A Breed of Heroes by Alan Judd

Author:Alan Judd [Alan Judd]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781471101045
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK

8

During the next twenty minutes or so nothing dramatic happened but the trouble continued in a haphazard sort of way, sustained by its own momentum and by the fact that everyone involved was still there. It was expected that worse was to come but no one had any idea what it would be.

Presently two Ferret scout cars were ordered down because of the spotlights they carried. They came from a Brigade armoured unit, part of which had been made available to the CO, and arrived with a fiendish whine and a screech of brakes. They stopped a short way past the leading soldiers with their Brownings, which they were forbidden to use except on single shot, pointing at the mob. One of them switched on its lights and the street ahead was bathed in a hard glare. It was only seventy yards or so long and ended in a T junction formed by a row of squat houses and another, even narrower, street. A mob of not more than fifty people stood at the far end, doing nothing very much and obviously startled by the lights, against which many of them were shielding their eyes. The CO stood just behind the leading Ferret and spoke through his megaphone. ‘Go home. I am warning you to go home immediately. If you do not clear the area voluntarily it will be my duty to clear it. I shall say it once more – go home.’

The megaphone distorted his voice slightly but it was slow and loud and clear. There was a cluster of microphones around the CO as he spoke and he looked flustered. Charles and Van Horne moved them back a little. One journalist, a well-dressed young man with an Irish accent, pushed past Charles and asked the CO how he was going to clear the area. ‘Wait and see,’ snapped the CO. ‘Speak to my PRO.’

Charles moved him away and answered, ‘I’m waiting to see, too.’

‘Is he going to shoot these people?’ Charles could not see the man’s face properly. His voice was hard and aggressive.

‘It depends on what they do. You know the rules of the Yellow Card.’

The man pointed to the Brownings on the Ferrets. ‘Is he going to use those things on them?’

‘They’re only allowed to fire single shots in this sort of area.’

‘So he’s not?’

‘Not on automatic, no.’ Charles felt less certain than he sounded. If the CO were again gripped by his Light Brigade fever it could well lead to the deployment of RAF Strike Command. Further conversation was prevented when the mob responded to the indignity of being lit up. A shower of petrol bombs arc-ed through the air and smashed on to the road, making a dozen instant fires. The flames spread in sheets around the point of impact and burnt fiercely for a few seconds, often an inch or so above the surface, depending on the vapour. One landed amongst the journalists, scattering them, and another slightly burned a soldier near Charles.

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