She triggered her radio. “This is Eagle-one,” she said. “We’re in position.”
“You are clear to attack,” the controller said. “Commandos inbound now.”
She checked the target designator. For once, the bombs were being guided from satellites, rather than a spotter on the ground. The Eurofighter shuddered as the bombs fell from the plane, flying lighter as sparks of fire appeared on the ground. Against such a dark background, it was almost beautiful.
Seven CV-22 aircraft headed into Germany, flying directly from airfields in Sweden. In the lead aircraft, Captain Dwynn ran though the orders; they had been very specific, even to the point of interfering with his freedom to design his own operations. Raid this building. Rescue this woman. Secure her camera. Capture this man. Failing that, ensure that both of them are dead. Then run and don’t look back…
“Captain, we’re coming up on the landing zone,” Flying Officer Chehab reported. “Two minutes until we land.”
Dwynn nodded. He would have preferred to have inserted some distance from the target, but it was not to be; the orders had seen to that. They would be landing in a field close to the target, while the RAF would hit the outer defences of the manor house they were attacking. It was dangerous; they would be horrifyingly vulnerable if they were caught on the ground, but speed was of the essence.
“Everyone ready,” he subvocalised, preparing his team. He had twenty-one men for the operation itself, and thirty who would guard the aircraft and act as a reserve if it were to be needed. He’d wanted to use them in the attack itself, but they hadn’t trained together; another hint that the operation had been put together on the fly.
He waited until everyone had acknowledged, then the ground came up with stunning speed, the manor house silhouetted against the trees. An explosion blossomed up from within its grounds, hopefully giving them something to worry about apart from the team.
“Move it,” he shouted, as his team formed up around him. Three groups, spreading out and running through the woods. A wooden fence was jumped over; Sergeant Vash left a small explosive pack behind, just to destroy it and prevent it getting in their way when they made their escape. They kept moving, coming up on a number of Germans who were trying to repair a damaged gun.
“Die,” he shouted, firing down. The Germans were swept aside in a moment; a RPG round slammed into the main door and shattered it aside in a moment. A dull thump announced the destruction of the fence, then the team was moving inside, throwing grenades around to keep the Germans busy.
“Move,” he snapped, firing madly into a bunch of German guards. They seemed stunned; they were unprepared for the attack. A German in nightclothes was killed before he could move or jump back; Dwynn could only hope that he wasn’t the target.
“Down there,” Corporal Chang snapped, pointing at the stair leading down to the prisons. Dwynn detailed one squad to guard the stair – the only known entrance or exit – and led his force down the stairs, into the chamber of horrors. The signal was very close now; he kicked open a door to see a naked and horrifyingly bruised girl screaming in the corner.
“We’re friends,” Dwynn shouted. He tapped the British Union Jack on his shoulder. “We’re friends.”
She stopped screaming. “Come on,” Dywnn snapped. “Plummer, take her upstairs.”
“Aye, sir,” Plummer said. “Will you be fine here?”
“Move,” Dywnn snapped. Agent Matthews had located Mengele’s room for them; the evil doctor had taken a room next to his chamber of suffering. “Come on.”
He kicked down the door and the bullet caught him in the chest. It slammed into his body armour, throwing him back, but it didn’t have the impact needed to punch a hole right through his armour. Chang leapt forward and kicked the weapon out of Mengele’s hand, and then kicked the doctor in the groin.
“Ouch,” Dwynn said, rubbing his chest. “That’s him?”
“Looks like it,” Chang snapped. Mengele voided his bowels. “Yuck.”
“Bring him,” Dwynn snapped. He tossed some grenades further down the corridor to discourage the other scientists from trying anything, before running back down the corridor, covering Chang as best as he could. His chest hurt; he knew that Mengele would hurt worse.
Damn it, I hope he hurts worse, he thought, as they made it up the stairs. “Report!”
“We’re still holding here,” Sergeant Vash said. “They seem to have given up on evicting us.”
“Time to leave before they get ideas,” Dwynn snapped. He watched grimly as Mengele was neatly handcuffed and picked up effortlessly by Vash. “Move it.”
The team, minus three soldiers who had been hit and killed, moved out quickly. Plummer had to carry the reporter; she was in shock. Dwynn muttered a report into his radio as they ran through the woods and back to the planes.
“This is Big Bird,” a new voice said. “I suggest that you get out of there. The Germans are sending an armoured force into the region.”
Dwynn blinked. “What the hell do they think we’re doing?” He asked. The CV-22 aircraft appeared out of the darkness in front of him, along with an old friend. “Ben,” he said in delight. “What are you doing here, you stupid bastard? I thought you washed out and never got back in.”
“Finding targets for you,” Matthews said. Mengele looked up at Matthews and started to stammer. “Hi, doc,” Matthews said. “Aren’t you lucky you’re coming with us? Himmler won’t be happy to see you after all this, you know?”
“Get him in the plane,” Dwynn ordered sharply. “Ben, we have to get out of here.”
Matthews nodded. “No argument there,” he said, climbing into the aircraft. Moments later, the aircraft climbed into the air and ran for it, flying as high and as fast as they could. “Do you know what’s coming here?” Dywnn shook his head. “They’re going to nuke the place!”
“Eagle-one, that’s the planes out of the main blast range,” the AWACS said. “The special weapon can now be deployed.”
“Confirming target,” the Tornado pilot, Anisa Samna, said. “Weapons armed and ready to be launched.”
“Launch,” Dunbar said. She hit the afterburners, vaguely aware of the other planes doing the same thing as the nuclear bomb headed towards the ground. She closed her eyes as the bomb fell, moving faster and faster, and slammed into the house. She had seconds to wonder why it hadn’t detonated… and then a blast of white light flashed behind them.
Fuck me, she thought. The tactical nuclear weapon had been an American design, ironically intended for strikes against rogue state bioweapon manufacturing centres, and modified for the strike. It blasted its way into the bunker before detonating, then exploded, scorching the region clean of any life at all. No viruses could survive the heat of the strike; they were wiped out in seconds.
The Eurofighter shuddered as it fled the blast wave, and she felt pure terror for the first time in her life, before it steadied. A quick check revealed that the other pilots were also safe and well.
“Gentlemen and lady, we just made history,” she said. “Now, let’s get home before something else goes wrong.”
Chapter Thirty-Two: Reflections on the Eve
Ten Downing Street
London, United Kingdom
15th May 1942
Dear God, what have I done?
Hanover stood at the window as the War Cabinet filed in. They had all supported the decision, in the end, but it had been his decision to make. He shuddered; the human race had lived in mortal fear of nuclear weapons for seventy years – only one had been detonated since 1945 – and he had deployed three of them in two years. The third target…