This United State Part 59

'Rabbits,' said Newman, who had heard Mrs C.'s earlier remark. 'That means rabbit holes, risk of twisted ankles. We'd better be careful.'

'No need,' Mrs C. replied, moving quickly. 'They're all in that south-east corner - and beyond the hedge.'

Tweed was the only man who had not joined the relentless march to the southern hedge. After putting on his coat, he had gone out and climbed a wooden staircase Mrs C. had shown him. It was attached to the side of the farmhouse and led to a platform at the top. Standing on it, he could see clearly over the top of the roof. It did not give him the panoramic view from the observation post, but it did provide an uninterrupted view over the hedge and Romney Marsh beyond. He focused his night gla.s.ses on the hedge.

'Matey, four crabs landed on beach. Crossing it. Heading inland at speed towards us. Crab number five now beaching...'

'Everyone,' said Tweed into the mobile slung close to his mouth, 'get into position as soon as you can. You heard the latest report. Keep your heads down.'

Tweed, who normally mistrusted mobiles, thought the communication system was excellent. Everyone could hear him. Everyone could hear the reports from the observation post. Knowledge was power. Could make all the difference to the outcome.

'Matey, four crabs approaching. Number five, coming up behind. Fast:'

Tweed refocused his gla.s.ses to see a low ridge on the marsh. Within a minute he saw four of the strange vehicles poking their snouts over the ridge. They came over it. They were advancing towards Sectors A. B and C. A frontal attack. Just like the Americans. Get up and go.

'Matey, count ten men in each crab. Number five a weirdo. Seems only to have the driver. No other men aboard it.'

Tweed frowned. He could see No. 5 now. Heading for the centre of the hedge. The first four crabs stopped suddenly. About one hundred feet from the hedge. Large men, uniformed, wearing helmets, jumped out from the four stationary crabs, spreading out, weapons gripped in their hands. No. 5 continued advancing, stopped no more than thirty feet from the hedge. What the devil was its purpose?

'Everyone in position?' Tweed asked into his mobile. 'Yes... Yes... Yes...'

The stream of replies continued. Paula's voice first, Mrs C.'s next, then a jumble as confirmations overlaid each other. Tweed was satisfied that everyone was where they should be. He spoke into his mobile.

'They've left their crabs. Forty men advancing. Objective appears to be Sectors A, B and C. Close in on those sectors.'

Any moment now, he thought. Would the invaders open fire? Or would they try to keep advancing through the hedge? He couldn't guess this one.

Sharon was driving the limo at manic speed. She had just left Ashford behind. She accelerated. The speedometer climbed. By her side Denise Chatel was petrified. She crouched back in her seat. Sharon sat very erect.

'Where are we going?' Denise asked.

'To check that a key installation has been destroyed.' 'What key installation?'

'Shut your stupid mouth.'

'But where are we going?' Denise repeated.

'If you want to gab, we'll gab. For starters, how did you get hold of that file I found you reading?'

'You sent me to fetch you a file. I must have picked up the wrong one.'

'c.r.a.p.'

'It was all about the investigation into my father's death in a so-called car crash in Virginia.'

'It was a red file.'

'I found it on your desk.'

'You're lying. Most of my files are green. The one I sent you to get was on my desk. You poked your nose into my filing cabinet. I'd forgotten to lock it. That red file was in front of the cabinet.'

'I don't know what you're talking about. And I did read some of that file, which reported doubts as to whether the so-called car crash was an accident.'

'You shut your mouth! If I didn't need both hands for the wheel I'd slap your idiotic face. And,' Sharon sneered, 'you've no idea how stupid you look in that riding outfit.'

'You wouldn't give me time to change. Look out!'

Sharon had swung off the highway where a signpost pointed to Ivychurch. Before leaving she had attached to the dashboard a map showing the route to the Bunker, a map radioed to her from Washington. Instead of a main road, she was now driving along a winding lane at speed. Denise had called out because as they rounded a bend a single light rushed towards them. The motorcyclist was only moving at thirty miles an hour. Before Sharon could brake the limo swept past, its side brushing the motorcycle. The machine toppled over, hurling the rider into a ditch. Denise just had time to stare back - to see the inert body in the ditch, the machine on its side, its wheels still revolving futilely.

'We may have killed him,' Denise gasped.

'Killed who?'

'That motorcyclist you hit.'

'What motorcyclist are you talking about? Must be your imagination. I haven't seen anyone.'

'You're dangerous.'

'Don't talk to me like that,' Sharon responded, her voice and her expression now very calm.

The eerie silence of the night on the Romney Marsh was broken only by a single eerie sound. The purring of the engines which had not been turned off, the engines of the motionless crabs. To Paula it sounded like the purring of some monstrous and evil cat. She was crouched down, as were all the others. She had no idea what was happening and the tension was growing.

It was broken by one powerful shout of one word. She thought the American accent was Texan.

'Barrage!'

The night came apart. A thunderous fusillade of gunfire coming from automatic weapons shot at the same moment caused her to press her head into the earth. The commander of the invading SEALs was a Texan. He was also not a man to take any chances - even though there was no sign of life from the invisible installation. It was the American way - equivalent to the battleships far out at sea which had once bombarded the Vietnam jungle, killing no one.

The fusillade had been aimed at the middle of the fields beyond the farmhouse. The rain of bullets spurted up tufts of gra.s.s, pellets of soil. The barrage, deafening, continued for a short time, then stopped as abruptly as it had started. The SEALs were reloading.

From his platform Tweed observed all this, realized that there had been no casualties among his own troops, who were too far forward. He spoke quickly into his mobile.

'Shoot any target you can see.'

Marler, stationed in Sector C, to Paula's right, aimed his Armalite. A heavily built SEAL, confident he could take on anybody, swaggered forward as he reloaded his automatic rifle. Marler's bullet hit him dead centre in the chest. The SEAL stopped, let out a strangled yell, dropped, lay still.

All aimed his automatic rifle at two SEALs standing too close together. He fired twice. Both men sank to the ground. Then a fresh fusillade was let loose, aimed at the same area as its predecessor. More gra.s.s tufts, more soil jumped into the air. Tweed spoke again.

'Wait till they've stopped...'

The Texan commander, who believed in barrages, as opposed to any individual shooting, waited for his men to reload. One six-foot SEAL had had enough. The guys should be breaking through the friggin' hedge. He had reloaded quickly. Now he ran forward, plunged into and across the hedge. His body fell onto the hedge, onto the concealed barbed wire. He screamed, then stopped moving.

Mrs C., close to Paula, saw an even taller, heavier SEAL rushing forward. He'd realized he could use the p.r.o.ne body as a bridge. Mrs C. hissed at Paula.

'Use your searchlight. Quick.'

A second SEAL followed the first, with the same idea in mind - they had a bridge. Paula swivelled the light, aimed it just above the p.r.o.ne body, now dripping blood. The incredibly powerful glare shone at the moment the first SEAL was treading on the body, standing upright. Mrs C. let rip with her machine-pistol. The SEAL remained upright briefly, his arms shot up, releasing his weapon, which curved in an arc, landing on the far side of the hedge. Mrs C. continued blasting, bullets thudded into the second SEAL. The first SEAL toppled over backwards as the SEAL behind him staggered, moved a few steps as though drunk, then sagged to the ground.

'Barrage!' roared the Texan.

'Cease fire for a moment,' Tweed ordered.

'Barrage!' shouted the Texan.

This new fusillade came closer, but it was still a dozen yards beyond where the defenders lay still. Three more SEALs, who had ignored their commander's order, rushed forward, guns blazing, to use the p.r.o.ne body as a bridge. Mrs C.'s machine-pistol chattered as they ran into the glare of Paula's searchlight. All three fell beyond the hedge, tumbling on top of each other.

On his platform, Tweed was intrigued by the motionless crab - No. 5. Then it struck him what it might contain. He spoke.

'Marler, bomb that forward crab. Everybody flatten yourselves.'

Paula glanced to her right as Marler glanced at her. While he felt in his holdall for a grenade with his right hand he saluted her with his left hand, grinning. She nodded her head, acknowledging. Then she wriggled herself a couple of yards closer to Mrs C. She was moving away from the glaring searchlight, an obvious target.

She glanced sideways again at Marler, realizing he'd had something in his left hand when he'd saluted. It was a wide-mouthed short-barrelled pistol. She had forgotten the star sh.e.l.ls.

As the fresh fusillade died away Butler and Nield, both holding machine-pistols, suddenly stood up. Marler waited. Beyond the hedge four SEALs, not too far apart, were reloading. Nield and Butler opened fire, swinging their weapons slightly. All of the four SEALs dropped, lay still. Marler watched Butler and Nield as they kissed the earth, waited. This was the moment.

Marler jumped to his feet. His right arm, holding the grenade, swung in a high arc, then he flattened himself. In the glare of Paula's searchlight Tweed saw, from his platform, the grenade land inside crab No. 5. A second later Paula's searchlight went out, hit by a SEAL's bullet. - Synchronizing with the flight of the grenade, Marler began firing star sh.e.l.ls, his body still flat with the earth. White, and then green bursts, illuminated the scene from high up. The grenade detonated. The world went wild. The crab burst as a tremendous explosion echoed across the marsh. Tweed saw between ten and fifteen SEALs hurled into the air, thrown sideways over the marsh. Where the crab had been was a deep hole. The star sh.e.l.l illumination was blotted out by the flash of the explosion.

As Tweed had guessed, No. 5 had been filled with explosives intended for the destruction of the complex. More star sh.e.l.ls burst high above the marsh, green, red and white. They showed Tweed a scene of utter devastation. Bodies lay everywhere. A few injured SEALs staggered, limped towards the two crabs still intact, their engines still purring, the only sound in a sudden deathly hush.

Tweed, who had been counting enemy casualties as far as he was able to, estimated more than half the enemy's attack force had been wiped out. Men were carrying injured comrades towards the remaining two undamaged crabs. There were no more shouts from the Texan commander - if he was still alive. Tweed watched for a few minutes longer. There was no more sign of aggression on the part of the SEALs. Those who had survived were concentrating on limping, hobbling, dragging themselves to board one of the intact crabs. Other SEALs, who had taken no punishment, were carrying their injured and dead comrades to the second intact crab.

'Cease fire,' Tweed ordered. 'Marler, shout at the top of your voice the two words I just uttered.'

'Cease fire!' Marler bellowed.

His words galvanized the mood of the enemy. The SEALs moved more quickly, more confidently. Two came up to the hedge, began wrestling free the p.r.o.ne SEAL impaled on the wire. Paula turned her head away. When she looked again the body had gone but that part of the hedge was tainted a dark red colour.

The next sound she heard was an increase in the purring noise of the crabs' engines. From his platform Tweed saw the two crabs turn round, start to move away, circ.u.mnavigating the enormous hole left when crab No. 5 had blown up. Tweed still waited to be sure. The crabs disappeared beyond the slight ridge..

'Matey, they're going home, heading for the beach and then their mother ship.'

'Everyone return to base - with your equipment,' Tweed ordered.

Tweed, Paula and Newman stood on their own in the open air a little distance from the farmhouse. Everyone else had gone down into the washroom under the farmhouse. Mrs C. was the last to leave.

'Well at least the staff stayed under ground, as they were ordered to. Think I'll go down and rea.s.sure them. They must have felt and heard the explosion when that ammunition dump inside the crab went up.'

'Good idea,' said Tweed.

'I think I'd sooner stay out here in the fresh air for a bit,' Paula said.

'Me too,' Newman agreed.

'Sensible,' said Tweed. 'After a period of tension - mental and physical - it helps to have a period of relaxation. Doing nothing, saying nothing.'

They stood quietly. No one spoke. A couple of times Paula walked a few paces backwards and forwards to stretch her stiff legs. For once she welcomed the dead silence of Romney Marsh. It was peace. Then her mouth tightened.

'I can hear a car coming at speed. Not more, please.'

A black stretch limo, with Sharon behind the wheel, braked with an emergency stop, inches from the closed gate. Newman sighed, ran to the farmhouse, reached inside the front door, pressed the switch which opened the gate. He ran back outside. Sharon was turning the car, ended up with it pointing back to London. Then she alighted, walked towards them.

She was wearing a mink coat and slung from her right shoulder was the largest white leather handbag Paula had ever seen. It was like a huge envelope. Paula blinked as Denise followed her. She was still clad in riding kit. Most peculiar Her knee-length boots gleamed in the moonlight. To Paula, the silence suddenly seemed menacing as Sharon continued walking towards them. She stopped about fifteen feet from them.

'What brings you down here, Charlie?' Tweed began. 'Charlie!' gasped Denise.

'Yes, Charlie,' replied Sharon, moving a few paces, putting s.p.a.ce between herself and Denise. 'My middle name's Charlotte, as Tweed was clever enough - and foolish enough - to discover. Don't you reach for that gun, Newman,' she snapped.

As she spoke, Sharon's right hand emerged from her handbag holding a Magnum revolver. Paula gazed at the large weapon, surprised that Sharon's small hand could level it so easily. She swivelled it in an arc between Tweed, Paula and Newman, covering them all.

'Spread out your hands,' she screamed suddenly. 'Well away from your bodies - or I'll shoot you in the stomachs. You'll take a long painful time to die. Such a long-painful time.

They spread their hands, stretched them outwards. To Paula the end of the Magnum's muzzle looked like the mouth of a cannon.

'The report in that red file said my father was killed on the orders of Charlie,' Denise screeched.

Sharon slipped closer to Denise. With a movement almost too quick to follow she slashed at Denise's face with the barrel of her gun. Denise moved her head quickly. The barrel barely sc.r.a.ped her but she slipped on a smooth stone, toppled backwards, saved her head striking the ground with her hands. Then she sat there, her right leg turned at an awkward angle.

'I've twisted my leg,' she yelped, rubbing her boot with one hand.

'Stay down there,' Sharon snarled. 'A twisted leg won't kill you. I will.'

The Magnum had instantly been swivelled back to cover the trio with outstretched hands. She's quick, too d.a.m.ned quick for me to haul out my Smith & Wesson, Newman thought. Before I grabbed the b.u.t.t all three of us would be dead. Sharon knew exactly what she was doing. She stood too far away to be rushed, but near enough to shoot them all.

'I'll ask you again, Charlie,' Tweed said quietly. 'What brought you down here?'

'To make sure your b.l.o.o.d.y stupid communications centre has been destroyed.'

'It hasn't. The Americans who tried it are on their. way back to their task force ship, those who survived.'

'You're lying! You always lie! d.a.m.n your soul to h.e.l.l, Tweed,' she went on screaming with fury. 'You always lie, you friggin' little n.o.body! You're trying to trick me. Me! Of all people!'

Newman simply gazed at her in disbelief. An extraordinary transformation had taken place. Her face was so contorted with insane rage she was hardly recognizable. Jekyll had become Hyde. She suddenly moved sideways on to a small elevated piece of ground. It gave her greater command of the situation. Denise, moaning, still sitting, was rubbing her hand over the boot on her twisted leg.

'You said, Charlie,' Tweed remarked, 'a moment ago, "Me! Of all people!" Where do you think you're going? As President in the Oval Office?' he suggested sarcastically.

'That's exactly where I'm going, you not-so-clever little n.o.body! You think I'm going to let any of you stop me? You'll all be dead and buried while I'm starting my campaign to be senator. I won't let any of you get in my way! Hear me! I won't!'

Her face was still hideously contorted, still hardly recognizable. She kept swivelling the Magnum to cover them. She was breathing deeply now, working herself up to press the trigger.

'You killed my dear father,' Denise bleated.

'Sure I gave the order to waste your late father. Another friggin' n.o.body who was getting in my way. n.o.body gets in my way and survives!'

Paula had dropped her eyes briefly. The mound Sharon stood on had a rusty grating like a drain cover. She raised her eyes quickly. Tweed had glanced at Denise's right hand. It was levering something from inside her boot.

'Can't we compromise in some way, Sharon?' he suggested.