Life Goes On by Tayell, Frank (large ebook reader txt) 📗

have been prepared to try to sink a sub. A fishing trawler with a torpedo might be inconspicuous enough to manage it. But we must also assume they sank that flotilla we saw yesterday.”

“That’s not the worst case,” Hawker said. “The worst case is that they’re in command of the Courageous and the Vepr, or possibly even the Adventure.”

“We’ve had no contact from that submarine since it sank the Russian boat,” Adams said. “We should assume the worst, but not weigh ourselves down with fear.”

“So what do we do?” Tess asked. “You said our choices are limited.”

“They are pirates,” Adams said. “They have to be destroyed. I’d hoped we’d find this place lightly defended, perhaps overrun with the undead, and we could gather the data the scientists needed. I dreamed we might even make use of the lab to construct a working prototype we could test locally. That recent wreckage suggests otherwise. Colonel?”

“We’ve no satellite data,” he said, walking over to the screen, “so we’ve got to make a few guesses. We know the runway and pier are on the western side of this bay. Between the harbour and the northern cape are many small bays and inlets in which a boat might shelter. The cartel rule by fear, so wouldn’t want to let even a fishing boat get too far beyond sight. They’ll keep their fleet in the bay. It’ll consist of captured yachts and sailing ships, but with a few large diesel-powered cargo vessels. Probably the coal-haulers. Plus at least one vessel equipped with torpedoes.”

“We’ll assume they have a few fast-boats,” Adams said. “The entrance to the bay is about two kilometres wide, but we have no charts listing depth. We can’t stopper the entrance.”

“If this were me,” Hawker said, “I’d place artillery positions on either wing of the bay. These women might have engineered the end of the world, but they were still narco-barons. They’d be limited to what could be smuggled in disguised as mining machinery. Forget artillery. But they could have portable missiles. I’m assuming Russian-made Igla anti-air, with a range of five kilometres.”

“They have a runway,” Tess said. “They could have a fighter plane or an attack-copter.”

“They could,” Adams said. “But how quickly can they launch it? We’ve installed a missile strut on the Seahawk. At fifty kilometres distance, the helicopter will launch. Commander Tusitala will approach the bay from the east, identifying any battle-capable vessels they have, but with the primary goal of launching a missile at the runway. A second strike will take out the airport fuel tanks. By which time, we will have entered firing range. Our first target will be smoke from their coal power station. The helicopter will draw fire from any portable artillery guarding the bay, and perhaps the warship. That will provide us with our next targets.”

“We’re using the helicopter as bait?” Tess asked.

“Nicko and I’ll be aboard,” Hawker said. “Worst case, if we have to ditch, we’ll hike back to the coast, and paddle our way to New Zealand.”

“Why can’t we pick you up?” Tess asked.

“Because that’d mean the ship had to wait off the coast, within range of their surviving boats,” Hawker said.

“I hope we can take out their ships, the runway, any above-ground fuel storage, and their power station,” Adams said. “But we won’t neutralise any shipping outside of that bay. I’m not concerned about speedboats chasing us away, but any larger vessel patrolling nearby. If our initial strike is unsuccessful, if the helicopter is downed, we will have to retreat, south, to French Guiana where we shall refuel before our enemy has a chance of destroying those fuel tanks. If we wait for Commander Tusitala, they could beat us to French Guiana.”

“Let me be aboard the helicopter,” Tess said.

“Not a chance,” Hawker said. “This is what we trained for. We’ll set an ambush, grab some wheels, and put the desert between us and them. We’ll reach the Pacific long before you.”

“I guarantee we’ll destroy any coal power station,” Adams said. “I can predict, with near certainty, we’ll neutralise their runway and the majority of the shipping anchored in the bay. After which, the future becomes murky. I’d have a go reading some tea leaves, but we’re out of even the powdered kind. There’ll be no negotiations, no warnings, no attempt to take prisoners. We won’t wait for them to fire at us, or to wait for a radioed call-and-response. That’s why I didn’t want anyone else here. We’re acting on your intel, Commissioner. This is a coalmine, surrounded by desert. It’s unlikely the undead have reached this far. Perhaps these sisters didn’t, either. We are about to perpetrate a massacre. Is it justified?”

“Are there no alternatives?” Tess asked.

“The alternative was coming in with a hundred U.S. Rangers,” Hawker said. “Without them, what we have is a warship capable of obliterating the target.”

“We’ll destroy their lab,” Adams said. “And we can’t let the scientists go ashore. You understand, I hope.” She sounded genuinely apologetic, and more than a little disappointed.

“I do,” Tess said, a flash of guilt rushing through her bones. She looked at the map. They’d come this far. They couldn’t simply turn back. But until now, she’d not truly considered what would happen when they arrived. Her primary source was Sir Malcolm Baker, who’d never let the truth get in the way of a great headline. Toppley had confirmed some of it. But not enough for a shoot-first policy. Not in the old world. But this was a new and terrible era where police officers planned wars. An era when absolutely no one would ever condemn her for taking the more violent path.

“So our warship will appear from nowhere, and shell the shore,” she said. “It won’t be the first time that’s happened since the outbreak.”

 

4th April

 

Chapter 36 - A Desert Rose

Puerto Bolivar, Colombia

Before