Pirate - Duncan Falconer [124]
Milton walked in with the recorder strapped to his head.
‘Get out of here,’ Stratton said coldly.
The cameraman either didn’t hear or chose to ignore him. Milton reached for his recorder to unpause it. Stratton grabbed him by the neck and threw him outside and to the ground.
‘Easy man,’ Downs said.
‘Leave us, please,’ Stratton said softly. ‘He’s the one I’ve come for.’
Downs considered what to do. If he did his job, he should restrain Stratton and take him back to the town and then on to the ship. But that was easier said than done. He knew Stratton well enough to see the state he was in. He would need tying up and all sorts to get him back to the beach. So the wiser course of action would be to let him be. Downs looked at Stratton and the Saudi. Then he looked at the head on the mud floor between them. The man sitting beside it was surely responsible otherwise Stratton would not be looking at him like that.
‘He was driving my guards crazy talking about his wife and children all the time,’ Sabarak said, a smile on his face.
Downs’s eyes narrowed, darkened, like a shadow had passed across them.
Sabarak seemed to see it and his smirk faded.
‘Did you hear that, me old fellah?’ Downs said to Sabarak. ‘That was the sound of your own God turning his back on you.’
Downs walked out of the hut, closing the door behind him and leaving Stratton inside. He joined his men who looked between him and the hut. Some seemed to accept it, for whatever private reason they had. Some looked unsure, like they considered it to be wrong.
‘What’s going on in there, Downsy?’ one of the men asked.
‘Well, there’s two men inside. One filled with uncontrollable hate, the other half mad with revenge. Thing is, I don’t know which is which.’
Then they heard a shot. Then a crash. They saw the inside of the hut light up. The door opened and Stratton stepped out. The inside of the hut became engulfed in flames. Within seconds the entire room had turned into an inferno.
‘Still playing God, are we, Stratton?’ Matt said.
‘We should’ve at least buried him,’ Milton said. ‘We should’ve taken Hopper home and buried him.’
Stratton walked right through them like they weren’t there.
‘He’s mad,’ Milton said to Downs. ‘He’s lost it, hasn’t he?’
‘We all live on the frontline,’ Downs said. ‘He just lives a little closer to it than we do.’
The hut that contained the missiles abruptly burst into a massive blaze, one enhanced by several incendiary devices. Smudge came running through the trees towards the group, pausing to look back at his work. ‘I suggest we’re not anywhere near that lot when it goes up,’ he said.
They all heeded his advice and started to walk away down the slope.
Downs brought his radio up to his lips. ‘This is Downs. We’re finished here. Call in the perimeter. We’re headed towards Tango Charlie.’
‘This is Harvey, roger that,’ came the reply. ‘All stations muster on the track towards Tango Charlie.’
As Downs and the others set off in the direction taken by Stratton, the hut with the missiles inside exploded with a tremendous thud. The rain seemed to fall harder then, like the blast had ruptured the clouds above. The downpour was temporarily joined by small pieces of timber and shrapnel returning to earth.
Downs’s team exited the wood and were met by the other half of the assault squad that had covered the perimeter in small pockets to mop up any of the fighters who managed to regroup to mount a counter-attack. It had obviously been far from the enemy’s minds or their ability.
The men broke into an easy jog while spreading out into a defensive pattern. Two of the fitter young men sprinted ahead to act as lead scouts.
Downs jogged towards Stratton and as he came alongside him the operative broke into an easy run to keep up with his old friend.
They said nothing as they made their way across country. The rain eased off soon after the teams reached level ground and by the time they arrived at the outskirts of the town, it had practically ceased.
They kept up the pace as they made their way along