Sure Fire (15 page)

But as it turned out, she didn't have to. A soldier appeared from the other side of the plane, behind them – running straight at the tank. Halford hadn't seen him yet and the soldier was already bringing up his machine pistol.

Jade yelled. But her shout was lost in the rattle of machine-gun fire. Bullets kicked up earth, stitching a line across the ground close to Halford. He was turning, aiming the rifle, but too late.

The line of bullets reached Halford, drilling into his leg, cutting right through it. Jade screamed as Halford's leg was severed at the knee, coming completely away. He gave an angry shout and collapsed.

Halford was staring in disbelief at the ragged end of his trousers, where his knee had been. “You shot my leg off!” he shouted in disbelief.

Jade was staring in disbelief too. She was expecting blood to be pumping out, Halford to be unconscious – maybe even dead. But there was no sign of any blood, and the man seemed angry more than in pain.

The soldier who had shot Halford also looked confused. He hesitated, then brought the gun up again.

But Halford recovered first and fired a single rifle shot from the ground. It caught the soldier in the shoulder, spinning him round and slamming him to the runway.

“Just a flesh wound,” Halford assured Jade.

“He shot your leg off,” she said.

“I meant him – he's just got a flesh wound. I can manage without my leg,” he assured her, heaving himself up on his stick. “God knows, I've managed without it for long enough already.”

And only then did Jade realise why Halford walked with a stick and a limp. “You've got an artificial leg.”

“Not any more,” he said, prodding at the detached lower leg with his walking stick. “And with it goes our chance of getting to a jeep. Too many soldiers out there now.” He paused as the tank rang with the sound of bullets impacting on its armour. “They'll soon realise we're pinned down and rush us. I doubt I can hop out of here, but I'm open to any other suggestions.”

Jade could think of only one possibility. Desperate, and probably stupid, and definitely dangerous, but it was all she could offer. “Can you drive a tank?” she asked.

The sergeant in charge of the soldiers with the convoy knew he had them beaten. Stabb had told him he
could kill the girl if he had to, but probably it wouldn't be necessary. She and the man who had appeared from the cargo hold of the plane were pinned down behind the tank. And the soldiers that the sergeant had recalled from searching the hangar would be able to come round behind them. There was no way they could escape. He smiled confidently and gave the order into his radio for the troops to move in.

He had barely finished speaking when there was a shout from the soldier next to him and a burst of rapid fire. The sergeant looked up in time to see the hatch on top of the tank turret slam shut. He swore. It might take a while to get them out, but they were still trapped – inside the tank. Things could be worse.

Then the huge powerful engines of the tank coughed into life and things
were
worse. The tank was moving. Slowly, ponderously at first, but picking up speed, the tank headed right at the sergeant and his men. They fired at it, a storm of bullets rattling off the tank to no effect.

Then men were running, out of the way of the tank and away from the jeeps and the truck. The tank ploughed into the side of the truck, ripping off its
canvass cover and crunching through the back axle. The truck lurched sideways and stood at an ungainly angle as the tank passed – moving on to the jeeps behind.

One of the jeeps was shunted aside so violently it rolled and bounced across the runway. The tank drove straight over the other one, its tracks biting into the side of the jeep as the heavy tank rose up over it, before smashing down and crushing the smaller vehicle.

The sergeant was shouting into his radio, alerting the soldiers at the main gate and giving them instructions, but he doubted anyone was listening. He could already see the guards running from their hut by the gate. Moments later, the tank drove right through it – gate, hut, fence. Planks of wood went flying. Glass exploded into fragments. Barbed wire stretched and tore. Dry earth was flying up from the tank's tracks as it rumbled across the road and on to the bare ground beyond.

The road through the wilderness swung in a long loop from the airbase to the main road, so Rich found that he could see the base in the distance out of the
side window of the limousine as it reached the outermost point of the curve in the road.

He was looking straight at it when the gate and the hut beside it exploded into fragments and a large battle tank smashed through. Brown dust trailed behind it like smoke as the tank set off towards the main road. But it wasn't using the looping service road that the limo and jeeps had taken. It was heading in a straight line – a far shorter distance.

Rich watched, holding his breath and trying to work out if the tank would reach the main road before they did. He didn't know who was driving the tank, but he could make a pretty good guess. “Beats a Range Rover,” he murmured to himself. “Why does she always have to go one better?” He wondered how long it would be before someone else noticed…

The driver pulled a mobile phone from his pocket. He listened for a moment, then turned to look out of his side window in surprise. The car lurched as he saw the tank heading rapidly for the road ahead of the convoy. Vishinsky and Magda, alerted by the jolt, were also staring in amazement out of the window.

Rich couldn't understand any of what the driver
was telling Vishinsky, but he was delighted to see that the man didn't take it like good news. The limo speeded up – trying to beat the tank to the junction ahead.

It was going to be a close-run thing. One of the two jeeps following the limo had veered off the service road and was bouncing towards the tank. The soldiers in the jeep were being thrown around as it sped over the uneven ground. The driver got in front of the tank and turned his vehicle towards it – heading straight at the tank. The other soldiers were waving at the tank to stop. Then, as the tank showed no sign of stopping, they shot at it with their rifles.

The tank didn't even slow down. Two of the soldiers in the back jumped out, rolling across the ground. At what seemed like later than the last minute, the driver tried to steer out of the tank's way. He was too late. The driver leaped after the last of his passengers, and a split second later the tank smashed into the jeep. The bonnet crumpled, dragged under the tank tracks. The tank lurched upwards, then slammed down and kept going.

The limo's engine roared as the driver dropped a gear in an attempt to accelerate more quickly. But he
had left it too late. The tank was almost at the junction where the service road fed into a slip road on to the main highway. One of the treads stopped moving suddenly and the tank skidded round so it was pointing right at the limo and blocking the entrance to the slip road.

The driver wrenched at the wheel, and it looked like he was going to be able to steer the big car round the tank and back on to the road. Rich brought his feet up and kicked out as hard as he could. The soles of his shoes hammered into the back of the driver's seat, sending shockwaves right up Rich's legs. He could feel his seatbelt cutting across him.

But it had the right effect. The driver lurched forwards over the wheel. The limousine smashed into the front of the tank. The bonnet shot up and a cloud of steam erupted from beneath. The engine stopped, leaving only the rumble of the tank's engines. The driver stayed slumped forward.

Magda was already fumbling for her gun when Rich's door was dragged open and he almost fell out.

“Jade!”

“Don't just sit there, come on!” she yelled at him, pulling him from the car.

Magda's hand came up and Rich kicked the door shut behind him. His whole body felt battered and bruised and he wasn't about to get shot. He heard the bullet thud into the door and Vishinsky yelling in Russian. Then he was running with Jade for the tank.

He was astonished to see Halford's upper body sticking out of the hatch in the turret. Where had he come from? The man had a machine pistol and was firing at the soldiers and Mr Stabb in the remaining jeep, keeping them pinned down. Seeing Rich with Jade, he gave a grin and changed his aim slightly.

Steam rose from the jeep's radiator and then the front tyres exploded. It wasn't going to be following them any more than the wrecked limo was, Rich realised. Jade ran round to the back of the tank so they could climb up without fear of being shot at by the soldiers in the useless jeep.

They hauled themselves up to the turret, just as Halford ran out of ammunition. His gun clicked uselessly and he cursed. “Hurry it up!” he shouted to Jade and Rich. They were almost there. Halford was already ducking back down inside the tank turret when a bullet hit him.

Rich saw the surprise and pain on the man's face
as he was slammed back into the unforgiving metal of the hatchway. He clutched at his shoulder, and blood trickled out from between his fingers. Then he slid slowly out of sight.

“In – get in!” Jade yelled, pushing Rich after Halford through the hatch. No sooner was he inside the cramped space than Jade was after him, dragging the hatch closed behind her.

“Got to get moving,” Halford gasped. His whole hand was stained red. “Jade – you know what to do?”

“I think so.”

There was barely room to move inside the cabin of the tank. Rich couldn't even stand up. It sounded like a hailstorm as bullets pinged off the tank's outer shell.

Rich watched in amazement as Jade hurried to the controls. “You can drive a tank?”

She gave him a nervous smile. “Easy enough. These two levers control the tracks – one for each side. Push both forward to go forward, or pull them back for reverse. Just one track at a time will turn so that's how you steer. Don't worry – I've been taking lessons.”

She hesitated, flexing her fingers before reaching for the two levers.

“And how do you stop?” Rich asked.

Jade looked at her brother.

“We didn't get to that bit,” she replied, and smiled.

The man wasn't really called Ralph, but that was the name Halford had listed in his mobile. Halford's vision was blurring and he got Rich to dial. Rich then handed him back the phone.

Jade, meanwhile, had taken the tank off the main highway at the first junction and was looking for a suitable place to try to stop. Somewhere inconspicuous but easy to describe to “Ralph”. Eventually, she turned into the forecourt of a derelict petrol station. The awning was still there, stained and at a drunken angle, but the pumps were gone, and the kiosk that might also have been a little shop was boarded up. There was space at the back, behind the kiosk and out of sight of the road.

She described where they were to Halford and he relayed the information in Russian to “Ralph”. When he had finished, he looked exhausted.

“If I lose consciousness,” he said, trying to raise himself up into a sitting position, “then wait for
Ralph. He isn't the most savoury of characters, but he owes me a favour. He'll help.”

“Who is he?” Rich wondered. “What does he do? Is he in the government or police or something?”

Halford forced a smile. “Not quite. Let's just say he's a businessman and leave it at that, shall we?”

“A businessman?” Jade said. “What sort of business?”

“Well, not really what you'd call
legitimate
business,” Halford admitted.

“You mean he's a gangster?” Rich said.

Jade shook her head in disbelief. “Terrific. Just the sort of help we need.”

“Against Vishinsky, it is,” Halford told her. He sagged back, breathing deeply, eyes closed.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” Rich said to his sister. “I knew you would.”

“Don't take me for granted,” Jade warned him. “Don't expect everything.”

“Didn't expect you in a tank.”

Ralph arrived in a large dark Mercedes. It pulled quietly on to the forecourt, headlights cutting through the night. The back door opened and a man
got out. He was short but thick-set, with a heavy brow, combed black hair and a shiny pinstripe suit.

The driver and two other men followed Ralph closely, over to where the children were waiting. They all wore pinstripe suits. They helped get Halford out of the tank and put him carefully in the back of the car.

“We shall leave your tank here,” Ralph told them. He grinned, showing off a gold tooth at the front of his mouth.

“It's not really ours,” Rich protested.

Ralph shrugged. “What do you say? Finders keepers? It is yours now.”

“You'll look after Halford?” Jade asked.

“A doctor is examining him in the car. He will do what he can. We can get him to a safe hospital, but it looks like it was a clean shot – the bullet went right through.” He smiled again. “I have some experience of gunshot wounds.”

“I bet,” Jade said. “So what's your real name? It's not Ralph.”

The man frowned. “Ralph? Halford said my name was
Ralph
?” He sighed. “It is as good a name as any. It will do. Yes, I like it. Ralph.” He clicked his fingers
and one of the men in pinstripes stepped closer. Ralph talked to him rapidly in Russian and the man handed over a mobile phone.

Ralph handed a phone to Rich. “Speed dial six will get through to me at once. Don't worry, the phone is untraceable.”

“Is it stolen?” Rich asked.

“Acquired. We will look after Halford. Do not worry. I owe him much. He said, when he called, that you are going to rescue your father from Vishinsky.”

“That's right,” Jade said.

Ralph whistled. “Rather you than me. He also said that your father is a man I know as Harry.” He held his hands up before either Jade or Rich could reply. “I do not need or want to know his real name. That would not help any of us, any more than my real name would help you. I only know Halford is a real name by accident. But I owe Harry as much as I owe Halford. I cannot move directly against Vishinsky, you understand.”

“Why not?” Rich wanted to know.

“Politics. Economics. Boring reasons. But at the moment the state is not too hard on us, so we have an understanding. It works for us and it works for them
too. But if I am seen to oppose Vishinsky then that could change. If the criminals who run our country, our police and armed forces have to decide who they most need – me or Vishinsky…” He opened his hands. “I would not bet on me coming out as favourite.”