“But you believe that’s our main target?” the SBS Major nodded.
“Yes. We have to take the risk. The quickest way down is through the Flight Crew Room which is here.” He pointed to the bulkhead door he had used to get to the Harrier. It seemed days ago now, not just a handful of hours.
“So, before we decide on tactics, how many people do you think we need?” The SBS Major was putting on a little pressure, and Bond knew it. Behind the dedication of elite forces, there was always a desire to be in at the kill, to take credit. They were really in the hands of the United States Navy, so Bond had to make a very careful choice. He also had to make it with confidence and speed.
“They’re fourteen, maybe fifteen. I don’t think we have to go by the odds.” He locked eyes, first, with the US Marines Major and then with the Royal Marines Major from the Special Boat Squadron. “I lead.
We draw up the main plan together. I want five of your Marines, Major, and five SBS, Major,” turning to each man as spoke. They both nodded solemnly. “As for weapons, well, there’s likely to be killing regretful, but I see no other way - and I think some of that killing’s got to be silent.
Have we any hand-guns with silencers?”
It was Mike Carter who answered. “We can provide Brownings and H and Ks with modified noise reduction units.”
“Right,” Bond nodded.
“Everyone will carry either a Browning or an H & K. I want one man from each unit to be armed with a sub-machine-gun. Any H & K MP5s, Mike?”
“MP5s, 5Ks, Uzis, you name it, we got it.”
“K-Bar knives for the US Marines; usual Sykes-Fairhairn for SBS.
Flash-bangs?” he asked Carter, meaning stun grenades.
“Whatever you need.”
“Two each, and some tear-gas grenades. We’ll go in with masks on.
Now, the actual tactics, and here we’re going to have to guess a lot.
We have to ask where we would put people on that ship to keep watch. I know the girl in charge, and she’s no fool. But she’ll probably act predictably.”
“Then she’ll let some of the girls rest for part of the time,” the SBS officer said.
“Maybe. They’ll be highly stressed, whatever, and, therefore, more dangerous. I’d say she’d only let three of the girls rest at one time. That gives her eleven - twelve with Mr. Speaker, and I really don’t know how good he’ll be in a tangle.”
“She’ll stay on duty all the time?” the US Marine Corps officer asked.
Bond nodded, with a smile, “Clover is probably able to keep going without sleep for another forty-eight hours. So, if you were her, where would you put your troops?”
They talked it out carefully, using logic, then going back and looking at it in the most perverse manner. In the end, they decided that Bond had been right about the psycho being with the VIPs, plus a guard outside. They put two more on the main deck, one patrolling forward and one aft. Two on the bridge, probably armed with sub- machine-guns, and two, similarly armed, in Flight Operations. This way they would have the whole main deck covered, fore and aft.
There were a total of five companionways leading down from the island to the first deck, where they thought the VIPs were being held.
“One at the foot of each companionway?” Bond asked.
“Either at the foot or nearby,” the SBS officer agreed. The USMC Major nodded.
“We can probably pinpoint what kind of defence they’ve got on the main deck, even, possibly in the island and down on the first level.”
They all looked up as Mike Carter suddenly revealed this information.
Bond saw it at once. The base, he suspected, was now used for major intelligence gathering: the electronics and the massive golf-balls had told him that. “You can scan the ship for us?”
“We can try. Carter tapped a pencil against the table. “We’ve got several nice four-lanned P36s here stuffed full of the latest reconnaissance hardware. We can do a recce about an hour before you go in. They can see through anything - and it’s going to be dark tonight: low cloud. We should at least get a clear idea of where the sentries are posted on deck, and who’s in the island.”
“I wish you’d said that before,” Bond snapped. “What’ll you do? Overfly and then do a square to cover all sides?”
“Something like that. I need to know a time.”
“Quarter to four in the morning, 03.45. Nice and dark. Time for births and deaths. Lowest ebb for those under stress. Okay?”
They all nodded.
“See what I can do, then.” Carter left and they began getting down to details. Bond asked if they still had the companionway down to a boat deck, at sea level.
“They took it up after clearing the mess off the main deck,” the USNIC man said. “That Harrier pilot knew what he was doing. They said fireworks and he gave us the Fourth of July.”
“Or Guy Fawkes day,” the SBS officer added, not wanting the Brits to be left out.
“Well, he won’t do it again,” Bond said, a shade huffily. “Now, down to cases.
They went into the operation in great detail, covering all contingencies: agreeing, disagreeing and finally compromising on one or two matters. When they had the whole business sorted out, Beatrice asked why she had been left out.
“You’ll be in Gibraltar, my dear.” Bond gave her a long look.
“When we ve done the daring rescue bit, if we succeed, I’m coming to join you - providing I’m still alive. Then, together we re going to finish the job and take Baradj in.”
“Dead or alive?”
“Alive if possible. Enough folk will die tonight, and I am slowly coming to the conclusion that too much killing is bad for the health.”
“If you say so, James. But I bet Baradj isn’t one who’ll give in easily.”
“Iet’s get this little show out of the way first.” Ignoring the others, he leaned over and kissed her on each cheek, then on her lips.
The P36 had brought back some very pretty pictures with its sophisticated equipment, a lot of which relied on infra-red which picked up the heat of human bodies.
They had been almost right. There were three guards on the main deck, one forward, one aft, and a third amidships. They also knew that there were three, not two, people on the bridge, and two in Flight Operations, and at least one in Communications.
They agreed that they had been blind to that one. There had to be someone in Communications.
“Clover’ll be the third hod on the bridge,” Bond thought. It was three o’clock in the morning, and they were all gathered by two matt black inflatables. One for the USMC contingent and one for the SBS.
Bond would travel with the SBS, and they had arranged some distractions to go down at zero hour, 03.45. All were dressed in black and with blackened faces, the weaponry slung about them from black webbing harnesses.
They made their approach on the ship’s relatively blind side, the port quarter. It took half an hour of steady, quiet paddling to bring them under the darkness of the ship’s hull, keeping close together, only parting company, moving fore and aft once they reached the ship.
The men in both inflatables now put on their respirators, and readied the other equipment, waiting, glancing at their luminous watches, for the distraction to start. The first huge flash and thump came right on time from about half a mile away, in the direction of the other members of the Task Force. The explosions were made to cause maximum glare and minimum noise. They were very bright, and a lot of magnesium was being used up.
The US marines and SBS people kept their eyes down, but reckoned that nobody either on the open deck, bridge, or Flight Ops of invincible could possibly keep their eyes off the flashes.
There was hardly any sound from the spring-loaded launchers which fired a total of four grappling hooks, each wrapped and swaddled in sacking, from the inflatables. Each hook had heavy knotted rope attached, and the irons thudded up onto the guard rails with little or no noise. It was merely luck which caused the irons to be fired at
