Daffaut sighed. ‘Still in Valetta. They were arrested for fighting with some Spanish sailors.’
Reynolds shook his head. ‘Bloody fools!’
This also meant that they were now two men down. He moved forwards onto the ramp, so that he had a clear view of everyone. ‘Okay, listen up gents. This is how it is. We are less than our usual team, but you can all still now take your afternoon leave and head into the town.’
There were cheers from his men. ‘By all means check out the local entertainment, but as always, the rules apply. No excess drinking, no fights, just think of Hoppo and Olu not getting paid and you’ll understand. In fact, no trouble with the local law whatsoever and no women! I do not have to remind you that any breach of any of these rules will also mean no pay.’
Reynolds looked around for a response, but as on numerous other occasions when he had given this speech, did not receive any. ‘Okay, go and enjoy yourselves. We rendezvous at the warehouse at nineteen hundred hours. If anyone is late for our kit-up, they won’t be coming! Have you all got your shore passes?’
Reynolds watched as they fumbled through their bags and jackets, then held the passes up for him to see. ‘Okay, good. Right then gents — off you go, and remember the rules.’
He watched with his number two, as his men filed out towards the entrance to the port.
Later that evening, Reynolds stood with Daffaut and Tolly Evans in front of the shutters of the warehouse. When his men left them, he had taken his two close friends to a local bar, and in a quiet corner, gone over the finer details of their impending raid.
Now, Reynolds smoked a cigarette, as he watched the first group of his men return. They were soon followed by the remaining members of his unit. At the doors of the warehouse, Reynolds counted heads and enquired how their afternoon had gone.
After listening with amusement to some of his men’s accounts, he turned to unlock the shutter, and assisted by Daffaut, they each took an end and lifted it. All of the men filed through and Reynolds flicked on the lights.
Inside was a row of stacked crates, surrounding a covered flat-bed truck. On the canvas tarpaulin was a picture of an olive tree with Gorgio’s Cypriot Olives, written on the side. This would be their main transport to the operation zone.
Seppy Meyer walked to another vehicle, parked in front of the truck, and looked it over. Reynolds walked up to him. ‘I said to Everard that I wanted a good off-roader, I didn’t expect a bloody Rover! The Brits are using them all over the place, over here.’ He turned to the others. ‘Okay, listen up everyone. Let’s have two details. Tolly, you take the crates over there, and Micko, those over there.’ He checked their understanding. ‘Right, we need to be kitted up in an hour. We depart at 20:30.’
Meyer stepped forward. ‘Tolly, when you are unpacking the guns and you come across a Kalashnikov AK-47, remember it is mine!’
The Welshman raised a thumb to the German to show he understood. Reynolds checked his watch. ‘Okay gents, let’s do this.’
As the men busied themselves opening the crates, Reynolds spread out a map on the bonnet of the Land Rover and stood perusing it with his French-born number two, explaining the best way to attack the EOKA B terrorists’ outpost. He was then interrupted, as Tolly Evans shouted over to him. ‘Excuse me, Big D. What camo did you select?’
‘Desert DPM. Why do you ask?’
Tolly held up a camouflage tunic. ‘I was wondering why we have British army-issue DPM.’ He held up other items. ‘And ʼ58 webbing.’
Reynolds shot him a glance. ‘What?’
‘See for yourself,’ Tolly invited him. ‘All this gear is standard British army, boyo.’
Reynolds walked over to take a closer look at the things Tolly held in his hands, and taking the jacket, examined it more closely.
‘Jesus, this doesn’t make any sense. I didn’t have any of these on the list Harvey gave to Everard.’
There was then a shout from the other detail, unpacking the guns. ‘Why have we got a load of Sterlings and FN rifles here?’ Micko Morris asked, before reaching into the crate again. ‘Oh, and one Kalashnikov AK-47.’
The German beamed. ‘That is mine!’
Reynolds scratched his head, puzzled as to why this equipment had been sent; he clearly wanted to avoid British-issue hardware, for the sake of not being taken for British soldiers. One of the other mercenaries, a hardened ex-Royal Marine named Jerome, held up the grenades. ‘Looks like these are also British, boss.’
Reynolds looked at Daffaut. ‘I just don’t get, Jacques. You saw the list. None of this stuff was on it.’
The Frenchman lit another cigarette, ‘Looks like someone has made a mistake.’
Reynolds agreed. He now had a very important decision to make. ‘Okay gents, gather round, we need to talk about this.’
He was concerned for his men, and most annoyed that what he had originally ordered, had been completely replaced with equipment of British army issue. The fear was, if any of his men were caught, they could be mistaken for British soldiers. This could have repercussions. The hostility towards the British on the island was already at an all-time high. There was now a real risk the actions of the operation could escalate to an act of war. Their leader had to warn everyone of this.
As he stood to address them, Reynolds noticed Sami Ahmed playing with a toy sea lion, winding it up and letting it spin around on top of a wooden ammunition box.
‘What the hell have you got there?’ Reynolds snarled.
Sami threw it to Reynolds. ‘I bought it in the town, boss.’
Reynolds caught it mid-air and examined it in his fingers. ‘For Christ’s sake, can we just all take things seriously for a minute? This is confiscated now, Sami, we have a serious situation here, so can we all stop buggering about? Listen up.’ He angrily placed the toy in his top pocket. ‘It looks as though we have been shafted by our employer. I don’t know why, but what we have, apart from Seppy’s AK, seems all to be standard British gear. So, bearing in mind where we are right now and the implications of being caught with all this lot, do we still go, or do we abort? I can tell you that if we abort, we only get half pay, which isn’t really enough to buy some good Christmas presents this year. So, I personally think we should still do this. Who’s with me?’
No-one left their hand down; the vote was unanimous.
‘Okay, let’s do this! Everyone kit up and be ready to move in an hour.’
Chapter 18
The convoy of two vehicles, led by the Land Rover, trundled along the road. Under the tarpaulin inside the olive delivery truck, Reynolds’ men were carrying out their usual pre-operation rituals of checking weapons, handing out cigarettes and keeping the mood relaxed by exchanging stories of their time in Limassol.
In the cabin, Sami Ahmed concentrated on driving. With both vehicles only using side lights, he had to concentrate to keep a view of the Land Rover several yards in front of him. He quickly noticed he was too far over to the left, so adjusted himself to be in line with the lead vehicle. He looked across at Tolly Evans as he checked the breech of his Sterling. ‘So, what are you going to do with your fee then, Tolly?’
The Welshman thought this over for a few seconds and was about to reply, when a loud bang rang through his ears, followed by Tolly and his driver being lifted off their seats as they were turned upside down, the truck being catapulted into the air.
Hearing the explosion behind him, Reynolds slammed on the brakes of the Land Rover and, in his rear-view mirror, he watched in horror to see the truck behind him being propelled upwards as if it was a somersaulting acrobat, to come crashing back down onto the road again in a bursting ball of flame.