Fire Force(86)

The message was clear enough.

We’re on.

‘He looks tense,’ muttered Ian, standing at Steve’s side.

‘You’d be sodding tense if you were about to kill your President.’

Ian was edging back.

Behind them, a Land Rover was parked close to the fort’s main gates. It was idle, but the key were still in the ignition. The soldiers in the camp had all been lined up on the other side of the parade ground to watch the execution. One man had been given a camcorder to hold, and another was taking snaps with an ordinary digital camera.

I’ll watch the show from here, decided Ian.

Just in case.

‘Bring me a gun,’ barked Kapembwa.

‘Which weapon, sir?’ asked Wallace.

The man thought for a moment, the same way a wine connoisseur might hesitate while deciding which vintage to choose.

‘A Heckler and Koch USP,’ said Kapembwa.

Good choice, thought Steve. With 9×19mm parabellum ammunition, the Heckler was a modern German weapon, good enough to be chosen as the standard firearm for the German Army or Bundeswehr. Say what you like about the Krauts, reflected Steve, they knew a bit about weaponry. The Bundeswehr didn’t put in an order for a couple of hundred thousand handguns without knowing they were buying quality.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Ian edging closer to the Land Rover. Instinctively, Steve did the same, with Nick following along at his side.

In the sky, some rain was starting to spit out of the heavy clouds. It’ll be sheeting down in a minute, thought Steve. But the poor bastard on the stake won’t be around to feel it.

And neither will the President.

Kapembwa held the Heckler & Koch in his right hand; he was just twenty feet away from his target. His hand was rock steady, noted Steve. You could still see that he had been a guerrilla leader long before he became a politician. ‘You’re ready?’ he asked the prisoner.

‘Remove my blindfold,’ said Tshaka.

‘Shut up,’ snarled Wallace.

‘No,’ said the President. ‘Remove it.’

Wallace nodded towards one of the soldiers. The man stepped forward, cutting free the cloth covering Tshaka’s eyes, allowing it to drop to the ground.

Kapembwa squeezed the trigger.

The bullet slotted neatly into the side of Tshaka’s head. His body jerked, as if a bolt of electricity had shot through him, then slumped. Blood was starting to seep out of his forehead.

Kapembwa squeezed again on the trigger.

A double tap, thought Steve. Right out of the Regiment textbook.

The second bullet caught Tshaka on the cheek, slicing open the skin, then drilling into the bone of the skull. But the man didn’t so much as twitch. The first bullet had already killed him.

Tshaka was slumped forward, only the ropes binding him to the stake holding him upright.

‘That’s the end of your rebellion, my friend,’ said Kapembwa softly.

Steve glanced towards Newton.

Now, he thought to himself. Pull your Uzi, and let the bastard have a taste of his own medicine.





Thirty

NEWTON HAD PULLED THE UZI from his webbing. His finger was resting on the trigger. A bead of sweat was running down the side of his face, but otherwise he was calm and composed.

With a flick of his wrist, he pointed the gun straight towards Dan, Ollie and the rest of the men. In the same moment, Kapembwa turned around with his own gun. So did Wallace and the thirty soldiers standing right behind him.

‘Don’t even think about moving,’ growled Wallace.

Steve could see at once what was happening.

They had been betrayed.

Behind him, Ian had already jumped into the Land Rover and fired the engine into life. Steve hurled himself into the back of the vehicle, Nick at his side. The wheels were skidding against the dusty surface of the parade ground as Steve thrust out a hand, grabbing Nick by the wrist and dragging him up. As Steve looked back, Wallace’s men were jabbing their rifles into the rest of the unit, forcing them to throw their weapons to the ground.

‘Move out!’ he shouted at Ian.

The command was unnecessary. The Irishman had already slammed his foot on the accelerator, and was climbing up through thirty then forty miles an hour.

They were heading straight towards the exit.

Wallace had seen what was happening and started barking orders to his men. He pulled his own gun and fired one, then two rounds into them, but they flashed harmlessly past. The Land Rover was swaying as it hit the exit. With a sickening thud, it smashed into the guard at the gates, and you could feel it shake as the big tyres crushed the man’s lungs. Ian just slammed his foot harder to the floor, swerving the Land Rover out onto the dirt track then down towards the lake.

‘What about the others?’ shouted Nick.