Fire Force(76)

Then Chris fired the H&H.

The rhino was just readying itself for the final charge straight into the target when the bullet slammed into its skull. It paused, as if suspended in ice, then its legs started to buckle. It dropped to the ground, but was still carried forwards by the momentum of the charge, and it came to rest just ten yards in front of where Chris and Steve were standing. It moaned, a low, pitiful sound, as the last remnants of life ebbed out of the massive corpse.

‘Jesus, why would your bird want to save those fuckers?’ said Chris, looking down at the dead beast, its thick maroon blood still spilling onto the ground.

Steve shook his head. ‘No accounting for women.’

Nick was standing to one side of them, his face distraught. He walked slowly across to the rhino, sidestepping the blood. ‘I don’t know what happened,’ he said, with a shake of his head.

‘Anyone can freeze, mate,’ said Steve. He put an arm across the lad’s shoulder, then pushed him playfully away. Nick tried to smile but his heart wasn’t in it. We’ve trusted Nick too much, reflected Steve. He’s only a kid and he’s never in been in the proper Army. Just because he can shoot better than any man we’ve ever seen, doesn’t mean he always knows what he’s doing. He wasn’t up for taking down the rhino: and we shouldn’t have expected him to be.

Remember that, Steve told himself. Don’t rely on guys who can’t deliver.

‘Anyone for rhino burgers?’ said Dan, cheerfully standing over the animal. ‘I hear they’re not so bad with plenty of ketchup on top.’

‘How about the horn?’ said Maksim, his knife at the ready. ‘I’ve heard you get good money for them in China. I know some guys who could smuggle it through Russia.’

‘We’re getting paid well enough,’ said Ollie. ‘We don’t need to get arrested at the South African border for smuggling in a banned product.’

Maksim glanced down at the two long, twisted horns, then folded his knife back into his webbing.

But Ganju still had his knife out.

He was holding out his left arm and, with a flicker of hesitation, cut open a one-inch wound. The blood bubbled to the surface of his skin, before he put away his knife and ripped a bandage from his medi-kit to stick over it. Everyone was looking at him as if he was crazy. ‘It’s an old Gurkha tradition,’ he said simply. ‘If a Gurkha draws his sword, or his knife, then blood must be spilled before he puts it away again. If necessary, it must be the man’s own blood.’

‘Remind me not to ask you to carve the turkey at Christmas,’ joked Ian.

Ganju smiled. ‘We all live by our own traditions.’

‘No one would have noticed if you’d just slipped the knife away,’ said Dan.

‘We are all accountable for our own actions,’ said Ganju. ‘It doesn’t matter if anyone is watching or not.’

‘Right - let’s crack on,’ Steve said briskly. ‘We need to get there before nightfall if we can - and before it starts pissing down on us again.’

He led the march forwards. They had another twenty miles to go before they reached the camp. Newton and Ganju were leading the way, with Dan and Maksim taking the rear. Tshaka was in the middle of the convoy, his hands still behind his back, the same peaceful smile still on his face.

I don’t like the way that man looks, Steve repeated to himself. He’s too calm.

As if he knows something we don’t.





Twenty-Seven

BOTH NEWTON AND GANJU LOOKED worried when they returned from the recce. Steve knew at once what they were about to say even before they’d opened their mouths.

‘It’s too dangerous that way,’ said Ganju. ‘We’ll get blown to pieces.’

They had stopped a mile behind the front line.

Their fort at Gull’s Wing was only three miles away, no distance. But between them was a long front line, held by Tshaka’s army, fighting the official Government forces. There were trenches, barbed wire, gun emplacements and patrols. In total, there were 10,000 men in Tshaka’s forces and another 15,000 Government troops confronting them. The fighting was sporadic - most of the time the soldiers were happy enough just to hold their positions - but there wasn’t much chance of breaking through. If you were spotted, 1,000 men could be upon you in seconds, and even if they weren’t top quality troops, that didn’t mean their bullets weren’t going to kill you.

‘Maybe we could go this way,’ said Newton, pointing to the map. It was just after seven in the evening, and they’d laid up to rest in a remote patch of woodland. The tall, thick trees gave them cover from the storm the skies were threatening, and made them invisible from anything other than a patrol that stumbled straight into them. Dusk was starting to fall and, in the distance, you could hear occasional bursts of gunfire as the two armies probed and tested each other’s positions. ‘There’s a ridge of hills, then a steep valley that runs though them. You can’t dig trenches there, and you can’t lay down barbed wire because the terrain is too rough. There might be some patrols out, but I don’t think the area is going to be heavily defended because you couldn’t put any serious armour through it.’