The general wasn’t so patient. He yelled into the darkness from time to time and, judging by his body language, if he ever got his hands on the guys who’d run away tonight, he’d rip their hearts out with his bare hands.
Davy was on stag next to Gary, who was still lying where he’d dropped. His face was covered with a sheet of blood-soaked gingham.
Sam had been staring at the dark pool that had leaked from under his head, and still glistened in the moonlight. He finally tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Come with me.’
We crossed the roof and headed down the spiral staircase.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Don’t you want to know why Gary’s history?’
It was pitch black. The further we went down the stairs, the stronger the smell from the bodies. It wasn’t the usual butcher’s-shop smell. It was too hot and sticky for that. It reminded me of dog food.
The small wooden crates in the middle of the hall were split but still intact. ‘Grab one, Nick. I’ll get the door.’
I did as I was told and carried it out into the moonlight. The box was about half the weight of the link I’d been carrying earlier – surprisingly heavy for its size.
A small zinc plate on the side read: London Good Delivery.
I didn’t know what to make of that. It wasn’t in London yet, and there certainly wasn’t anything good about this delivery. But Sam knew. ‘It’s gold. London Good Delivery bars are the world trading standard. That’s what those guys out there are here for.’ He picked up one of the brick-sized bars. ‘Twenty-seven pounds each, these boys weigh. That’s a big wad we got here, in anybody’s language.’
‘I don’t give a shit. Gary and the others in the house died for this?’
Sam saw the expression on my face. ‘Let’s go ask her, shall we?’
I followed him over to the Renault. Sam held the gold bar almost under Annabel’s nose. ‘All this, just so Uncle Mo ships a few more million to Switzerland? Politically sensitive? I must tell that to the mother of Gary’s kids. And what about your two friends? Do they have husbands? Brothers? Sisters? I’m sure it’ll be a comfort.’
‘Sam, I—’
‘Giving aid with one hand and taking back with the other, that’s all this is.’ He gave her the sort of look he’d given me when I’d used ‘fuck’ and ‘New Testament’ in the same sentence. ‘How do you people sleep at night?’
She didn’t reply. Tears were rolling down her face. She was young; this job was just a little rung on a big career ladder. What was she supposed to do? Refuse on moral grounds or something?
Standish had been silent up to now, but he’d obviously heard enough. Good: she needed defending. ‘Shut up and stop crying. I can’t stand whinging women. And you, Sergeant –’ he glared at Sam ‘– just get on with your job. Do you think this didn’t come right from the top? It’s important.’
Sam clenched his jaw. ‘Important for you, maybe, but not for me. I’m a soldier.’
For a moment, it looked like Sam was going to deck him, but he never got the chance. Davy was screaming from the roof: ‘Stand to!’
11
Sam and I ran towards the house as Davy got everyone sparked up. ‘Here we go, stand to, stand to!’
Sam paused to shout back at Standish. ‘Get the comms inside and keep out of my way!’
We raced up the stairs and on to the roof. I could see four sets of headlamps coming our way, then five, six, maybe more.
I took control of my gun and rested it on the parapet, jerking back instinctively on the cocking handle to check that the working parts were still to the rear and made ready. As the steel parts of the cocking slide rubbed against each other I heard the rasp of sand. I pushed in the safety bar that ran through the pistol grip from right to left before punching down on the top cover to make sure.
The clunks and clicks of two RPGs being loaded came from just behind me, but the guys held their fire. To get in a decent shot, the vehicles needed to be within spitting distance at night. The launchers only had iron sights.
Yet more sets of lights appeared and peeled off to the right. The fuckers were going to try to surround us. Still we waited for Sam’s order.
The headlights closed to 300 metres and I could hear faint shouts and hoots. The boys must have been having a good old night on the ghat.
Sam ducked and weaved like a boxer as he tried to get a better view, then a finger poked at my shoulder. ‘Take the lead vehicle.’
I shifted position until my foresight rested on the closest set of lights. He designated other vehicles until everyone had a target. When mine was about two hundred away, he said, ‘Stand by, stand by, fire!’
The noise of eight weapons opening simultaneously was deafening. I was buffeted by shockwaves from the RPGs, then the hot back-blast washed over me. Gravel splattered me. My nose filled with the acrid smell of cordite and spent propellant. My eardrums zinged.
I put another double-tap into the lead vehicle as one of the grenades hit home about three back. Its headlights swerved and the dustcloud it threw up obscured the set I was aiming for.
Next thing I saw, my vehicle, too, was swerving. It went into a complete roll not more than twenty metres from the wall.
Bodies kept advancing, firing wildly, their screams and shouts getting louder by the minute.
The first vehicle made it to the wall and into dead ground. It had to be heading for the gate. Sam ran along the parapet. ‘Take the wagon! Take the wagon!’
I made a grab for the carry handle but missed. My fingers closed around the red-hot gun metal and nearly stuck to it. My hand sprang open and the gun dropped. I made sure I got the handle this time.
Sam’s rounds stitched holes in the light sheet steel of the gates. ‘Right of the gate,’ he screamed. ‘Get some rounds through the wall!’
I stood with the weapon in my shoulder, hands on the pistol grip and butt with the barrel on the parapet to allow me elevation down. I could smell my own burned flesh as I squeezed off a long burst.
A few inches of breezeblock were no match for 7.62mm of steel travelling at 800 metres a second.
The section of wall disintegrated.
Instead of scattering, the ghat-fuelled bodies behind it fired back through the hole.
Others still rushed the main gate, so high they didn’t even realize they were leaking blood.
12
04:20 hours
They came at us in waves, maybe fifteen to twenty bodies at a time. The flash eliminator at the end of my gun barrel glowed red from the sheer number of rounds that had rattled through. Standish was certainly getting his body count now.
When the lull came, I opened the top cover in an attempt to cool the working parts.
Sam called round for ammo states. The shouts that came back from all of us were exactly the same: ‘Low.’
‘All right, listen in. First light’s in two hours. Davy and Nick, get Gary and the rest of them on the back of our wagon.’
I left the gun on the terrace with the top cover up, and went over to Frankenstein’s body.
Davy looked up. ‘He’s stiffening.’ He was trying to get Gary’s arms down by his side. ‘Another hour or so and we won’t get him down the stairs.’
I grabbed under his armpits and Davy took his legs. He looked shaken.
‘You all right, mate?’
‘It’s just . . . Well, I know his girlfriend. They have a couple of kids together.’ Davy grunted with the effort. ‘But she’s going to get fuck-all. She didn’t want to marry this fucker.’ He nodded at Frankenstein’s head, lolling from side to side as we moved along the landing.
We got to the top of the stairs and the stench of shit and death hit my nostrils.