Victor O'Reilly - Games of The Hangman

"Now that's more like it." De Guevain held up an M-16. "Where did you get this?"

"Vietnam."

"And this?" said Noble, indicating an AK-47 Kalashnikov assault rifle.

"Lebanon."

"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 – Ireland's 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, Dublin – 1708 hours

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."

"Sounds like a rough detail," said Gunther. "What about Fitzduane?"

"I was talking to him, too. He remains convinced something is going to happen on the basis of no proof at all. He's organized that castle of his as if Geronimo were on the prowl – and he now intends to go over to Draker to give a hand. With our luck these days the guards on duty there will think some of Fitzduane's people are terrorists and they'll all shoot each other."

"How many people has he got?"

"Around a dozen, including himself," said Kilmara, "of which no fewer than nine have some kind of military training. I'm beginning to wonder if I did the right thing giving him that weaponry."

"You think it's a false alarm," said Gunther.

Kilmara stared grumpily at nothing in particular. "That's the trouble. I don't – but that's pure instinct and faith in Fitzduane's vibes. The evidence says that the action is going to be here in Dublin. My guts tell me we've got our people watching the wrong mouseholes."

"Despite the Japanese? Or the seventy-two Middle Eastern travel agents – who the Irish Tourist Board had never heard of until the agents approached them – flying in tonight?"

"Despite everything," said Kilmara. "I've been thinking. I don't believe the Hangman gives a fuck about politics. Why would he want to hit the U.S. Embassy? What's in it for him? He's a bottom-line man."

"The Hangman's dead," declared Gunther.

"Don't talk like a bureaucrat."

Gunther grinned. "The rescheduling is finished."

"So what have we got apart from an over-budget overtime bill?" said Kilmara.

"For starters, we've got far too many people tied up on this embassy thing. It's ridiculous."

"It's politics, but don't tell me what I know already. I want to know what kind of unit we can field as a reserve now we've done our computer games."

"About a dozen," said Gunther, "and of course, there is you – and me."

"That's not so crazy. I'm fed up sitting behind a desk."

"The helicopter situation is not good," reported Gunther. "All the Air Corps machines are assigned to cover the embassy, the ambassador's residence in PhoenixPark, and the airport, and anyway, they're all going to be grounded at dusk. I wish we had night-flying capability."

"Road would take five to six hours," mused Kilmara.

"More like six," said Gunther, "if we're talking about Fitzduane's Island. The roads are terrible once you get past Galway, and at that point we'd be driving at night with heavily loaded vehicles."

"And that bridge on to the island is all too easy to cut," said Kilmara. "If we're going to do it, we'll have to do it by air."

He sat in thought for several minutes. On the face of it, his existing deployment was correct. There had been clear evidence of a threat to the U.S. Embassy in Dublin. The arrival of the Japanese – two of whom had already been identified as being associated with militant terrorist groups – confirmed that threat. Monitored conversations indicated that the Japanese were the advance guard and would link up with a substantial group that was flying in late that night under the cover of a convention of travel agents from the Middle East. The Irish Tourist Board, which would normally have been actively involved in such a visit, had merely been informed at the last minute – an irregular procedure – so it really did look as if the terrorist threat were about to become a reality. He could pick up the Japanese now, but he had no line on the weaponry involved, and it made much more sense to wait until that, too, could be identified.

All very fine, but an all-too-predictable response. His instincts screamed ‘setup,’ but even if it was a diversion, he knew that the Hangman – if it was indeed him – was sufficiently ruthless to make the diversion a reality in its own right.

Even with the Hangman out of the picture, there were other possible threats to be considered. At all times the Rangers should have a reserve ready to deploy. The root problem at the moment was the way in which the Rangers were being used. Instead of being deployed as a reaction force in the specific antiterrorist role for which they were trained, they had been pushed to the front to handle something that should have been given to the police and the regular army.

Reluctantly he came to a decision. "Gunther, there is nothing more we can do for Fitzduane right now except monitor the situation and put the reserve on standby at Baldonnel. Sending them across by road is out. The facts that the Hangman is obsessed with flowers and that Fitzduane has funny feelings are not good enough reasons for me to lose my reserve."

Gunther rose to his feet. "Fair enough."

"Hold it," said Kilmara. "I haven't finished. If we do have to move, we'll have to do it very fucking fast – and we may be up against heavier firepower than we're used to. I want the Optica armed and the unit to be in heavy battle order."

"The Milan, too?"

"The whole thing. And I'll command from the Optica."

"And what about me?"

"You like jumping out of airplanes. Why miss a good opportunity?"