into the mike.
'It would,' Sarge's voice agreed. 'But we'll still make it. Thanks to you…'
Tweed put a reassuring hand on Paula's shoulder. Beaurain crouched lower, as the barge would soon be opposite the SAS firing-point. Not knowing about the special equipment at the SAS's disposal, he had his doubts.
Marler came alongside her, holding his Armalite. He was expecting trouble. She could tell from his expression. He glanced at her.
'Don't forget the grenades…'
He was still speaking when the full length of the barge arrived opposite the SAS firing-point. She raised her night-glasses., pressed them to her eyes just in time. A large shell-like object streaked in an arc over the water, dropped down the hatch. At the same moment a missile hit the weapon stationed in the bows. She wasn't ready. Wasn't ready for the titanic explosions. The barge shuddered under the impact. The Shockwave thumped against the plinth. She jumped, steadied herself.
The bows dipped into the river, stayed dipped. The roll-over deck was hurled into the air in three large pieces, fell back into the river with a large splash. The barge was now moving sluggishly, the half-sunk bows slowing it so that it was almost stationary. It was going nowhere.
'Watch out!' Sarge's warning voice. 'They're coming.'
Motorized dinghies were being slung over the side of the hull, attached to ropes. Black turbaned men were sliding down the ropes into the dinghies. Motors roared, then they were heading directly towards the plinth. At least a dozen dinghies and one small speedboat, churning up water as it tore towards them.
All hell was heading for the Embankment.
Paula hadn't seen Harry carrying a rocket launcher down to the wall. He rammed it into his shoulder. The speedboat had four men aboard, some waving savage-looking knives. Harry took careful aim, fired the rocket. It curved, dropped, bull's-eye on the speedboat.
The craft exploded. Everything became fragments. Fragments of speedboat, fragments of the men who had been aboard. Paula jumped off the plinth, ran down to support Harry and Pete. Beaurain was beside her. Dinghies were racing to where Harry and Pete crouched.
Something bloody and fleshy landed on the Embankment near Paula. She glanced at it. Beaurain stared, frowned.
'Most of a man's stomach,' she told him.
'You know that?' he shouted.
'I've attended autopsies.'
'So have I.'
Beaurain was impressed with the steeliness and calmness Paula was displaying under fire.
Three dinghies, spread well apart, were racing to the Embankment. Nield, moving his sub-machine gun in an arc, sprayed two of them. As his bullets hit, the explosives strapped round the Arabs exploded. There was a deafening roar. Arabs and dinghies vanished. Something small and white landed on the wall in front of Paula. A fragment of one of the devastated dinghies.
More dinghies raced towards the Embankment. Again well spaced out. Harry let loose a burst. Nield was firing at the same time. More deafening explosions. Paula aimed her sub-machine gun at a dinghy which had pulled ahead of the others. For a moment she could see their savage faces illuminated by moonlight. She pressed the trigger. The faces, the heads, were no longer there. Another explosion. No dinghy. The stretch of river sweeping past had a reddish colour.
To their left a dinghy had reached the Embankment wall. Two men scrambled over the wall. They had seen the group below the plinth. They elevated their Kalashnikovs. Beaurain had seen them. He aimed his sub-machine gun, was startled to see one man throw up his Kalashnikov, collapsing backwards. He pressed the trigger. A storm of bullets hit the second man like a hurricane.
'First chap was mine,' Marler's voice said behind Beaurain. He had shot him with his Armalite.
Further along to their right there had been continuous gunfire from the SAS, eliminating more dinghies with armed men aboard. Suddenly the inferno of sound – exploding Arabs in their dinghies, the rattle of weapons keeping up a non-stop bombardment from the Embankment – had stopped.
The silence Paula had experienced while they'd driven to the plinth returned. It was almost a shock. She wiped her sweating hands on her uniform, poked a finger gently in her right ear. The silence was more apparent. Her eyes were fixed on the barge in the middle of the river.
It was an awesome spectacle. The combination of the huge bomb waiting to be launched through the main hatch together with – perfect timing – Sarge's counter-bomb plunging down before the Arabs had detonated their bomb, had caused an explosion of terrible power. Plus the fact that the explosion took place in the confined space of the interior hull.
Amidships, the barge was splitting open. The river poured in, adding to the pressure. Paula stared in wonderment as the barge separated into two parts. The forward area where the bows were already diving below the surface. The stern area wallowing.
'You stupid sightseers, get back here into the jeeps,' Tweed's commanding voice echoed in the silence. 'Our friends are already on their way.'
'Coming,' Paula shouted back.
'We have to save Westminster Bridge,' Tweed thundered back.
She dived into the first jeep, where Tweed was already behind the wheel. Newman had cleared the. camouflage branches from three jeeps. Tweed had started the vehicle moving when she looked back in time to see Beaurain jumping into a rear seat.
Behind them Newman was driving another jeep. She saw Harry scrambling over the back into a rear seat while the jeep was in motion.
The third jeep was being driven by Marler, shouting something she couldn't hear. Just as well, his language was salty. Nield just managed to climb over into a rear seat as Marler began moving. The fact that everyone was encumbered with heavy satchels, were clutching sub-machine guns, hadn't helped them.
Paula looked ahead, just in time to see the last of the SAS jeeps disappearing. They had to be in position before barge No. 2 arrived. At this stage Paula said to herself, 'No casualties so far.' Not aloud. Tempting fate.
Nor had she any reason to guess that the assault on Westminster Bridge would be a near-disaster.
48
Aboard Barge No. 4, Ali also had radio communication with the skippers of the other barges. Not as sophisticated as Sarge's, it still gave him warning of what was happening.
'We are being killed by gunmen ashore,' Mohammed, skipper of the first barge, reported as his control station at the rear began to sink.
'Stay calm. Be precise,' Ali ordered.
'All the men in dinghies who headed for the left bank have been killed. That is where the enemy is…'
'What weapons are they using?' Ali demanded.
'Automatic weapons. Many of them…'
'Where are the gunmen stationed?'
'Somewhere on the river bank. We didn't see them…'
Mohammed adjusted his headset. He voice was becoming hysterical. The deckhouse was now close to the water. Soon it would be under the river.
'What about the bridge? Your objective?' snapped Ali.
'Waterloo is standing. We are sinking. The whole barge…'
'You should have told me that first. What caused it to sink?'
'I'm leaving. I'm going to drown…'
The voice ended in a gurgle as the river flooded into the deckhouse with terrifying speed. Mohammed was drowned before he could make his way out.
