Luiz, with his clear view downwards from the bomb-aiming window in the nose, said: 'Passing over coast… now.'
I swung into the wide flat turn that should bring me to the road bridge west of the city – a good big landmark – and from there an exact course to the air base ten miles east.
I'd been half expecting, more than half fearing, runway lights. Which would show they had started flying already. But from about three miles out, there was just the sparkle of lit windows in the baseornees. No shooting out here; they knew Jiminez wouldn't be fool enough to attack a wakeful and well-defended base head on. Not in person.
As we closed I saw the dark hulks of the two hangars, the thin pale line of the runway, seen side-on – and definitely no flarepath. And searching desperately for the dim silvery patch that would be the parked Vampires.
Then, as the angle widened, they came into view just beyond the second hangar.
Luiz called: 'Target in sight! '
'Shut up! I'm counting! '
We skimmed the northern edge of the field, the Vamps half a mile to port, almost parallel… one, two, three… spaced about three-quarters of a wingspan apart, say thirty feet between each… four, five, six… the line bearing about 120 degrees from the front of the second hangar… seven, eight. Full stop.Eight.
'There's two missing!' I yelled. I looked forward, at the west end of the runway, at the taxi track leading to it – but nothing. In the hangars, under maintenance? Normally, yes -but today of all days Boscowould want one hundred per cent strength, and Ned must have had well over a day's warning to reach that.
Then we were past the field, heading into the dark west and I was counting the seconds before the turn back.
Luiz reported soberly: 'I could not see them.'
'We'll get the eight, anyway.' I was trying to work out the length of my target. A Vampire has about a forty-foot span, so eight times forty – plus the space in between, say seven times diirty, which is… call it 500 feet. A bit over a two-second run.
Then it was time to turn, gentle and slow, both engines throttled back and sliding down to attack height. The dull silver of the Vampires vanished behind trees, but the tall black hangars stood up clear. I levelled out at a hundred feet, aiming for the nearest hangar on a course of 120, waiting for the speedto settle at 150 before pushing up the throttles.
And I could taste it again: the old savage hunger of the hunter, still familiar after twelve years because I was still Keith Carr. The same hunger to reach out and kill, and the same certainty that makes you wait for exactly the instant, time flowing slow as a glacier, because you know you'regoing to kill… And I knew I was going to get this attack right.
Then, suddenly – fear. Because Ihad to get it right, Ihad to kill – every Vampire on the field and two I hadn't even found yet. Because this wasn't a private war any more, because if I let one escape, it could fire the lucky shot that was all that mattered to me now.
The cold sick fear of failure. And the Mitchell and her bricks seemed an old, frail, absurd weapon to throw against ten jets. She trembled under my trembling hands.
God, just let me forget that this time itmatters!
Then we skimmeda Uneof palms and were over the open airfield, the Vampires not quite dead ahead. A quick, skidding S-turn to Uneup with them and I grabbed for the release panel. A glance at the instruments: 100 feet and just over 150 mph – and now 1,000 feet ahead… now 800… and -Now!
The Mitchell reared as the weight poured out, pitched as the dragging net clutched at the airflow. I stabbed the second button… and the third – then didn't touch the fourth. The line of Vampires flickered beneath and we were over the hangars, throttles going up to hold the speed against the trailing nets.
Luiz hadn't fired. Then he did – and shouted: 'I see them! '
I saw them myself: two Vamps taxiing sedately around the perimeter track towards the east end of the runway, hidden from us by the control tower on our approach. And we were too far right to pass over them.
Dust puffs spat up around them; Luiz was good, all right, shooting part-sideways at close range – but twenty rounds of •30 fire wouldn't stop two Vamps. Then we were past, and I hauledulto aleft-hand turn over the middle of the airfield.
'I think I hit them,' Luiz reported soberly. But over my shoulder I could still see them moving, one just ahead of the other. And I knew who would – who must – be leading thefirst strikeof die Air Force's big day.
As we curled back die line of eight Vampires came in sight again; a jagged line now, in a drifting mist of yellow brick dusj. Two – no, diree collapsed, part of the undercarriage gone; another with a broken tail boom, another- But it only needed one, just one, left untouched…
I lined up on the perimeter track, the taxiing Vamps several hundred yards ahead. Suddenly there was die silenttick-tick-tick of tracers slanting across below. Somebody had reached a mounted machine-gun.
'Never mind that! ' I yelled. But he hadn't fired anyway.
I straightened, reached for the last button and die last net. Luiz fired, and again dust spattered die Vamps. I felt the net go – but saw the leading Vampire swerving suddenly on to the grass.
We swung away in a tight Sand I looked back. One Vamp lay slewed across the track, wingtip on die ground. But the other – Ned – was bouncing across the grass towards the runway.
I had one pass: just the one. Ned couldn't take off on the grass, die field wasn't wide enough; he'd have to turn on to die runway. And when he did I had to be behind him.
'Reloaded?' I asked.
After a pause, Luiz said: 'Ready to fire.'
'I'll bring you in behind him.'
I dirottled back, losing speed in a gentle upward curve diat I could change into a fast, diving turn at any moment, waiting and judging… Anodier burst of tracer arched towards us, but fell low. Nobody had seriously trained for AA defence.
He was almost on die runway, but I had to wait, daren't commit myself -dienthe starboard engine misfired. Damn it, live, you old bitch! Just a few seconds longer, just that…
Then Ned was swinging smoothly on to die runway and I had die throttles wide open and diving in behind him. More tracers – and a rattle in die tail diis time, but nodiing seemed to break. I was pulling up on the accelerating Vampire. Two hundred yards. Down to one, and down to less… Luiz fired and dust puffs spurted behind. Another burst and I thought I saw holes open on the Vampire's wings. And another and moreholes – but now the gun was empty and the Vampire ran on.
Luiz started to say something. We were overtaking the jet, pulling just over and ahead. I snatched back the throttles, pushed down the nose, and sat down right on top of it.
A shatteringclang, the Mitchell wrenched and swerving wildly, and then racing away a few feet above the grass, filled with a terrible tearing shudder that wouldn't go away. We just lifted over the line of palms at the edge of the field.
Luiz was shouting, but so was I. The airspeed was down to 100 – or something: the needles on every instrument were shaking wildly with the shudder. Whatever it was, it was the Mitchell's death-rattle.
I over-rode Luiz's voice. 'Get out of the nose! '
We skimmed a small rise and then the ground fell away and ahead was the grey glitter of the sea. Luiz appeared at my elbow, scrambled into the co-pilot seat and plugged in his headset.
'What happened?' he yelled.
'Bust or bent the port prop – hit the Vamp or something. Come off the wing in a moment. Strap yourself in. What happened to the Vamp?'
'It ran through the boundary fence.'
I was fighting the shuddering controls, and should have cut the port engine by now – but with the starboard engine likely to cut itself at any time… Then we were over the sea and out to starboard, half a mile away, a long white beach.
Holding my breath, I edged into a turn, and we didn't quite fall out of the sky. Then pushed down full flap, cut the throttles and ignition, and held her off as long as possible -and she flopped on the beach in a long tearing hiss of flying sand.