detonator for the grenades in the fuselage.'
He nodded without replying, and with obvious relief Ingrid disarmed the grenade that she had carried for so long by replacing the safety pin. She handed it to the other girl.
âHow much longer to the coast?' she asked as she strapped and buckled the cartridge belt around her waist.
âThirty-two minutes,' said the flight engineer promptly, and Ingrid opened the breech of the pistol, checked the load and then snapped it closed again.
âYou and Henri can stand down now,' she told Karen. âTry and sleep.'
The operation might last many days still, and exhaustion would be the most dangerous enemy they would have to contend with. It was for this reason alone that they had employed such a large force. From now on, except in an emergency, two of them would be on duty and two would be resting.
âYou have done a very professional job,' said the pilot, Cyril Watkins, ââ so far.'
âThank you.' Ingrid laughed, and over the back of his
seat placed a comradely hand on his shoulder. âWe have practised very hard for this day.'
seat placed a comradely hand on his shoulder. âWe have practised very hard for this day.'
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