Read Games of the Hangman Online
Authors: Victor O'Reilly
He paused and
drank some mineral water.
"And of
course, the whereabouts of two of the hostages will not even be known.
A little extra surprise for
our friends.
Their father is a
key figure in the present
talks.
He is a friend of the U.S.
President.
There is no way the Irish
will risk the consequences of their deaths.
The Irish government will give in, and the parents will pay; the whole
exercise will take place out of sight of the world media, so there will be no
problem with loss of face for anyone.
Our friends in
"There is
a tendency in hostage situations for the authorities to drag out the
negotiations in the belief that the kidnappers — us in this case — will not
carry out their threats to kill their victims.
As a matter of fact, hijackers have a track record of bluffing much and
killing little, so the approach of the authorities would seem to be
justified.
In this case, it is essential
that we convince the Irish government and the parents that we are deadly
serious.
To that end the faculty and ten
students — those with less affluent parents and of no political significance,
naturally — will be killed immediately.
The executions will be photographed and videotaped.
Arrangements have been made to radio
photographs to our agents so that the parents of the surviving students will be
in no doubt from the beginning as to our intent.
The video will travel in the Islander, and
copies of it will be issued subsequently, if necessary.
"You will
note that we are contacting both the parents and the Irish authorities
simultaneously.
This is to prevent the
authorities from endeavoring to resolve matters on their own and to exert the
maximum pressure in the shortest possible time.
Further, we have made sure that both parents in every case will be
informed.
"The
protocols regarding details of payments and so on have already been drawn up
and are with our intermediaries in
They will supervise our withdrawal from the
island on a government-to-government basis.
It won't be the first time they have performed such a role.
They rather enjoy appearing as honest brokers
in these situations.
"When the
bridge has been replaced by the Irish authorities — a matter of hours using a
military structure — the force will depart from the island in a bus convoy and
will travel to
jet will fly us to safety.
The hostages
will travel with us.
They will fly with
us to
"unless, of course, I come up with a more entertaining notion."
Kadar looked
at the unit commanders.
"Any questions?"
There was
silence at first.
The commanders were
confident, forceful men, but Kadar awed them.
He was brilliant, he was violent, and he was unpredictable — but he
rewarded results.
Experience had shown
that blind obedience was the best policy most of the time.
Questions were not normally expected, but
Kadar seemed to want to talk.
He was
justifiably enthusiastic, almost euphoric; it was a thorough plan, and all
three commanders were convinced it would work.
The Commander
of Phantom Unit spoke first.
"The
next couple of hours will be critical.
Is there any chance of interference from the Irish Navy or these people
that I have heard so much about, the Rangers?"
Kadar was
amused.
He was conscious that he was
showing off a little, but he was enjoying his minor moment of glory.
It was no more than his due.
It was unarguable:
his plan had anticipated everything.
"The
Irish have over three thousand kilometers of coastline to guard," he said,
"and only four ships to do the entire job.
The chance of a naval service ship turning up at the wrong moment is
statistically most improbable.
However" — he paused for effect — "arrangements have been made
to divert the one ship on duty on the Atlantic coast.
The primary task of the Irish Navy is fishery
protection.
An anonymous tip has decoyed
the vessel
Eimer
to chase a fleet of
Spanish fishing boats fishing illegally off the Kerry coast."
"And the
Rangers?" said the Phantom Unit commander.
This time
Kadar laughed outright.
"They could
have been a problem, but they have responded magnificently to a diversion we
have prearranged in
He looked at his men.
"They think we are mounting an operation
against the American Embassy, and they are defending it in depth."
"So there
is nothing to stop us," said the Icarus Unit commander.
"Nothing,"
said Kadar.
He felt a sudden twinge in
his hand.
His missing finger
throbbed.
"Nothing."
*
*
*
*
*
Fitzduane's Castle — 1645 hours
Fitzduane
disliked talking about the tunnel system; it was the hidden card in Fitzduane
family history.
In this case, however,
he felt he had no choice but to reveal part of what lay underneath the castle;
still, he confined his tour to the upper level.
Access in this case was from the ground floor of the tower.
Fitzduane
flicked a switch as they passed through the concealed door.
A ramp sloped down to a passage with a
vaulted roof.
He motioned the others to
follow him.
The passage ran straight to
the gatehouse across the bawn.
A
circular staircase wound its way to the second-floor level.
They emerged in the windlass room, from where
the portcullis was controlled.
Murder
holes and firing apertures allowed the guards to control both the entrance
below and access to the gate.
He led the
group back into the tunnel.
"Now
you know how to get from the keep to the gatehouse without having your ass shot
off.
That's the good news.
The bad news would be the discovery of that
tunnel by the other side.
It can be
blocked from the keep — a heavy iron door slides into place — but how long that
would stand up to high explosives is another matter.
Swords and lances were more the thing when
this was built."
De Guevain was
looking around curiously.
"How was
the tunnel constructed?
From the outside
the castle looks as if it were built on a solid block of granite, and the sea
is so close.
I'd guess we are near to
being below sea level."
Fitzduane
smiled.
"We are below sea level
when the tide is in, but there is nothing to worry about.
It's the very geology of this location that
made my ancestors settle here.
What
appears to be a solid block of granite is, in fact, more like a doughnut in
shape.
The possibilities of that were
obvious.
The family has been digging on
and off ever since."
"You,
too?" asked the Bear.
"I don't
like tunnels."
Fitzduane walked on
toward a heavy metal-shod door.
The key
turned silently.
"This is the
armory."
He beckoned the group to
enter the room.
He switched on the main
lights when all were inside.
There were
expressions of surprise.
Swords, knives,
battle-axes, maces, pikes, bows and arrows, armor, muskets — hand weapons of
every type lined the room from floor to ceiling or stood in racks.
"Incredible!"
exclaimed de Guevain.
"This
collection must be priceless."
"It used
to be bigger," said Fitzduane, "but some of the finer pieces were
sold by my grandfather to ease his later years."
"Where do
they come from?
And why so many?"
asked Henssen.
"A castle
is first and foremost a fighting machine," said Fitzduane, "and most
of the weapons you see here belong to the castle's own armory.
Over the centuries techniques and weapons
changed, and the family modernized but without, as you can see, throwing much
away.
They were a thrifty lot."
"There's
nothing more modern here than a Brown Bess musket," said Ambassador
Noble.
"And though they were fine
for
don't see how they'd rate against the kind of firepower today's terrorists
carry."
Fitzduane
nodded.
He crossed the room and worked a
mechanism.
A section of racking slid
away to reveal a door.
He opened it and
led them through.
This room was smaller,
though still good-sized.
It was painted
white and was brightly lit.
Tools, power
equipment, and workbenches took up most of one wall.
Wooden racks containing late nineteenth- and
twentieth-century weapons took up most of another wall, and four long boxes lay
open on the floor.
There was a
waist-high work surface in the center of the room with a series of firearms
laid out on it.
"Now
that's more like it."
De Guevain
held up an M-16.
"Where did you get
this?"
"
"And
this?" said Noble, indicating an AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle.
"
"And this?"
The bear held up a long-barreled broom handle Mauser pistol; a wooden
shoulder stock was attached.
Fitzduane
laughed.
"A bit before
my time.
That's a souvenir of the
War of Independence —
independence, that is.
It's a relatively
unusual nine-millimeter Parabellum version."
"And
these?" asked Andreas von Graffenlaub.
He was pointing at one of the open boxes.
Fitzduane went over and extracted a weapon, a
short, stocky-looking automatic rifle with the magazine fitted behind the
trigger guard instead of in the traditional in-front position.
A compact telescopic sight was clipped to a
bracket above the receiver.
"I'd better
explain," said Fitzduane.
He spoke
very briefly about Kilmara and the Rangers.
He then continued.
"So I've
got some firepower on loan, though not enough for all of us.
This" — he held up the automatic rifle —
"is the new Enfield SA-80 automatic rifle that has been adopted by the
British Army.
It's what they call a
bullpup design.
Having the magazine
behind the trigger guard makes for a thirty percent shorter weapon for the same
barrel length; it's easier to maneuver in a confined space."
He pointed at the telescopic sight.
"And with its four-power magnification
sight, you've got one of the most accurate combat assault weapons yet
made.
Mind you, at nearly eleven pounds
fully loaded, it's a heavy bugger for its size, but that pays dividends when you're
firing on full auto.
You can control
this gun.
"In terms
of modern weapons, we've got four SA-80 rifles, four nine-millimeter Browning
automatic pistols, a Hawk grenade launcher, grenades, and some other equipment,
including Claymore directional mines.
That sounds impressive until you realize what we may be up against.
The opposition will have automatic weapons,
too, and there may be far more of them."
He didn't add that in the main, they would be younger, fitter, and more
recently trained.
There was
silence in the room.
The sight of the
modern weaponry — not some collector's curiosity piece to hang on a wall or to
show to friends after dinner — had a chilling effect.
*
*
*
*
*
Ranger Headquarters,
Kilmara put
down the phone.
The red light indicating
that the scrambler was active was extinguished.
He shrugged.
"I've just been
talking to the sergeant in charge of the security detail at Draker.
It's a beautiful day.
All the students are doing whatever students
in the middle of nowhere do — and two of his men sat out in the sun too long
and have gone bright red."