Marine E SBS Page 2

  He had kept his patience as long as he could, noticing the smirks on the lads’ faces, and had heaved a huge sigh of relief when they had at last reached the ambush point and shut down the engines to lie up. To Harry’s immense relief the supply sergeant had finally curled up in his sleeping-bag and announced without even a hint of shame that he was going to get some kip.

  ‘Good bloody riddance,’ Harry muttered under his breath.

  Then the waiting had begun. For the first time that night Harry felt himself relaxing. Now at last he was left in peace to do the job he was paid for. He had been in Hong Kong for over a year and had been involved in anti-smuggling operations for the past six months. He loved it. Cooperating with the Royal Hong Kong Police, he and the other marine launches would stake out various areas of the rugged coastline, ready to intercept any suspicious craft. He and the boys had already taken part in several high-speed chases but had always got the worst of it. These days the Triads were using powerboats that could easily outrun the Rigid Raiders of the Royal Marines or the launches of the Marine Police. But if they encountered anything tonight it would be a different story.

  For the first time Harry had command of one of the new powerboats that the Hong Kong government had invested in, in an attempt to stem the rising tide of Triad smuggling. He glanced back to the rear of the boat, where a bank of five huge, black outboard motors ran the full width of the vessel, so heavy that the boat sat arse-down in the water. But when it was gunned up to full power they could hurtle the craft through the water like a rocket.

  MARPOL, the headquarters of the Marine Police, had tonight allocated him a position in a small bay off the island of Kat O Chau. From here it would be a relatively short ride out into the broad expanse of Mirs Bay, which separated the territory of Hong Kong from mainland China’s coastline, a prime hunting ground for smugglers. Other police and Royal Marine craft were strung out in a wide arc around the whole eastern side of the colony. With limited numbers of craft available to the security forces, the deployment was changed every night, switching from area to area in an attempt to keep the smugglers guessing.

  Harry eased back in his seat and proudly cast his eyes over the bank of controls in front of him. At his side, Josh Higgs listened into his radio headphones for any message from MARPOL. The water around them was as calm as a millpond, dark and warm. Behind him and on each side Harry could see the black humps of the island’s hills, sweeping around, encircling and dwarfing the arrow-shaped boat, whose prow pointed east out of the ambush position into Mirs Bay.

  ‘I’m surprised you can hear anything with that old bugger snoring,’ Harry said, stabbing a thumb at the curled figure of the sergeant.

  ‘Ssh.’

  ‘Got something?’

  ‘There’s some chatter on the net. They’re tracking a boat that’s just rounding Sai Kung. It seems to be heading this way.’

  Harry sat forward and shaded the beam of his pencil torch as he examined a chart. The northern coast of the rugged Sai Kung peninsula was a favourite drop-off point for smugglers where they would rendezvous with road transport in one of the numerous sheltered bays and cross-load their cargo.

  ‘That’s us!’ Josh said excitedly, spinning round to shake the others awake. ‘They’re calling us in.’

  ‘Leave grandad,’ Harry snapped. ‘He’ll probably kip through the whole thing.’

  But the moment the five motors coughed and roared into life, the curled sleeping-bag erupted into spasms of life as its occupant tried to break free.

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Hang on, Sarge,’ Harry called above the noise of the engines, and opening the throttle, grinned at his mates as the struggling sleeping-bag was sent tumbling to the very back of the boat.

  ‘Let’s get at them.’

  Behind the front seats the other two marines had already snatched up their SA80 rifles, looping the slings around their wrists to secure them for the rough ride ahead. In helmets and life-jackets, they well knew the perils of a high-speed pursuit.

  The moon had now risen and as the boat shot out into the open waters a broad silver wake peeled open behind it.

  ‘Strap yourselves in!’ Harry shouted, tightening his own seat belt and fastening his goggles.

  Josh leaned his mouth close to shout. ‘The police have been seen. They’re in pursuit. They say we’re to take up the chase north of Port Island.’

  ‘Roger to that.’

  After easing the boat round, Harry sped towards the designated intercept point. The controls handled beautifully, responding to the lightest touch. When the solitary mass of Port Island reared out of the darkness, he closed the throttle and slowed the boat to an idle. As it drifted through the still waters, the marine behind him scanned the horizon with an image-intensifier night-sight.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ Harry mouthed. But he didn’t have more than thirty seconds to wait. The marine clapped a hand on his shoulder and gave him the bearing to the suspect vessel.

  ‘There she blows. Jesus, look at her move!’

  Taking a quick look through the night-sight, Harry saw the smugglers’ boat through the sight’s greenish glow.

  ‘Have I got a surprise for you,’ he said, and settling back into his seat, slowly opened the throttle. Responding immediately, the powerboat lurched forward. Josh gave a loud whoop. ‘Bit different from the Gemini.’

  The suspect craft was a good kilometre away. Lining up on his quarry, Harry gripped the throttle firmly.

  ‘Let’s see what this baby can do.’

  As he opened wide the throttle he felt as if a fist was pushing him back into his seat.

  ‘I reckon we just might catch the buggers tonight!’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘How’s our passenger? Been sick yet?’

  ‘Not on your life, laddie,’ a voice rasped in his ear. ‘I was born on the fucking water.’

  Harry looked round in surprise and saw Cooper’s grinning face mere inches away.

  As soon as the police launch was spotted Hu Fat himself took the controls of the powerboat. The transfer from the junk had gone smoothly. The bodies of the police patrol had been dumped in the Pearl estuary and thereafter the voyage had gone smoothly. At least until they rounded Hong Kong island and entered Mirs Bay, leaving the relative safety of Chinese territorial waters.

  Having ventured out from behind one of the numerous smaller islands, the police launch had challenged them with a loudhailer. But, ignoring the order to stop and be boarded, Hu Fat had opened the throttle and hooted with laughter as they left the sluggish police vessel standing.

  ‘They don’t learn, do they?’ he had shrieked across to Yip above the noise of the powerful outboard motors.

  Streaking alongside the rugged fringes of the Sai Kung peninsula, where the mountains tumbled down into the foaming sea, he steered the boat north and then gently eased her a little westwards intending to make for the rendezvous on the Tolo peninsula, another vast area of wild and largely uninhabited land.

  He was just congratulating himself on another successful infiltration when Yip grasped his arm and pointed to the left, shouting something that Hu Fat couldn’t hear. At first he saw nothing, but then, as he searched the horizon, he managed to pick out the object that the fisherman’s sharper eyes had detected.

  ‘What is it?’

  Yip squinted hard at the object and then placed his mouth close to Hu Fat. ‘Speedboat.’

  Hu Fat grinned. ‘If it’s a marine Rigid Raider they might as well not bother.’

  But Yip wasn’t smiling. Instead he made his way to the rear of the boat and when Hu Fat next turned round he saw Yip and the other members of the gang checking their firearms. Yip was pointing out the target to his comrades, two of whom held Type 56-1 automatic assault rifles, the Chinese variant of the Soviet Kalashnikov AK47 and incorporating a folding stock and spike bayonet. After locking the stocks into place, they crouched down on the port side and steadied themselves ready to fire. Without thinking Hu Fat reached to his
waistband and checked his pistol, a Chinese 9mm Type 59.

  Glancing again at the approaching vessel, he noticed that it was gaining on them rapidly. It seemed that the British security forces had finally closed the technology gap. But so what? They were unlikely to be carrying comparable fire-power and if it was a fight they wanted, Hu Fat would bloody well give them one.

  He closed the throttle a touch and allowed the distance between the two boats to narrow but without making it obvious that he was luring his pursuers into a trap. Waiting until the marines’ powerboat had closed to within three hundred metres, Hu Fat suddenly swung his own vessel side on to give them a full broadside. Immediately the Triad soldiers in the back opened up, their weapons on automatic. Those without assault rifles manhandled a Type 67 light machine-gun into position, snapped on a seventy-five-round drum magazine and fired a long, continuous burst of 7.62mm rounds at the other powerboat.

  Hu Fat watched the thin jets of tracer rounds snake towards the marines and saw their boat veer to the left in an attempt to escape the incoming fire. But no sooner had they done so than the Triad soldiers had corrected their aim, forcing their pursuers to swing right round in a complete arc and withdraw further out of range. Grinning with satisfaction, Hu Fat opened the throttle again and headed once more for the protection of Tolo’s narrow bays and inlets.

  But he had gone barely half a kilometre when something snapped past his head with a familiar crack.

  ‘They’re returning fire!’ Yip screamed, ordering his men to shoot back. Within seconds a full-scale fire-fight had developed. Hu Fat noted that the marines were using automatic weapons as well, probably the new British SA80. He knew that it had a far superior sight to the Chinese Type 56-1s and that they were probably also equipped with night viewing devices.

  ‘Damn them,’ he growled. He had only expected to encounter police launches or at worst British marines in their usual range of much slower boats. Instead he was locked in a chase with a gang of men in a powerboat equal to his own and with fire-power to match. Normally in a situation like this he would have beached his craft and taken to his heels, accepting the loss of his boat and merchandise as an unavoidable write-off. But tonight of all nights he could not afford to be caught. There was too much at stake.

  However, a moment later the decision was made for him. An accurate stream of incoming fire raked across his stern, the bullets creeping ever closer through the foaming water until they found their target. After rupturing the fuel tanks with multiple punctures, the bullets exploded across the deck, splintering the woodwork and cutting down one of the men.

  Yip darted to the rear of the boat, checked the damage and then crawled forward to shout in Hu Fat’s ear. ‘It’s no good. We’re losing all our fuel. There’s no way we’ll make the RV and if we lose power out here they’ll board us and take us prisoner.’

  Hu Fat knew what that would mean. The penalty for smuggling was hardly severe, but that was for audio equipment and televisions. He glanced at the securely tied tarpaulin concealing the crate. No. There was no way he was going to be captured with that.

  Searching the coastline for an inlet, he located the dark mouth of a sandy bay and swung the craft round to head straight for it.

  ‘Hang on tight. I’m going in!’

  In the back of the boat the wounded man rolled in agony. Yip jumped to his side and checked his wounds. He looked up and met Hu Fat’s eyes. They couldn’t leave anyone to fall into police hands. The information they might give away would be too harmful. But nor could they make good their escape overland with a casualty. The police would undoubtedly put in cut-offs as well as landing behind them and following up on foot. Whereas healthy men, especially Triad soldiers, could have every chance of slipping through even the tightest cordon in the dark jungle and waste land of Tolo, a casualty was another matter.

  Yip glanced quickly at the rest of the men. All of them were busy pouring fire at the pursuing powerboat and no one had seen his quick inspection of the wounded man. Hu Fat nodded once and then turned back to his controls. There were only seconds before impact.

  With one more quick check to make sure the others weren’t watching, Yip drew his knife, felt for the hollow between the man’s collar bone and shoulder muscle where the artery led directly into the neck and brain, positioned his point carefully over the spot and thrust sharply down.

  2

  The moment Corporal Harry Leach saw the first tracer rounds weaving around his boat and heard the familiar snapping in the air, he spun the wheel hard and took violent evasive action.

  ‘Hold on tight, lads!’ he shouted over his shoulder.

  Huddling low in the bottom of the boat, Josh Higgs, Cooper and the other two marines gripped anything they could for balance as the powerboat twisted and turned, the air inches above it alive with high-velocity bullets.

  ‘Just like the breakfast cereal, isn’t it?’ the old sergeant said, grinning at Josh.

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Snap, crackle, pop.’

  Josh looked at the happy face of the old soldier, who seemed to be enjoying their engagement. ‘What did you say your name was?’

  ‘Sergeant Cooper to you, lad.’

  Josh frowned. ‘I thought you were in the Supply Branch?’

  The sergeant smiled. ‘Got any hardware with you?’

  ‘Just the SA80s,’ one of the marines answered.

  ‘Then why the fuck aren’t you giving them back some of their own?’

  ‘Rules of engagement, Sarge.’

  ‘Fuck that. Get those butts in your shoulders.’

  As the marines fired an opening burst, Harry spun round. ‘Who said you could fire back?’

  ‘It’s OK, lad. I’ll take responsibility. Trust me,’ Cooper shouted.

  Harry scowled at him. ‘Look, I’m in charge here. When you’re back in your stores counting blankets you can do what you like.’

  ‘Skip it, lad. I know the rules of engagement better than I know my own granny. We’re in a life-threatening situation, so fuck the niceties and put some lead down.’

  Before Harry could answer, the Chinese LMG opened up, forcing him to swerve again, a line of scarlet tracer narrowly missing the side of the boat. By now the marines, let off the leash by Cooper, were pouring a deadly accurate fire towards the Chinese powerboat. Tracking the target through one of the night-sights, the sergeant shouted out target indications to the two firers, correcting their aim and bringing their fire to bear directly on the speeding powerboat.

  ‘Bull’s-eye!’ he suddenly yelled as he detected the impact of a string of rounds lacing the rear of the boat. ‘That might just do the trick.’

  Sure enough, moments later they watched as the Chinese vessel veered towards the distant shore, searching for the shelter of a bay. Following hard on their heels, Harry closed the distance once again, refusing to risk losing them in the narrowing waterways.

  ‘They’re going to beach her and leg it,’ he shouted.

  ‘Can you ram them?’ Cooper replied.

  ‘Are you daft? It’s taken bloody years to get hold of this boat. I’m not going to crash it now. Not for a load of TVs and stereos.’

  ‘Then get as close as you can. We’ll take them as soon as they hit the beach.’

  Harry turned to the signaller. ‘Get on the blower and whistle up a cordon. Where’s the police launch?’

  Higgs spoke rapidly into his throat mike, listening for the response. ‘A good ten minutes behind us. They’re coming at best speed. They’ve already got some backup on land but there aren’t any roads near here. By the time they’ve walked across country the smugglers will be long gone.’

  The sergeant thought for a moment. ‘It’s up to us then, isn’t it?’

  He moved up beside Harry as the two boats skimmed across the calm surface of the sheltered water. ‘When we see where they go ashore, get us on to the beach a hundred metres to one side of them. With luck we might be able to keep them pinned down until the police launch catches
up and prevent them from scarpering into the jungle.’

  Harry nodded. ‘OK. The MARPOL launch has got a mounted heavy machine-gun. That should shut them up.’

  In the silver moonlight the smugglers’ vessel shone against the backdrop of dark hillsides, its foaming wake making concealment impossible. At last it slowed, swung sideways for a final volley of automatic fire at the marines, then turned towards the shore and drove into the sandy beach. Even above the noise of the firing Harry and Cooper could hear the grating and thud of the boat coming to a violent halt. Almost immediately they saw tiny figures darting over the side and sprinting up the sand and shingle.

  ‘Go, go, go!’ the sergeant screamed.

  Harry opened the throttle, swung the boat towards a sandy spit of land to one flank of the smugglers and drove it forward, cutting the power at the last moment, so that the boat glided in gently until it grounded on the shore and came to rest. Before it had stopped, the marines were over the side and tearing up the beach. Bullets cracked in the air around them and kicked up the sand at their feet.

  Cooper pointed to a line of scrub thirty metres from the water’s edge. ‘Over there. Move!’

  The marines dived into cover and hunted for their targets. Planting himself between the two SA80s, the sergeant scanned the darkness through his night-sight.

  ‘What I’d give for a fucking weapon,’ he cursed.

  Harry and Josh had hit the ground a few metres away, Josh hugging his precious radio and sending in a contact report to headquarters.

  ‘Bit of a change from blanket stacking, eh?’ Harry called across.

  ‘Shut it,’ Cooper snarled. He scanned the far end of the beach, waiting for the tell-tale muzzle flash of an assault rifle. But everything had suddenly gone quiet. A hundred metres away they could make out the silhouette of the smugglers’ powerboat, but of the men themselves there was no sign.

  ‘Sod it,’ Cooper muttered. ‘They’ve bugged out.’

  ‘Like shit off a shovel,’ Harry added. ‘Well, Sarge? Any more bright ideas?’