Authors: Christopher Sherlock
He heard the man closest to him start to breathe more deeply as the gradient began to tell, and soon he felt his own legs burn with the effort of the climb. He broke away from the rough path and began to beat his way upwards through the bush. A hundred metres further on, the ground dropped away into a steep ravine, and Rayne started to work his way down the side. One slip here would be fatal - the muddy ledge he was following bordered on a sheer cliff. Occasionally a loose stone would rattle over the edge and explode into pieces as it hit the rocks below.
The moment Rayne had reached the stream in the bottom of the gully, he turned upwards and followed its course. Now the way was blocked by huge boulders that could only be scrambled over with great difficulty. Rayne didn’t stop. He pulled himself up, hand over hand, on an enormous creeper that grew up one side of the waterfall. He came to an overhang and his legs swung out into the void as he followed the creeper over the rock.
After that his arms became weaker, and the last twenty-five metres weren’t easy going. He pulled himself over the top and breathed deeply. He looked down and watched the rest of the men who were now making their way up the same route.
Guy Hauser handled it with ease, he moved up the creeper like an acrobat. The rest of the men followed, each tackling the vine with the same formidable determination. Then it was Mick O’Rourke’s turn. He started off well, full of confidence and moving quickly. However, as he got further up the vine it was clear that the height of the cliff was beginning to faze him.
At the overhang, O’Rourke hesitated. Then he decided to go for it. He was climbing badly and his legs swung away from the vine. Now he was hanging from his arms, not moving, and losing strength rapidly. Rayne knew that if he let go he was dead. No one stirred. It was only a matter of time before his arms gave in.
In an instant Rayne was climbing back down the vine, the enormous drop below him more apparent now as he moved towards the stricken man. O’Rourke was silent, his eyes looking upwards desperately. He stared directly into Rayne’s eyes, the animal terror reflected on his face.
‘
Mick, you have to let go with one hand. Can you do that?’
‘
I can’t.’
‘
You bloody well can, or I’m going with you! Give me your hand!’
‘
If I let go I’ll fall.’
‘
Give me your fucking hand, man!’
With a last incredible effort O’Rourke shoved his right hand upwards, and even as he did so Rayne saw his left hand begin to loosen its hold. He gripped the hand, and felt O’Rourke’s weight start to drag him down. The man swung out below him, almost pulling Rayne off the face of the cliff.
‘
Mick, for God’s sake get a grip on yourself! Catch hold of the vine again.’
Rayne closed his eyes and began to pull the man up. His left arm screamed with pain as he clung to the vine above him, and he knew that if O’Rourke did not respond soon, they would both go hurtling into the void. Finally O’Rourke gripped the vine and Rayne felt the weight come off his arm.
The next minute O’Rourke was climbing past him for the top. They both made it, and lay gasping for breath as the rest of the men watched. Nothing was said. Nothing needed to be said. Rayne had just proved how much he would go through for any one of them.
He kept them going for another hour, moving through dense bush, wading across muddy pans and then sprinting across open stretches of ground. None of them wavered now, all sticking together in a tight formation. A feeling of comradeship began to grow in them. None of them had been members of such a crack team before. By the time they made it to camp they were all soaked with sweat, thoroughly exhausted, but strangely exhilarated.
Rayne was pleased with his team. Now all he had to do was get them into Mozambique, do what had to be done, and get them out again alive.
The two men in the four-wheel-drive came across the camp that morning. It struck them as odd that there was no one about. They rummaged around and found the weapons. They saw the uniforms.
The two men were not stupid. They could see that this wasn’t a regular army unit; what it actually was they weren’t sure. It seemed dangerous to stay in the place for long in case the people who were using it came back.
They drove out the way they had come, glad to have got away unnoticed and with no desire to return.
Rayne saw the fresh tracks when he stepped out of the shower. He didn’t have a clue who it had been, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
He gathered a duty roster together and drove the men to the main road. When they got there they dug up the hard sand next to the tarmac and covered the track that led to their camp. Next they transplanted a considerable amount of vegetation with great care and used it to cover the spot where the track cut into the bush. By the time they had finished Rayne was satisfied that only an expert tracker would notice that there was something odd about the bush at the side of the road. To the casual observer the track seemed to have vanished into thin air.
Next, Rayne walked some one hundred metres down the tarmac road until he came to a sign indicating a curve coming up for traffic from the south. Rayne pulled out the sign and tossed it deep into the bush. Now there was no way that anyone who might have come upon the track earlier in the day could find it again.
That afternoon Rayne split the men into two attack units, one under his own command which would attack the bank, the other
Rayne pointed out that this would be no tea-party. The longer they took, the greater the chance of failure. However both units would be fully equipped to masquerade as either ZANLA or FRELIMO.
They would land early in the morning in the Beira area by parachute, along with their equipment, then disperse. Rayne and Guy Hauser would then enter Beira by car, disguised as civilians, and would prepare the way for the other two members of their unit to join them. Then, seven days later, all of them would make their attack. They would escape under cover of darkness and meet at a prearranged point where an aeroplane, organised by John Fry, would collect them and fly them to safety.
Rayne had opted for the attack on the bank and on the airport to take place at exactly five o’clock on a Sunday afternoon. They would be airlifted out just before darkness. If anything did go wrong, in the dark it would be very difficult for the enemy to guess the number of men involved, and this would further add to the chances of a safe escape.
So they would then have ten valuable hours in which to make their getaway. Rayne did not tell the men about the formidable build-up of enemy forces Fry had described in the Beira area. Neither did he tell them about Lois, their secret passport to success should Fry’s planes not arrive to take them out. But he made sure they knew that they were all equipped with the finest and most up-to-date weaponry money could buy, including ground-to-air heat-seeking missiles that would be used to destroy any aircraft managing to take off while the attack was being made.
An air of excitement swept through everyone in the camp. They were all looking forward to the action. Except for Rayne. He was the only one who knew what Mozambique was really like.
That evening Rayne went into Richard’s Bay for the last time, ostensibly to make a few last-minute arrangements about their air transport. He contacted John Fry using the classified phone number.
‘
Is that the bird?’
Rayne recognised Fry’s distinctive accent, a strange amalgam of English and American. He was using the special code-sequence. Rayne replied quickly. ‘No. The eggs have not hatched this season.’
There was a lengthy pause after this and Rayne did not speak. He waited for Fry to open.
‘
Everything has been organised for you. I telexed the hotel in Beira and they know you will be arriving tomorrow. The car will be as arranged. The bank has accepted a deposit in your name, your front will be perfect.’
‘
We have had visitors.’
‘
Who?’
‘
I don’t know, we were out at the time.’
‘
It’s good you are leaving tomorrow morning.’
‘
Yes, the timing’s perfect, my men would start to get restless if they were delayed any longer.’
‘
The plane will be landing tomorrow morning at three hundred hours. Your ETA in Mozambique will be five hundred hours. The car has been organised for you through our contacts in the Mozambique National Resistance Movement - and that’s all the help you’ll get from them.’
‘
How do I find the car?’
‘
Your pilot’s name is Max. He’ll explain where to find the car in relation to your jump-zone. If you’re captured you must say that you stole the car in Maputo, that’ll fit with the car’s history.’
‘
And the hotel?’
‘
You and Guy Hauser have been booked into the Hotel Beira. As agreed, you’ll pose as arms dealers. Bruce Brand and Henri Dubois. Anyone who bothers to check on your references will find them impeccable.’
‘
Anything else?’
‘
When you get into the bank you
must
remember to destroy the safe-deposit boxes - it will help us to alleviate certain security risks. And remember the story if you’re captured.’
Rayne knew what that was. He was to say he had been employed by a wealthy man who had lived in Mozambique before independence, and that this man was paying him to get out a fortune of jewellery left behind in the safe-deposit boxes of the bank.
The phone went dead. Rayne looked at his watch and realised that he hadn’t much time to fit in his final visit to Lois.
Rayne 2
Rayne pulled out his gun and moved away from the house into the garden. What the hell was going on? After searching the area very carefully for nearly half an hour, he had put the main power- switch on. The truck was still in the driveway. Some of Lois’ clothes were still in the house, but the helicopter wasn’t in the main workshop.
Rayne began to sweat. Something was wrong. But there was no way he could find out what had happened, he couldn’t stay away from the main camp for too long or people would start asking questions. Without Lois they were naked, they would have to rely on other people for their getaway, and in his book that wasn’t good enough. He trusted Lois implicitly. There was no way he would have taken the helicopter, he wasn’t that kind of man. But where in hell had he got to?
‘
I don’t have to lecture you; you’ve all seen plenty of action. But what I do need to stress is that we are one, a team. We have to look after each other, and any man who deserts the group will face the death penalty. Things are going to get ugly out there and we’ll only handle them if we stick together. I’m first-in-command, if I get killed Michael takes over, and if he gets killed then Bunty is next in line. If he gets killed . . . then God help us!’
The joke raised a faint laugh. Everyone was aware of the risks they would be taking.
‘
We should be in and out in just over a week. That doesn’t seem very long for the sort of money you’re getting, but believe me you’ll earn it. We’re a small group, operating in the thick of enemy territory, and if we’re discovered we won’t stand much of a chance. The whole essence of the operation is surprise. We keep low till the moment we attack, and then we get the hell out the minute we’ve completed our tasks. But it isn’t a case of every man for himself; you have the best weapons available and your back-up is outstanding.