Overkill. Part 7

The father picked it out of the gutter and held it like it was a bullion bar, carefully wiping the dirt from it with a frayed cuff. He looked after Boris, as if uncertain what to do, then caught sight of his two children and pushed it under his jacket.

'OK, Dooley.' Hyde gave him a shove. 'You want to play Father Christmas, that's how you do it.'

'f.u.c.king marvellous, isn't it. You can't give food away, you got to let them lift it. h.e.l.l, I always knew everything in the Zone was upside down, now I reckon it's inside out as well.'

He wandered off up the road, seeding the pavement with luxuries close by those he judged to be worthy or in need of his generosity.

'He's enjoying himself.' Burke watched him go. 'Still, this time he's not doing any harm, useless great lump.' He couldn't help smiling as he witnessed one of the worst pieces of acting he'd ever seen when a deaf old lady failed to notice a can of fruit dropped at her feet and Dooley pretended to see it and let her beat him to it. In that moment the old lady's life was transformed, and it showed in her face as she hugged her prize.

The last one gone, Dooley walked on his own for a while, and when he came back streaks of clean skin showed on his face. 'I thought I was enjoying this f.u.c.king war. I must have been f.u.c.king mad.'

He went off to walk on his own again, and each time he scrubbed his sleeve across his eye, so his face became a little cleaner.

TEN.

The soaring concrete column on the TV tower looked as if a manic giant had taken several huge bites out of it. Four hundred feet up, the restaurant and observation platform looked largely intact, but above that the transmitter and receiver aerials had been smashed almost beyond recognition. Some of the great bowls and dishes had been torn away and now lay crushed and battered at the foot of the tower.

All the surrounding area appeared to have been singled out for special attention by the enemy artillery, and for several blocks the most that remained of any building was a pockmarked skeletal frame. Where less substantial structures had stood, now no two bricks remained joined.

A group of men were working at the base of the tower, and as the pair approached, a truck-mounted generator started up and roared loudly until the covers were closed.

Inga showed a pa.s.s to a guard on what had once been a doorway, but had now been remodelled by the raw energy of explosives into a ragged-edged opening, and led Revell inside. The generator provided power to a string of low-powered red-painted bulbs that marked the route through the dark interior to the doors of an elevator.

Only the inner doors 'remained, the outer ones lay close by, torn off and holed by the round that had penetrated the walls to gut the entrance hall. Taking care not to touch the tangle of exposed wiring snaking from the control panel, Inga pressed the b.u.t.ton for the restaurant. Squealing and jarring in their damaged dust-filled guides, the doors closed slowly, needing help over the last few inches.

'You sure it's safe?' Staggering as the elevator lurched upwards, Revell heard the cables tw.a.n.ging and felt the vibration they pa.s.sed to the suspended compartment.

'It has only to work this one last time.' Inga steadied herself by taking the major's arm. 'A little before dawn it is to be brought down. The demolition charges are already in place. I have been given permission to go to the top a last time, to take pictures. The view is unique, I thought you would be interested.'

'So I am, but I'll feel more able to focus on that aspect of what we're doing when I get out of this death trap. Why couldn't you just let the Commies finish the task for you? Looks like they've been making determined efforts.'

'They have, or rather they did, at first. For the last six months, apart from an occasional air-burst that was no doubt intended to discourage its use by our own artillery spotters, the only sh.e.l.ls that have hit the tower have been those in whose path it happened to stand. Now, though, it is becoming unsafe. Two days ago a man and a woman and their children were killed by falling rubble while gleaning for copper cable around the base. So the decision has been taken that we should choose when it finally falls.'

With a series of uncomfortable jolts the elevator stopped and together they wrenched the doors open and stepped out on to the slashed and rucked remains of carpet tiles. There was no illumination in the restaurant, but it wasn't needed. The gla.s.s walls had gone, and the breeze that blew in from one side and unimpeded out through the other brought with it the continually shifting glare from descending parachute flares.

What from the ground had seemed little more than superficial damage was very different when viewed close to. Dozens of high explosive rounds had ripped through the place, tearing down part.i.tion walls and scattering the ruined kitchen equipment through the dining and reception area to lie with the broken china and fire-discoloured cutlery. A ceiling that had been set with thousands of light bulbs simulating the patterns of the star fields was now only a ma.s.s of drooping flex and fitments.

She hadn't let go of his arm, and didn't as they walked to the edge of the drop. Revell was in no hurry that she should, and maintained a gentle pressure. Together they looked over the city.

Their outline sharpened by the harsh light from the drifting, blazing magnesium, Hamburg's remaining buildings took on an appearance of stark ugliness. To Revell it was like looking into the rotting mouth of a decrepit crone by the aid of a penlight, and gave rise to the same sick sensation as viewing extreme disease or deformity did.

'I have brought a flask.'' Inga lowered her camera case to the floor. 'First I shall set up my equipment, then we will have a drink, yes?'

Revell was happy to agree to that, but not as pleased when she withdrew her arm and set about clearing a s.p.a.ce to set her tripod. She hummed as she worked, brief s.n.a.t.c.hes of tunes that chased each other and tantalisingly changed each time he thought he'd recognised one.

He was enjoying being with her. She was so natural, so uncomplicated, so undemanding ... so totally unlike Andrea. That was the first time he'd thought of her since Inga had offered him the food, and even now she failed to fill his mind. Andrea was frustrating past, out of reach present and probably un.o.btainable future ... Inga was here, now...

The room shook and the whole tower swayed under the influence of a near miss down at ground floor level. Lunging forward Revell grabbed Inga round the waist as she over-reached herself in saving the tripod from going over the side.

Pulling her to him he held her close until the sensation of movement pa.s.sed, then deliberately but with reluctance pushed her away a little before the embarra.s.sing hardening of his body became obvious to her also.

'That is not a common reaction to danger.' The brushing of her slim hips against his erection as she turned away seemed an accident, but the smile she threw back betrayed that it wasn't. Caught off guard, unprepared, he couldn't think what to say, and said nothing. He hadn't expected her to be an innocent, but still the boldness of her action and remark surprised him. Taking it as encouragement he stepped to her side and tried to put his arm around her waist to pull her to him but she effortlessly avoided the advance and moved to the other side of the now camera topped tripod.

'No, not here, not now. I must work, we have the night in which to get to know each other. When the pictures are taken, when we have talked, then perhaps. We can have breakfast at my apartment, if you like...'

If it was a slap-down, it was the gentlest Revell had ever received; with considerable skill she had avoided his clutches, put him in his place, held out hope and made a half-promise. For the remainder of the night he would be more careful, less clumsy. It would be a long wait, but as he watched her bending over to adjust a lens setting and attach an image intensifier to it, saw the material of her suit pull tight across the sleek curves of her body, he knew it was going to be worthwhile.

From far below the smoke and the smell of burning rubber drifted in. Looking down, he saw that the generator truck was on fire. About a large crater nearby sprawled its operators and the entrance guard. Another of the huge explosions occurred a couple of blocks away and in a bizarre domino effect a series of end walls were knocked over by the blast.

Experience told him what type of weapon had been used to deliver such a powerful warhead. It had to be one of the huge 240mm Russian mortars. It was one thing for the city to be pounded by artillery, another altogether for the centre to be on the receiving end of a barrage from such a comparatively close- range weapon.

Revell had seen for himself the state that Hamburg's defences were in. Old men, young boys; captured weapons and weapons fabricated from sc.r.a.p and salvage: ingenuity and guts were keeping the Warsaw Pact armies at bay long after they should have been able to walk in and take over without effort.

It wasn't right that he should be here now. As soon as he'd failed to find Thorne he should have reported back for rea.s.signment. Maybe some of his squad were still alive, and if they were it was possible they were cursing him and Andrea for not having seen and reported the true strength of that gathering Russian attack. d.a.m.n it, there was nothing to be done about it now; there was little point in dwelling on it. But that was one of the penalties the privilege of command brought with it, the constant worry that you'd fouled up, that you'd not looked after your men as best you could.

By staying here he was failing them now, worse than that, he was failing himself. Taking off his helmet he pa.s.sed his hand through his hair, and several strands came away with the combing action of his fingers. There was a giddy sickness too, not from his stomach, but from a general feeling of weakness that sapped the strength from his whole being.

A grit-filled zipper on a pocket almost defeated him and he swore under his breath as he tugged at it to overcome the resistance. The pills turned first smooth then pasty in his mouth and he had deliberately to produce saliva to swallow their residue. Finding somewhere to sit down he waited for them to start working, to combat the c.u.mulative effects of the radiation doses he'd absorbed in the last day or so.

Some men kept a record, noting as accurately as they could the partial and whole body doses, seeming fascinated by the mounting total of the count as it steadily rose towards the level at which there would be no help to be got from medicines or transfusions, when all that could be done for them would be caring supportive treatment to ease them through the last painful hours.

To Revell's mind the doctors had made a mistake in telling the men how much they could take before death became certain. Some might have found out for themselves, and in any event their officers would have been in the know, would have taken the right action when the time came; but for some the maintaining of the personal log became an obsession, and that often robbed them of their sanity long before there was the possibility of the radiation, stealing their lives.

Another of the huge mortar bombs exploded in the distance, followed a few minutes later by another. The Russians were taking no chances with so valuable a weapon, its towing and ammunition carrying vehicles and large crew. They were limiting themselves to just the two rounds before changing their location to defeat the tracking radars that would be trying hard to find them.

The second shot had started a large fire. With so little left to burn above ground that could only mean that the bomb had found an underground dump, or perhaps a shelter. It might not be just supplies that were being consumed.

'Somebody b.l.o.o.d.y catch her.' Burke sprawled in the dust, just missing the girl.

Alight from head to foot, flame streaming behind her, she was rushing about from side to side of the street, evading the arms of the men who sought to catch her and smother the fire. Bleating screams and showers of sparks marked her fast erratic course, until gusting flame whipped into her eyes searing vision from her, and she ran into the sh.e.l.l of a tramcar.

Sergeant Hyde was the first to reach the girl. He pulled her down to fight the enveloping flames with his bare hands, but they rekindled as soon as he went to tackle another area of her clothing.

'She's gone, Sarge.' As the NCO stood back, Burke used the side of his boot to scuff dust over the body.

They left the corpse still smouldering, lying otherwise unnoticeable among the general litter of the road, and went back to help the others.

The scene in front of the blazing building wrenched at all their senses. Many of the women who had been working in the communal kitchen had managed to get out, but there could be no hope for others who might still be trapped by the inferno. Thick slabs of exotic marble were bursting in the heat, and the frontage of what had once been a banking hall was now crumbling and melting and making it difficult for the would-be rescuers to reach those injured who'd had only the strength to make it to the street and could go no further.

Screams from the burned and maimed drowned even the roar of the fire and at least one of those laid in the road, burned black, bearing seared and splashed by molten aluminium and gla.s.s, staggered to her feet, flung up an arm to shield her face from the roasting gases, and deliberately ran back inside.

Somewhere Dooley had found just enough water to soak a threadbare blanket and now he used it as a shield to try to reach the wounded. He was still yards from the nearest when the billowing steam from his makeshift protection turned to smoke and then almost instantly to flame and he had to throw it down and retreat.

An improvised fire appliance arrived, a converted fuel tanker now equipped with hoses and a pump, but before it could go into action gas cylinders inside the building began to rupture and tongues of liquid flame spurted across the road. At the merest touch the tinder-dry bodies began to burn. That brought movement to some, but it wasn't the frantic thrashings of death agonies, just the gradual arching and rolling brought on by the rapid drying and shrinking of muscle and cartilage.

'There it goes.' From a hundred yards off Ripper felt the heat as the whole facade collapsed and filled the road from side to side with a wall of red-hot debris. 'Say, if h.e.l.l's like that, I might just start going to church again.'

'I'm surprised you've ever been.' Taking up the front of the stretcher Clarence started towards the waiting red-cross-embellished Mercedes van. He was thankful he was not at the back, did not have to see the destroyed face of the girl they carried.

'Course I been, used to go regular. Why, one time I was in the choir for a spell, 'til there was that trouble with the organist and the new kid. Always thought the boy sung a shade too high to be quite right. And I never did trust that organist, always wore perfume, only he called it cologne, but it was perfume all the same. After a while the new kid stank of it too...'

Hyde was in deep conversation with Colonel Horst. Boris could see them keep glancing at him. He pretended he didn't notice, and that it didn't bother him, but it did. What did he have to do to prove himself to the sergeant, was there anything he could do that would persuade the NCO that his desertion from the Red Army was genuine, that he was not some sort of double agent? No, he doubted it. The sergeant's suspicions went deep, but his hatred and prejudices went deeper and it was unlikely that anything could eradicate something so long planted, so firmly established. Hyde was coming over, he forced himself to be busy about his task of gathering scorched and severed limbs together. What other a.s.signment had the sergeant for him, what worse than this had he found?

'Got a little job for you, Boris. Here, take this pack, and hang on to it.' Opening a corner, and pulling out a wad of the cloth bundled into it, Boris recognised the coa.r.s.e texture, its colour, and then as final confirmation the insignia of a Russian captain of artillery. 'I don't understand, this is a Russian uniform...'

'So it is. We're giving you a chance to go back to your mates, to find something out for us.' Hyde pushed the pack back at the man as he tried to divest himself of it.

'No, I cannot. If I were to be caught... and I would be, I do not know the pa.s.swords... they would not kill me, not soon, they might keep me alive ... half alive... for years. You do not know how skilful they can be...'

'Strange how much you seem to know about the KGB's methods. But if they frighten you, then you'd just better make sure you don't get caught, hadn't you.'

Boris chased after the sergeant. 'What do you want me to find out, is there no other way, nothing else I can do?'

'We want to know where we can find the cruds who keep dropping these.'' Hyde waved towards the gutted building and the bodies lining the roadway. 'The colonel says that mortar has done more damage in one night than the Ruskies' ma.s.sed artillery has in a week. He wants us to spike it. That's just what we'll do, when you've located it for us.'

'But it will take days. I would be detected inside an hour, it is hopeless...' 'It's usually fired from positions on the far bank of that big lake in the centre of the city, the Aussenalster. That'll give us a starting point, the rest will be up to you.'

Dazed, Boris moved away, still clutching the pack. He thought he had conquered his fear, had found its limits and learnt to cope with it, but now all the old feelings flooded back and he had to sit because his legs suddenly had no strength. Hardly knowing what he was doing he slowly and methodically wiped his hands on the rough canvas of the pack, having to grind them hard to sc.r.a.pe off the adhering body fats that had run from the split and bloated limbs he'd handled.

A tipper truck stopped close by, and the gang of men that climbed from it began to toss on board any corpses that the doctors and identification clerks had finished with. Using their bare hands, their shirt fronts streaked with every kind of filth, they handled the bodies as they might have handled cartons of soap.

Every one of the men had the same haggard expression and in the deep lines etched in each could be read a catalogue of horror without end. This was one of the burial squads. They were fed better than most as they had more work to do, received better medical treatment than most as their work was important and put them at risk, and they had a death rate second only to the infantry units holding the city's perimeter. Their death came in many forms, but one factor was common to all, it was at their own hands.

Until now Boris had thought that nothing could have induced him to do that job. Suddenly it seemed a desirable alternative to the task that lay ahead.

THE OTHER SIEGES.

USS NEW NEW JERSEY JERSEY.

Aircraft flying from the aircraft carrier Forrestal, Forrestal, flagship of the American Pacific fleet, are now able to maintain round the clock air-cover over the battle- ship flagship of the American Pacific fleet, are now able to maintain round the clock air-cover over the battle- ship New Jersey, New Jersey, two hundred miles off Manila. They will sustain the effort until tugs arrive in eighteen hours to take the ship in tow. Converted to carry and launch salvos of cruise missiles, and re-commissioned thirty-eight years after its completion, the 60,000 ton veteran of World War Two has comprehensively vindicated President Reagan's decision and confounded those who called the ship a dinosaur and predicted she would go to the bottom in her first engagement. two hundred miles off Manila. They will sustain the effort until tugs arrive in eighteen hours to take the ship in tow. Converted to carry and launch salvos of cruise missiles, and re-commissioned thirty-eight years after its completion, the 60,000 ton veteran of World War Two has comprehensively vindicated President Reagan's decision and confounded those who called the ship a dinosaur and predicted she would go to the bottom in her first engagement.

The New Jersey New Jersey has withstood three days of bombardment by Russian missile boats firing one-ton ship-killer missiles. During that time the battleship's defences have defeated seventy missiles before they could get through, and sunk eighteen enemy vessels confirmed and a further unknown number of transports and landing craft. has withstood three days of bombardment by Russian missile boats firing one-ton ship-killer missiles. During that time the battleship's defences have defeated seventy missiles before they could get through, and sunk eighteen enemy vessels confirmed and a further unknown number of transports and landing craft.

Of the nineteen hits sustained on the New Jersey's New Jersey's hull and superstructure only ten achieved penetration, two of them failing to detonate. Less than ten per cent of the ship's complement have been rendered casualties. Despite the damage to the propellers and rudder that immobilised the ship early in the engagement, more than sixty missiles were launched at the Russian task force, inflicting losses that forced it to turn about and run for Vladivostok. The Soviet press is already clamouring for the punishment of the ship's captain, Edward J. Morgan, accusing him of 'the murderous and piratical act of attacking unarmed merchant vessels.' The State Department had no comment to make. The President is reported to have smiled, and said, 'Nuts.' hull and superstructure only ten achieved penetration, two of them failing to detonate. Less than ten per cent of the ship's complement have been rendered casualties. Despite the damage to the propellers and rudder that immobilised the ship early in the engagement, more than sixty missiles were launched at the Russian task force, inflicting losses that forced it to turn about and run for Vladivostok. The Soviet press is already clamouring for the punishment of the ship's captain, Edward J. Morgan, accusing him of 'the murderous and piratical act of attacking unarmed merchant vessels.' The State Department had no comment to make. The President is reported to have smiled, and said, 'Nuts.'

ELEVEN.

The waters of the lake were still as gla.s.s, and reflected the pyrotechnics in the heavens as perfectly. And despite the boom of distant detonations and the closer clatter of a desultory machine gun duel at the northern end of the Aussenalster, it seemed that every slight sound made by their hessian-m.u.f.fled oars was as loud as the roar of a pounding waterfall.

Flak jackets had been hung along the side of the ex-lifeboat, as much to do something to break up its angular outline as to provide any degree of protection.

It had taken them thirty minutes to get safely clear of the west bank, painstakingly threading their way round and through the vast amount of wreckage the day's breeze had piled against the sh.o.r.e. Further out it was easier, but more than once they had to stop paddling and tense against a collision they could not avoid with the partially submerged wreck of a yacht that had drifted away from the ma.s.ses of destroyed craft occupying the basins of the many marinas.

Fifty yards from the sh.o.r.e, partially hidden from it by the upturned hull of a bullet-riddled cruiser, they hauled the rubber dinghy alongside. Boris was given the torch, helped over the side, and pushed off towards the sh.o.r.e. They saw his terrified face just once as the awkward craft spun around, then he got into the rhythm of it and began to use his hands to propel himself to the bank.

'Poor guy. He's s.h.i.t scared.' Dooley watched the Russian land and scramble into the cover of a stand of leafless trees before he lost sight of him in the darkness.

In trying to shift to a more comfortable position on the hard wooden seats, Ripper succeeded only in slipping off and sitting in the several inches of dirty water swilling about the bottom of the boat. 'Aw s.h.i.t, I've wet me-self.'

'You and Boris both.' Dooley let his fellow American struggle back up on his own.

'That's a point.' Unsuccessfully Ripper put his hands to the seat of his pants and attempted to wring them dry. 'Say, Sarge. If our pet Ruskie produces the goods then that'll prove he's on our side, you'll have to trust him then.'

'Like h.e.l.l I will. It might just mean his KGB bosses are letting him throw us a crumb or two so he can hang around and wait for something big to come along.'

'A 240mm mortar with its crew and support vehicles is hardly a crumb.' Clarence could see flaws in the sergeant's argument.

'Keep the noise down, let's have it quiet from now on.' However logical the sniper's reasoning, Hyde wasn't about to drop an ingrained prejudice so easily, and by virtue of his rank he was able to cut short the discussion, and halt the offences upon it.

Occasionally they would have to dip their oars and make a few strokes to compensate for an almost imperceptible drift, but that apart, all they could do was wait. Several times they heard vehicles on the Russian side. They seemed all to be wheeled, as there was no grinding of squealing of tracks, but the racket made by their knocking engines, rattling panels and crunching gears made even that vague identification suspect.

The interior of the lifeboat was alternately bright as day and pitch black, as star sh.e.l.ls ignited and expired overhead. One of them fell, still burning, into the lake close by, and the surface exploded into bubbling steam as it fought to quench the blazing ball of magnesium. When finally the waters won, a large area of the lake was wreathed in a floating white mist that carried with it the pungent smell of the extinguished chemical fire.

They had to wait almost two hours for the signal, and when it came Burke, who was on lookout, had to wait for it to be repeated twice more before he could convince himself it wasn't his strained eyes playing tricks.

Using the minimum number and quietest possible strokes they pulled to the sh.o.r.e, and had to wade the last few yards through a carpet of floating debris, when the boat grounded.

'Just for once I'm sure glad I didn't listen to my Mam.' Dripping from head to foot, Ripper was the last to reach the cover of the trees. 'She always told me I should join the navy. s.h.i.t, after tonight nothing is ever going to get me into a boat again. My a.r.s.e is numb, my arms ache, and to cap it all the d.a.m.ned ship moved when I were climbing out.'

'Pity the water wasn't a bit cleaner, you've been needing a good wash for ages.'

Ripper took no exception to Burke's remark. 'I know that, but like I told you, it's done on purpose. If it comes to close fighting, and you're up wind of some Ruskie, smelling like a perfume counter, then you might as well turn a spotlight on yourself. Those Ghurkhas don't wash when they're in action.'

'You're not in the same cla.s.s.' Clarence didn't take his eye from the image intensifier fitted telescope of his Enforcer rifle, as he panned through the trees. 'But you might absorb another lesson they could teach you, the need for silence. Now shut up.'

It was a timely warning. A line of slouching soldiers were ambling along a path through the trees. An NCO in charge was making regular, half-hearted- sounding threats, but they had no impression on the file of Russian infantry who neither straightened up nor smartened their pace. Without looking to right or left, with eyes only for the broken surface of the path, they pa.s.sed within thirty feet of Hyde and the hastily concealed members of the squad. As they vanished into the distance the platoon leader's gruff voice could once more be heard raised in unenthusiastic exhortation to his weary men, still apparently without effect.