The Watchman

Forty-Six

For a split second my gut went cold. Damn. What had I done wrong? Had I missed a safety switch somewhere?

Then it happened. The explosion down near the waterline was impressively big. It lit up the beach for a brief second, the flare of light bouncing away across the surface of the sea in the background. The central skiff took off, breaking in half as the bottom was blown out of it, the two ends folding in on themselves. I caught a snapshot glimpse of plastic containers going into the air, then one of the containers carrying fuel exploded in a ball of flame and orange smoke, showering down on everything within a thirty-metre radius. Everything went dark again for a nano-second before another flash came, this time as the fuel-soaked sand around the skiff on the left ignited and burst into flames, followed quickly by the third boat going up like a pyrotechnician’s dream.

The two guards outside the villa came awake and began running around and screaming at their colleagues inside. One of them let off a couple of rounds in the general direction of the water, then did the same off to one side, and I guessed the play of light and shadow had fooled him into thinking they were under concerted attack from the sea.

The men inside burst out of the door and raced towards the side of the property overlooking the beach, also firing off random shots into the darkness. I couldn’t see them all clearly, but I estimated there were four or five. No problem; them I could handle.

What I couldn’t be sure of was how many remained on guard inside, nor what their reaction would be if they assumed they were under attack. Their orders might have been to kill the two prisoners.

I was going to have to move fast.

The men outside were doing what I had expected of them: heading down on to the beach to investigate. In the flickering light coming from the burning skiffs, I counted four, bunched together, rifles at the ready, moving cautiously and ready to jump at the first sound. I was glad I wasn’t part of their number; the last thing you need in a group under attack is for one of your colleagues to start shooting wildly.

They reached the burning boats and ran around excitedly, but there was little they could do to stop the destruction. The middle skiff was in pieces and the other two were already beyond help and burning fiercely.

After another fuel container exploded with the heat and shot into the night sky, one of the men seemed to take control and they backed off and hurried up the beach, chattering away angrily.

I waited for them to reach the point where I estimated the old netting to be, then picked up the next trigger and pressed the button.

This time there was no delay. The explosion lit up the villa and caught three of the men with the full blast, knocking the fourth on to his back.

I didn’t wait to see what happened next; I already had the AK to my shoulder and was sighting on the two guards who had stayed close to the villa. I fired twice, placing my shots carefully. Then a third.

Both men went down.

Another man appeared out of the shadows and ran around, searching desperately for the source of the shooting. With no sound from the suppressed AK to fasten on, and with the noise of the explosions still ringing in his ears, he must have been thoroughly disorientated. Then he turned and ran towards the building, screaming wildly at somebody inside.

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. I didn’t understand a word he’d said, but the implication was as clear as crystal.

He was telling the man or men inside to kill the hostages.

I couldn’t allow him to get back inside; I waited until he entered the flare of light from the door of the villa and hit him with a head shot, knocking him off his feet. He sprawled close to the door, his rifle falling beside him.

Then I was up and off at a full run, my momentum carrying me down the slope past the hide at full speed.

This time I was carrying the Vektor. For what I was about to do, I needed speed and manoeuvrability in a tight space.

And I was no longer concerned about noise; with the explosions and the rifle fire, I doubted anybody within a five kilometre radius was going to dwell too much on the sounds of one automatic pistol.