The intruder was trapped in a single pool of light.
Armed soldiers from the base surrounded him, but the platoon commander signalled that he would approach the intruder alone; his men should disperse behind him. They had no idea what they were facing. If the intruder attempted to overpower the platoon commander or take him, hostage, they were instructed to shoot him without regard for the commander's safety.
I watched through night vision binoculars as the officer, with his pistol drawn but pointing to the ground, closed in. The officer stopped about six feet away, and it was apparent they were having a conversation. The intruder lowered his arms, and they walked back together towards the line of soldiers.
Ten minutes later, we heard the sound of boots on the stairs of the control tower, and the intruder was marched in under escort to see El Jeffe. When I saw who it was, my body stiffened.
"Please to meet you, sir," he said to El Jeffe, extending his hand, which the rather bemused El Jeffe shook.
"Hello, David," he said to me. "I rather hoped to meet you here."
It was Pilot Officer Hector Lamb.
"What on Earth are you doing here, Hector?" I asked.
I come as an envoy of the commandant, who sends his warm regards and requests you return to meet him at the base at your earliest convenience. He believes he acted prematurely in asking you to leave and offers assistance in strengthening the airfield.
"How did you know where I was, and how did you get here?"
"I informed the commandant about the airfield and guessed that this was where you would head for. He asked if I could find my way back, and I assured him that I could. There was one of the old WW2 Land Rovers on the base, ideal for the job of crossing sandy terrain. When I got on and put her into drive, she went like a dream, and here I am."
"Where is the Land Rover now?" I asked.
"Parked up in the dunes about a mile away. I came in over the wire. Too dangerous to just roll up at the main gate at the risk of trigger-happy guards who have no idea who I am. I was going to find you in your quarters and ask you to introduce me to El Jeffe. I must say that I am impressed by your security arrangements. You have achieved a great deal in twenty-four hours."
That was three red flags already, and he had just got through the door. I had to stall him.
"Well, I have to say that it is good to see you again, Hector, and we have a lot to discuss, but for us, this is the end of a long working day, and we need to rest. If El Jeffe approves, we will allocate you some quarters to retire to, and we will meet back here at 0900 hrs tomorrow morning."
"I had hoped that we might return to the base in the mountains straight away," said Hector, disappointedly. "The commandant is most anxious to meet you. It is a fairly short flight in the Skytrain, and you could get a little sleep at the base before meeting the Commandant. I would return in the Land Rover and arrive before morning."
"Sorry, Hector, but I have matters to discuss with El Jeffe and my crew before I can think about going to the base, and my priority now is to get some sleep in my own bed."
"The commandant was most insistent that I return with you in the shortest possible time," said Hector.
His tone was sharp and authoritative. He needed to be put in his place.
You misunderstand, Hector. The earliest I can give you my answer to the commandant's invitation is tomorrow, possibly later. Please do not assume my automatic acceptance.
Hector's eyes darted from side to side. What was he planning to do?
I assumed that the guards had rubbed him down before allowing him into the operations room, but I slid my hand towards the butt of my pistol in my belt, just in case. Hector spotted the movement. and immediately adopted a more conciliatory attitude.
"Of course, David. The decision is yours, but the commandant is eager to see you again and provide you with the help you need without unnecessary delay."
"All in good time, Hector. Your escort is ready to take you to your quarters. We meet tomorrow at 0900 hrs.
Hector pursed his lips and, with a nod of his head, turned to leave with his escort.
As soon as he was out of the door, El Jeffe turned to Major Castro, who had returned to the operations room to give a progress report.
"Arrange for an immediate twenty-four-hour guard on his quarters, Major. He is not to be allowed to roam around the airfield unescorted."
On the other side of the airfield, Sol stood in the shadow of the Skytrain, gazing towards the Hurricane parked nearby. Jarvis had ordered him to resume his guard over their two aircraft when the klaxon sounded. The airfield was on high alert for an imminent attack, and Jarvis believed it was crucial to protect their only escape route.
"Sol."
Sol turned at the sound of his name and saw David approaching.
"Hi, Sol. I just returned from a meeting with El Jeffe. Everything is fine, and the airfield is fully secure. You can stand down now."
"What about the siren?"
"False alarm," David answered. "A guard mistook one of his own men for an intruder in the darkness. Everybody is pretty tense at the moment. I need to check something on the Skytrain. Go back to quarters. I think Jarvis has a job for you."
El Jeffe and I were in deep conversation in the operations room when across the still night air came the unmistakable sound of an aircraft engine starting up.
I ran over to an observation window and trained my night binoculars on the runway.
"It's the Skytrain," I shouted. "It is taxiing for takeoff. Call out the guard!"
"They're going for it," I muttered in disbelief.
The aircraft accelerated, tail lifting, wheels skimming the tarmac. But something was wrong.
It was too soon and too cold; the engines hadn't warmed up properly. The nose pitched up—then faltered.
"They're not going to make it," shouted El Jeffe.
The plane bounced once, hard. Then again. The third impact was so hard that the landing gear buckled. One tyre shredded, and the fuselage skidded sideways, metal shrieking against concrete.
Dust and gravel exploded in its wake. The aircraft spun, slowed, and came to a jarring halt—angled across the runway.
Silence.
My body was screwed up in anticipation of what was to come, but there was no fire, no explosion. Just steam hissing from the cowling and the slow tick of cooling metal.
A crew in a makeshift fire engine sped down the runway towards the crash, and guards sprinted in from all directions. Inside the cockpit, figures moved—and the pilot staggered out, dazed, but alive.
El Jeffe turned to me in amazement.
"David! What is happening?"
There was no time to answer.
The sound of gunfire erupted from the area where Hector had been assigned quarters, and searchlights illuminated a scene of carnage with four of our soldiers lying dead on the ground.
El Jeffe sounded the siren and got on the field telephone to the duty officer at the compound where we had armed soldiers on standby. He briefed the officer and authorised full force against whoever had shot the guards.
The whole camp now bustled with activity, and the searchlights turned night into day.
At the scene of the crash on the runway, we could see the pilot waving away assistance and indicating that he had to first report to the commanding officer.
El Jeffe could not contact the crew on the runway by field telephone. His only resort was to use the Tannoy system and hope that it would carry.
"This is your commanding officer speaking. Arrest that pilot! I repeat, arrest that pilot! It is not David but an enemy agent. Arrest him now. That is an order."
The pilot heard it clearly enough and ran swiftly down the runway, showing no sign of any injury.
The guards initially stood around, unable to understand El Jeffe's message, but once they saw the pilot running, it all clicked, and they raced after him, only to throw themselves to the ground at the sound of yet another explosion. A massive charge had been placed against the main gate and had blown it wide open.
One of our troop transporters came screaming towards the fleeing pilot, and the guards scrambled to their feet, thinking it was one of their own. However, a burst of small arms fire sent them sprawling again. The troop carrier screeched to a halt and, dragging the pilot aboard, set off for the open main gates. The guards in the watchtowers opened fire, but the troop carrier was armoured and withstood the barrage.
It seemed that they must escape, but they had reckoned without Sol.
Sol had been highly suspicious of 'David's' behaviour and had circled back just as the Skytrain started its engines. Shouting out in alarm, he ran towards the aircraft. The pilot saw him and cursed. He knew the engines must have time to warm up, but he had no choice but to attempt a cold take-off. If Sol got himself aboard, he would have no chance against the mighty robot.
Sol was now racing down the perimeter fence towards the main gate.
He saw the troop carrier approaching and, making a swift adjustment to his body configuration, he aimed a laser burst at the centre of the vehicle. Originally designed for rock blasting, the laser was immensely powerful, and the troop carrier erupted in a massive ball of fire.