At his side, Maksim was spewing up the rum he’d drunk last night. Dan coughed - once, then twice - then heaved his guts onto the floor. He was far too experienced a soldier to try and hold it in: when you were flying a helicopter below the radar, the ride was so rough even a dead man would start throwing up. The sooner you got it over with, the better. But Steve was still fighting it, holding his stomach tight as the Alouette jolted and rocked through the air.
The pit of the machine was like a sick bowl, the vomit mixing with the rain and swilling around their boots, creating a vile, foamy stench. Steve couldn’t even look at it, but the smell was enough. He heaved, throwing up into the mixture, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, spitting as he did so.
The chopper was descending rapidly towards the lake. David steadied it at seventy-five feet from the surface. The rain was intense, with great sheets of water falling in front of them, and Steve knew at once they had made a mistake. You should never even contemplate a chopper attack in this kind of weather.
Too late to turn back now.
Up ahead, he could see the patrol boat steaming up close to the port. The men were lined up on its prow, trying to hold themselves steady as the vessel dipped and rose in the waves.
‘We’ll be there in ten,’ shouted Steve. ‘Get ready.’
The land was passing beneath them, then they were skimming over the walls of the fort. They’d planned for Ollie to start bombing the walls before the chopper dropped out of the sky but that part of the assault had already gone pear-shaped. David was cursing as he battled with the controls of the Alouette, shouting at the engines as he tried desperately to coax enough power from the machine to stabilise it.
Ian was knocking the stun grenades down onto the ground.
‘Ear-mufflers, glasses!’ he yelled.
Next, there was a huge explosion - a sound so brutal and cruel it cracked open the air. Steve had only just pulled on his mufflers and his glasses as the noise erupted from the ground, making every bolt and join in the Alouette shudder and shake. It was followed by a flash of pure white light, as blinding and intense as the hottest sun, and for a moment even the storm itself appeared quelled into submission by the force of the explosions.
‘Go, go, go!’ screamed Steve.
He could see a moment’s hesitation in the faces of the men around him. They were the bravest soldiers he’d ever met, but even the stoutest heart wasn’t built for a task of this magnitude.
‘Just bloody go!’ he yelled, almost shredding his lungs with the volume of the command.
Unhooking his rope, he flung himself from the open chopper, and immediately could feel himself dropping through the air.
And as he glanced down, it looked as if he was falling through the gates of hell.
Ollie flinched as the noise of the stun grenades rocked out over the lake. Then he permitted himself a brief smile.
‘Bloody madmen,’ he said to Chris.
But there was no time for a reply. Through the spray and wind, the fort was looming up at them. At 100 yards’ distance, you could see the strength of its walls. The thick slabs of concrete rose up out of the ground, presenting a formidable obstacle. Rainwater was pouring off its sides, creating hundreds of tiny streams down to the lake, and the few yards between the shore and the wall were already a churned, muddy mess.
Ganju had slowed the engine to a crawl, steering carefully, his eyes rooted to the radar as they completed the last few yards of their approach. The lake might well have been mined, he judged, with only a narrow, clear channel left for Tshaka’s own men to get in and out. Touch one of those and the patrol boat would be blown into the sky.
‘Steady!’ yelled Ollie, wiping the spray from his face.
Smoke was rising from inside the fort, he noted. The stun grenades had ignited one after another, creating a pyrotechnic display of awesome power. The flashes lit up the dark morning sky with brilliant light, whilst the echo of the explosions filled the lake with a ghostly noise.
‘Ready your firing positions,’ Ollie commanded.
Chris was at the KPV and Nick had manned one of the two MAGs at the back of the boat, whilst Ganju was holding the wheel steady. Ollie and Newton had picked up the two RPGs, positioning the heavy steel tubes on their shoulders. Ollie was scanning the ground, following the water pipes up to the wall. He held himself as still as he could.
‘Fire!’ he bellowed.
As he spoke, a wave kicked into the prow, jerking the boat upwards. Ollie loosened off his rocket, the device fizzing through the air. It missed the wall entirely, exploding inside the fort. Ganju’s rocket fared only slightly better, striking the wall two feet below the parapet, knocking loose some dust and concrete, but not doing any real damage.