Part 46 (1/2)

'This is...' he spluttered. 'This is... incredible... this is... Ace...'

227.

Chapter Twenty-four.

Bill Collins was disorientated to say the least. Their flight from the hospital had been gut-wrenching. In the brief ten minutes of chaos wrought by the air-strike they had taken off in the helicopter' dodging down canyon-like streets, almost touching the roofs of abandoned buses' in as much danger of being shot by the RAF as by the enemy.

The a.s.sault was working enemy s.h.i.+ps were on fire.

As they flew over the river, the pilot had suddenly gone into a dive.

An RAF Lightning, its tail on fire, was bearing down on them. They were almost touching the water...

A shadow pa.s.sed overhead. London Bridge. They were going under it. The roaring of the blades was momentarily multiplied, then was drowned in an explosion that rocked the chopper as it tried to ascend.

The jet had slammed into the bridge behind them.

'That's some flyin', boy!' Crawhammer had bellowed.

Collins had struggled to hold his stomach together.

They had landed outside Drakefell's flat in Islington. The lock on the door had been broken. Drakefell and his PA were there Drakefell in pyjamas and dressing-gown. Crawhammer hadn't even waited for him to dress. He'd bundled Drakefell into the helicopter, ignoring the protests and then the blows of Sarah Eyles, and ordered them to fly like h.e.l.l for Winnerton. They'd left Sarah an angry dot on a receding cityscape.

The journey had been easy enemy s.h.i.+ps were much spa.r.s.er as they left London, and simple to avoid.

They found the men waiting for orders, cut off from communication and confused.

'I'll give you an order!' Crawhammer had barked. 'Red alert, boys!'

And he had marched into the central control room and opened a set of locked metal doors at the far end. Behind them lay the controls to the ballistic missile system they were developing.

'Major Collins, I want the missiles armed. All of 'em.'

Collins suddenly felt cold. 'Armed with what, sir?'

'Nuclear warheads, Major. It's time to kick a.s.s!'

228.

'I tell you I'm fine.' Rita scowled at the Doctor and brushed his hand away from the bruise on her forehead. 'I just fell, OK? Fell, not fainted. I'm not the type of girl who faints. Are we clear on that?'

From the other side of the room Jimmy gave a snort of contempt and lit up a cigarette.

Rita shot him a filthy look. 'Shouldn't you be dead or something?'

Jimmy scowled at her and slouched against the wall, blowing a cloud of tobacco smoke into the room.

The Doctor looked across at where George Limb his his George Limb George Limb was training a gun on his morning-coated counterpart, who seemed quite unruffled by the experience.

'I did rather imagine you might take it as a compliment, old bean.

You must understand, I wanted the best. Someone I could trust.'

And slowly the two of them began to smirk like schoolchildren.

Then one of them began to cough and wheeze. The other didn't.

'You should get that chest looked at,' he said. 'I can get someone to look at it for you. You need never be out of breath again.'

Then he turned to the Doctor.

'Is the young lady going to be all right?'

'I think so,' said the Doctor. 'A combination of malnutrition, exhaustion and shock. All obsolete in your England, no doubt.'

'Indeed...'

The prime minister paused and raised a finger to his temple. Slowly he smiled.

'This ought to be amusing... Good evening, General.'

One wall of the room holographic, it would seem melted away to reveal an enormous television screen. And on the screen was none other than General Crawhammer.

'Now listen here, you Commie English b.a.s.t.a.r.ds, or whatever the h.e.l.l you are, I got a whole bunch of nuuu-cleeeer missiles aimed right into your big s.h.i.+ny crack! Now I'm askin' you politely to get yo' forces back through that hole and close it up. You got ten minutes to decide.'

And the screen went blank.

'How'd I do, Major?'

'Very well, sir.' Bill Collins had believed Crawhammer's ultimatum.

But then he knew Crawhammer.

The general had said virtually nothing to him since they had arrived.

He had issued orders, stomped around' but explained nothing. Not that much needed explaining. Everywhere was cut off from everywhere else by the blanket communications jam. The chain of command would be screwed they'd never get the birds in the air if they waited for 229 someone to fly to Was.h.i.+ngton to consult the president.

Winnerton Flats was perhaps the only facility this side of the Pacific that had independent control of its own nuclear a.r.s.enal. For developmental purposes, of course.

The general was clearly convinced where his duty lay.

He had stood over Drakefell while the shaking man, looking frail and frightened and clutching his dressing-gown around himself, input the authorisation codes for the usual test-firings. Only the payload was unusual.

Collins was surprised when Crawhammer fetched the camera crew in from outside the base.