While the squad stood guard at the firing ports, Carson carefully embellished his webbing with any peace symbols he could find room for. Satisfied there were no more spaces he began to carefully draw artistic patterns on the seat covers. That done he took out a small polished disc of titanium from a slim pocket in his flak jacket and using it as a mirror proceeded to give his face an elaborate arrangement of camouflage patterns.
Andrea looked at him from her kneeling position on the bench. “You know that is a permanent marker?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got something that will wipe it off.” He stroked the thermite casing.
Revell would not have thought it was possible for their vehicle to move so quietly and so slowly. Any moment he expected the barely adequate draft from the near stalling engines to fail and the APC to smack down on to the road.
Burke though was an artist and he located the precise position his officer had indicated, silently nudged in among abandoned and burnt-out vehicles and bringing the Iron Cow to rest virtually touching the partially collapsed wall of an old church. It appeared to have been converted to a workshop. Lathes and pillar drills showed through a hole in the wall.
The squad left the vehicle and spent some minutes draping it with various lengths of wooden rafter and any other debris they could move quietly. That done guard positions were set up. Putting together the recon’ team, Revell was sorely tempted to lead them himself but he forced self-restrain. With Sergeant Hyde to command, he allocated Clarence and Ripper. He watched them melt into the might before taking up his post and preparing to await their return.
“Waiting is always the most difficult part.” Andrea was close to the officer’s position, her trim form almost lost to sight in the gloom.
Though he heard her whispered remark without being able to see her, Revell was glad she was there. He would have liked to reach out, to confirm her physical presence. But, not knowing what contact he might make, aware it could have been inappropriate or suggestive; he could not take the risk. And so he hoped she would speak again.
She didn’t and he had to sit there, inches from her, wrapped in the silence that was all they shared.
Sergeant Hyde led his patrol in a cautious circuit of the area and they found nothing. The precise location the weapon was to be emplaced they knew to be close to the longest span of a flyover, where the road was carried above a twin track of railway lines. The satellite-tracking device had confirmed the bomb had landed in that area but actually lighting upon it was another thing.
Carson had wanted the sergeant to take a Geiger counter but had been forced to admit that its fine setting meant it would not have registered radiation until it was almost touching the weapon. Their main reliance they put on their night vision glasses. Every few paces they would halt and check the ground to either side and ahead. He had been told the bombs pack had been treated to make it visible as a faint orange glow in infrared.
“Off to the right, by that electricity sub-station. Two vehicles.” Clarence nudged the NCO and pointed out the glimmer of flickering torchlight coming from beneath a tarpaulin stretched out from the side of a field car. That in turn was partially concealed behind a MT-LB tracked vehicle. The number of aerials on its roof suggested it was a command or communications vehicle of some sort.
It was easy to see why they had missed them on the first sweep. The location was right on the edge of the area and the close huddle of surrounding derelict vehicles made them blend with the partially stripped buses and trucks.
Using night vision goggles Hyde examined the site. The line of the tracked command vehicles sharply raked glacis plate was broken by an open drivers hatch. The roofline was interrupted by a small turret holding a light machine gun. Several whip aerials sprouted from locations on the side and top of the hull.
There was a loud cheer from beneath the tarpaulin, followed by a burst of raucous laughter then a second. Immediately afterwards noisy and animated conversation was accompanied by clinking noises, clearly bottles being knocked together. A figure came out from beneath the concealment and looked up at the sky as he relieved himself.
“Ripper, get the Major up here and be quick. Sound’s like Carson’s opposite number has succeeded in disarming the bomb.” Hyde tapped Clarence on the shoulder. “I think we got here just in time.”
“Knives only.” Crouched among the wrecks, Major Revell took his own heavy knife from its scabbard and sensed the others were quietly doing the same. The Russians were clearly in boisterous mood. They constantly called to each other and laughing as they struggled to fold the heavy waterproof sheet. The field car swayed as one soldier climbed on to the roof and made ready to receive it and lash it in place.
It was while it was being pulled down and stowed that Revell had the chance to get his men in to position. While it remained in place they’d had no way of knowing how many of the enemy were beneath it, what force would have to be employed to over-come them. By the time he had the squad positioned there was only an hour of darkness remaining. The major had been worried that the celebration might have continued until dawn, or that the Russians might have settled down to wait for it before packing up. At least one bottle had been emptied and hurled away to be caught by the mesh fence flanking the railway.
The armoured vehicle presented the main problem. Under normal circumstances a single grenade in through the open drivers hatch would have taken care of any crew but Revell had no way of knowing if the bomb had already been placed inside it. There had been much confused movement between the vehicles and the area beneath the sheeting as the Russians stowed their equipment.
Revell had to know what risks such a course of action might incur. “What are the chances of the bomb being triggered by a small explosive, by a grenade?”
Carson shrugged. “A hard clout from a few fragments is not going to do it any good. No way of knowing what the Russians have done to disarm the bomb, how many of the safety devices had been by-passed, even how many of the inspection panels had been removed and left off. Maybe best not to push our luck.”
Now they edged as close as they could. Four Russians were struggling to get the cover on to the command car roof rack, two more were watching, shouting advice and encouragement. Only a minute before they were to launch themselves from various points of concealment about the small encampment, there was a loud clang of metal and a hatch in the command vehicles turret was thrown open. A big man, made even larger by the greatcoat he hugged about himself, pulled his bulk to a seated position on the top. Tugging at the thick material to straighten it he next brushed himself off and then adjusted his helmet to a rakish angle. Even in another language his bellowed commands were clearly slurred.
“I shall take him.” Andrea saw the officer’s dilemma. The Russian had only to launch himself back inside and then beside having the trigger for the turret machine gun under his hands he had at only arms length the personal weapons racks and the vehicles radio. Once back inside any of the choices of action open to him spelt disaster for the squad’s attempts to secure the bomb. If he did no more than slam shut and secure the hatches then they were blocked just as effectively. “I am the lightest, and the fastest. Just let me be a pace or two ahead.”
The sweep hand of his watch was climbing towards the top of the dial. The others were already in place; it was too late to alert them to any change of plans. Revell had moments to decide. “Ok, but go for his throat, those coats are thick.”
From the places of concealment amongst the brick supported trucks and cars they had at least twenty paces to cover before they could spring on the Russians. Andrea had five more than that plus the jump on to the rear of the tall hull.