sThe Quiet Wart (26 page)

The loud crack of a single, high-velocity round fired from a sniper rifle made Sean dive to the ground. When he looked up to see what was happening, Dorsch was lying prone on the floor by the hedge where he had been crouching. Straining to see, Sean instantly drew the binoculars to his face.

As the field glasses came into focus on Dorsch's body, Sean gasped at the sight of the limp form on the fresh snow. A large patch of red blood had formed around him and the place where his head should have been was just a mess of flesh: the bullet had shattered his skull. Instinctively, Sean stood to run forward, but Clive grabbed his coat.

‘What are you doing?' Clive asked.

‘Going to help. We can't leave him there like that.'

Reaching up, Clive pulled Sean down to his side and turned his head to face him. ‘He's dead. There's nothing we can do for him now and if we don't get out of here now, we'll be next.'

Deep down, Sean knew that Clive was right, but it just didn't feel right to leave him there.

‘Look, the only thing we can do for him now is live and bring his killers to justice. If we die too, then they get away with it,' Clive said, without letting Sean's coat go.

The sight of dogs approaching from the village shook Sean back to his senses and he stood with Clive still holding onto him. When he started to move away from the tree line, Clive finally let him go, allowing him to increase his speed. The going was tough, as the ground under foot was filled with air pockets created by the snow. But they sprinted as fast as they could away from the village. Behind them and just arriving at the edge of the small woods, the dogs were making ground fast.

When they exited the treeline, Sean glanced over his shoulder. He could see four dogs just twenty metres away. Digging deep, he mustered up all his energy and dashed across the narrow road. The small café where the Range Rover was parked was only 300 metres away. But it was too far: there was no way they could outrun the dogs.

Sliding into the ditch on the far side of the road, Sean swivelled around and knelt on the floor as the first dog leapt in the air towards him. He pulled the trigger of the pistol twice in quick succession and jumped to the side as the dog dropped onto the road heavily, fighting for breath. In no time at all, the next two dogs were there and Clive was also aiming his pistol at them. The volley of rounds from the two pistols, felled the two animals before they could get to them. Then the fourth dog attacked from the side and clamped onto Sean's leg. He fell to the ground trying to get a shot away, but missed.

Three shots then rang out from Clive's gun and the dog dropped, dead, with its jaw still clamped onto Sean's calf. Its teeth felt like they were gnawing at his bone, even though it wasn't breathing and Clive quickly ran forward tearing at the its head, trying to release its locked jaw.

‘Clive,' Sean pointed, where a group of six skinheads had just emerged from the forest on the other side of the road.

Leaving Sean to fight with the dog's jaw, Clive let off two warning shots over the heads of the skinheads, watching as they dived to the ground. ‘They're not armed,' Sean said, when Clive scrambled back over to help him, pulling helplessly at the dog's jaw.

‘There's only one thing for it. Close your eyes,' Clive said, as he pointed the pistol at the dog's head, close to Sean's calf.

Abject terror filled Sean's mind as he closed his eyes and tensed his muscles, waiting for the pain that would surely come from the move. Then he heard the dull click of Clive's pistol. ‘It's empty,' Sean said. ‘You're out of ammo.'

‘No, it reloaded it can't be, it's just a dud round. Give me yours.' Clive said reaching out.

Turning the muzzle around, Sean passed his pistol to Clive and tensed again, ready for the pain. The loud bang was followed by a shattering feeling, which seemed to reverberate through his whole body. Immediately, Clive was pulling at the bits of loose bone and teeth, getting it out of Sean's leg.

Before he could clear the wound, a burst of machine gun fire came out from the woods on the other side of the road and bit into the ground next to Sean.

Suddenly, two men in paramilitary uniform came out of the woods, brandishing small machine guns. ‘They're not very accurate. Move around,' Clive instructed.

Fighting the pain in his calf, Sean rolled around in the grass, as Clive dived to one side and took aim. The three shots from Sean's pistol missed their target, as the paramilitaries took evasive action.

Seconds later, the next volley of machine gun fire hit the spot where Sean had been lying, just milliseconds earlier.

‘Damn!' Clive exclaimed as he discarded Sean's pistol and started to fiddle with his own, trying to get the jammed round out of the chamber. Sean looked at the protruding metal bulge on the end of the barrel of his own pistol… it was out of ammunition.

The gap in hostilities didn't go unnoticed by the paramilitaries and they must have sensed what was happening. Rising to their feet, they started walking forward towards Sean and Clive, weapons at the ready.

While Clive was still trying to unblock his pistol, a shattering burst of machine gun fire suddenly opened up, tearing against the trees behind the skinheads. Confused, Sean turned around and saw the Range Rover speeding in their direction. The driver was holding a machine pistol out of the window and firing indiscriminately in the direction of the attackers.

Seconds later, the car screeched to a halt alongside Clive and Sean. As a second volley of rounds left the machine pistol, they jumped up and opened the doors, scrambling into the front and rear seats.

Before they could pull away, a hail of bullets ripped into the side of the Range Rover and the driver slumped back into his seat, with a trickle of blood running out of his mouth.

Without hesitation, Clive dived across the car, thrusting head first into the well of the driver's side and pushed the accelerator with his hand. The Range Rover shot forward and he shouted to Sean. ‘I can't see anything. You steer.'

The Range Rover was veering quickly towards the edge of the road, as Sean pushed the top of his body through the gap between the driver's and passenger's seat. He grabbed the steering wheel, just managing to correct its course in time.

As he straightened the wheels up, another volley of rounds hit the rear of the car, but Sean felt nothing, not even the pain from the dog bite, as he struggled to steer the speeding SUV down the narrow road.

When they came to a junction, he turned the wheel as best he could, but the car was going too fast and it lifted onto two wheels. Clive suddenly pulled his hand off the accelerator, letting it right itself, before they swerved into a ditch.

With his body hanging between the front and rear seats, laying across Clive's back, pressed down by the dead body of Dorsch's man, Sean grappled uselessly with the steering wheel, as the car bounced through the ditch and then ploughed through a hedge. The bump caused the dead body of the driver to bounce on his back, wedging him tightly between it and Clive, making it difficult for him to turn the steering wheel.

When the car finally stopped bouncing around, Clive suddenly forced the accelerator down again.

‘What are you doing?' Sean shouted.

‘If we're in a field, we need to keep moving or we'll get bogged. Aim back for the road,' Clive shouted as best he could, still jammed in the footwell.

Fighting with every ounce of strength he had, Sean managed to point the steering wheel at the hedge on the other side of the field, hoping that there was a road on the other side of it.

It was almost impossible to hang on as the car bounced from left to right over the bumpy ground, and the three bodies clattered together painfully, but he gripped his fingers around the wheel and shoved his arm into the spokes.

When they hit the hedge the car lurched into the air, leaving the ground, then it battered heavily into a turf bank on the other side, smashing the bonnet open. The brief glimpse of the road that Sean had been afforded before the bonnet blocked his view, made him think the road was to the left. He pulled sharply on the steering wheel, swinging the car violently sideways.

The unmistakable sound of tarmac appeared under the tyres, ‘STOP,' Sean yelled. Almost immediately, his body rolled forward, pressed against the steering wheel by the dead body of the driver, as Clive switched his hand from accelerator to brake.

The car swerved from side to side, smashing Sean and Clive's bodies in the small spaces, before it finally stopped.

Pushing out with his elbows, Sean released the dead body from his back and forced himself up, grabbing Clive's coat, and pulling him out of the footwell as he did.

Before Clive had time to take in the scene, Sean jumped out of the rear door and instantly fell to the floor, his injured leg collapsing underneath him. Gritting his teeth, he stood up and opened the driver's door. Then, putting all his weight on his good leg, he pulled the driver out from the car. In seconds, Clive was by his side and helping him bundle the body into the back of the car. Both of them were covered in blood when Clive took the driver's seat only seconds later and Sean closed the bonnet as best he could, before climbing into the front passenger seat.

‘They won't be far behind,' Clive said, as he floored the accelerator.

The battered Range Rover sounded like an old farm tractor as it lurched forward, with parts falling from the bodywork.

As Clive had predicted, it wasn't long before a white pickup truck appeared on the narrow road behind them, followed in quick succession by two similar styled vehicles.

The Range Rover was too badly damaged to outrun the new pickup trucks, and they gained ground quickly. When Sean looked down at his leg, the throbbing pain started to overcome the adrenalin. Blood was still running from the puncture holes where the dog's teeth had perforated his skin. He pulled the belt from his waist and wrapped it around the wound tightly a number of times, applying pressure.

Before Sean could sit up again, the first of the pickup trucks smashed into the back of the Range Rover, sending it swerving across the road. As Clive struggled to control the steering wheel with his one good hand, Sean climbed though the gap into the back seat. He pulled the body of the driver down into the footwell and jumped back up, hitting the small switch to drop the rear seat forward. When it came down, he saw the array of hardware that the car had been carrying.

Most of the boxes were dented and smashed, but then he saw what he'd seen earlier; a small unmarked metal case that he'd watched Dorsch inspect before they went into the woods. At the time he'd wondered why Dorsch thought that he needed the three hand grenades packed in foam. Now he didn't care.

As he stretched out into the boot to grab the case, a huge bang echoed out from the back of the car and the rear windscreen shattered under the pressure of another direct hit from the chasing vehicle. Glass rained down onto Sean's legs, but his face was protected by the parcel shelf. He stretched again and grabbed the grenade box, quickly returning to the front seat, where Clive was still struggling to control the battered Range Rover, which now sounded like the axel was about to fall off.

‘How do I work these?' Sean asked, showing Clive the contents of the box.

‘Jesus! What was Dorsch planning?' Clive exclaimed. ‘It's simple. Twist off the safety tag and pull out the pin. Make sure your hand is over the handle and tight around the body of the grenade. When you let it go, it starts the timer,' Clive said.

‘How long before it goes off?'

‘It varies, could be thirty seconds; could be five.'

Shocked at the vagueness of the timing, Sean quickly untied the safety tag on the first grenade. As he pulled it clear, they were struck again by the truck from behind and he dropped it into the footwell. Terror ripped through his body as he quickly reached down and grabbed it, shaking with fear.

‘It's okay. The pin's still in. But please don't drop it when the pin's out,' Clive said.

Sean's hands were trembling when he pulled the metal clip out of the grenade. His knuckles white, as he held the handle against the body of the device so tightly, that he could feel the imperfections on the steel casing. Plucking up his courage, he looked around; the rear windscreen had completely gone and the pickup truck was only a few metres behind them, closing in again. Angling his body carefully, he went to throw the grenade out of the rear window. As he released his grip, the grenade sprung forward out of his palm and dropped onto the parcel shelf, rolling around on the shattered glass.

Panic-stricken, he flung himself through the gap between the seats and grabbed at the grenade, but the pickup truck hit the car as he did and it sent him reeling backwards into the back of the driver's seat. Then the driver's dead body landed on top of him. Thrusting upwards, he managed to push off the body and get back into position, but the grenade was gone. Just broken glass lay on the parcel shelf.

Turning to the seat, he felt around with his hands… nothing. Then he saw it, rolling around in the rear footwell. In one move, he dived down and swung his arm up, tossing it out of the rear window, waiting for the explosion… but nothing happened and the pickup truck was closing in again. Then an explosive bang screamed out some 50 metres behind them, and well behind all three chasing vehicles.

‘That means they're thirty-second fuses. Sorry I forgot to tell you that they can spring out of the clip. Be careful when you open your hand,' Clive said.

That was only thirty seconds? It felt like an hour!
Sean thought as, he reached into the case and carefully undid another safety wire.

‘You're going to have to let the clip go and hold onto it for a while. Use your watch,' Clive said.

Nodding his understanding, Sean carefully pulled the pin out of the second grenade, trying to control the shaking in his hands.