Games of the Hangman (80 page)

But even with
the manpower and firepower issues left out of it, there still remained a key
flaw in terrorist hijack tactics:
 
the
initiative, once the initial grab had taken place, passed almost completely to
the authorities.
 
The hijackers waited
and sweated, and the authorities prevaricated and stonewalled.
 
The only thing the terrorists could do was
kill prisoners to demonstrate intent, but even that option was counterbalanced
by that unwritten but well-known rule: Once the killing starts the assault forces
go in, and too damn bad about the consequences.
 
To make matters worse from a terrorist point of view, experience had
shown that a specialist assault force could take out a hijack position with
minimal casualties — most of the time.
 
The Egyptians were the exception to that rule.

The final
problem with hijacks was that either the terrorists didn't seem to know
precisely what they wanted — Kadar, professional and Harvard man that he was,
found this hard to swallow, but his research showed it was often the case — or
what they demanded was obviously politically unacceptable or impossible.
 
Often it was both.

It had to be
admitted that unless you were a publicity hound — and Kadar was profit-oriented
first and foremost, though he wasn't averse to a degree of media flirtation and
had enjoyed his obituaries immensely — the hijack track record was not good.

"Room for
improvement," as a schoolteacher would put it.

In Kadar's
view, a fundamentally new approach was required — and Operation Geranium was
the result.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Fitzduane's Castle — 1555 Hours

Fitzduane had
phoned the police security detail at
Draker
College
and, for good
measure, had also spoken to the acting headmaster.
 
His concerns had been politely received but
with thinly disguised incredulity.
 
He
didn't need to be psychic to know that he wasn't getting through.
 
The sun continued to blaze in a cloudless
sky.
 
The idea of a serious threat in
such an idyllic spot lacked credibility.

Sergeant Tommy
Keane from the police station on the mainland had showed up on his bicycle and,
after a private discussion with Fitzduane, had reluctantly agreed to stay
around for the next few hours.
 
It was
too hot for fishing anyway.
 
He'd try to
sneak away in the evening.
 
Meanwhile, he
might as well keep an eye on what his eccentric friend was up to — and try to
keep him out of trouble.

Fitzduane's
little army now numbered thirteen.
 
Eleven, including Fitzduane, reassembled in the great hall.
 
Murrough and his wife were on the fighting
platform of the tower.
 
Armed with
powerful binoculars, they could observe the bridge onto the island and much of
the surrounding countryside with ease.
 
Visibility was generally excellent, though a thin heat haze had sprung
up and obscured details in the distance.

Fitzduane
spoke.
 
"Our first priority is to
secure this castle, so I want you all to be thoroughly familiar with the
physical layout, hence the guided tour.
 
I'll go through it again now and explain how the defenses — if required
— will work."

He turned to a
large plan of the castle painted on wood and resting on an easel.
 
It had been made nearly three hundred years
earlier, and the colors were faded.
 
His
mind wandered for a moment to the many other occasions when Fitzduanes had
assembled to ward off a threat.
 
Most of the time they had been able to talk their way out of
trouble.
 
Somehow he didn't think
that talk would be the answer this day.

"As you
can see," he said, "the castle is situated on a low outcrop of rock
bordered on two sides by the sea.
 
The
sea approach doesn't guarantee security against trained individuals, but any
major assault would almost certainly have to be made from the landward
side.
 
Even when the tide is out, the
rock is steep and covered with seaweed, so maneuvering a body of men on the seaward
approaches is well-nigh impossible."

"I'm
going to use the term
castle
for the
whole walled-in area, but of course, the castle actually consists of several
component parts, mostly built at different times.
 
The cornerstone of the castle — and the part
that was built first — is the sixty-foot-high square stone tower known as the
keep.
 
On the top of the keep is what is
called the fighting platform.
 
That is
the open area protected by a parapet.
 
Under the fighting platform are five rooms, access to which is by the
circular stone staircase.
 
In all the
rooms and on the stairs there are observation and firing points.

"Next to
the keep and connected to it at second-floor level is the long rectangular
building we are in, which is known as the great house.
 
That was built when things were supposed to
be getting more civilized around here but still with an eye on defense.
 
It consists of three floors under a pitched
roof.
 
The top floor is this room and the
kitchen.
 
Underneath are the bedrooms,
and under those are stores and utility rooms.
 
The outside wall of the great house is part of the perimeter and is
defended by the sea access and the normal fighting points, and it is overlooked
by the top stories of the keep.
 
However,
there are no battlements here, and the pitched roof is vulnerable to plunging
fire.

"The rest
of the castle consists of the courtyard area, called the bawn, enclosed by a
twenty-foot-high perimeter wall.
 
Battlements run the length of the wall, and under these are the stables,
bakery, smithy, and other workshops.
 
The
weak point of the perimeter wall is, of course, the main gate, but that is
defended by that small square tower, the gatehouse.
 
The gate itself still had a working
portcullis."

"What is
a portcullis?" asked Andreas von Graffenlaub's Israeli girlfriend.

Fitzduane had
learned that her family had been part of
Dublin
's
Jewish community before
emigrating
to
Israel
.
 
Her name was Judith Newman, and her looks
were a strong argument in favor of making love and not war.
 
She seemed quite unfazed by what was
happening.
 
Of course, she of all people
would be used to terrorist threats.
 
She
came from a kibbutz near the Syrian border.

"It's the
iron gate that looks like a grid.
 
It
rises and falls vertically.
 
The idea is
that it can be dropped in a hurry if any unfriendlies show up.
 
There are spikes set into its base, so it's
no fun if you are under it at the wrong time.
 
It used to be operated by a big hand winch, but now there is an electric
motor."

"But you
can see through it," said Judith.
 
"It's not solid."

"You can
indeed see through it," said Fitzduane.
 
"
Which was partly the idea.
 
It means you can also shoot through it.
 
I imagine weight was also a
consideration.
 
A solid gate of that size
would be impractical to raise and lower by hand on a routine basis."

"So the
bawn could be swept by fire from outside?"

"The
portcullis would stop much of it, because the metal bands are two inches wide
with four-inch spacings, but yes, if the wooden
gate were
destroyed and only the portcullis were left, the bawn would be vulnerable to
fire form outside.
 
The solution is to
move around on the battlements or to use the tunnel system."

"Tunnels,"
said the Bear.

"Tunnels,"
said Fitzduane.
 
"They are one of
the reasons the Fitzduane survived over the centuries.
 
There is a network under the castle."

"You
should get into embassy design," said Ambassador Noble dryly.

*
         
*
         
*
         
*
         
*

Aboard the
Sabine
— 1630 hours

The three unit
commanders — code-named Malabar, Icarus, and Phantom (courtesy of Baudelaire) —
trooped into the room and saluted.
 
Kadar
demanded obedience and discouraged familiarity.
 
Insisting upon the details of military discipline helped create and
maintain the austere professional atmosphere he preferred.

Two of the
unit commanders, Malabar and Icarus, were Arabs; they wore checked keffiyehs
and camouflage combat fatigues.
 
The
third commander, Phantom —a Sardinian called Giorgio Massana — had already
changed into his wet suit.

The captain's
quarters of the
Sabine
incorporated a
dayroom of adequate size.
 
The three
commanders, already laden down with ammunition pouches and other combat
equipment, squeezed with difficulty onto the padded bench seat that ran around
two sides of the small conference table.
 
They waited expectantly.
 
They had
been briefed extensively already, but Kadar, they knew, parted with information
the way a python sheds its skin:
 
there
always seemed to be something new underneath.

Kadar referred
to his clipboard unnecessarily to mask a twinge of pain.
 
His left hand was now gloved, and a
prosthetic finger disguised his disfigurement.
 
The details of Operation Geranium had been worked out on a computer and
had resulted in enough charts and plans to fill a book, but for now he wanted
to cover only a few key points.
 
He felt
like a football coach before the big game.
 
He despised speeches before battle, but he had to admit they were
effective.

He consulted
the chronometer and then spoke.
 
"At
1730, the main staff at the college goes off duty.
 
They leave in a minibus for their homes in
and around the village and are always off the island by 1750 at the
latest.
 
That leaves behind in the
college some fifty-eight students and a small night-duty faculty presence of
three or four.
 
The evening meal is
served by the students themselves."
 
He smiled.
 
"There is also an
armed guard of six men."

"The
critical time window for our purposes is the period of daylight from 1750 to
2200 hours.
 
There is still some light
after that time but not much, and I consider it expedient to build in a margin.
 
Our objective is to complete the first phase
within that time window.

"At 1800
hours it is normal practice for all students and night faculty to gather in the
assembly hall for what they call daily review.
 
Accordingly, 1800 hours is the pivotal implementation time for our
operation.
 
Just prior to that time a
number of actions will take place.

"All
communication to and from the island will be severed.
 
Telephone and telex lines will be cut.
 
The bridge will be blown up in such a manner
as to make it look like an accident.
 
Any
radios will be destroyed.

"A small
group of students aided by one faculty member, all members of the cult of the
Sacrificers" he smiled again — "will kill the police security guards
and will seize the students and faculty members as they are gathered together.

"Elements
of Phanom in a Pilatus Britten-Norman Islander, a small twin-engine aircraft
with short takeoff and landing properties, will land on the road near the
college.
 
Further elements of Phantom
Unit will assault Fitzduane's castle and eliminate the occupants.

"With the
beachhead secured by Phantom Unit and their young friends, the balance of the
assault force, Malabar and Icarus units, will board the high-speed inflatables
as rehearsed, land, and take up position as planned.
 
By 1830 hours at the latest, all our forces
will be ashore with their objectives secured, and the island will be entirely
in our hands — and no one on the mainland will be any the wiser.

"No later
than 1900 hours, but with the margin built into the time window as discussed,
the Islander aircraft, which is equipped with integral wingtip fuel tanks and
long-range underwing fuel tanks giving it a range of fifteen hundred nautical
miles, will take off again, carrying two rather special hostages.

"We shall
have all night to prepare our positions in the college, with particular
emphasis on laying explosives in such a way that it will be quite impossible
for the government authorities even to contemplate an assault without
guaranteeing the deaths of all the hostages.
 
And all we are asking for is money — a politically quite acceptable
commodity to part with and one not in short supply if one's children are
involved."