front. Stood by the door, smoked a fag or two, and went to bed about a half hour ago. All lights were extinguished. There has been no noise, no light, no sign of movement inside since.'
'Lieutenant, if Smith is in there, I'd like very much to take him alive. In other words, I'd rather have prisoners than corpses.'
'I understand. I'll get that message out immediately. We're using heavy loads, so a hit anywhere will take a man down without a kill.'
Bolt, like all the troops, was wearing a battlefield commo set inside his helmet. An NVG device was mounted atop the helmet. He turned away and spoke quickly into his lip mike, passing on the new orders to his second in command.
He produced a similar Kevlar commo helmet for Hawke who donned it, pulling the flip-up NVGs into position and checking them. He noticed white circles painted around the tops of all the black helmets around him. The white paint popped, like something under black light, and he asked Bolt about it.
'Recently developed. Highly reflective through NVGs. You'll find it very handy once we're inside that house in the pitch-dark.'
Hawke grinned. 'Our troops look like angels with halos.'
'That's the general idea,' Bolt said, and looked at the digital countdown on his watch. 'Helps you keep track of whose side you're on.'
'The side of the angels.'
'You got it, Commander.'
'We go in twenty. I estimate a minimum of fifteen to twenty-five heavily armed IRA soldiers inside. All armed with AK-47s. We have microphones under the house and all we're getting is snoring. Safe to say we have the element of surprise.'
'What kind of firepower do you have?' Hawke asked, checking his own M8 weapon, fitted with a noise suppressor, selecting a three-shot burst, and putting a round in the chamber. He also had a Kahr P9 9mm pistol in a Velcro holster strapped high on his right thigh.
'I've got two sections, twelve men in each, all armed with individual weapon IW-SA80s with noise suppressors, with the exception of my LMGs, light machine gunners. Each man also carries two 'Bullet Catcher' rifle grenades.'
'Never heard of them.'
'The grenade is simply pushed onto the muzzle of the barrel, and an ordinary 5.56mm round is fired into it. The grenade absorbs the bullet without damage and is projected toward the target up to 150 meters away.'
'Good. You understand why I want to nix the mortar emplacements on the hillside?'
'Yes, sir. I heard from them and I agree with your assessment. We learn more from captured maps, documents, and laptops than we ever do from dead enemy combatants. I wonder. Did Major Masterman agree with that no-mortar decision, sir? I've received no direct orders from him on that.'
'I didn't ask for his opinion.'
'Radio must be down. I can't raise him.'
Hawke didn't say a word.
'Anything wrong, sir?'
'Lieutenant Bolt, for the safety of your men and the success of this mission, I think it best if you immediately assume full command of this operation.'
Lieutenant Bolt looked at Hawke carefully, thought a moment, then flipped up his tiny battlefield communicator mike and said, 'Mortars, mortars. This is Bolt. Hold fire, repeat, mortars hold your fire until and unless you hear from me, personally. Roger that? The CO's radio is down, all orders during this operation will come directly from me. Over.'
'Thanks,' Hawke said, attaching a few more stun and smoke grenades to his utility belt.
'Fifteen minutes,' Bolt said. 'Sir, I suggest you stick with me and Yankee. Upon entry, we immediately mount the center stairs and clear the top two floors. Zulu, under the command of Second Lieutenant Hunter Foreman, will cover and clear the ground floor. He also has three of his LMG men posted outside at the rear and two sides of the building, covering those exits with machine guns.'
'I'm with you, Lieutenant. I assume you're going in with flash-bangs and smoke grenades?'
'Yes. Both bangers and smokers through every window as well, upstairs and down. Maximum disorientation. They'll have enough time to pull their balaclavas over their faces and grab their AK-47s and that's about it before we come in shooting.'
'Good,' Hawke said.
Bolt's hidden commandos were creating so much warrior energy in the woods surrounding the Barking Dog you could cut it with a knife. Good energy. Killer energy. This was it, Alex thought, these were the moments that made staying alive a viable notion again. A novel concept, considering his recent state of mind. But he felt it, coursing through his veins, a liquid fire.
Hawke would find this bloody Smith tonight or the next, or the next. But he would find him and he would take him out, and he would do it for his future King and country.
FORTY-TWO
STAND BY, ZULU, YANKEE GOES GREEN in twenty seconds,' Lieutenant Bolt said, silently raising the flat of his hand and motioning his squad to a halt. He and Hawke watched the digital timers on their wrists tick down to… four…three…two…one! Suddenly the muffled but deafening sound of the countless flash-bang grenades hurled inside the Barking Dog's windows could be heard. The blinding light and painfully high decibel level produced would disorient everyone inside and gain the assault teams precious seconds.
Bolt and Hawke ran in a low crouch toward the front entrance of the Barking Dog.
Standing to either side of the peeling and cracked front door, Bolt looked at Hawke as he prepared to kick the door in. Hawke nodded and Bolt saw that the man was more than ready. The icy hardness of the look in his eyes was actually disturbing to the young lieutenant. He'd seen warriors eager for battle before, but this was intensity of an entirely different order of magnitude.
Hawke said through clenched teeth, 'Let's do it.'
The force of Bolt's big boot split the wooden door and blew it off its hinges. The lieutenant immediately pulled the spoons on two smoke grenades and lobbed them inside the entrance hall. He dashed into the smoke-filled area and made for the center stairs at a full run. Hawke and the rest of Yankee were right behind him.
To Hawke's right and left were two large rooms. In each, Hawke saw large numbers of hooded men rising from the floor, AK-47s already in their hands.
The sound of the flash-bangs throughout the house and the splintered front door had roused the enemy, but by the time they were fully awake, reoriented, and had begun firing their weapons, all of Yankee section had raced up two flights of creaky wooden stairs, and gained the top floor.
'Zulu, go, go, go!' Bolt said.
The men of Zulu squad now started pouring inside, and seconds later a raging firefight began on either side of the stairs. Hawke glanced back down to the ground floor and all he could see in the billowing smoke below were glowing white halos and muzzle flashes. So far, mercifully, there were no fallen angels.
As previously agreed, Bolt went left at the top of the stairs and Hawke went right. Each man had six commandos covering his six. The low-ceilinged hallway had two closed doors and an open window at the far end. As Hawke approached it a smoke grenade came flying through. He reached out, caught it on the fly, and winged it back outside. He'd no need of more smoke in the hall now, just inside the two rooms he had to clear.
He looked back toward the stairs. Half his men were 'stacked' outside the first closed door, lined up for dynamic entry into the room. Weapons at the ready, they waited for his signal. The other half was stacked right behind him at the door by the window.
He had just motioned one man forward to breach the door when he heard multiple staccato bursts of enemy
