By the time Wilkins reached a point over the top of the ridge, the branch was creaking alarmingly and was drooped at a thirty-degree angle. Wilkins let his legs free and hung on the end of the branch with his arms. He deliberately caused the branch to bounce twice, testing it for weight.
“If it holds me, it’ll hold you, Sarge,” the private said, just loud enough to be heard.
“As long as my heart holds out,” Hynd replied. “Stop doing that, there’s a good lad.”
“Whatever you say, Sarge,” Wilkins said and without looking down let go of the branch. He fell six feet to the top of the ridge and landed as easily as if he’d stepped off the bottom rung of a ladder. He waved up, motioning that Hynd should follow.
Here goes nothing.
Hynd copied Wilkins’ crawling style, grabbed hold of the branch, and pulled his body forward. The branch felt too springy under him and twice he had to stop because he’d inadvertently created a sympathetic bounce that threatened to throw him out into the air. Five feet from the end of the branch, he felt the dip become more pronounced and the wood creaked beneath him. He looked down. Wilkins smiled up at him and motioned him forward again. The sergeant wasn’t about to let a private get the better of him. He gritted his teeth, ignored the increasing sag of the branch, and inched ahead until he was at a point directly over Wilkins’ head.
He had a bad moment when he let his legs drop and caused another bounce in the branch but his grip held although his heart thudded hard and he had a sinking feeling in his gut that took long seconds to fade. He looked down. Wilkins motioned that he should drop. He couldn’t see a single spot to aim for that looked secure enough for an easy landing. But a private was already down there; a sergeant wasn’t going to hesitate in joining him.
He let go of the branch.
He landed on both feet but his left was too near the edge of the ledge where Wilkins stood. He slid off it. There was only a split second of panic then Wilkins had him ’round the waist and got him standing upright. They heard a creak overhead; the WHO doctor was already three-quarters of the way along the branch.
“Get behind me and watch my back, Sarge,” Wilkins said quietly. “I’ll get him.”
Hynd sidled tentatively around Wilkins. The private moved around him, lithe and smooth like a dancer, to stand almost directly under where the black-haired doctor was now dangling. The doctor looked down, Wilkins nodded, and the man dropped. He landed as easily as Wilkins himself had and didn’t need any steadying.
“That’s right, show the old man up,” Hynd muttered then turned and led them along the top of the ridge.
The gate was only twenty yards or so ahead. By the time they crested a small slope five yards later, they had a clear view along the length of the top level where the platform and winch sat. All six guards had their attention fixed out across the crater. On the other side of the gate, the yells of an excited crowd came clear through the air.
Hynd turned to the other two and made a show of taking out his knife. Wilkins followed suit and the doctor, to both the soldiers’ amazement, produced a thin thing from his pocket. At first, Hynd thought it was a pen but with a click and a flick, it opened into a wicked-looking four-inch blade with a handle. And suddenly, the doctor’s smile didn’t look quite so engaging.
Now it was all going to be down to soft footing, timing, and luck. He hoped all three would hold.
Hynd took the lead; he’d been shown up enough for one day, with Wilkins at his back and the doctor at the rear, hopefully out of harm’s way. They went over the small ridge as quickly as they could manage. With every step, Hynd worried that a dislodged pebble or snapped twig would give them away but also with every step they got closer to the nearest of the guards, all of whom still had all their attention focused down into the crater.
He got almost within reaching distance of his man before the guard must have caught an almost subliminal movement at the corner of his eye. The guard turned. Hynd’s blade took out his throat then plunged deep in his heart. By the time the dead man fell, Hynd was already moving on. He had punched the second guard and pushed past before any of them registered an attack was taking place. He left that man for Wilkins and struck for the third but this one had enough time to get prepared and had his spear raised to defend himself. Hynd was about to attack when there was a soft thud. The doctor’s flick knife seemed to sprout in the man’s neck. He too fell aside, bleeding out as he reached the ground.
The fourth man was hardly a man at all, a youth who couldn’t have been much more than fifteen. His spear came up too slow and Hynd had his throat open and his heart stopped before he made another move.
The fifth was made of sterner stuff. He saw Hynd’s thrust coming, knocked it aside with his spear head, and made a countering thrust of his own that would have skewered Hynd if he hadn’t managed to move aside at the last second. But that same movement had him off balance as the man raised his spear again. Wilkins stepped forward from behind Hynd and grabbed the spear below the blade, tugging hard at it, bringing the man off balance and down to where Hynd was able to open him from pubes to sternum.
Hynd was still getting to his feet when the sixth guard raised a horn; neither Hynd nor Wilkins were going to be able to reach him in time but as his lips touched the ivory, the doctor stepped up behind the man and sliced his throat from ear to ear. The doctor was cleaning the blade off as Wilkins helped Hynd to his feet. He looked at them both and smiled.
“I was raised on the streets of Marseille, gentlemen. I know knife work only too well.”
They had done it; the guards were taken out and no alarm had been raised.
“Wilko, figure out how yon winch contraption works, quick now. I reckon we’ve got maybe a minute before somebody notices us.”
He put a finger to his lips and let out a whistle. Davies stepped out from under the canopy and Hynd motioned that he should come forward and bring the group out of hiding. A minute later, they were all standing below, waiting to be raised up.
Wilkins spoke up.
“There’s only three of us to work the winch, Sarge. We can’t bring them all up at once; they’ll be too heavy.”
Hynd was considering that when there was another cheer from the crowd somewhere to their left in the town beyond the wall. Another animal roar from the same direction was answered again from the jungle inside the crater.
And they’re close. Very close.
Two raptors came out of the jungle heading directly at the people below the gate.
- 17 -
Banks rolled left, Wiggins rolled right, and the raptor and rider came over the pit and landed between them. Hynd kicked out at the beast’s head as it snapped towards him. The man on its back had his attention on Wiggins who had to roll again to avoid a spear thrust.
Banks threw himself back against the wall as the raptor snapped again. It roared in frustration as the captain threw a punch that caught it firmly on the snout. It had been like punching stone but it seemed to confuse the beast and give Banks enough time to ferret in his pocket and come up with a handful of gravel and pebbles. He threw it in the raptor’s face, getting lucky as it had opened its jaws again and much of the gravel went down its throat. The result was immediate; the beast coughed and spluttered, spraying saliva across Bank’s chest. It bucked and thrashed. The rider overbalanced, tried to correct, and mistimed a spear thrust.