hiss of air brakes. When they’d all dismounted it drove forward beneath the shed.
‘So where are all the goodies that are supposed to be stashed here?’ Looking about him, all Dooley could see was a typical abandoned West German village, scruffy from long neglect.
‘You are standing on them.’ Voke displayed his gold tooth again. ‘But perhaps it is improper of me to say that. You are standing over them, a small part of them.’ Beside him stood an electric saw bench. The drive belt had perished and fallen off. He pressed the start button.
There came the subdued hum of a well-maintained pump starting up and the sigh of powerful hydraulics. The Foden began to drop smoothly as the floor beneath it sank.
‘What you tell me about the two men in the Hummer is a cause for worry.’ Voke led the major down a long well-lit corridor that smelled of gun oil and linseed.
‘They were two of my men; they deserted early in this morning, I think.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Here they have knowledge of this place. You can be certain one was taken as a prisoner?’
‘My sergeant saw it happen. The man was wounded, but he thinks not fatally. But what can your man tell them—just what have you got here?’
‘It would be more quick to show you while my men’ show yours where fresh clothes and boots are to be found. Of course they are not mine to give, but the provost sergeant and the last of the stores clerks were evacuated by helicopter last night, and you can see,’ he indicated his own impeccable turnout, ‘I am not in a position to tell on you.’
They turned a corner and with a sweeping wave of his arms Voke announced the huge subterranean hangar they’d entered.
For a battle-weary commander like Revell, who for a long time now had almost given up hoping for, let alone trying to get hold of replacement equipment, it was an Aladdin’s cave.
In the great cavern beneath the floor of the valley were row upon row of factory- fresh wheeled and tracked armoured personnel carriers, armoured cars and armoured re-supply vehicles. In the distance was what looked like a small mountain of crated engines and other spares.
Voke tried to hide his amusement at the major’s open-mouthed amazement. ‘There are seven more rooms like this.’
‘All filled like this?’
‘Certainly all filled, but not all like this.’ Voke led the way out again and talked back over his shoulder. ‘Another holds pieces of light and medium artillery, another contains engineering equipment. Two are filled with soft-skin transport; I cannot recall what is in the others. But that is not all. There are other storage areas for electronic equipment, radar spares and the like. And then yet more for clothing, small arms and ammunition. All on the same scale.’
They were passing a series of large rooms whose fireproof doors had been strongly wedged open. Looking in as they passed, Revell could not identify all that the various crates and racks held, but he saw sufficient to be more impressed and more bitter with each he hurriedly scrutinized.
‘Why the hell hasn’t any of this stuff ever been issued? There’s enough here for two or three battalions. We’ve been screaming for it for months.’
‘Actually, a clerk told me that here there is enough to equip at least a brigade, or even to refit a division. One of my men swears he has even seen several crated gunships. I do not disbelieve him.’ Voke’s tone had an edge to it now, and he was no longer smiling.
He led into a large circular room. The centre was dominated by a crescent of computer terminals and telex machines. Leaving only space for two or three doorways, the walls were lined with filing cabinets. Voke tugged at the handle of the nearest. It was locked. ‘You see, for a bureaucrat the turning of a key makes everything safe. We should have fitted the Free World with a lock, and kept communism out that way.’ He unleashed a massive kick at the cabinet, denting its front.
‘So where are all the goodies that are supposed to be stashed here?’ Looking about him, all Dooley could see was a typical abandoned West German village, scruffy from long neglect.
‘You are standing on them.’ Voke displayed his gold tooth again. ‘But perhaps it is improper of me to say that. You are standing over them, a small part of them.’ Beside him stood an electric saw bench. The drive belt had perished and fallen off. He pressed the start button.
There came the subdued hum of a well-maintained pump starting up and the sigh of powerful hydraulics. The Foden began to drop smoothly as the floor beneath it sank.
‘What you tell me about the two men in the Hummer is a cause for worry.’ Voke led the major down a long well-lit corridor that smelled of gun oil and linseed.
‘They were two of my men; they deserted early in this morning, I think.’ He tapped the side of his head. ‘Here they have knowledge of this place. You can be certain one was taken as a prisoner?’
‘My sergeant saw it happen. The man was wounded, but he thinks not fatally. But what can your man tell them—just what have you got here?’
‘It would be more quick to show you while my men’ show yours where fresh clothes and boots are to be found. Of course they are not mine to give, but the provost sergeant and the last of the stores clerks were evacuated by helicopter last night, and you can see,’ he indicated his own impeccable turnout, ‘I am not in a position to tell on you.’
They turned a corner and with a sweeping wave of his arms Voke announced the huge subterranean hangar they’d entered.
For a battle-weary commander like Revell, who for a long time now had almost given up hoping for, let alone trying to get hold of replacement equipment, it was an Aladdin’s cave.
In the great cavern beneath the floor of the valley were row upon row of factory- fresh wheeled and tracked armoured personnel carriers, armoured cars and armoured re-supply vehicles. In the distance was what looked like a small mountain of crated engines and other spares.
Voke tried to hide his amusement at the major’s open-mouthed amazement. ‘There are seven more rooms like this.’
‘All filled like this?’
‘Certainly all filled, but not all like this.’ Voke led the way out again and talked back over his shoulder. ‘Another holds pieces of light and medium artillery, another contains engineering equipment. Two are filled with soft-skin transport; I cannot recall what is in the others. But that is not all. There are other storage areas for electronic equipment, radar spares and the like. And then yet more for clothing, small arms and ammunition. All on the same scale.’
They were passing a series of large rooms whose fireproof doors had been strongly wedged open. Looking in as they passed, Revell could not identify all that the various crates and racks held, but he saw sufficient to be more impressed and more bitter with each he hurriedly scrutinized.
‘Why the hell hasn’t any of this stuff ever been issued? There’s enough here for two or three battalions. We’ve been screaming for it for months.’
‘Actually, a clerk told me that here there is enough to equip at least a brigade, or even to refit a division. One of my men swears he has even seen several crated gunships. I do not disbelieve him.’ Voke’s tone had an edge to it now, and he was no longer smiling.
He led into a large circular room. The centre was dominated by a crescent of computer terminals and telex machines. Leaving only space for two or three doorways, the walls were lined with filing cabinets. Voke tugged at the handle of the nearest. It was locked. ‘You see, for a bureaucrat the turning of a key makes everything safe. We should have fitted the Free World with a lock, and kept communism out that way.’ He unleashed a massive kick at the cabinet, denting its front.
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