Read Online Wild Justice by Wilbur Smith - Free Book Online Page B

time storing it on the big magnetic tape spools.
    Two of Peter’s communications team were posted here, with a plentiful supply of coffee and doughnuts, and Peter, accompanied by the South African colonel and his staff, went up in the elevator to the glass house of the control tower.
    F rom the air traffic control tower there was an unobstructed view across the airfield and over the apron and service areas around the terminal. The observation platform below the tower had been cleared of all but military personnel.
    â€˜ – I have road blocks at all the main entrances to the airfield. Only passengers with confirmed reservations and current tickets are being allowed through – no thrill seekers – and we are using only the northern section of the terminal for traffic.’
    Peter nodded and turned to the senior controller. ‘What is the state of your traffic pattern?’
    â€˜We have refused clearance to all private flights, incoming and departing. All domestic scheduled flights have been re-routed to Lanseria and Germiston airports, and we are landing and despatching only international scheduled flights – but the backlog has delayed departures by three hours.’
    â€˜What separation are you observing from 070?’ Peter asked.
    â€˜Fortunately the international departures terminal is the farthest from the aircraft, and we are not using the taxiways or the apron of the southern section. As you see, we have
cleared the entire area – except for those three S.A. Airways aircraft which are undergoing overhaul and servicing, there are no other aircraft within a thousand yards of 070.’
    â€˜I may have to freeze all traffic, if—’ Peter paused, ‘or should I say, when we have an escalation.’
    â€˜Very well, sir.’
    â€˜In the meantime, you may continue as you are at present.’ Peter lifted his binoculars and once again very carefully examined the huge Boeing.
    It stood in stately isolation, silent and seemingly abandoned. The bright, almost gaudy marking gave her a carnival air. Red and blue and crisp sparkling white in the brilliant sunlight of the highveld. She was parked fully broadside to the tower, and all her hatches and doors were still armed and locked.
    Peter traversed slowly along the line of perspex windows down the length of the fuselage – but over each of them the sunshades had been firmly closed from the interior, turning them into the multiple eyes of a blinded insect.
    Peter lifted his scrutiny slightly onto the windshield and side panels of the flight deck. These again had been screened with blankets, hung over them from inside, completely thwarting any glimpse of the crew or their captors – and certainly preventing a shot into the flight deck, although the range from the nearest corner of the terminal was not more than four hundred yards, and with the new laser sights one of Thor’s trained snipers could pick through which eye of the human head he would put a bullet.
    Snaking across the open tarmac of the taxiway was the thin black electrical cable that connected the aircraft to the mains supply, a long, vulnerable umbilical cord. Peter studied it thoughtfully, before turning his attention to the four Panhard armoured cars. A little frown of irritation crossed his forehead.
    â€˜Colonel, please recall those vehicles.’ He tried not to let the irritation come through in his tone. ‘With the turrets
battened down, your crews will be roasting like Christmas geese.’
    â€˜General, I feel it my duty—’ Boonzaier began, and Peter lowered the glasses and smiled. It was a charming, friendly grin that took the man by surprise, after the previous stern set of features – and yet the eyes were devoid of humour, cracking blue and hard in the craggy granite of the face.
    â€˜I want to defuse the atmosphere as much as possible.’ The necessity to explain irked Peter, but he maintained the smile.