headrush and tumbled back onto the ground.
I may have blacked out, I don't know.
Deep breaths. Focus. Get back up.
I hobbled away towards the main building. Dear God my leg hurt. Jonah had taken a chunk out of it and it hadn't hurt half as badly as this. Matron would be pleased, assuming I ever made it back to the sanatorium.
As I approached the gap between the next prefab and the one beyond I heard the unmistakeable snap of a twig. There was someone coming. If I tried to shoulder my rifle I'd topple over, so I propped myself up against the wall and raised the weapon, waiting for my stalker to break cover.
My vision was starting to blur.
Green hobbled from between the two buildings. He had one hand above his head but the other arm hung limp at his side, dripping fresh blood. Score two to the sniper. But the sniper obviously thought I was dead, because he strolled out in front of me, bold as brass, keeping his rifle aimed square at Green's back.
Two things occurred to me. Firstly, they must have marched right across the road in full view of the pillbox, so the sniper didn't think there was any threat to him from that direction, which might mean Mac was dead; secondly, I was once again being offered an opportunity to become a killer.
'Hold it.'
The sniper froze, staring straight ahead. Green, on the other hand, jumped out of his skin.
'I could shoot you right here and now,' I said. 'You'd be dead before you hit the ground.' I was lightheaded, all right, please forgive the cliches. 'I really don't want to do that, but please believe me when I say that I won't hesitate for an instant if you do anything at all to make me nervous. I've lost a lot of blood and I'm not sure I'm thinking clearly, so you'd better not make me jump.'
The sniper was well camouflaged. His face and hands were daubed in black and green paint, and he had webbing hanging off him like a cloak, with pieces of greenery, twigs, leaves and ferns sticking out of it. He was carrying an L96 sniper rifle and had various other pieces of kit in pouches and holsters. He was about 40 and middle aged spread had taken hold. Hardly Hereford material, probably some weekend warrior TA guy who worked in accounts during the week.
'All right,' he said, still not moving an inch. 'Now calm down, son. I had no idea I was shooting at kids. I'd never have opened fire if I'd realised. There's no need for any more shooting, okay?'
'Not if you drop your gun, there isn't.'
'Can't do that, laddie. Orders is orders, y'know.'
I raised the rifle, pointed it straight at his head, and shuffled forward until the muzzle gently kissed his temple.
'Last chance. Drop it, or I drop you.'
The cocky bastard actually thought about it for a minute, but then he lowered his gun and let it fall to the ground.
Thank you. Still not a killer.
Green staggered sideways and slumped against the wall of the opposite prefab. He was hyperventilating and glassy-eyed.
'On the floor, face down, hands behind your head.'
'Now listen, can we not…'
'On the floor!'
The sniper complied.
'Green. Green!'
'Um, yeah? Yeah? Lee? Lee, I'm shot, Lee. He shot me, Lee.'
'I know, but you're fine, doesn't look too serious. You're going to be fine.'
'But he shot me, Lee. In my arm. He shot my arm. I've been shot. In the arm.'
'He's going into shock. Let me help,' said the sniper.
'Shut the fuck up,' I barked. 'Green, I need you to focus on me. Green. Green. Focus on me.' His eyes swam around in his head but eventually they locked onto mine. 'I want you to go into the main building, head to the top floor and find the Colonel. He's got a med kit. Tell him what's happened. But Green, keep behind these prefabs and enter the main building from the rear, don't expose yourself to the pillbox, understand? Understand?'
He nodded listlessly.
'Okay, off you go. Quickly now.'
He lurched away like a zombie in a bad horror film.
Once I was sure he'd gone the right way, I turned my attention back to my captive.
'TA, right?'
'Is this an interrogation?' He sounded amused. I kicked him. Bad idea. My wounded leg buckled underneath me. He was moving before I even realised I was falling. But he was fat and slow, and I was lucky. I fell in such a way that the rifle remained pointing at him, and as my back hit the wall I was left slumped but upright, with my gun pointing square at his chest. He was on his knees, one hand reaching for a holster on his hip, but he knew he'd never make it. He widened his arms, smiled, and shuffled backwards until he was leaning against the opposite wall. I rested my rifle on my good knee, finger still firm on the trigger.
'Mind if I smoke?'
'Be my guest.'
He reached slowly into a webbed pocket, took out a kit and began the rollup ritual. As he did so he considered me.
'How old are you, son?'
'Old enough.'
'Fourteen, fifteen? What you doing running around playing soldiers, eh?'
I was not in the mood to be interrogated.
'I want you to very slowly take out the handguns and toss them over to me. Slowly.'
He put the ciggie in his mouth, lit it, and then casually tossed me two shiny new Browning L9A1 sidearms.
'Here, have the ammo as well. Call it a gift. Plenty more where that came from.' He threw me four clips of 13 rounds. I stashed the guns and ammunition in the big pockets on my trousers. No need for anyone else to know I had them. Insurance.
'What's that you've got, old. 303? Where d'you get that then?'
I didn't answer.
'Let me guess. CCF, right? You're from one of those posh schools where the kids play dress up. Listen son, I dunno who's giving you orders but they're fucked in the head if they think that storming a military facility is a job for teenagers. You should be holed up somewhere learning to rub sticks together to make fire, not creeping around the countryside shooting at adults.'
'Maybe. But adults keep shooting at us and I feel a lot safer knowing I can shoot back.'
He thought about this for a moment and then nodded. 'Fair enough, I s'pose.'
'And anyway, I'm the one holding the gun and it sounded to me like your pillbox got blown to pieces, so I wouldn't underestimate us, mate. We're not playing games here.'
He grinned. 'Again, fair point.'
'So what's Operation Motherland when it's at home?' I asked.
'Exactly what I want to fucking know,' said Mac.
The armoury was a room in the main building's basement, one end of which housed a huge vault door. The sniper and two other men were tied to chairs in front of the door. One of the captives from the pillbox had a nasty head wound and was only partially conscious. The other was covered in brick dust but looked fine.
Mac himself was also covered in dust and had a large purple bruise on his forehead. He'd been knocked out by a piece of brick sent sky high by the explosion, but he'd come round first and pulled these two from the wreckage.
'Pillboxes are fucking solid, right,' he'd explained. 'So I had to use a lot of geli. I managed to lay the charge without them spotting me, but they clocked me as I was crawling away and I had to hit the detonator before I was fully clear otherwise they'd have killed me.'
The rest of us were gathered around the door too, sitting on chairs or lounging on the cellar steps. Wolf-Barry
