Body Count by James Rouch Page B

rockets.
    Revell had spent some minutes musing over what those last items had been doing there. They were hardly standard issue to any police force, not even SWAT teams. He could only think they were there in case the police found themselves having to put down a revolt by army units. It was not a nice thought, that such things had to be planned for, but he knew it to be necessary. It had happened in Hanover once. Only quick action by the police had stopped a rebellion by a French infantry unit.
    He'd insisted that all the men rearm with Heckler and Koch MP5 submachine guns, to replace the assorted armament they had obtained from the transport police. Their greater accuracy at their maximum effective range would be a useful asset in the wide streets and broad plazas of the city.
    So too would its thirty-percent faster rate of fire, when it came to close quarters engagements. And the high capacity magazine was another point in the weapon's favour.
    Intending to leave only a couple of sections to hold the police HQ, Revell had been less than happy to be ordered to leave most of his force there. He wasn't told as much, but it appeared likely that everyone would be transferring from the bunker as soon as conditions permitted. They wanted to be quite certain it would stay in their hands until the switch was made.
    There was no way Revell was about to accept a garrison roll for himself. He intended to lead the two sections he'd been able to detach to assist in the clearing- up operation. That was how he found himself with them as they made for their first objective.
    The target was a building close by the Theatiner Church near Odeons Platz. From it snipers were dominating the road junction and the entrances to a dozen large shelters.
    “You think they know what they're doing?” Hyde maintained his position a few paces behind the officer as they hugged the storefronts.
    “What I think is that the generals are interfering, trying to run the operation by committee.” Moving quickly from cover to cover, Revell had no intention of giving any sniper a clear shot or the time to take it.
    “Should be exciting then, when those special forces units arrive.” Hyde shrank back into a doorway as the scouts signalled a warning. “At the moment when quick thinking will be called for, they'll be going into a huddle and voting on motions and amendments.”
    There was the sound of breaking glass further along the road. Then there came an indistinct crunching noise, like someone was walking on broken glass. For a brief while there came a scuffling, rummaging sound, and then the rapid patter of running feet.
    “Looters. Let them go. The police can have them, we're not here for that.” Two young men in trainers and tracksuits came sprinting down the sidewalk. Trying to keep up with them was a girl. All of them had their arms full of small electrical goods.
    Seeing the patrol ahead of them, the men hesitated, turned, and went to cut across the road. The girl followed, losing more ground as she was slowed by having to zigzag between parked cars.
    Both men were hit by a burst of fire. They threw their arms in the air, scattering their goods, and were spun around by the impacts of the soft-nosed Soviet bullets. Expanding, dumdum fashion, they had an explosive effect, tearing flesh open and destroying the tissue beneath.
    Neither was killed outright. While one of them kicked wildly, threshing about in his extreme agony, the other lay paralyzed. A fountain of blood spouted from his mouth, to splash audibly on the wheel of a Volkswagen.
    “Keep down.” Revell shouted to the girl. In her unreasoning fear at the shock of what she was witnessing, she had stopped. Unable to take her eyes off the horrific sights in the road, she froze.
    She was too far away. Revell knew he could never reach her in time.
    The reality of the situation appeared to strike her, and she threw down the loot. Revell was sure she was going to turn and run, but she didn't. In a