approach. It scored a direct hit. The stable block fell apart, collapsing in a welter of shattered bricks and beams.
He wasn’t conscious of any noise. To Revell’s eyes it seemed the single-storey structure broke up in silent slow motion, first bulging outwards as the shell exploded in its heart, then disintegrating as the roof that had been lifted off fell back and found no walls to support it. Only a half-buried saddle and horseshoes nailed to jutting splintered rafters gave any clue as to what the mound of rubble might once have been.
‘Bugger,’ Hyde had witnessed the destruction as well, ‘he was a bloody good sniper. Stupid way for him to go, after all he’s been through. Pretty much the same way as his wife and kids.’
It took an effort, but Revell fought down the urge to rush out and claw at the mound. It would serve no useful purpose to add his body to the ruin. He scrutinised the tank. There was nothing he could do now, but he would know it again. If the opportunity arose ... and he’d make it... he’d extract a bloody revenge...
‘Get them moving, Sergeant. Don’t let them bunch.’ Kurt was the one who set the pace as they ran towards the trees a good half a kilometre away. Behind them, the shelling and machine gunning roared to a crescendo as the APCs closed on their objective.
Hurdling a flooded ditch, Cohen slipped on landing and sprawled in the mud. Shit, he’d have to convert some of his haul into paper, the flak-jacket weighed him down like a lead suit and, added to the bulk of his NBC outfit, slowed him to half the others’ speed.
Maybe he’d mail some of his loot back home, have Manny get a price for it next time he went into Chicago. And then again, maybe not. His brother-in-law was too full of good ideas, and too full of himself. Trust within a family is a fine thing, but at four thousand miles that was stretching trust just a little too far. And if Ruth saw the jewellery… once she tried it on, it’d be easier to cut out her heart while she was still breathing than to get her to part with it again. He’d better dispose of it himself. He’d get the best price he could when he was next in Koblenz or Bonn. So it was a buyer’s market, better some than none.
‘Come on, Corp, must be those new stripes slowing you down.’ Cohen felt Dooley’s huge hands clamping on his shoulders and dragging him to his feet. The moment’s rest had done him good, his chest didn’t hurt anymore. ‘Shame about the girl. Waste of a nice arse.’ Dooley glanced back at the collection of buildings. It was surprising, apart from a little smoke and a few chunks out of the house, it hardly looked at all damaged. ‘You ready?’ ‘Why the concern?’ Cohen set off at a jog.
Dooley took the radio-man’s pack from him, added it to his own considerable load and kept pace alongside. ‘Don’t you know? I’m your heir, I am. When you go down for keeps I’ll be the first one along to pick up the pieces. The pieces that are worth money, that is. From now until your death rattle you have me for a buddy, every minute of every hour we’re in action. What’s up, don’t you like the idea?’
‘I should be grateful? A vulture for a friend I don’t need. And about that death rattle. Don’t hold your breath waiting for it. You should live so long as to make a profit out of this bloodsucking scheme.’ ‘Yeah? Well I reckon I’ll be collecting on the deal real soon. See, I’m gonna bill you every time I save your life, or carry your pack, or...’
A spurt of speed, a quick wrench and Cohen had retrieved the radio before Dooley could stop him. ‘You hanging about I can’t help; you getting your hands on my money I can.’ Cohen patted one of his full pockets. ‘Break your heart, not my bank.’
An ‘over’ from the barrage going down around the farm dug a crater uncomfortably close to the two men, showering them with liquid soil, worms and soggy heads of wild corn. Both of them hunched lower, and
He wasn’t conscious of any noise. To Revell’s eyes it seemed the single-storey structure broke up in silent slow motion, first bulging outwards as the shell exploded in its heart, then disintegrating as the roof that had been lifted off fell back and found no walls to support it. Only a half-buried saddle and horseshoes nailed to jutting splintered rafters gave any clue as to what the mound of rubble might once have been.
‘Bugger,’ Hyde had witnessed the destruction as well, ‘he was a bloody good sniper. Stupid way for him to go, after all he’s been through. Pretty much the same way as his wife and kids.’
It took an effort, but Revell fought down the urge to rush out and claw at the mound. It would serve no useful purpose to add his body to the ruin. He scrutinised the tank. There was nothing he could do now, but he would know it again. If the opportunity arose ... and he’d make it... he’d extract a bloody revenge...
‘Get them moving, Sergeant. Don’t let them bunch.’ Kurt was the one who set the pace as they ran towards the trees a good half a kilometre away. Behind them, the shelling and machine gunning roared to a crescendo as the APCs closed on their objective.
Hurdling a flooded ditch, Cohen slipped on landing and sprawled in the mud. Shit, he’d have to convert some of his haul into paper, the flak-jacket weighed him down like a lead suit and, added to the bulk of his NBC outfit, slowed him to half the others’ speed.
Maybe he’d mail some of his loot back home, have Manny get a price for it next time he went into Chicago. And then again, maybe not. His brother-in-law was too full of good ideas, and too full of himself. Trust within a family is a fine thing, but at four thousand miles that was stretching trust just a little too far. And if Ruth saw the jewellery… once she tried it on, it’d be easier to cut out her heart while she was still breathing than to get her to part with it again. He’d better dispose of it himself. He’d get the best price he could when he was next in Koblenz or Bonn. So it was a buyer’s market, better some than none.
‘Come on, Corp, must be those new stripes slowing you down.’ Cohen felt Dooley’s huge hands clamping on his shoulders and dragging him to his feet. The moment’s rest had done him good, his chest didn’t hurt anymore. ‘Shame about the girl. Waste of a nice arse.’ Dooley glanced back at the collection of buildings. It was surprising, apart from a little smoke and a few chunks out of the house, it hardly looked at all damaged. ‘You ready?’ ‘Why the concern?’ Cohen set off at a jog.
Dooley took the radio-man’s pack from him, added it to his own considerable load and kept pace alongside. ‘Don’t you know? I’m your heir, I am. When you go down for keeps I’ll be the first one along to pick up the pieces. The pieces that are worth money, that is. From now until your death rattle you have me for a buddy, every minute of every hour we’re in action. What’s up, don’t you like the idea?’
‘I should be grateful? A vulture for a friend I don’t need. And about that death rattle. Don’t hold your breath waiting for it. You should live so long as to make a profit out of this bloodsucking scheme.’ ‘Yeah? Well I reckon I’ll be collecting on the deal real soon. See, I’m gonna bill you every time I save your life, or carry your pack, or...’
A spurt of speed, a quick wrench and Cohen had retrieved the radio before Dooley could stop him. ‘You hanging about I can’t help; you getting your hands on my money I can.’ Cohen patted one of his full pockets. ‘Break your heart, not my bank.’
An ‘over’ from the barrage going down around the farm dug a crater uncomfortably close to the two men, showering them with liquid soil, worms and soggy heads of wild corn. Both of them hunched lower, and
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