John O’Neill’s face fell a bit at the mention of the revolvers, but not much.
“If you need to blow the lock, you’ll have a small charge with you for that purpose. Once you’re inside, your job is simple: kill everyone who tries to fight back. You are shock troops, and given your weapons and training, that kind of in-close combat should be just your cup of tea.
“As the Palazzo Giacomo’s courtyard is being secured by the earl, Sherrilyn’s roof team will take advantage of the fact that most of the prisoners’ guards will have rushed to the windows overlooking the entry; they’ll breach the room where Frank and Giovanna are being held and eliminate the guards. Then they’ll send the two love birds scampering down into the waiting wings of our Wild Geese. Then they all run like hell out of the courtyard.”
“And us?” Donald Ohde’s eyes had not left the rooftop section of the map.
“If Sherrilyn thinks it looks safe to follow Frank and Giovanna down the ladder, then that’s what you’ll do. That would have us all pulling out together, in the same direction. Easier for the withdrawal to the boats. We want to avoid having separated units trying to make rendezvous, at night; something will go wrong. Hell, it always does.
“But if the Spanish still have too many troops in the courtyard of the Palazzo Giacomo, then Sherrilyn’s group will just retrace its steps: up to the roof and back over the ladders to the roof you came from. They’re not going to have anyone up there to stop you; there’s no real access to the roof except for from the belvedere. And if someone does go up there and starts giving you trouble-well, that’s when I get to play the role of your long-range guardian angel. Again. But I kinda doubt that’s going to happen. They seem to have almost no tactical awareness of their roof. George here has been watching it for weeks. The Spanish use the belvedere to sight-see and get some sun, not a security position.
“Just to keep Borja’s boys extra busy, we’ll let the lefferti have a little fun at the end: they’ll throw a few molotov cocktails. Made out of olive oil. Or cod oil, if they want to add gas warfare to the mix. Then they’ll scoot and fade, all going their separate ways.”
Owen was still looking at the map and frowning. “And how do we escape?”
“Always important, the get-away. So: we withdraw hugging the wall of the Ghetto until we can turn and head over the Ponte Fabricio, the eastern bridge leading to the Isola Tiberina. We cross that little island, go over its western bridge, the Ponte Cestio, into the Trastevere and head a few blocks south to the extraction boats. They’ll be waiting around this bend in the Tiber, just beyond where the Cloaca Maximus dumps the city’s sewage into the river. Not a popular area, which should lower the chances of random detection. And from there, we just go with the flow, down to the sea.”
“All the way to the sea, in light boats?”
“No. We’ll transfer to a single, larger boat before we get to open water. We’ll ultimately rendezvous with the same barca-longa that brought us here from Venice. But as to the name of the first boat and where along the Tiber we’re going to meet it-well, in case anyone here is captured, we’re gonna keep that information restricted to the folks who really need to know it.”
Sherrilyn looked at the maps. “The plan sounds okay. Well, pretty good, actually, if the assumptions about the number of Spanish troops are correct.”
Harry shrugged. “Sherrilyn, even if we’re off by twenty, thirty percent, it’s not going to matter. Look at the ways we’re getting in and out. No matter how many guys they have, they won’t see us on the way in. And if they try to swarm us, or chase us on the way out? We have multiple escape routes, and to follow us on any of them, they’ve got to go through bottlenecks. Bottlenecks that our own people are covering with a huge firepower advantage. With our own guns, and the Hibernians’ lever-actions, it will be a turkey shoot if they try coming after us. But I can’t see them getting their heads out of their asses that fast. So I really don’t think it’s going to become a turkey shoot; it’s just going to be a piece of cake.”
John O’Neill’s eyes darted across the maps. “Harry Lefferts, you have the very balls of the Devil himself, but a bold heart after my own liking. This-” he announced to his Wild Geese “-now this is a gambit worthy of heroes and bard-songs.” They all nodded, one or two with an enthusiasm that matched John’s. Several of the others, Owen and Sean among them, barely moved their heads; they kept looking at the maps and frowning. North noted which of the other Wild Geese, and his own Hibernians, evinced those reservations: these were persons with minds like his own, and probably key group leaders if the operation went pear-shaped, for some reason “So, Doubting Thomas,” drawled Harry, “I see that look. What’s bugging you about the plan?”
Careful now, Tom. “Nothing specific, Harry. Taken separately, the assumptions and steps are all sensible, and emphasize our strengths.”
“So?”
“I’m simply mindful that, as dance-steps go, the ones you have us moving through are very interdependent, and come in quick sequence.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that we’d better not stumble. Not once. And the Spanish had better not change the music in the middle of the dance.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah. We can definitely do without any surprises, but that’s why I’ve got two of your Hibernians in reserve, for a base of supporting fire that we can redirect like a fire brigade. The attack plan doesn’t depend on our full offensive superiority; I’ve held that card back as our ace in the hole. If the Spanish do try to change the music somehow, we’ll change it right back.”
If you can, thought Thomas but said nothing.
“And I’ve given a lot of thought to quick extraction, as well,” continued Harry. “We’ll want a small force watching the boats. That same force could also work as a kind of free safety to smack down any other Spanish units that might try to block our escape route. But Sherrilyn has made a pretty good survey of the area: Borja doesn’t have any garrisons nearby. He’s keeping most of his forces concentrated near the Holy City, and the rest billeted in a couple of dispersed, satellite locations. The nearest of those is ten minutes away, assuming they are moving at a flat-out run the whole time. Meaning we should have twenty minutes before anyone else could reasonably hear the noise, get a team together, and come join the party. And if this operation takes more than seven minutes from the first shots, then we are all under-performing in a big way. The fact of the matter is the Crew has often tackled bigger jobs with fewer resources, so I’m thinking we have a nice safety margin in place for this op.”
North nodded. “Very well, then. Who’s in charge of the boat and extraction overwatch team?”
“You are, Thomas.”
Oh, now wait a minute- “I see. And what led you to that decision, Harry?” North tried very hard to keep any tone of challenge out of his voice.
“Okay, now, Tom; simmer down. Yeah, I’d feel that way too. But someone has to be watching our backs and keeping the exit open. You’re careful and you’ve got a nose for when things are going wrong or getting tight, and that’s exactly the kind of instincts we’ll need in a free safety.”
“And which you need even more on the line, so that you’ll get the earliest possible whiff of trouble.”
Lefferts smiled. “Right you are. Which is why Owen is going to be up front with us.” He nodded at the colonel of the Wild Geese. “He’s the oldest and wisest among us. And he’s also one hell of a toe-to-toe fighter, as I’d heard and have now seen.”
Owen smiled at the compliment. Thomas bit his lip. Owen was not particularly cautious, just more so than John. Which wasn’t hard to achieve. But as a sassenach, there was no way for North to win an appeal to swap roles with Owen, or even broach the topic without arousing suspicions of bigotry. Or accusations of petty displeasure over being excluded from the attack force. Besides, Harry’s plan was actually thorough and clever-but still, Thomas had misgivings, the nagging sense that they were missing something. Or maybe that was just his own sour grapes at being consigned to the rearguard. North’s throat felt like sandpaper as he made himself ask, “How many and which people are on my extraction team?”