Clitheroe. said. The big men from London who'd seen a single stiff, and couldn't face the same humiliation again, and would hide behind their bloody outrage, and find the easy exit.
So he walked with Arie Benitz to the transit van where the driver idled with his morning paper, and toyed with the cigarette that he had tucked into the palm of his hand.
Charlie said, 'Same drill as before. Close to the aircraft are some petrol tankers, where the Special Air Service detachment are holed up. I want to talk to them first, hear their feel of it, and then well head out to the plane. When the van is behind the tankers it stops and we jump for it, flick the doors and off she goes. It's what they're doing to ferry the military back and forward.'
Benitz listened, well satisfied.
The Israeli climbed inside, Charlie following, both squatting on the van's floor, the closing of the door the cue for the driver.
'You have clearance to take me?' Benitz asked.
'We can do without any more paperwork on this caper.'
It would not be like this at home.'
Charlie said quietly so that his words were almost lost in the echoed motion of the engine,
'Sometimes you have to kill people like this, but not for the sake of it, and not when you risk the innocent.'
' It is a luxury that is seldom given us, to be able to decide. The tide is not often with us. It is rare for me to have the order that I have been given, that I should help your efforts towards a surrender.'
Won't know what's hit them, thought Charlie. Shining bloody angel climbs the ladder, and then they find he's scaled and tailed and horned, and bringing the news that destroys them, kicking them in the crutch and with interest, then booting them again, just when they're getting used to it. Not a job you'd want, Charlie, not if they were your own people, not telling them it was all over, all down the drain, that they should have stayed home.
'We're just about there,' the driver shouted back. 'Ease the door and go the moment I stop.
Don't forget to close it again, and don't stop, don't hang about.'
He crawled forward, brushing against the Israeli's body, scrabbling for the door handle, moved it and waited. The stop was sudden, lurching them together, and Charlie had the door open and slid clumsily, showing his stiffness, to the ground. Benitz out straight after him and both blinking in the sunlight. Charlie fastened the door, banged lightly on it and watched the van pull away.
'Get yourself behind the wheels,' a command, not to be questioned, and the two settled themselves against the warmed rubber of the tyres that soaked up the heat. From his left side Charlie was aware of the blur of camouflage uniform that sprinted to him. A day's growth on the face, dark and mixed with the sweeps of lotion used to banish the whiteness of skin. 'Captain Howard. They didn't tell me anyone was coming out, there's been nothing about you on the radio.' No suspicion, only confusion that protocol had not been observed.
' It's because of him,' Charlie said quickly, 'they didn't want it all over the net. This is Colonel Arie Benitz, Israeli Defence Force, flown in by the RAF. His line at home is this situation. His presence is sensitive.'
Howard acknowledged the explanation. None of his business anyway.
'There's not much here at the moment. The Major and ten others are working on the DC6 over on the far side. Leaves seven of us here, with a basic fire cover role. The body's still out there by the Wheels, and we gather there's no contact about shifting it. The camera isn't picking up much, but the tall boy has just come down towards the front, so they're all together now where the fish-eye picks them up.'
No more explanation required, and they stood together, the soldier and the Israeli waiting for Charlie's lead. But he was quiet, saying nothing, trying to work at the problem that itched somewhere far back in his mind. That did not fit the pattern, that was out of place and therefore annoying and that he should clear up. That Benitz should want them to surrender, and nothing specific and categoric on their future. Wouldn't want them shipped out, couldn't, but there must be more to it, the Russian must have been shooting his mouth, must have been a deal somewhere down the line, a deal that they hadn't been told of in the control tower. Had to be something that was covert, that was being kept from them. But all a bit of a bloody mystery. Nothing new in that. When did anyone ever give you the grand picture? Just packed you off and told you to get on with it. But he'd have to clear it up, sometime, get it all sorted out. People should know where they stood
…
From the cement hut the top half of a civilian emerged, sweeping his head round, searching for the army officer.
Excitement in his voice, urgency. 'Captain, come and look here. On the fish-eye, they're hanging on to each other like it's goodbye – hugging, kissing, shaking hands, the whole works.'
Everything else erased from Charlie's thoughts. Jesus help us, not a bloody break-out, not a split for it, not a fucking slaughter inside? Captain mirroring him, barking names, and as the soldiers ducked from the hut to their appointed fire positions the young officer was cocking his Ingram submachine-gun with a single, noise-laden movement
Rebecca struggling not to cry, Isaac distantly silent and refusing to argue, and David all the time stumbling through his explanation. All holding and clinging to each other as a last link was forged with the past they had known.
' It is treachery, it is a cowardice to you both, but I cannot last any more. I cannot remain, not inside here, closed in here, waiting, for what will happen. Too long it has been for me, and it has broken me… not any longer, not trapped in here, looking and waiting through hours and days more, perhaps. There has to be a gesture for me, the only gesture that I am capable of, but I cannot last more. I had never thought it would take so long, that time would creep so slowly, that there would be nothing but existing here and waiting. And perhaps then we die, or we feel the manacles on us. I cannot wait for that. We are doomed, Isaac, damned and finished, and I am afraid. Afraid because I do not know what will happen. I cannot wait any more to be answered.'
He felt the fingers of the girl tight at the back of his neck, holding his shirt collar, and below at his arms the pressure of Isaac, both pinioning him against the lavatory door as if wanting to strengthen him in his purpose. Neither tried to turn him, so that there was no retreat, no backing from his course. Isaac, it was brave and courageous, and it might have been successful. But that time is gone, and I can no longer help you. I want to leave you in my own fashion and I do not want to look back. I am only a weakness to you now. Help me, Isaac. Walk away, take Rebecca and go far so that I will not look at you.'
His arm around the waist of Rebecca, Isaac pulled the two of them clear. He saw the deep, nut-brown eyes, felt the hand join with his own, gripped it. 'We showed the bastards, David. We showed them what we could do. Only four, and now they know of us. Moshe and you and me and Rebecca. They will remember us. We are not beaten yet, I promise you, David. We are not beaten yet…'
'They will come with the guns tonight… they are waiting for the darkness… only the darkness, when you are sleeping…'
'On your way, David.*
David smiled, and there was the freshness of his youth and the charm of his mouth and the flourish of victory that curled at his nostrils. He reached in his pocket and drew from it the straight stick magazine, and tossed it easily towards Isaac who caught it with his free hand.
' I will only need one. I have no need for another.*
'We will talk of you in Israel…'
David was gone from their sight, to the aircraft door, the Kingfisher flown from them. They heard the sound of his body thudding on to the concrete below.
'One out, sir. On the ground and armed.*
A dismembered, disconnected voice to Charlie who crouched by the wheel close to the booted feet of the marksman. Soldiers crawling and scuffing on the ground to gain better vision, a superior aiming point, and the captain wreathed in puzzlement.
'Just one, no hostages?'
'Just the one. Armed. An SMG.'
A pause in time, Charlie and Benitz and the military frozen still.
'Doesn't look like a white flag job. Gun's up now.'
'We'd prefer him alive if we can have him that way. Don't drop him yet.'
'At this range I can take his kneecap out. Certainty.'
