Foxbat by James Barrington Page A

have to put as much distance as possible between himself and such a determined pursuit, Yi replaced the binoculars in his pocket, turned northwards and jogged on up the hill.
    In fact, luck had nothing to do with this encounter. The moment Pak Je-San ended the call from
     the radar-watch supervisor at Pyoksong, he had proceeded to mobilize troops from the closest military establishment, which was the fighter airfield at T’ae’tan. There were very
     few roads in that part of the country, so anyone landing south of Suri-bong had little option but to head east. And therefore Pak had guessed exactly where his quarry was going.
    Aïn Oussera Air Base, Algeria
    Suddenly the base came alive with the sound of vehicle engines revving up and with loudly
     shouted orders. The sentries around the various hangars left their posts and began running towards the perimeter fence. It was only a matter of seconds, Richter realized, before they started
     shooting.
    ‘All callsigns, Alpha One,’ Dekker shouted. ‘Let’s get the fuck out of
     here. Break, break. Delta One and Two, get the Pinkies moving, immediate.’
    The response from the two SAS troopers guarding the Land Rovers was instant. ‘Deltas
     mobile, heading straight for you.’
    The six SAS men were already up and running, weaving and dodging unpredictably from side to side
     to make themselves as difficult targets as possible, but all the time heading away from the fence and the glare of the security lights.
    ‘Regroup in two hundred yards,’ Dekker instructed, as the metallicclatter of a couple of Kalashnikovs on full auto echoed behind them, bullets spraying randomly in their direction. ‘But don’t return fire.’
    They were already well away from the fence, so he knew the Algerians had to be firing blind.
     Shooting back would just confirm their position, giving the enemy something definite to aim at.
    Richter could see two pairs of headlights approaching, half a mile away to their right, the
     vehicles bouncing wildly over the desert floor.
    ‘Regroup on me,’ Dekker called out, as he slid to a halt behind an outcrop of rock.
     ‘Anyone hurt? Any problems?’ It took less than ten seconds to confirm that none of them had suffered any injuries, then they started running again, this time in two loose groups
     heading directly towards the approaching Land Rovers.
    Behind them, the main gates of Aïn Oussera were open, and the first of the Algerian Air
     Force trucks, loaded with heavily armed soldiers, were heading out in pursuit. Unfortunately the headlights of the SAS Pinkies would soon give them a clear target.
    ‘Delta One and Two, kill the lights,’ Dekker ordered. ‘Home in on our
     torches.’
    Immediately the headlights were extinguished, which would obviously slow their escape, but not
     having the lights blazing might buy them a few precious seconds, or even minutes, while the Algerians tried to locate them. Meanwhile two of the troopers took out their torches and shone them
     steadily, like beacons, in the direction of the approaching Land Rovers.
    Dekker called a halt for a few seconds, while he looked back towards the airfield, checking
     the disposition of the enemy troops. A couple of large trucks had emerged and were now heading in their general direction, but obviously the drivers had no firm idea where their quarry was
     located. Richter wasn’t bothered about such vehicles – the Pinkies could outrun them, no problem – but the three smaller ones were a definite concern. In the lights from the
     perimeter fence, they looked like either open jeeps or Land Rovers, and in each one he could discern the unmistakable shape of a heavy machine-gun, set on a pillar right behind the driver.
     Whatever those vehicles were, they had pretty much the same armament as the Pinkies, and could also probably match them forspeed. But before Richter could suggest any
     action against them or their occupants, Dekker was already issuing orders.
    ‘Alpha Two, Bravo