Victor O'Reilly - Rules of The Hunt

The second thing that caused him concern was the firepower displayed by the two terrorists on the third-floor fire escape. The image from the miniature lens was wide angle and not as clear as he would have liked, but there seemed little doubt that both men had rocket-propelled grenades in addition to automatic rifles. The specially installed doors of the security zone were going to be of little use.

He was comforted that he had taken the unarmed policeman at reception off his post and had redeployed the armed Ranger who was normally positioned outside the security zone. The terrorists might well suspect something when they found the second man absent too, but by then they would be committed.

Kilmara spoke briefly into his headpiece microphone and received three one-word acknowledgments. The fourth and fifth Rangers, Sergeants Grady and Molloy, were concealed in a linen cupboard on the half-landing above the third floor. From this position, using the electronic equivalent of a periscope, they could observe the landing area between the geriatric ward and the control zone, and also most of the last flight of stairs as it arrived at the third floor.

It was a good position, the best available, but it was not ideal. To fire, they had to open the door, and then their field of fire would be slightly restricted by the banisters. A secondary problem was that anyone advancing through the fire doors of the geriatric ward could jump back immediately if not hit in the first burst and then be immediately under cover. As a killing ground, the landing was not really large enough and cover was too close at hand.

But then, circumstances were rarely ideal. That was why elite counterterrorist forces trained daily in the Killing House under constantly varying circumstances.

Relentless training of Rangers who entered the unit as the best of the best could make all the difference when life of death was decided in fractions of a second. The ability to select targets in order of threat, change a magazine or unblock a weapon faster than the eye could follow, read terrain for the maximum cover without conscious thought, anticipate the actions of the enemy – these and numerous other skills were basic to their particular calling.

The best CRW – counterrevolutionary warfare – troops tended to be in their early thirties to mid-forties. It was a calling where training alone and youthful reflexes were never enough. Above all, you needed experience and judgment, and these strengths only developed over time.

In the ideal world, every Ranger waiting for the assault would have had access to the monitoring equipment. In practice, only Kilmara had access to all the incoming information, and there were areas that the cameras did not cover. He lost the two terrorists who had broken in through the fire-escape entrance. Fortunately, the external camera on the fire escape showed no more attackers coming from that quarter.

The last thing he wanted was shooting in a normal ward. With automatic weapons in a confined space there would be civilian dead – not to mention the potential for hostages. It was imperative that the action not commence until both terrorists were out of the geriatric area. On the third-floor landing or in the private ward, it was another matter. In these locations he had his firepower deployed and the discretion to do what was necessary.

There was a camera halfway along the corridor of the geriatric ward pointing toward the internal fire doors and the landing. He picked up the two terrorists as they passed it.

There was a lunch trolley in the way, being pushed by a ward attendant. Without breaking stride, the first terrorist hurled the trolley to one side and his companion smashed the attendant in the face, sending her sprawling. Both men were armed with AK-47s and RPGs. The man in front had his rifle at the ready. The man behind him had his rifle slung and the rocket-propelled grenade launcher ready to fire.

"Position One," said Kilmara to Grady and Molloy. "There are two coming from the geriatric ward on your left – rifle in front, RPG follows."

Kilmara was faced with two unpalatable alternatives. He could either order fire into the corridor and the geriatric ward, which could well incur civilian casualties, or else wait until the rocket launchers were fired across the landing and into the security doors – the direction in which he and three of his Rangers and the man he was supposed to protect were located. Thankfully, the security zone and the corridor behind had been evacuated.

Tim Pat gripped his rifle and looked at his stopwatch. A glass safety panel was set into the heavy wooden fire door, but he did not want to alarm the Ranger opposite by sneaking a look. This was where surprise was all. The door was hung on a two-way hinge. He would push through it and fire. No matter how well-trained the Ranger opposite was, he would not have time to react.

The camera on the landing picked up two men in boilersuits and Halloween masks coming up the last flight of stairs before the third floor.

As Kilmara watched, they removed automatic rifles from heavy bags and slung heavy satchels over their shoulders. Shit! They could have grenades.

Tim Pat burst through the door, firing. Rounds stitched across the security door.

There was no Ranger there.

McGonigal and Jim Daid rushed up the last few stairs, slight surprised that they had not seen the guard yet, but not concerned, as the outer security door was a good ten yards back along the corridor and did not come into view until you reached the top of the stairs and turned the corner.

Nothing! No guard sprawled on the ground in a pool of his own blood. Instantly, McGonigal knew something was wrong.

Matters started to develop very fast indeed.

Dempsey stepped through the fire door with the RPG-7 on his shoulder and fired, blowing aside the first security door and impacting on the frame of the metal and explosive detector inside and blowing it to pieces.

At the landing at the top of the stairs, McGonigal had flung himself to the ground, twisting around and searching desperately for an ambush position.

"One, GO!" said Kilmara a split second after he saw that both terrorists had moved beyond the fire door into the killing zone.

Tim Pat had unslung his RPG-7 and fired at the second security door. It exploded with a roar and blew the steel structure aside. The air was thick with fumes.

McGonigal spotted the linen cupboard at the precise moment that Molloy emerged, and fired a long desperate burst, hitting the Ranger in his torso and face, killing him instantly and knocking him back into Grady.

McGonigal then picked himself up and rushed forward down the corridor into the private ward, firing. The lust of battle was on him and he was determined that whatever happened, he was going to do what he came for and kill a few of these pigs into the bargain.

Sick at Molloy's death and cursing himself for not having moved faster, Sergeant Grady pushed his comrade's body aside and brought his weapon into action.

He was using an automatic shotgun with a twenty round rotary magazine that fired flechette ammunition. Known as a force multiplier, it allowed one man to put out the firepower of several in the crucial first few seconds that normally determine the outcome of a firefight. Each Magnum cartridge held twelve long steel darts. It was of little use at ranges of over a hundred and fifty meters, but at close quarters it was highly effective.

The corridor was lit by recessed fluorescent tubes and, normally, such daylight as filtered in through he fanlights over each of the six doors. In addition, there was backup lighting in the event of power failure.

Some of the fluorescents had been smashed in the blast of the exploding rockets, but enough still functioned to illuminate the corridor adequately.