Two hundred feet above the clearing, a big bubble of flame came from the open cabin and was sliced into streamers by the blades. Its dive steepened and a pin-wheeling body and pieces of equipment fell from it as it turned on to its side before plunging into the trees.
Revell handed the XL6 rifle back to Libby, who’d dragged himself to the doorway to look at the spectacle. ‘I don’t think I’ll be needing this again. OK everyone, back to your seats.’
Andrea sat next to Clarence again, and pulling the jacket over herself, nestled against him once more. The sniper affected not to see the look Revell gave him, as he rearranged the material to cover her better, and then left his arm resting lightly across her shoulders.
A leering grin creased Kurt’s dirty face, but a glance at Revell and he said nothing.
‘What’s the heading, Major?’ Burke hit the control to bring the ramp up. ‘Due west.’ Revell felt he hardly had the strength left to speak, as if the last drop of energy had been drained from him. ‘Let’s go home.’
‘According to TASS you burned down a whole fucking refugee camp.
O’l Foul Mouth lounged back in his chair. ‘Just the part they were using.’ Major Revell had washed and shaved, and he still felt a thousand years older than the antique desk the colonel sat behind. ‘Yeah, well that’s as maybe, but because of the chance of a fucking stink from all the shitty liberals and fellow-travellers back home there ain’t gonna be no press, no medals, no hoo-ha.’
‘Then what’s our version, sir.’ That last word almost stuck in his throat.
‘We don’t know nothin’, sweet F.A. Our reply to the Reds’ accusation is to say that if independent observers are let in, they’ll see we didn’t do it. But of course the Huskies ain’t gonna allow that, because those same busy-bodies will see what’s left of the workshops. So we score that way. Shit, I know it ain’t much, but there’s times, like over the ‘80 Olympics, when just getting up their hairy nostrils is a victory.’ Lippincott shuffled the papers on his desk to no particular purpose.
‘Eh, those Limeys still around?’
Their sergeant is busy trying to find transport to get them back to their unit.’ The question seemed to have no supplement. Revell hoped the interview was over. ‘If that’s all, Colonel…’
O’l Foul Mouth looked up sharply. ‘Don’t be in such a fucking hurry, Major, and tell the British the same, I got another little job for you…’
THE ZONE Series by James Rouch:
HARD TARGET
BLIND FIRE
HUNTER-KILLER
SKY STRIKE
OVERKILL
KILLING GROUND
PLAGUE BOMB
CIVILIAN SLAUGHTER
BODY COUNT
DEATH MARCH
Copyright
Copyright © 1980 by James Rouch
An Imprint Original Publication, 2005
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.
First E-Book Edition 2005
Second IMRPINT April 2007
The characters in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
THE ZONE
THE ZONE E-Books are published by
IMPRINT Publications, 3 Magpie Court
High Wycombe, WA 6057. AUSTRALIA.
Produced under licence from the Author, all rights reserved. Created in Australia by Ian Taylor © 2005