Hugo Fitzduane and two people who worked for him in various capacities and who were sometimes in the castle. A radio report from Draker had warned that there might be some guests. To Massana, such targets were scarcely worthy of his team's special skills. They certainly weren't worth losing Alonzo for. He felt a sudden hatred for Kadar; then his training reasserted itself. He signaled his two companions to move. They unpacked the assault equipment.
Three rubber-coated grapnels trailing ropes hissed from their compressed carbon dioxide-powered launchers and lodged inside the castle defenses. Massana and one other frogman began to climb. The third frogman, a silenced Ingram at the ready, surveyed the keep and battlements, ready to lay down suppressing fire.
Massana reached an aperture in the battlements and vanished from view, closely followed by the second frogman. A hand beckoned. The third frogman, who would now be covered by the first two, slung his Ingram and began to climb.
Bloodlust rose in him as he relived past kills and anticipated the shedding of more blood in the imminent future. There was nothing so exciting as the taking of human life. He reached the battlements and dropped between two crenellations to land in a crouch on the parapet. He moved to unsling his weapon and at the same time checked his surroundings.
Massana and the second frogman lay in pools of blood to his left. A distinguished-looking man in a fishing jacket with a bloodied sword in his hand stood over them. Too late the third frogman realized that the cuff of the hand he had seen had been dark brown and not black. He almost had the Ingram in firing position when the point of a halberd emerged from his chest.
The Bear looked down at the dead frogman. 'Any more?' he asked Noble.
Noble stood there with a blood katana – a Japanese samurai sword from Fitzduane's collection – in his hands, impressed at the power of the weapon and the simplicity with which it killed. 'Not for the moment.'
The Bear put his foot on the frogman and wrenched the halberd free. It took effort. He had thrust with all his force. He waited for a few moments to get his breath back before he spoke.
'They've got some kind of powered platform down there,' he said. 'I'd like to check it out, but it would be wiser not to until the others get back.'
Noble nodded in agreement. He was staring at his bloodstained hands as if mesmerized. 'I've been involved in the antiterrorism business for years,' he said, 'but it's all been theory. Reports, papers, meetings, seminars – none of them prepares you for this.' He gestured toward the crumpled bodies.
'They'd have killed you if you'd hesitated,' said the Bear. 'Believe me.'
'I do.'
'The Bear looked over in the direction of Draker. 'I wonder how Fitzduane and the team are getting on.'
Aboard The Sabine – 1806 hours
Kadar stood on the ‘monkey island,’ the small open deck on the roof of the Sabine's enclosed bridge, which represented the best observation point on the boat, short of climbing the three-legged radio mast rising above him. He was looking through powerful tripod-mounted naval binoculars. He could see the aircraft but not yet hear it. As it flew closer, he made a positive identification. It was the Islander carrying the airborne Phantom Unit – Phantom Air.
Ziegle, his radio operator, who was wearing a Russian back-mounted military radio, confirmed it: 'Phantom Air reporting in, sir. They say that the bridge has been blown. The bridge unit seems to be on the way back to Draker by vehicle as arranged. They want to know if they should land immediately.'
'Any news from PhantomSea?'
'They reported arriving at the base of the castle,' said Ziegle, 'but nothing since then. The signal strength was not good. The castle walls may have interrupted further transmission.'
Kadar was not overly concerned by the reply. Taking out Fitzduane's castle was a sideshow. The key was the securing of Draker and the hostages. With the hostages under his control, any other problems were matters of detail.
'Any news from Draker?'
Ziegle clasped his earphones to his ears and bent his head in concentration. His gesture reminded Kadar that however brilliant his planning, his acceptance of Soviet-made radio equipment from the Libyans for interunit communication had been a mistake. Ziegle's heavy back-mounted set was powerful enough, but the smaller radios used by the field units were on the margin of acceptability. Fortunately their short range and poor quality would not matter once they were all positioned in Draker, and for other communications, such as with the authorities, they had the backpack unit and the powerful Japanese-made ship's radio. The error was irritating but not serious.
Ziegle looked up. 'Draker is secure. The leader of the Sacrificers reports no casualties on his side. All the guards are dead. Two of the faculty members had to be killed. The remaining faculty and all students are under guard in the assembly hall. They are moving on to the next phase.'
Kadar felt a surge of relief, though his face remained impassive. His farsighted decision to use a suborned group of students had paid off. The security people had never expected an attack from within.
Kadar believed that a strong force such as his would probably have succeeded in capturing Draker without internal help, but the risks would have been much greater. Help could have been summoned, and the weak points in the sea landing could have been shown up as fatal. The fact was that while disembarking, the terrorists were vulnerable to even a small force on the cliffs above, and they were even more vulnerable while ascending the tunnel that led from Draker's small jetty to the college buildings at the top. Getting up that tunnel against any sort of armed opposition would have meant, at best, heavy casualties.
The advantages of the sea to land a large force were overwhelming, and his use of the Sacrificers backed up by Phantom Air – an excess of caution, it now seemed – had compensated for the risks.
Ziegle was looking at him.
'Tell the Sacrificers' leader congratulations,' said Kadar. 'Ask him to confirm that the top end of the tunnel is secure. Tell Phantom Air to circle the island to see if anyone is out there and then to land in ten minutes.'
Ziegle spoke into his radio microphone. Kadar watched the Islander bank to starboard and then, at a height of about a thousand feet, commence a slow perusal of the island. 'Reconnaissance is seldom wasted,' he said to himself, using the old army adage.
'the jetty access tunnel is secure,' said Ziegle, 'but there is only one man on guard there. Another man is on guard at the main entrance. Sacrificer leader himself needs the other three to guard the hostages. He requests that you land reinforcements as soon as possible.'
Kadar, feeling at that moment, he thought, more exhilarated than General MacArthur could ever have felt even when he had retaken the Philippines, gave the order to land. At Kadar's signal the waiting terrorists, laden with weapons and explosives, climbed down scrambling nets into inflatable assault boats and headed for shore.
Kadar followed with Ziegle and his personal bodyguard. As they landed on the jetty, they received a message that a figure wearing the black combat gear of PhantomSea had waved from the keep of Fitzduane's castle. Several bodies had been sighted as well.
So at last Fitzduane was dead. Kadar felt a sense of relief at the news. Although probably by instinct rather than deliberation, Fitzduane had a bad habit of turning up at the wrong moments. News of his death was comforting: it was a good omen for the mission.
The road to DrakerCollege – 1806 hours
Fitzduane resisted the urge to press the accelerator to the floor. High speed would look suspicious, and anyway the road surface was not in great shape.
He could now guess at some of the elements in the Hangman's plan. In hindsight, making his move just after the staff bus was off the island had been obvious. The landing would be taking place right now. The question was, were the Sacrificers being used as he feared?
