Wild Justice Read Online Free PDF

been done before. Everything was in the ultimate state of readiness. In the huge Hercules transport, every item of a comprehensive arsenal of equipment was ready for instant use. The thirty highly trained soldiers were embarked. The flight crews of both aircraft were at their
stations, the communications technicians had set up their links with satellites and through them to the available intelligence computers in Washington and London. It remained only to wait – the greater part of a soldier’s life was spent waiting, but Peter had never become hardened to it. It helped now to have the companionship of Colin Noble.
    In a life spent in the company of many men it was difficult to form close relationships. Here in the smaller closed ranks of Thor in shared endeavour they had achieved that and become friends, and their conversation was relaxed and desultory, moving casually from subject to subject, but without relaxing the undercurrent of alertness that gripped both men.
    At one stage Kingston Parker came on the screen again to tell them that search and rescue aircraft had found no indications at the last reported position of 070, and that a photographic run by the ‘Big Bird’ reconnaissance satellite had been made over the same area, but that film would not be ready for appraisal for another fourteen hours. Speedbird 070 was now one hour six minutes past ‘operations normal’ and suddenly Peter remembered Melissa-Jane. He asked communications for a telephone line and dialled the cottage. There was no reply, so the driver would have collected her already. He hung up and rang Cynthia in Cambridge.
    â€˜Damn it, Peter. This really is most inconsiderate of you.’ Freshly aroused from sleep, her voice was petulant, immediately awakening only antipathies. ‘Melissa has been looking forward to this—’
    â€˜Yes, I know, and so have I.’
    â€˜â€“ and George and I had arranged—’ George, her new husband, was a Political History don; despite himself Peter quite liked the man. He had been very good to Meliasa-Jane.
    â€˜The exigencies of the service.’ Peter cut in lightly – and her voice took on a bitter edge.

    â€˜How often I had to listen to that – I hoped never to hear it again.’ They were on the same futile old treadmill, and he had to stop it.
    â€˜Look, Cynthia. Melissa is on her way—’
    In front of him the big television screen lit and Kingston Parker’s eyes were dark with regret, as though he mourned for all mankind.
    â€˜I have to go,’ Peter told the woman whom once he had loved, and broke the connection, leaning forward attentively towards the image on the screen.
    â€˜The South African radar defences have painted an unidentified target approaching their airspace,’ Kingston Parker told him. ‘Its speed and position correspond with those of 070. They have scrambled a Mirage flight to intercept – but in the meantime I’m assuming that it’s a militant strike and we’ll go immediately to condition Bravo, if you please, Peter.’
    â€˜We are on our way, sir.’
    And beside him Colin Noble took his feet off the desk and thumped them together onto the floor. The cheroot was still clamped between his teeth.
    T he target was live and the pilot of the leading Mirage F.1 interceptor had his flight computer in ‘attack’ mode and all his weaponry – missiles and cannon – were armed. The computer gave him a time to intercept of thirty-three seconds, and the target’s heading was constant at 210° magnetic and its ground speed at 483 knots.
    Ahead of him the dawn was rising in wildly theatrical display. Avalanches of silver and pink cloud tumbled down the sky, and the sun, still below the horizon, flung long lances of golden light across the heavens. The pilot leaned forward against his shoulder straps and lifted the Polaroid
visor of his helmet with one gloved hand,