Rhinoceros (60 page)

Harry, astride his motorcycle, drove off first. Paula
looked out of the window as they passed over the stream
where a man was fishing. She'd like to have stayed longer
and felt quite nostalgic about leaving Tender.

Then the town was behind them and Tweed carefully
kept an eye on the map open on his lap, navigating for
Newman. They were soon out in open undulating country with copses of trees here and there. Paula looked ahead as
Harry disappeared over a rise.

'What has Harry got in that big pannier?' she wanted
to know.

'An Uzi,' Tweed replied. 'Plenty of firepower. Nield has
the second one and Lisa the third. Because they're in the back. Now, everyone, I want you to keep an eye open for a fortress.'

'I haven't seen a castle anywhere,' Lisa pointed out.
'What do we need one for?'

'They do seem a bit spare on the ground,' Tweed
admitted. 'I want a topographical area where we can hold an enemy off and make him come at us so we can see him clearly.'

'You'll be lucky,' said Marler.

On the mainland, opposite Sylt, out of sight of the railway, three jeeps were drawn up, one behind the other.
Seven men in camouflage jackets stood waiting, holding automatic rifles.

Gavin Thunder appeared, accompanied by Brig. Lord
Barford who had reluctantly agreed to join him. Apart
from anything else, he was worried that the two ex-SAS
men might be soldiers he had had attached to his forces during the Gulf War.

'That's Ed Miller, the leader,' Thunder whispered to
Barford.

The American he was referring to, wearing a camouflage jacket like his men, was six feet three tall, wide-shouldered,
with prematurely white hair and a face that might have
been carved out of rock. Barford studied him and couldn't
detect even a trace of humanity in that face.

'He was in the Marines,' Thunder whispered again. 'A
born leader.'

A born killer, Barford thought to himself. A man who
really enjoys his work and drives his men ruthlessly. Casu
alties to him would be all in the day's work. Ice-cold eyes
glared at him but Barford held his murderous gaze and it
was Miller who looked away.

'Which are the two ex-SAS men?' Barford asked.

Miller had heard him and gave a grin like a viper. He swung round to face his troops. They all stood stiffly to attention. Miller stared at them for over a minute and not
a man moved an eyelash. When Miller gave the command his voice was a harsh grating bark, more savage than that
of a British GSM.

'The two Brits take two paces forward.'

Two men did so and stood like frozen statues. Barford
had to admit to himself the discipline was impressive. What
worried him was the personality of Ed Miller. Clearly
he ruled with cold-blooded fear. Barford was relieved
to realize he had never seen the two men before. He had thought it most unlikely that he would have, but
had wanted to be sure.

'Never seen either of them,' he said quietly to
Thunder.

Again Miller picked up every word. He paused, keeping them standing there. Never for a second did he stop letting them know who was in command. Another minute passed
and the two men remained motionless.

'Now take two paces back!' Miller roared.

He swung round, facing Thunder and Barford. He
ignored Barford. His words were addressed directly to
Thunder.

'Sir, time is passing. Permission to start the mission. We
shall take no prisoners.'

'That's no way to fight,' snapped Barford, unable to
contain his indignation.

Miller stared at him and again Barford stared back
with a grim expression. This eye-to-eye confrontation
lasted longer. He thought there was a hint of contempt
in Miller's gaze.

'Sir,' Miller eventually said, switching his gaze to Thunder. 'Permission to start the mission,' he demanded again.

'Get moving, then,' said Thunder.

He turned to say something to Barford but the Brig
was walking away. His back was erect and men who
had known him in earlier times would have recognized
the stiff, deliberate walk. Rare for
him, he was in a state
of controlled rage and cursed himself for agreeing to
accompany Thunder. He was further disturbed by some
of the decisions which had been taken at the meetings
on Sylt. They had been far more extreme than he had
expected. Above all, he felt responsible for certain events
to which he had agreed. At least he had warned Tweed
with his anonymous phone call in the middle of the
night.

Miller organized his small convoy of jeeps very swiftly.
He would travel in the leading jeep alongside the driver.
A third man sat behind them. He put his deputy, Ollie,
in the last jeep which would bring up the rear. Ollie would drive and have a second man with him. In the middle jeep
he put two men. Then he walked up and down, holding a
map as he barked orders.

'We space out. One hundred yards between my jeep
and the one behind me. The third jeep, Ollie, travels a
quarter-mile behind jeep Number Two.'

'The route, sir?' asked Ollie.

'Thunder and I spent some time last night working out
Tweed's likely plan. We decided that from Tender he'll
travel south over the border from Denmark, heading back
into Germany. His smart way out of Tonder is down Route
Five. Near a dump called Klixbull he'll turn on to Route
199, heading for the autobahn. We want to intercept him
before he reaches Klixbull!'

'Any idea when he'll leave Tonder?' Ollie asked.

'If you'll keep your flapping trap shut I was just coming
to that.' Miller checked his watch. 'At this early hour I
doubt he's left Tonder.'

'What transport will he be using?' enquired Ollie.

'You know something, Ollie?' Miller paused and stared at his deputy. 'I'm thinkin' of puttin' a piece of sticky tape
over that big mouth of yours.'

Ollie was a big man, not quite as tall as Miller. Inwardly
he shuddered as Miller gazed at him. He was getting this
all wrong.
Don't say another word,
he told himself. Once,
during an exercise in the Carolinas, a man had talked back
to Miller. One slamming fist from Miller had broken the
culprit's jaw. Miller had waited until the exercise was over,
hours later, before he'd called for an ambulance.

'Tweed is a nut,' Miller announced. 'He's travelling with
his whole team in one blue stretch Mercedes. We locate
him on a road, drive across country on either side, wait
for him to pass. Ollie, you'll come up behind and punch
holes in his arse. Got it? Then get aboard, get the show
on the road . . .'

Newman was driving down Route Six, the direct way out of Tonder, and they were now back on German soil. Harry
had sped past them on his motorcycle and vanished from
view. Paula looked out of the window as they progressed
through rolling, hilly country.

'There's a light aircraft way over to our left,' she
reported. 'It seems to be flying on a parallel course
to ours.'

'Lots of light aircraft in this part of the world,' said
Tweed. 'Quite a few airstrips around here.'

'Where are we heading for?' she asked.

'Towards a place I've never heard of. Klixbull.'

'We're definitely not using the autobahn?'

'We are not. We cut across country to another place
I have never heard of. Bad Bramstedt. Then we're on
Route 206 which takes us over the autobahn and we go
on, heading for Liibeck, which we bypass. Then we head
straight up to Travemiinde.'

'Sounds as though it's not too far, then.'

'It's a long way. Newman, have you got the air-
conditioning turned full up? It's getting pretty warm
in here.'

'Turned up as high as it will go. And Harry is on his
way back. He'll let us know if it's clear ahead.'

He lowered his window, slowed the car to a crawl, then
stopped as Harry reached them. Harry hauled off his
crash helmet, took out a handkerchief and wiped sweat
off his face.

'Road ahead seems clear,' he reported. 'Very quiet, in
fact. No traffic at all. Now I'm checking behind you, make
sure nothing is sneaking up. Back soon
..."

'He's got a hot job,' Paula said sympathetically. 'And that aircraft has turned this way, is coming closer.'

'On its way back to its airfield after a morning's flight
before it gets too hot,' Tweed said and returned to checking his map.

Barton had used his high-powered binoculars to scan the
car. He was pretty sure he could see Tweed sitting in the
middle row. He used his mobile to call Oskar's number.
He tried three times and made no contact.

'To hell with him,' he snapped. I'm calling Thunder. He can pass on the info to the Special Reserve lot.'

'No sign of them,' Panko observed.

'They'll be coming.'

He had trouble contacting Thunder. He persisted and
after a few minutes got through.

'Is that Gavin Thunder? Good. Barton here. Tweed's
blue Mercedes has left Denmark. Is now proceeding down Route Seven. Estimate he's halfway down it. Leave you to
tell your people. Tried to contact Oskar but got no reply.
I am continuing to check their progress . . .'

He turned the plane away from Route Seven so as not to
draw attention to himself. He grinned brutally at Panko.

'That will earn me credit with Thunder. Meantime we'll keep well back. We'll have a bird's-eye view from up here
- see the lot in that car turned into mincemeat.'

'They've survived so far.'

'Your trouble, Panko, is you think some people can
go on surviving for ever. You're about to get a dem
onstration of what happens when the road runs out
for them.'

Harry was on top of them before he knew they were
anywhere near him. He rode at speed over the crest
of a hill and nearly ran into two jeeps, with barely a hundred yards between them. A huge white-haired man
in camouflage was sitting next to the driver. Harry waved
as he roared past the first jeep.

They were still some distance from Tweed's car so he
continued on past the second jeep, waving again. But
where was the third one? Tweed had said there would be
three jeeps. He had to find the other one. He hammered
his foot down. Soon he'd have to turn back to warn Tweed
what was coming up behind him.