‘Besides,’ Mallet added, ‘when those lads do come in, they’ll have their hands full stamping out the resistance. They won’t have time to safeguard the family.’
‘So it’s down to us,’ Webb said. ‘Is that it?’
‘More or less,’ the Voice replied.
‘And how are we supposed to get to Karatandu faster than D Squadron?’
‘We’re preparing a diplomatic jet for Mr Seguma for his flight to Libreville. Courtesy of our friends at the CIA. The jet is due to land at RAF Northolt shortly before heading down to Nice. You’ll take the jet and accompany the president as far as Libreville. We’ll arrange a connecting flight to take you from there to Karatandu. Once you’re on the ground, it’s a forty-minute drive to the palace. Should get you into the capital for around midnight. Six hours earlier than the other units.’
Bowman said, ‘What’s the plan once we get to the family?’
‘You’ll be the tip of the spear. The advance party. You’ll locate Mr Seguma’s loved ones, secure the perimeter and wait until the main strike force arrives to secure the country and snuff out the rebel forces.’
Bowman considered. ‘It could go badly wrong. What if the coup kicks off before the other lads arrive?’
‘It won’t,’ the Voice said. ‘You’ll have time.’
‘Easy for you lot to say. You’re not the ones putting your necks on the line.’
There was a long sigh before the Voice replied, ‘Our analysts think the coup is unlikely to happen until first light. Which is around five thirty in the morning in Karatandu.’
‘Sounds about right,’ Mallet remarked. ‘Standard military doctrine. First light and last light are the best times to mount an assault. If the Russians are launching the takeover tomorrow, it’ll be at the crack of dawn. I’d bet my house on it. We won’t be exposed for long before the strike force arrives.’
‘If the timings are right,’ said Bowman. ‘If they’re not, we’ll be out on our arses.’
Mallet said, ‘The KUF won’t go for the palace first. General Kakuba and his men will want to establish a foothold in the country before they turn their sights on the family. By that time, the lads from D Squadron, SFSG and the SBS will be on the ground.’
‘It’s not just the KUF,’ said Bowman. ‘It might be some other group of rebels joining the fight. Or a gang of protestors looking to storm the palace.’
‘Possibly,’ the Voice interjected. ‘But we’re talking about a handful of poorly armed locals, at best. Surely you guys can handle that. You’re elite soldiers.’
‘We can take care of it, ma’am,’ Mallet agreed. ‘Should be a bread-and-butter job. Right, guys?’ he added, his cold eyes glancing round the table.
Casey said, ‘Why don’t we escort the family across the border? That’s got to be less risky than staying put in the capital while we wait for the cavalry to show up.’
‘My family cannot leave.’ Seguma tapped a finger against the table to emphasise his point. ‘They must have a presence in the country. If they flee, it will look bad for me. My people will think I’m a coward.’
‘They’ve got the radio transmitter at the palace too,’ Mallet reminded them. ‘They’ll need to keep broadcasting messages to the army and the police. Boost morale.’
‘There’s no time to argue the merits of the mission,’ the Voice said. ‘You have your orders. The family must be protected, no matter what.’
‘We’re assuming they can hold out at the palace until we arrive,’ Webb pointed out.
Bowman said, ‘Patrick has got a point. Those protests in the streets are turning ugly. How do we know the mobs won’t overrun the palace in the meantime?’
Mallet looked round at Seguma. ‘Are there any guards with your family, sir? Anyone who’s capable with a gun?’
‘Some, yes,’ Seguma replied. ‘From the Presidential Guard. My best men.’
‘How many guys are we talking about, sir?’
‘Forty, perhaps more. I’m not sure. My chief security adviser is there. You could check with him. His name is Mr Gregory.’
Bowman stared at him in surprise. ‘Mike is with your family?’
‘Yes. You know him?’
‘Mike was my old commanding officer in the Regiment. He’s a top-class bloke. All the guys at Hereford respected him.’
A gleaming smile crawled like a colony of ants across the president’s face. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’
Bowman recalled the photograph he’d seen pinned to the board in the Shed. The sun-blasted face, the wild hair and bushy beard. He remembered, too, how Gregory had stepped in to stop him from being RTU’d on Selection. The drunken fight outside the pub. The flashing lights from the police car. The night he’d spent in the cell. There had been no reason for Gregory to intervene. But he had argued Bowman’s case anyway. Saved his career. Because it had been the right thing to do. Bowman had looked up to him during his time in B Squadron. Admired him. Gregory had almost been like a father figure, looking out for Bowman during those difficult early days in the Regiment.
‘Does Mike know about this deal with the Russians?’ asked Mallet.
Seguma shook his head. ‘Lang told me not to mention it to anyone else. My mistake. If I had sought Mr Gregory’s advice, I am sure he would have argued against it.’
‘We can trust him, then?’
‘Without question.’ Something hard glinted behind the president’s eyes. ‘Mr Gregory would never betray me. Unlike some.’
He gazed through the floor-to-ceiling windows at Lang, scowling.
‘Can we rely on him to hold the fort until we get there?’ asked Casey.
‘Mike is as tough as they come,’ Bowman said. ‘He used to come out on patrols with us in Iraq and Afghanistan. A lot of Ruperts would have hung back in the safety of the ops room, but not Mike.’
Casey stared at him. ‘You really rate this guy, don’t you?’
‘I’m just telling you what he’s like.’ He nodded at Seguma. ‘You don’t have to worry, sir. Your family will be safe until we get there. Mike is a top soldier.’
‘You don’t need to remind me of his qualities.’
