Despite intense pressure in Washington to pull Able Team out of its recent Central American mission, it was in fact Able Team's own urgent sympathy for Leo Turrin's position in London that had brought them to this new arena. The three warriors of Able Team were justice-hungry, ready to reach for victory in this new People's War.
Their trained eyes picked out the SAS snipers on the roof of both King George IV House and King Charles II House. The barrels of the L42Al's were clearly visible. This was a British hard set, and it troubled Able Team. They knew the British had a "by the book" approach to the horrors of terrorism, and Lyons had been told more than once of the British propensity for using geegaws such as the QuickPoint. Big deal. A device like the QuickPoint sniperscope summed up the likely flaws in the defenses of the castle they had come to protect. The trick with the QuickPoint scope was to get the red dot to follow the bouncing target. QuickPoint was nothing special for a good rifleman. Lyons appreciated it had some application in law enforcement, since the red dot served as a warning to a suspect or escaping prisoner. "See the red dot? That's where the bullet will hit." But the red dot did not illuminate the target, it did not identify the target; it identified the point of impact, whether it was a head, a tree, a leaf. It did not aid in accuracy, as the rifle could still waver. In fact it betrayed the rifleman. The target saw the red dot, dodged fast, fired at the QuickPoint scope. Dead rifleman.
The three American specialists stepped from the van and mingled with the tourists. Their casual English sportswear disguised their true background.
They stopped a pedestrian and asked for directions. Within minutes they found themselves at the inn called the Boar and Bull.
The tavern occupied the ground floor of an ancient house on Clarence Street, away from the castle. Unlike the public houses selling drinks on High Street, the Boar and Bull was a local it catered to the citizenry of the town. Tourists went elsewhere.
The odor of hot steak pies assailed the warriors as they entered. A tall man of about seventy, with a thick white mustache that curled at the ends, immediately approached them. He introduced himself as Geoffrey Hall.
Carl Lyons did not introduce himself or the other two. He openly studied the man.
Hall was a shade taller than six feet, and slender. His bearing had the stamp of the British military. He wore a navy blue double-breasted blazer with a crest on the chest pocket, and gray flannel slacks. Strength radiated from the old man. His eyes impressed Lyons. They spoke of much life lived and more yet to come. They proclaimed it worthwhile to carry on, even in the valley of the shadow of death.
"You gentlemen will find the food here to be very good. May I recommend the shepherd's pie?" The elegant ex-soldier led the three specialists to a corner table that held a half-empty pint of very dark beer.
"I should caution you that our beer is much stronger than what you are used to in America," the old man added.
"I'll drink what you're drinking," Lyons said.
A barmaid took their order. Conversation of an inconsequential nature occupied the four men until food and drink arrived. As they ate, the specialists found out more about their host.
During World War II, Geoffrey Hall had served with the OSS as an agent behind enemy lines in occupied France. His mother was French, and he spoke the language like a native. He also had a supply sergeant's talent for organization and acquisition a talent that was put to good use in setting up and equipping several units of the French Resistance. More than once he organized raids that equipped the freedom fighters with weapons from German arsenals.
After the war, he applied for service in the Royal Household Staff Corps. He was quickly accepted, and within a few years his organizational and acquisitional talents were utilized as Chief of Household Services, Windsor Castle. He retired from the position five years earlier.
During Stony Man's research into Leo's Shillelagh mission, Hall's name had emerged as the best source of information on the inner workings of Windsor Castle. Now he briefed Able Team on every room and corridor of each strategic zone in the castle. The briefing was lengthy, punctuated by moments taken to sketch key elevations on a scrap of paper. Distilling and absorbing the information was a trial of memory for the three visitors.
"The prince's birthday dinner will be held in the Waterloo Chamber," the crusty Briton said in closing. "The dining table accommodates one hundred fifty people, although tonight's dinner will be a little smaller about one hundred twenty."
"A small, intimate, family dinner," Lyons volunteered. He wiped froth and a sour grin from his jaw with a backhanded gesture. "Maybe we should join them."
6
The rear door of the war wagon swung open at seven-thirty-three that evening, and three shadowy figures joined the descending night. Their weapons they carried openly. They wore black nightsuits with black watch caps covering their heads.
The contents of the war wagon were distributed among the three men. Each carried an M-16/M-203, a suppressed M-10 on a strap, and a silenced Colt in a hip holster. Radios hung on the opposite side of the belts to the Colts. Grenades and extra magazines were touch-placed on the bandoliers. A Startron nightscope hung on the webbing of each nightsuit.
Politician and Lyons carried two garrotes each. Coiled around Lyons's left shoulder, safely out of the way of the weapons of war, was a rope.
The three men moved to their positions.
Gadgets headed south along High Street, moving from house to house. When he reached the intersection of Park Street, he turned east and worked his way through narrow cobbled streets to the edge of Home Park and the south front of the castle. A door opened and spilled light onto the street. Two couples came out of the house. They saw the heavily armed man and all conversation stopped. Gadgets nodded, continued walking at a measured pace. The success of his cool was confirmed by snatches of the resumed conversation behind him. The couples merely commented on the fortresslike atmosphere of Windsor, not admitting to their fright.
Gadgets reached the border of Home Park and melted into the rows of trees at the west side of the Long Walk. Between him and the castle wall ran an iron fence. With his radio he sent a signal to his partners that he was in position. He ensured he was fully covered by the trees. At any moment he could be picked off by an alert sniper on the castle roof.
Lyons and Blancanales carefully explored Thames Street, which ran beneath the North Terrace. They found the street had been blocked off, two bobbies manning a barrier. The policemen were covered by snipers on the roofs of houses overlooking the street.
Like wraiths, Lyons and Blancanales backed away. Their new objective was the One Hundred Steps.
Built in a previous age, the One Hundred Steps led from the town to the castle's North Terrace. The stone stairs, worn down from centuries of use, were flanked by low stone bannisters. The gateway barring access to the steps was guarded by two British troopers in full combat gear, toting standard British issue Sterling SMGs that spewed five hundred fifty 9mm rounds per minute.
Blancanales found cover in the deep shadows of an evergreen near parked cars, some distance away from the steps. Here he would wait. He sent a two-click signal to Gadgets and felt the tap on his shoulder that marked the departure of Lyons.
As the Ironman moved off, Pol sent a silent prayer into the night. When the two men first met, Carl was an L.A. cop, a good one. Then Lyons became a true soldier one of the hardest soldiers that Pol had ever known. Lyons was now a legend. But the current situation presented a special challenge. Able Team knew something bad was about to happen and they would move to stop it, but they could not expect back-up of any sort because acknowledgement of their existence might tip a traitor. At best it would tip off British intelligence that there indeed was a traitor among them. Either way the lid would blow too soon.