Free Honour Bound by Keith Walker Page A

ammo."
    "Why
armour piercing, why not the ordinary stuff?" Holmes queried as he juggled
the weapon in his hands as if testing the weight.
    "We
know the escort vehicles have got armoured glass and bodywork, but because they
don't leave these cars around for people like me to get a good look at we don't
know who the glass maker is. Some of the glass you can get will only resist a
few shots, while others will take as many normal rounds as you care to shoot at
it. So rather than risk a fuck up by not being able to get at the crews, I
decided we'll use the AP rounds."
    "Sounds
reasonable," Holmes said. He took the magazine out of the MP5. A brass
cartridge case with a black conical tip resting in its jaws gleamed dully in
the poor light. "These don't look very big," he said, almost
absently.
    "They're
up to the job." Winters assured him. "I don’t know how true it is,
but it's reckoned that Mossad had a big say in the
development of this ammo. Rumour has it they wanted something to penetrate the
glass in the cars the terrorist big nobs drove about
in, this is what they got, and the Yids don't do things by half."
    Holmes
nodded. He had never had Winters ’ obvious enthusiasm
for guns and ammunition. His only concern was that if he shot something or
someone then that something or someone stopped moving. He would never have
considered that some glass could stop bullets. But then, he was not the one
being paid for his expertise in planning offensive operations.
    "As
long as they work," he said. "What are you using as backup?"
    Winters
delved into another crate and extracted a Browning 9mm semi automatic pistol.
"One of these," he said, handing it to Holmes, who put the MP5 and
magazine back in the crate.
    "It's
accurate and reliable and capable of stopping someone with a single round. These'll be loaded with armour piercing ammo as well, to
make sure they can penetrate body armour."
    Holmes
nodded, "Fair enough, you seem to have everything under control." He
handed the Browning to Winters . "Get the assault
team in as often as you can before the big day and give them enough ammo to
familiarise themselves with the weapons. We don't want the whole thing reduced
to a shambles because someone can't cope with a jam. There's far too much at
stake for that."
    "That's
all in hand," Winters said, "they've already
fired enough ammo to squash an uprising, and I've not finished with them
yet."         
    "That's
good." Holmes said, heading towards the door. "Use all the ammo you
need, there's more than enough. If you have any problems, call me.”

 
    -11-
     
    The
Aston Martin braked smoothly and turned off the winding country lane into a
long tree-lined drive. The weakening rays of the early evening sun reflected
dully from a brass sign on an arched stone gateway that announced 'Langdon
Manor'.
    The
sleek, dark green car swept along the drive. The noise of the tyres crunching
on the gravel was unheard by Eastman in the passenger seat who was mentally
counting his profits. A million quid for my silence, he thought, and a forty
percent mark-up on the weapons. Half a dozen contracts like that and I could
retire. He looked across at his long time bodyguard cum chauffeur, Jonathon
Stride, an ex-paratrooper who found working for him much more profitable than
helping to police the world's trouble spots. He was a man of few words, it was
the actions he took to solve problems that brought him to Eastman's attention.
    "When
I go inside," he said, "wait by the car. I don't expect any trouble
from this bozo, but if I'm not out in ten minutes, come in and find me."
He paused before adding, "There's an Ingram in my briefcase, with two
spare mags ."
    Stride
nodded impassively. "We're here," he said.
    The
sprawling mansion came into view as they passed through a thick screen of
overhanging trees. Much added to over the years, the house covered almost an
acre. Most of the brick and stonework was hidden by thick curtains of creeping
ivy, trimmed only