James Barrington - Overkill

‘What I propose, therefore, is that Trooper Jones plants his plastic on the truck drive-shaft, lights the blue touch-paper and then retires a safe distance. It’s just conceivable that he might be able to do that unseen, especially if both saloons have gone on ahead, but I wouldn’t count on it. He will then cover the truck cab with his weapon. That’s Phase One, if you like. Phase Two starts when the plastic cuts the drive-shaft. Troopers Smith and Brown will lob CS gas grenades at the two Mercedes saloons, aiming to lodge them under the engine compartments of the cars.’

‘How will that help, against an armoured vehicle?’ asked Lacomte.

‘Simple. The bodywork is armoured, but the air-conditioning system takes in air from outside the vehicle. It’s a hot day, and the cars will almost certainly have the systems running. Even if the driver switches it off immediately, the interior should get a good dose of gas, and that should hopefully be that.’ Colin Dekker looked round. ‘However, let’s assume that it doesn’t. The grenade rolls too far, or the occupants have anti-gas respirators in the car and manage to get them on, or something else goes wrong. We will be carrying Hocklers – Heckler & Koch MP5 sub-machineguns – which are highly efficient weapons against personnel outside their vehicles, but of no use against an armour-plated Mercedes. Mr Beatty—’ he gestured at Richter ‘—would prefer the opposition to walk, rather than be carried, away from the scene, and so would I, so I don’t want to use armour-piercing rounds or anything heavier than the Hockler.’

‘So what do you propose?’ asked Lacomte.

‘One CS gas grenade for each car, shoot out both tyres on the side facing us, plus a demand for immediate surrender. If they don’t surrender, that’s where Lieutenant Erulin’s GIGN are going to carry the day. If any window opens on any of the vehicles, except the limo, I want a stream of bullets going in before anything nasty can come out. The Hockler isn’t accurate enough for that, but your team—’ he turned to Erulin ‘—shouldn’t have any trouble.’

‘None at all,’ the Frenchman confirmed.

‘And the truck?’ Richter asked.

‘That should be the easiest of the lot,’ Colin Dekker said. ‘As soon as the charge detonates, Jones will fire two rounds from his Arwen up into the cab.’

‘Arwen? What’s an Arwen?’ Herron asked.

‘It’s a nasty-looking piece of work,’ Richter said. ‘Like a short-barrelled twelve-bore shotgun, but with a five-shot magazine like a revolver. It’s basically designed for anti-riot work, but it can handle an interesting cocktail of ammunition, lethal and non-lethal. My guess is that the first round will be armour piercing and the second a CS gas grenade. Colin?’

‘Exactly.’

The brief silence was broken by Lacomte. ‘Has anybody any better ideas? No?’ He turned to Dekker. ‘What about personnel disposition – where do you want the Gigènes to be?’

Dekker shook his head. ‘At the moment,’ he said, ‘I don’t know. I’m sure Lieutenant Erulin would agree with me that force dispositions are better sorted out on the spot.’ Erulin nodded agreement.

‘I must be getting old,’ Richter said. ‘I’ve been so tied up working out how to stop the convoy, I’ve forgotten the other essential. We also have to stop the convoy personnel contacting Moscow as soon as they meet trouble.’

Lacomte looked puzzled. ‘Do you think they’ll have a radio link to Moscow from one of the vehicles?’ he asked.

‘No,’ Richter said. ‘There are good reasons why they won’t be using long-range radio, although as Captain Colin said earlier they’ll probably be using short-range walkie-talkies for contact between the vehicles. But what they will have is a lot simpler and more effective. They’ll have a mobile telephone – or more likely several mobile telephones.’

‘Of course,’ Lacomte nodded. ‘Digital mobile phones will work almost anywhere along the autoroute, and they could actually talk to Moscow in clear with one, because of the digital transmission system – it works almost like a scrambler.’

Dekker nodded. ‘Quite right,’ he said, ‘but easy to fix.’ Lacomte raised his eyebrows in enquiry. ‘It’s simple,’ Dekker said. ‘You just knock out the local cells serving that section of the autoroute. No operative cells, no calls. With the authority you’ve got,’ he added to Lacomte, ‘that should be no problem at all.’

The Frenchman nodded slowly, then smiled. ‘No, no problem at all,’ he said. ‘Leave it to me.’ As Lacomte reached for the telephone, it rang. He picked up the receiver and held a brief conversation. Then he replaced it on its rest and looked up. ‘The clock,’ he said, ‘is running. The convoy left Strasbourg at eleven fifty this morning.’

Wednesday

Autoroute A26, vicinity of Couvron-et-Aumencourt, France

Richter, Dekker and Trooper Smith were sitting in a British Embassy car and heading east out of Paris fifteen minutes later, with Westwood and Tony Herron following in a second car. Dekker was muttering quietly into his personal radio, briefing the troopers at Davy Crockett Ranch that the group was en route and organizing weapons and equipment for the operation. He also told them to buy sandwiches and drinks, something Richter hadn’t thought of. ‘Why not?’ Dekker said. ‘This could turn out to be another very long day.’

At the Ranch they disembarked from the cars, which Herron sent back to Paris. Dekker and Trooper Smith went into their cabin to get changed; Jones and Brown were ready and waiting, dressed in camouflage clothing, not the jet-black combat suits normally worn by the SAS on operations. Herron, Westwood and Richter waited and watched as Brown made a final check of the equipment. Dekker and Smith emerged from the cabin and trotted over to the Ford. ‘Right,’ Dekker said, climbing aboard. ‘Reims, go.’

Jones slid the Transit into first and drove out of the Cherokee Trail and down the road out of the Ranch. He turned right on to autoroute A4, and held the Transit at a steady one hundred kilometres an hour, heading east. The run to Reims, about ninety kilometres, took just under an hour, and when they turned north onto the A26 Richter knew they had time in hand. As the Transit approached the Vallée de l’Aisne junction, Richter noticed three yellow autoroute maintenance vans clustered together on the hard shoulder, with a group of men sorting out cones and ‘ Route Barrée ’ signs. Lacomte’s diversion plan was under way.

The rendezvous was at thirteen forty at the parking area just east of Laon, in the Forêt de Samoussy, and they pulled in five minutes early. Jones found a quiet spot at the rear of the area and parked. At thirteen forty a dark blue Renault Trafic van with ‘ Gendarmerie Nationale ’ signs pulled in next to them. Erulin was the front-seat passenger, and he got out and walked round to the Transit’s rear door. ‘Ready, Captain?’ he asked Dekker, who nodded. ‘Right,’ Erulin continued. ‘We’ll go on to the ambush site. I’ll lead, you follow. When I pull over, you stop just in front of me, so that it will look as if I’ve stopped you for a motoring offence.’

They followed the Trafic along the autoroute for about another ten kilometres, past junction thirteen. When the Trafic’s indicator began to flash the Ford overtook it, pulling off on to the hard shoulder just beyond the Renault. Colin Dekker hopped out and went back to the Trafic to consult with Erulin. Richter looked up and down the autoroute. It wasn’t an ideal place for an ambush, as it was almost dead straight, but he hoped the ‘accident’ would give them the edge they needed.