looked ahead. They were almost through the little settlement already; a few hundred metres away was the turning to the airfield. ‘Okay, Oscar,’ he shouted, ‘slow down for the turn. Crash the gate and head straight for your plane – I’ll sort out anyone following us.’
Valero complied. The track’s condition was even worse than the main road’s, and everyone was thrown from side to side. Becker cried out in pain.
The airfield came into sight. Across the track was a wooden barrier, but it snapped like a toothpick as the truck thundered through. An angry civilian ran from the terminal hut after the intruders, but the sight of Eddie’s AK made him do an aboutface and flee for the ruined gate instead.
Valero skidded to a stop alongside his plane. ‘Macy, grab the other gun, then help the doc with Ralf,’ Eddie ordered as he jumped down. On foot, at a run, it would only take the soldiers a couple of minutes to catch up, and if they had another Jeep it would be even sooner. He took up position behind the truck to watch the airfield entrance. Macy and Osterhagen carried Becker to the plane. Valero, rather than climbing into the cockpit and starting the engine, was examining something on the wing. ‘Oscar, what’re you doing? Get it going!’
‘I have to do the pre-flight checks,’ Valero shouted back.
‘There’s no time!’
‘But if something goes wrong—’
‘Don’t worry about gremlins, worry about bullets! They’ll be here any minute!’
Clearly unhappy, Valero nevertheless abandoned his inspection and climbed into the Cessna’s cabin. Osterhagen and Macy lifted Becker through the large main hatch on the port side.
Eddie looked back at the gate. The airfield worker was gone, but the track wouldn’t be empty for long. Seconds passed. The plane remained silent. ‘Oscar, start the bloody thing!’
‘It’s not a car!’ Valero protested. ‘I have to check the circuit breakers and set the engine mixture.’
‘Then check ’em and set ’em faster!’
Movement at the gate—
Two soldiers ran towards the terminal hut. Eddie fired two shots; neither hit, but they forced the men to dive for cover. Still no sound from the Cessna’s engine. ‘Get the fucking thing going, Oscar!’
A third soldier appeared, keeping low. A round clanked off the truck’s flank as he took a shot. Eddie returned fire. This time, the bullets were on target, the soldier flailing backwards.
But now another three men had arrived, opening up with their AK-103s. More shots hit the truck like hot hail. Eddie ducked behind the rear wheels, crouching to peer under the cargo bed. The first two soldiers were moving again. If they advanced much further, they would have a clean shot at the plane as it taxied to takeoff position.
Grey and red metal barrels, stacked in a little fenced compound near the hut—
Eddie emptied the AK’s magazine into the fuel drums.
A barrel exploded with a crump and a great splash of liquid fire, others following in a chain reaction. Burning drums shot skywards on trails of flame, falling back to earth like bombs. A tumbling keg crashed through the roof of the terminal hut, and the entire building exploded in a storm of flying corrugated panels.
The destruction had the desired effect. The soldiers retreated as fast as they could from the spreading flames.
Another loud noise, this time behind him – the Cessna’s engine turning over. A choppy, reluctant coughing . . . then the propeller burst into motion. Eddie dropped the empty AK and leapt through the cabin door. ‘Oscar, go, go, go!’
Valero opened the throttle. The Cessna hauled itself complainingly out of the indentations its weight had left in the earth and jolted over the uneven ground towards the runway.
Eddie faced the door. ‘Macy, gun!’ She passed him the second AK. He grabbed a dangling strap above the opening with his left hand, then leaned out and pointed the weapon back towards the gate. The soldiers were still scattering as the fires spread, oily smoke boiling into the sky.
Backwash from the propeller whipped past him as Valero increased power, swinging the plane into line with the runway. Eddie braced himself. The last takeoff had been a bumpy ride, and this was likely to be a lot worse . . .
‘Shit!’ A Jeep raced through the gate, two soldiers inside. The passenger stood in his seat, supporting his AK-103 on the windscreen. ‘Take off, now!’
Valero brought the throttle to full power. The plane picked up speed, landing gear crashed over bumps.