‘The whole of the Med,’ agreed Ian.
‘And if that isn’t something to drink to,’ said Ollie, raising his glass, ‘then I’d like to know what is.’
Eighteen
GUY WALLACE POINTED AT A map on the wall. It showed the northern half of Batota, the border dominated by the massive Lake Hasta. A section measuring 100 square miles was marked out in red. ‘This is where the bastard is holed up,’ he said. ‘And this is where you’re going to get him.’
The unit was sitting in the planning room of the officer’s mess. They had been woken just after dawn by a bugle call, and as they brewed up some coffee and ate some breakfast they could see the Sixth Brigade being put through its early-morning drill on the parade ground. There was no doubt they were a formidable fighting force. There were 300 soldiers in the barracks, and each one of them looked immaculately turned out, drilled and equipped.
If it comes to a fight, we’ll just have to hope they are not on the other side of it, Steve reflected. Three hundred of them against ten of us? We wouldn’t have a chance.
Wallace had collected them from the barracks at eight sharp and led them through to the operations room. It was sparsely furnished, with a single wooden table, one window overlooking the parade ground, and a series of maps and charts that detailed every inch of the country. It was from here, guessed Steve, that the President kept his real grip on the country. It wasn’t politics or tribal history that kept him in office, whatever you might read in the papers. It was the rifles of the Sixth Brigade.
Wallace was describing Tshaka’s forces. At his side was his main North Korean military adviser, Sungoo Park. The Korean was a small man, no more than five foot six, with cropped black hair and close-set dark brown eyes. As he walked into the room, there was a punchy smell of cheap aftershave. His expression was tense, and he spoke in a clipped, hurried English, but you could see the military intelligence in everything he said, Steve thought. Park might be a cruel man - ruthless, as well - but there was nothing inept about him.
In total, Tshaka had taken control of an area of 100 square miles, declaring effective Independence. Government troops couldn’t go into the area. Nor could the police or the tax collectors. The rebel leader was building his strength for an assault on the capital. ‘We can’t be sure when it’s coming, or what his strategy will be when he decides to strike, but strike he will, we can be certain of that,’ Wallace said heavily.
‘We need to destroy him - and destroy him now,’ said Park.
There was emphasis on the word destroy, noted Steve. The North Koreans fought with a brutal savagery that flattened all opposition. Park wasn’t the man who was going to change that tradition.
‘There’s a Presidential election coming up in three weeks,’ said Wallace. ‘I don’t suppose our man is in any danger of losing, he never is . . .’ Chuckling to himself, he took a cigar from the breast pocket of his olive-green battlefield uniform and rolled it between his fingers but left it unlit.
‘But there’s an issue of prestige on the line, and we need Tshaka dealt with right away,’ he continued, his eyes glancing at each man in turn. ‘There aren’t going to be any medals for this one, boys, but there’s a meaty cheque at the end of it, and that’s worth fighting for.’
‘So where is he most of the time?’ asked David.
‘Right here,’ said Park, tapping the map with his short, stubby finger. ‘A place called Elephant’s Point on the shores of the lake. The closest town is called Binga, about fifty miles down from Avalanche Falls. He plans all his operations from there, and lives inside the fort most of the time. The bulk of his troops are out on the front line, protecting his territory from our soldiers. Our intelligence is that there are fifty crack troops stationed at Elephant’s Foot at all times, tasked with protecting Tshaka.’
‘That’s the place to strike,’ said Wallace. ‘Get into the fort, and bring the bastard out.’
‘It would be easier to get him when he’s on the front line,’ said Ian.
Wallace was looking at him suspiciously. ‘Why?’
‘He won’t have so much protection around him,’ the Irishman said. ‘The fort is where he’s most heavily guarded. Get him in a jeep, in the middle of some hard fighting, and he’ll be easier to snatch.’
‘We don’t have the intelligence,’ said Wallace. ‘We’d need a man on the inside to tell us where he was and when we could take him.’
Steve glanced between both men. Wallace was right. If they were going to capture Tshaka out on the battlefield, they’d need to know where he was. And that did mean a man on the inside.