Axel had been correct about one thing. The Belmarsh boys approached at first light the next morning. However, they did not attack. They simply massed about four hundred yards from the one wall and stood there.
Eventually a man came forward, riding a horse.
He rode to within three hundred yards and then stopped and stood up in his stirrups.
‘Hooeee!’ He yelled. ‘I need to talk to your leader.’
Patrick nudged Axel who stood up. ‘Talk.’
‘We will give you an hour to vacate the village. You must leave your weapons, food, drugs and any other supplies. If we see you taking anything we will attack you.’
‘No,’ retaliated Axel. ‘We leave without anything and we will all starve. Or worse.’
‘This is a non-repeatable, once only offer,’ shouted the man on horseback. ‘I advise that you take it now. You have a minute to comply and after that…you will all be dead before the sun goes down.’
Axel shook his head to himself. All that the thugs wanted was an easy way to get the villagers disarmed and out into the open. And there was no way that was going to happen. He wondered if he should play for time and then realized – what was the point? He made his decision.
‘Dom.’
‘Yup.’
‘You reckon that you can take the guy on horseback?’
‘With my eyes closed,’ assured Dom.
‘Do it then.’
Dom brought the rifle up to his eye, slipped the safety off, drew a breath. Let it out slowly. And fired.
The criminal flipped off the back of his horse like he had been swept up by a giant hand. Dom worked the bolt and drew a bead on a man sitting in a chair on top of a car. But as he fired the man jumped. The high velocity bullet clipped his heel as he went over, spraying blood in a puff of crimson mist. His howl of agony was clear from where they stood. Dom kept at it, firing three more times and knocking down two more criminals.
‘Steady!’ Shouted Axel, waving his hand at the villagers so that they kept down. ‘Stay as you are.’
Dom reloaded his rifle with five more rounds. Beside him there were another three rifles amongst the villagers. Axel had ensured that they were the best shots. He would use them first, keeping the shotguns and sidearms until the enemy were really close. Perhaps twenty yards.
The Belmarsh boys were milling around at the moment. Confused at the way things had gone. Then there was a bellow from their commander and, almost as one, the two hundred plus criminals charged the village, screaming and firing as they came.
The first shallow, caltrop-strewn ditch was a classic example of low-tech antipersonnel installments. The leading row of criminals leapt into the ditch and the steel caltrops punched through the soles of their shoes and boots. But more thugs were piling into the ditch behind them forcing them forward so that they fell onto more caltrops which punched into their exposed chests and faces. The second wave tripped over the fallen first wave and, as they crawled forward they too became victims of the deadly sharpened steel traps. There was a general cry of dismay as the third wave clambered over the trench merely to be met with a field so liberally strewn with spiked metal caltrops that it was impossible not to step on one.
‘Rifles!’ Shouted Axel. ‘Fire at will. Pick your targets.’
The four rifles opened up. Slow. Methodical. Each target aimed at and hit.
The Belmarsh charge reversed and became a rout.
Chapter 20