The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

As it arrived, his drop down showed the drone’s point of view – a handful of men heading down the ramp to ground level. Two of them left the group and jogged in Gunnymede’s direction. He stepped back into cover as they passed him by, heading towards the burning propane tank. He turned his attention back to the ramp and pipe jetty. Since it led to the estuary and the men appeared to be guarding the route, it was probably where he needed to be. Question was, how could he avoid the men.

He checked the map on his phone that showed the landing stage and the pipe jetty road leading to it. His location was marked. The pipe jetty was the only way to the landing stage since it was suspended above ground and the water.

The pipe jetty it was going to have to be and, therefore, through the men.

Gunnymede took aim on the cluster of figures arriving at the bottom of the ramp, exhaled, paused his breathing, and fired a series of silent shots. One of the figures dropped and the others scurried for cover firing randomly in all directions. After some indecision, they all ran beneath the pipe jetty to the other side. Which actually wasn’t too helpful because they were still in the area and he needed to get by them.

He sent the drone to the other side of the pipe jetty and saw where the men had gone to ground in a group. They needed flushing. He raised the end of the G36, assessed the angle and fired the grenade launcher. The weapon popped loudly as it recoiled sharply. The high explosives shell landed this side of the pipe jetty exploding on the road.

Crap.

Gunnymede shoved another shell into the breech and angled the weapon again, adjusting for the drop of the last shot. He fired while looking through the drone’s imager. The shell landed several metres behind the men splattering them in shrapnel. When the flash dissipated it didn’t look as if the grenade had inflicted much damage because they all seemed to be moving and firing their rifles, again in every direction.

Krilov stood on his bollard facing the sound of gunfire and explosions. It was clear that whatever was happening was a direct threat to his operation.

Krilov’s lieutenant was on the phone nearby. ‘They’re under fire,’ he called out.

‘I know that, idiot,’ Krilov shouted. ‘Give me the situation? Who is attacking? Numbers? Vehicles? Jedson!’

‘It’s none of our people,’ Jedson shouted from where he could see the flash of gunfire.

‘How is that possible?’ Krilov shouted back.

‘I don’t know but it’s not the police or military.’

‘They don’t know who it is or how many,’ the lieutenant called out. ‘They say they’re surrounded.’

‘Tell them they must hold that road!’ Krilov faced the ship that was closing in on the landing. ‘Throw the lines!’ he yelled at the crew lining the deck.

Gunnymede edged closer to the ramp. He could see men running but not away from the pipe jetty as he’d hoped. The ones that had gone the other side were coming back and heading up the ramp. He fired a burst into them. One of them went down and the others found cover behind a stack of oil drums and pallets. They would have to be dealt with before he could pass.

He moved the drone above the men and studied the bird’s eye view, comparing it to his own. From the air he could clearly see each man but not from the ground. He came up on aim for the first of them and fired a series of bursts into an oil drum. The drone image showed the man fall and lie still. He moved to the next behind some pallets. A couple of short bursts dropped him. He shot the last two with the same ease and searched the drone’s image for any signs of life. There weren’t any and he moved the drone to the top of the jetty to see the remaining figures running along it towards the landing stage. As far as he could see there was no-one left alive at the ramp.

He was about to set off when he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him. He ducked behind cover as the two men who’d passed by earlier were heading back, clearly unaware of what had happened to their colleagues. Gunnymede waited for them to pass and shot them in the back.

He took a moment to inspect them. They looked like ordinary civilians dressed for an evening in the countryside.

With one eye ahead and the other on the drone, he made his way to the pipe jetty and up the ramp, ready to engage anyone still up for it. Several men lay dead. He took another close look at one of them. A young man in rugged civilian clothes who couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, an M4 assault rifle still in his hands, his weapons harness filled with spare magazines. Amateurs. They probably knew as much about soldiering as the pope.

Gunnymede sent the drone ahead as he made his way up the ramp. It revealed those running towards the landing stage. The drone continued on to show a line of vehicles parked at the end of the pipe jetty where it connected to the landing stage. The stage was well lit with several figures on it. Gunnymede could only hope that was where he’d find Krilov and therefore Bethan.

The drone continued on to reveal a large ship coming alongside the landing stage. Gunnymede could only wonder what was going on. Was it the cargo ship with Saleem on board? Surely not.

Krilov gauged the distance between the vessel and the landing stage, inch by inch, anxious for it to come alongside. ‘Throw the lines,’ he shouted impatiently.

Several lines flew into the air. One of them reached the landing