Fire Force(59)

Not much time left.

‘Come in, come in,’ Ganju said urgently, louder this time.

‘Chopper receiving, chopper receiving,’ came the reply. Even through the haze and crackle, Steve’s voice was clearly recognisable.

‘What’s the weather like?’ Ganju asked. As he spoke, another crack of lightning was followed by a rattle of thunder.

Ollie was looking towards Ganju, waiting for the reply. At his side, Newton was steering the patrol boat relentlessly forward. The bend was looming ever closer. A point, judged Ollie, of no return.

Get round that bend, and they’d be visible from the fort.

We’ll have to stand and fight. No matter what odds we may be facing.

‘What’s the weather like?’ repeated Ganju.

There was a burst of static. Then silence.

‘Repeat, chopper, weather update,’ said Ganju. ‘Attack today question. Decide now . . .’

Ollie was glancing between Ganju and the radio. But there was nothing.

Just another piercing stab of lightning, a rolling blast of thunder and rain lashing hard into his face.

‘Christ,’ he muttered out loud. ‘We can’t attack in this.’





Steve slammed his fists together in frustration. He pushed the headphones away. Sweat was forming on his face.

‘We’ve only sodding lost radio contact,’ he snarled.

‘It’s the storm,’ shouted David. ‘The lightning . . . it’s fucked the shortwave radio.’

Steve stared down at the clouds swirling beneath them. There was a flash of purple - evidence of lightning. It was almost certainly raining heavily down there. The weather was about to get rough . . . brutally rough.

‘We’re five miles from the target,’ David bellowed. ‘Either we abort or we drop down through the clouds now.’

Steve glanced into the faces of the men around him. They were tense, frowning - hanging onto the handlebars for dear life.

‘We bloody do this!’ shouted Maksim above the wind. ‘The Spetsnaz had a simple rule. When you throw a punch, you never pull it.’

‘We can’t contact Ollie.’ Ian spoke next. ‘Even if we’re pulling back, there’s no way of warning them, and we can’t leave them to go in by themselves. They’ll be slaughtered.’

‘He might have decided to pull back,’ Steve said.

‘Nah. He’s too obstinate,’ said Ian.

Next, Steve looked at Dan. They could only do this if each man agreed. He wasn’t going to force anyone to drop down into a fire-fight like this.

Each bloke had to make his own decision.

The Australian nodded curtly, without a moment’s hesitation.

Steve clamped a hand on David’s shoulder. ‘We’re on, mate,’ he said, with a tense grin. ‘Drop this bastard out of the sky.’




‘Tell them to pull back!’ shouted Ollie.

The patrol boat was nearing the bend. A vicious wind was spinning across the lake, kicking up waves that were hurling spray across the bow. The vessel was swaying in the stormy waters. It was impossible to see more than a few feet in front of them.

Ollie addressed himself to Chris and Ganju.

‘It’s bloody madness,’ he roared. ‘They can’t bring that chopper down in this storm, and we can’t hold this damned ship steady enough to fire into the fort.’

Both men nodded their agreement.

Ganju was working the radio furiously. He was twisting the knobs, trying to get a signal, but it was useless. ‘It’s the storm!’ he shouted. ‘We’re not going to get through.’

‘With any luck, Steve will pull back,’ said Chris.

‘I wouldn’t count on it,’ Ollie told him. ‘We’ve all seen that bastard in a scrap. The man doesn’t know when he’s beaten.’

Newton was steering the patrol boat around the bend. Suddenly, through the mist and the rain, the fort at Elephant’s Foot was clearly visible.

Up above them, there was a roll of thunder, so loud and close it sounded as if the earth around them was opening up. Then there was another sound.

The rotorblades of a chopper.

Ollie spun around. Half a mile behind them, the Alouette was skimming across the lake. Within a minute, it would be over the fort.

‘We’re going in!’ he bawled.

And God help us.





Twenty-Two

THE CHOPPER WAS KNOCKED SIDEWAYS as it plunged suddenly into the low cloud. It bounced for a second, then started its descent. David was struggling to hold the machine steady, while Steve was clinging desperately to the handlebar, and repeating the same words over and over again.

‘Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name . . .’

Then: ‘Sod it,’ he muttered out loud, as the Alouette jerked and swayed, and the first blast of rain lashed in from the open doorways. ‘It’s too late to start praying now.’