Free Knife Edge (2004) by Douglas Reeman Page A

“Crawl back and get my pack. And go easy with it.” He was watching the water. “If it’s going to happen, it’ll be soon.”
    Ellis muttered, “Here comes Blondie.”
    One of the children whimpered.
    “Never mind, chummy, soon be over.” It seemed to work.
    Piggott was on his knees beside the gully.
    “How many were there, d’ you think?”
    “Two or three. All it needs.”
    “I would have bagged one of them if I hadn’t tripped.” It was a question again.
    Ellis was coming back, his features clearly visible in the frail sunlight.
    “Captain Irwin should have got the message by now. He’ll know what to do.”
Why am I telling him this? It’s all bluff.
Piggott was shit-scared. “Watch over the kids.”
    Piggott said sharply, “I don’t see why . . .”
    “’Cause it’s not their bloody war,
sir
!”
    The rest was drowned by the sudden roar of engines.
    “Quiet as a bloody grave now the damage is done!”
    Captain John Irwin crouched on his knees with his back to the sea, one hand cupped behind each ear as he listened for the slightest sound, apparently oblivious to the stone and sharp fragments littering the track. “Like a bull in a damned china shop.”
    The sporadic burst of firing had stopped, as if it had never happened. You could almost feel the silence. Physical.
    “Did Sergeant Boyes check our section at this end?” He was quite calm again, almost offhand.
    Ross Blackwood replied, “I checked them myself, sir. Standing to.”
    “Information was good. We were just a bit too late. They’ll make a run for it very soon. Not much that
Taunton
can do now, even
with
a following wind.” He stood up lightly, without any apparent effort. “Unless your namesake keeps his head.” He stared at the sky. “Corporal Laker, keep two men and cover the ridge.” He must have sensed the corporal’s doubt. “Man, you could hold up an army from this point!”
    Then, to Ross, “Could be wrong. In which case . . .” He did not finish.
    Ross fell into step beside him and knew that the others had fanned out across the treacherous, rubble-strewn slope, weapons at the ready, berets tugged over their eyes against any glare from the water.
    He had seen some of the old and broken wrecks that littered the sheltered water beneath the ridge. It was hard to believe that they had once been seaworthy, for local trading and fishing. Left to rot, abandoned except by lawbreakers and faceless men in search of power.
    He glanced at Irwin’s lean profile. He could see the stubble on his stained features, some holes ripped in his camouflage clothing, but no evidence of fatigue or disappointment. He almost fell as Irwin’s hand reached out and gripped him like a trap.
    “
Listen.
They’re on the move, the bastards!”
    Ross had heard nothing, and then it was above, below, all around them. The mounting roar of engines, swelling and shaking as if it was coming from the nearest channel. He tried to clear his mind of everything but the impending action, but all he could hear was the sound of the fast launch as it had cast off from the junk’s side and vanished into the night. Only the scream had remained.
    “At the double, lads!
Move it!
” Irwin was already running toward the channel, his shouts now drowned by the sound of engines.
    And all at once it was there, black and shapeless, and in the uncertain light it seemed to fill the channel, a great wash spilling and boiling over the stony banks, changing colour as the land fell aside like a huge gateway. Beyond it was the widening expanse of the sea, where only hours earlier they had waded ashore.
    Whoever was on the helm had the skill, and the nerve to match it. One misjudgment, a wrong twist on the rudders, and it would be disaster. As it was, they were pounding into open water.
    Ross exclaimed,
“Lost them!”
He felt himself trembling, with anger, defeat, disappointment. He knew he was shaking his fist, and barely recognized the sudden flashof tracer, rising and