convinced it would work.
The Commander of Phantom Unit spoke first. 'The next couple of hours will be critical. Is there any chance of interference from the Irish Navy or these people that I have heard so much about, the Rangers?'
Kadar was amused. He was conscious that he was showing off a little, but he was enjoying his minor moment of glory. It was no more than his due. It was unarguable: his plan had anticipated everything.
'The Irish have over three thousand kilometers of coastline to guard,' he said, 'and only four ships to do the entire job. The chance of a naval service ship turning up at the wrong moment is statistically most improbable. However' – he paused for effect – 'arrangements have been made to divert the one ship on duty on the Atlantic coast. The primary task of the Irish Navy is fishery protection. An anonymous tip has decoyed the vessel Eimer to chase a fleet of Spanish fishing boats fishing illegally off the Kerry coast.'
'And the Rangers?' said the Phantom Unit commander.
This time Kadar laughed outright. 'They could have been a problem, but they have responded magnificently to a diversion we have prearranged in Dublin.' He looked at his men. 'They think we are mounting an operation against the American Embassy, and they are defending it in depth.'
'So there is nothing to stop us,' said the Icarus Unit commander.
'Nothing,' said Kadar. He felt a sudden twinge in his hand. His missing finger throbbed. 'Nothing.'
Fitzduane's Castle – 1645 hours
Fitzduane disliked talking about the tunnel system; it was the hidden card in Fitzduane family history. In this case, however, he felt he had no choice but to reveal part of what lay underneath the castle; still, he confined his tour to the upper level. Access in this case was from the ground floor of the tower.
Fitzduane flicked a switch as they passed through the concealed door. A ramp sloped down to a passage with a vaulted roof. He motioned the others to follow him. The passage ran straight to the gatehouse across the bawn. A circular staircase wound its way to the second-floor level. They emerged in the windlass room, from where the portcullis was controlled. Murder holes and firing apertures allowed the guards to control both the entrance below and access to the gate.
He led the group back into the tunnel. 'Now you know how to get from the keep to the gatehouse without having your ass shot off. That's the good news. The bad news would be the discovery of that tunnel by the other side. It can be blocked from the keep – a heavy iron door slides into place – but how long that would stand up to high explosives is another matter. Swords and lances were more the thing when this was built.'
De Guevain was looking around curiously. 'How was the tunnel constructed? From the outside the castle looks as if it were built on a solid block of granite, and the sea is so close. I'd guess we are near to being below sea level.'
Fitzduane smiled. 'We are below sea level when the tide is in, but there is nothing to worry about. It's the very geology of this location that made my ancestors settle here. What appears to be a solid block of granite is, in fact, more like a doughnut in shape. The possibilities of that were obvious. The family has been digging on and off ever since.'
'You, too?' asked the Bear.
'I don't like tunnels.' Fitzduane walked on toward a heavy metal-shod door. The key turned silently. 'This is the armory.' He beckoned the group to enter the room. He switched on the main lights when all were inside.
There were expressions of surprise. Swords, knives, battle-axes, maces, pikes, bows and arrows, armor, muskets – hand weapons of every type lined the room from floor to ceiling or stood in racks.
'Incredible!' exclaimed de Guevain. 'This collection must be priceless.'
'It used to be bigger,' said Fitzduane, 'but some of the finer pieces were sold by my grandfather to ease his later years.'
'Where do they come from? And why so many?' asked Henssen.
'A castle is first and foremost a fighting machine,' said Fitzduane, 'and most of the weapons you see here belong to the castle's own armory. Over the centuries techniques and weapons changed, and the family modernized but without, as you can see, throwing much away. They were a thrifty lot.'
'There's nothing more modern here than a Brown Bess musket,' said Ambassador Noble. 'And though they were fine for Waterloo, I don't see how they'd rate against the kind of firepower today's terrorists carry.'
Fitzduane nodded. He crossed the room and worked a mechanism. A section of racking slid away to reveal a door. He opened it and led them through. This room was smaller, though still good-sized. It was painted white and was brightly lit. Tools, power equipment, and workbenches took up most of one wall. Wooden racks containing late nineteenth- and twentieth-century weapons took up most of another wall, and four long boxes lay open on the floor. There was a waist-high work surface in the center of the room with a series of firearms laid out on it.
'Now that's more like it.' De Guevain held up an M-16. 'Where did you get this?'
'Vietnam.'
'And this?' said Noble, indicating an AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle.
'Lebanon.'
'And this?' The bear held up a long-barreled broom handle Mauser pistol; a wooden shoulder stock was attached.
Fitzduane laughed. 'A bit before my time. That's a souvenir of the War of Independence – Ireland's independence, that is. It's a relatively unusual nine-millimeter Parabellum version.'
'And these?' asked Andreas von Graffenlaub. He was pointing at one of the open boxes. Fitzduane went over and extracted a weapon, a short, stocky-looking automatic rifle with the magazine fitted behind the trigger guard instead of in the traditional in-front position. A compact telescopic sight was clipped to a bracket above the receiver.
'I'd better explain,' said Fitzduane. He spoke very briefly about Kilmara and the Rangers. He then continued. 'So I've got some firepower on loan, though not enough for all of us. This' – he held up the automatic rifle – 'is the new Enfield SA-80 automatic rifle that has been adopted by the British Army. It's what they call a bullpup design. Having the magazine behind the trigger guard makes for a thirty percent shorter weapon for the same barrel length; it's easier to maneuver in a confined space.' He pointed at the telescopic sight. 'And with its four-power magnification sight, you've got one of the most accurate combat assault weapons yet made. Mind you, at nearly eleven pounds fully loaded, it's a heavy bugger for its size, but that pays dividends when you're firing on full auto. You can control this gun.
'In terms of modern weapons, we've got four SA-80 rifles, four nine-millimeter Browning automatic pistols, a Hawk grenade launcher, grenades, and some other equipment, including Claymore directional mines. That sounds impressive until you realize what we may be up against. The opposition will have automatic weapons, too, and there may be far more of them.' He didn't add that in the main, they would be younger, fitter, and more recently trained.
There was silence in the room. The sight of the modern weaponry – not some collector's curiosity piece to hang on a wall or to show to friends after dinner – had a chilling effect.
Ranger Headquarters, Dublin – 1708 hours
Kilmara put down the phone. The red light indicating that the scrambler was active was extinguished. He shrugged. 'I've just been talking to the sergeant in charge of the security detail at Draker. It's a beautiful day. All the students are doing whatever students in the middle of nowhere do – and two of his men sat out in the sun too long and have gone bright red.'
'Sounds like a rough detail,' said Gunther. 'What about Fitzduane?'
'I was talking to him, too. He remains convinced something is going to happen on the basis of no proof at all. He's organized that castle of his as if Geronimo were on the prowl – and he now intends to go over to Draker to give a hand. With our luck these days the guards on duty there will think some of Fitzduane's people are terrorists and they'll all shoot each other.'
'How many people has he got?'
