Read Online BLOOD GURKHA: Prophesy (James Pace novels Book 5) by Andy Lucas - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Andy Lucas
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London’s homes during the Blitz. We know there will be an underground complex here, just like the base in Antarctica; somewhere for the submarine to land covertly too. A hidden cove, or cave along the shoreline. Maybe all the action is going on there?’
Pace nodded in agreement with his friend. The reason the nefarious activities of the British government had remained secret for a century lay in the cleverly positioned sites they had chosen. Somewhere nearby, he believed, there would be a hidden base that had been used to develop both Project Scorpion and Dark Tide .
‘No point waiting around here then,’ Pace decided. ‘Let’s get ashore and find whatever it is that’s waiting for us.’
‘Good,’ agreed Hammond, his bald head shining in the moonlight. ‘The sooner we find anything that might lead us to Josephine Roche, the sooner I can be tucked up in bed with a hot chocolate.’
Pace chuckled, despite their situation. The image of Hammond opting for a safe, warm drink was so alien as to be laughable. In reality, the seasoned adventurer next to him typically spent his free time in the arms of a beautiful woman; champagne glasses fizzing icily in their hands.
‘Okay, come on.’ Suddenly serious, a natural calm settled over them both. They had been in enough tight spots together to trust each other implicitly. Eyes sharply focused, senses alert for danger, they dug their hands into the cold water and paddled towards the shore.
Quickly caught in the swells, helped by a fairly robust current, the little rubber boat crunched onto the shingle beach barely two minutes later, with Pace expertly raising its outboard motor before the propellers bit into the gravel.
Still, nothing stirred. No alarm blared nor searchlight flashed. The beach remained deserted.
Rolling off the Zodiac like experienced marines, they lay flat for a moment before crabbing up the beach, ignoring the pain of the tiny stones that dug into their flesh. Pace pulled the light boat behind him, leaving Hammond to drag their plastic bag of vital equipment. They moved slowly although each man half expected to hear a shout in the darkness at any moment. Breathing controlled, muscles moving fluidly, they made it up to softer sand a few metres higher up before the ground began to rise steeply towards the imposing rock face.
Leaving the Zodiac where it was, now well above the grip of the water, they rose cautiously into a low crouch before heading up the rise at a cracking pace, reaching the base of the cliff within a few panted breaths. Shielded from view by the rock, only a direct observer out to sea had any chance of spotting them.
Gathering themselves, Hammond lost no time in opening the bag and dishing out the contents while Pace kept a wary eye out for any sign that their arrival had been discovered.
Each of them slipped on a black Kevlar vest, over their wet clothes, before strapping on a gun belt. Hammond had opted for a standard Sig Sauer P226 pistol but Pace was happier that the Velcro flap on his own holster hid his trusty First World War Webley .455 revolver.
They added a couple of flashlights to their belts alongside a sheath in which nestled a lethal commando knife. These sleek, matt-black painted, vicious knives had been adapted to house a small, luminous compass in their hilts. They would be very useful if things went badly and close quarter fighting ensued but, more than that, Pace and Hammond both knew they would be heading underground at some point and a luminous compass would definitely prevent them from getting hopelessly lost.
A portable GPS unit, designed to be worn like a wrist watch completed their orienteering equipment. Finally, they each popped a couple of emergency flares into special loops in their belts before grabbing up their main weapons.
Once again, each man carried something different, with Hammond lifting a rather battered AK-47 from the bag while Pace could not keep a smile from creeping onto his lips as he
Pace nodded in agreement with his friend. The reason the nefarious activities of the British government had remained secret for a century lay in the cleverly positioned sites they had chosen. Somewhere nearby, he believed, there would be a hidden base that had been used to develop both Project Scorpion and Dark Tide .
‘No point waiting around here then,’ Pace decided. ‘Let’s get ashore and find whatever it is that’s waiting for us.’
‘Good,’ agreed Hammond, his bald head shining in the moonlight. ‘The sooner we find anything that might lead us to Josephine Roche, the sooner I can be tucked up in bed with a hot chocolate.’
Pace chuckled, despite their situation. The image of Hammond opting for a safe, warm drink was so alien as to be laughable. In reality, the seasoned adventurer next to him typically spent his free time in the arms of a beautiful woman; champagne glasses fizzing icily in their hands.
‘Okay, come on.’ Suddenly serious, a natural calm settled over them both. They had been in enough tight spots together to trust each other implicitly. Eyes sharply focused, senses alert for danger, they dug their hands into the cold water and paddled towards the shore.
Quickly caught in the swells, helped by a fairly robust current, the little rubber boat crunched onto the shingle beach barely two minutes later, with Pace expertly raising its outboard motor before the propellers bit into the gravel.
Still, nothing stirred. No alarm blared nor searchlight flashed. The beach remained deserted.
Rolling off the Zodiac like experienced marines, they lay flat for a moment before crabbing up the beach, ignoring the pain of the tiny stones that dug into their flesh. Pace pulled the light boat behind him, leaving Hammond to drag their plastic bag of vital equipment. They moved slowly although each man half expected to hear a shout in the darkness at any moment. Breathing controlled, muscles moving fluidly, they made it up to softer sand a few metres higher up before the ground began to rise steeply towards the imposing rock face.
Leaving the Zodiac where it was, now well above the grip of the water, they rose cautiously into a low crouch before heading up the rise at a cracking pace, reaching the base of the cliff within a few panted breaths. Shielded from view by the rock, only a direct observer out to sea had any chance of spotting them.
Gathering themselves, Hammond lost no time in opening the bag and dishing out the contents while Pace kept a wary eye out for any sign that their arrival had been discovered.
Each of them slipped on a black Kevlar vest, over their wet clothes, before strapping on a gun belt. Hammond had opted for a standard Sig Sauer P226 pistol but Pace was happier that the Velcro flap on his own holster hid his trusty First World War Webley .455 revolver.
They added a couple of flashlights to their belts alongside a sheath in which nestled a lethal commando knife. These sleek, matt-black painted, vicious knives had been adapted to house a small, luminous compass in their hilts. They would be very useful if things went badly and close quarter fighting ensued but, more than that, Pace and Hammond both knew they would be heading underground at some point and a luminous compass would definitely prevent them from getting hopelessly lost.
A portable GPS unit, designed to be worn like a wrist watch completed their orienteering equipment. Finally, they each popped a couple of emergency flares into special loops in their belts before grabbing up their main weapons.
Once again, each man carried something different, with Hammond lifting a rather battered AK-47 from the bag while Pace could not keep a smile from creeping onto his lips as he
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