position.'
'That's a plan? Cut the wire and fire a burst from a machine gun said Harry.
'Got a better idea?'
'Go get more commandos?'
'No time. They're getting ready to pull out now. You guys have got to get their attention and keep them from leaving. If you have to shoot at the trucks, shoot the tires out. They may have prisoners in some of them.'
'He's right,' said Banville, nodding agreement. 'There's not much time.'
I took a long drink from my canteen and then left as much of my gear as I could with them. I took one grenade and three clips for the Thompson. I had my knife on my belt and the wirecutters stuffed in my pocket. I tossed the canteen to Harry.
'Good luck,' he said.
I ran down the street and crossed the railroad tracks, crouching low. The rail bed was raised up a few feet, with a drainage ditch running along each side. Keeping the tracks between me and the depot, I scuttled along, peeking up now and then to get my bearings.
I made it beyond the entrance area, past the garage, opposite the backs of the warehouse buildings. There were guard towers along the fence, but nobody was standing guard. I heard the. 30 caliber let loose, one long burst, our knock on the front door. I heard a lot of yelling in French and a few return shots fired, and saw half a dozen SOL men from the rear buildings run toward the entrance.
Grabbing the wirecutters from my pocket, I ran over the tracks, stooping, head down, and went straight to the fence. My boots kicked up dry dust and I prayed nobody was paying attention as I started on a bottom wire. The first snip sounded like a cymbal clanging. The taut wire gave out a twang that I was sure they'd hear all along the fence. I kept snipping, using both hands on the cutters to get good pressure. Snip. Twang. How could they not hear this? I was glad Rodney had taped the handles. My palms were sweating so much the bare metal would've slipped or flown out of my hands. I cut about three feet up and then worked down the other side, taking about a square yard out of the fence. If I had to pull Diana through here I'd need enough room to do it fast. I went through the hole easy. Now came the hard part.
I ran to the back of a storehouse and flattened myself against it. I could make out voices in the courtyard but couldn't tell what was going on. Ten yards farther along the fence stood one of the guard towers. The platform, about ten feet up, had a corrugated tin roof for shade with a railing around the side. They may have used the towers to watch the wire for anyone breaking in to steal supplies, but if I reached the platform it would give me a good view of what was going on inside too. There was a fair chance no one would bother to look up, so I ran for it.
Up the ladder I went in no time, crouching low, trying to squeeze myself behind the corner post. I peered around the side and could see over the tops of the storehouses and into the courtyard. The trucks and cars were lined up now, reaching almost to the gate. There were maybe ten SOL guys milling around. The door of the headquarters building opened and two uniforms came out. Gardes Mobiles. One big guy and one dapper Dan. Villard and Mathenet. It was too far for a burst from the Thompson, but I was tempted. Villard stopped and pushed Mathenet, pointing to the gate. Mathenet didn't seem too eager. There was a lot of hand waving and pointing toward the jeep. Finally, Villard rested his hand on his holster as two of his thugs came over and bracketed him. That settled it.
Mathenet walked towards the gate. I could see the snout of the machine gun over the top of a low stone wall, about fifty yards from the entrance. Duxbury had chosen a good spot. He had cover for the jeep and men, with room for the. 30 caliber to have a clear field of fire. Rodney shot a short burst toward the entrance, three rounds kicking up columns of dust exactly in the middle of the road, between the doors of the open gate. Mathenet was less than ten feet away. He got the message. He stopped and cupped his hands to his mouth, yelling something in French, then in English, but I couldn't make the words out. Someone yelled back, Banville, I think, about surrendering. Mathenet looked toward Villard, who signaled some of his men to follow him. They went toward the garage. I eased myself down the ladder, hoping everyone would stay focused on that front gate.
I worked my way toward the barracks building which was set back from the entrance, between the garage and the headquarters, and lifted my head to peer into the first window. It was at the end of a long room lined with bunk beds, footlockers against the far wall. It looked just like every barracks I had seen so far in the army: neat and tidy, a drill sergeant's dream.
Staying low, I ran along the wall, down to the first window facing into I the next room. Same setup, except the place was a mess. Unmade beds, footlockers open with the contents strewn around the room, and two SOL men sitting at a table, smoking. What were they doing in there with all the action going on outside? I ducked and ran the length of that room.
Two more windows at the end of the building. I raised my head again, and peeked in, grabbing onto the windowsill, the gritty, peeling paint crumbling beneath my fingers.
I saw Diana. She was lying on a bed, hands tied in front of her. There was another bed in the room, a desk, and a table. Officer's quarters? One SOL guard stood at the door. Diana didn't move. The guard left, maybe to check on things outside. Diana's head turned toward the doorway as she raised her bound hands to her face to pull at the knots with her teeth. I felt my heart race. She was awake, aware, and active! Should I tap on the window to signal her? I couldn't take the chance. If the guard heard, it would be all over.
I considered my chances. Three guards that I knew of inside. Maybe one more at the main door, which was within plain sight of the courtyard. But if no one was at that door, there was a chance I could get inside. If I could take care of the man guarding Diana, quickly and quietly, we'd be out the window and home free. Sure. If my luck held, and if I could do it, fast and silent. I pulled my combat knife from its sheath, held it in my right hand, and steadied the Thompson hanging from my neck with my left. Quick. And quiet. Don't think, just do what they taught you in Basic Training. I'd seen the results dozens of times on the beat-only back then it was a crime. Now it was me with the knife in my hand, heading for some slob who didn't know he was enjoying the last minute of his life. If I succeeded.
I heard the sound of an engine racing. If I acted now, the noise would be a distraction. I stood, took off my helmet, and strolled around the corner of the building. Someone might notice a slouched, running figure out of the corner of his eye. But walking casually, as if I owned the place, I might not draw a second look. I held the Thompson slung down at my side, the knife held blade up in my palm. I could see guys getting into their trucks and others running around, yelling and pointing. I made it to the front of the barracks and turned right. No one looked at me. Three more paces to the door. I mounted the wooden steps and turned the handle. It was dark inside. It took a second for my eyes to adjust. I was in a corridor that ran the length of the building. I shut the door behind me, kicking it closed with my foot to keep both hands free.
It was too loud. A voice, in French, came from the room Diana was in, off to my right.
'Albert?'
'Hmmn,' I grunted, and flattened my back against the wall, as I heard the shuffling of heavy feet, and in a second the large form of a man filled the doorway to the room. He was holding his rifle by the barrel, dragging it along the floor as if he couldn't be bothered to pick it up. I pivoted on my left foot and brought my right hand around in an upward arc, driving the knife between his ribs and into his heart. He looked surprised, his mouth hung open for a second, and then I felt a weight pressing down on my hand as his legs trembled a bit and gave out from under him, so that all that was holding him up was the knife blade in his ribs. The rifle dropped from his hand. I stopped it with my foot so it wouldn't make a racket. I eased him down, grabbing his shirt with my left hand so he wouldn't hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. His eyes sought me out and a small sound escaped his mouth, a gasp, or a last word, I don't know. By the time he was flat on the floor he was dead, even though his eyes were still locked on mine. I went around him and pulled his body into the room, so it couldn't be seen. When I drew out the knife, thick blood dripped from the blade, drops splattering on the dead man's face. I focused on the knife, not wanting to look at him. Everything seemed like it was happening in slow motion, and now I couldn't get back up to speed. The air itself felt thick, slow and deathly.
'Billy. Billy!'
Her voice snapped me out of it. Diana was sitting on the bed, holding up her hands, which were still tied with a thick, knotted rope, although she had chewed part of the rope almost through.
'Hang on,' I said as gently as I could.
I started to wipe the blood from the knife on my pants, then thought better of that and wiped the blade on
