Killing Ground by James Rouch Page B

where to look and what he was looking for, the camouflage of the bunker was so good it took him a moment to pinpoint it.
    ‘In there mounted on an old semi-trailer is a large generator. There is a spring down there and the ground is wet all the year ‘round. Triggered by the approach of infantry it will start up and push a very high voltage through the ground.’
    Impressed, Revell tried not to sound it. ‘The instant it starts up it’ll stand out on the IR screen of every Soviet tank and SP for miles, and be picked up instantly by every Warpac electro-emissions detector truck.’
    ‘So what, quite frankly?’ Voke was not about to be put down. ‘The concrete is two meters thick and the air intake and exhaust pipe are well protected. It has fuel for two-and-a-half days. Tell me, how would you walk up and switch it off? It cost the captain his spirit ration for two months to bribe helicopter pilots to lift in the trailer and concrete, a load at a time.’
    Seeing the advantage he had gained, but sensing the major was still not convinced, Voke pressed on. ‘You must understand, that is just one tiny part, almost an afterthought among the mass of defences. And every precaution has been taken against countermeasures. A high proportion of the mines are resistant to the overpressures of fuel air explosives if the enemy uses that method, and .of course most of the ground is highly unsuitable for the deployment of mechanical means of clearance.’
    In the distance a gunship beat fast across country. It trailed a tail of black smoke from its cabin. Too far away to identify, Revell knew it had to be a Warpac machine. No NATO helicopter in trouble would be heading in that direction. The source of the smoke suddenly showed a bright speck of flame and the chopper dipped from sight behind a ridge. Moments after, a puffball of dark smoke rose to be lost among the rain clouds.
    ‘Look, Lieutenant, you’ve been trying to impress me and you’ve succeeded, but - and it’s an insurmountable but - you’re basing your defences on the castle. That makes it a non-starter. That great pile is a dream target for any gunner, and it wouldn’t take long for some commie missile battery observer to pass the coordi- nates back to his commander, and then they’d bring the roof right down on our heads.’
    At the sound of a light footstep Revell swivelled around to level his combat shotgun. He checked himself in time. It was Andrea. He was frightened, relieved and angry all at the same time. ‘I- told you to stay with the transport.’
    ‘It is as well I did not; there is something you should see.’
    Halfway back to the castle’s postern door a body sprawled across a pile of rubble. Its legs made a partial dam to the water sluicing mud down the steps in a series of tinted cascades.
    ‘Spetsnaz.’ Andrea made the word an obscenity and rolled the corpse onto its back with her heel.
    The man’s head lolled at an unnatural angle and blood still pulsed from a gaping neck wound so deep a sliver of spinal column showed between the parted tissue.
    ‘I was following you down when I saw him. He came from one of the little towers. He was too intent on watching you to notice me. Come, there is something else.’
    They stepped over the body. Rain was washing spattered blood from its face, revealing Slavic features and eyes still open wide with the shock and terror of sudden death.
    Retracing their route, Andrea indicated the interior of a tower. ‘Look in there.’
    Jutting in a half-circle from the rock, the structure was in better condition than most. Clambering over the rotted remains of its broken door, Revell entered. It was dark inside and lightened only gradually as his eyes adjusted to the gloom. The two floors above had rotted through and their crumbling remnants littered the floor. By the sparse illumination shafting through an arrow slit he saw that the defence work had been built around a fissure in the cliff, which had been widened to