Kara’s Game. Gordon Stevens

down on it and therefore able to see it. But only if they were looking, and they wouldn’t be, because there was no reason to. The only time the opposition would know would be after the air strike, then the guns would be dealt with anyway. So there were no problems.

      He contacted base, sent his report, then opened a can of cold beans and began to eat. Hard routine patrol, Fielding had said. Bloody right, Janner thought. Only six hours of light left, though, then he and Max could creep back and join Geordie John and Kev.

      Poor bastards, he thought as another round struck the town in the valley below. The barrage was virtually nonstop now. Rather be here than there.

      

      The call to MacFarlane was on the secure net.

      ‘Update?’ Thorne asked him.

      ‘Ceasefire violations continuing at a rate of one round every two to three minutes, all incoming.’ MacFarlane was also deliberately official.

      ‘State of UNMO team?’ Thorne asked.

      ‘UNMO team in serious danger. Four shells have landed near UNMO position in past hour.’ Four among the many that were still falling. ‘There is a possibility that UNMO team is being targeted. If no response has been received from yesterday’s approach to Bosnian Serbs, I formally request an air strike to protect lives of United Nations Military Observers.’

      ‘Request being lodged immediately.’

      So in two and a half hours, the time it took to process the request, the jets could be airborne from their bases in Italy. Thirty minutes’ flying time, forty maximum; so by one-thirty, two at the latest, the jets could be over Maglaj and silencing the guns.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘Confirm you are visual with targets,’ Thorne requested Finn and Janner via Hereford.

      Confirmed, they both told him.

      ‘Request for air strike being lodged now. Aircraft on RS 10’ – a readiness state of ten minutes, which meant that the aircraft could be airborne within ten minutes of being scrambled. ‘Aircraft call sign Thunder One.’

      Assuming the UN sanction the action.

      

      Jovan was slightly hotter. Kara wiped his forehead and talked to him about what they would do when the summer came and how he and she and his father would walk in the hills and pick the berries and the apples.

      The shells and the mortars were still coming in. ‘Roof of UNMO building has just received a direct hit,’ MacFarlane reported on the secure net.

      ‘Serbian authorities have been informed of request for air strike,’ he was informed. ‘UN procedures in operation. Thunder One on cockpit readiness.’ The pilot in the cockpit and the engines running.

      Perhaps he had become accustomed to the sound of the shelling, Janner thought, perhaps it was the temperature. The air cut through his lungs and the cold crept into his body. Two hours to go, he told himself, two hours before the Jaguar zipped over the valley and bombed the shit out of the bastards shelling the town. Two hours before he and Max could crawl out of the OP and join the others in the base position. Not that the base was any warmer than the OP, not that they would risk heating any food there.

      It was all a game, of course. The Serbs were calling the UN bluff by not responding to the request to stop the shelling, and in just under two hours now the UN would call the Serbian bluff by taking out the guns in the hills.

      The sky was a thin blue and the temperature was plummeting. God how he wanted something hot, Finn thought. Ninety minutes to go before the air strike. The Boss would have talked to both the UN and NATO by now, and the wheels would be rumbling, the pilots already briefed.

      Jovan was going to vomit. Kara knew by the way he was holding his stomach and clenching his jaw. She held him in her lap, the bowl in her hand. Probably the food, she told herself, probably because she had put too much potato and carrot in, and he wasn’t used to it. The jet of liquid shot from his mouth. ‘It’s all right, my little one.’ She wiped the saliva from his lips. ‘Now you’ll feel better.’

      The air strike was sixty minutes away, assuming the UN procedure took two and a half hours. ‘Another round near UNMO HQ,’ MacFarlane reported. ‘Constant incoming, no cessation.’

      ‘AWACS in position.’ The Airborne Warning and Control System aircraft sitting high above them. ‘Thunder One on sling shot.’ The Jaguar waiting at the end of the runway.

      The sky and the air had the awesome clarity of winter. ‘Forty-five minutes,’ Janner whispered, half to himself and half to Max. ‘Wonder whether Belgrade’s told the bastards on the guns.’

      Jovan’s temperature was rising, the sweat was breaking on his forehead and his breathing was slightly shallow. ‘Where’s it hurting?’ Kara asked him. She undid his coat and gently felt his stomach, then his abdomen, to the right and lower. ‘There, Mummy.’ He jerked away in pain.

      Thirty minutes to go – Janner counted down.

      ‘Mission approved,’ he and Finn were informed on the secure net. ‘Confirm laser coding.’ To ensure that the pilot received the correct target positioning.

      ‘Charlie Two Two. Laser coding confirmed. Over.’ Janner on burst, the transmission lasting a millisecond.

      ‘Charlie Two One. Confirmed. Over.’ Finn.

      The guns pounded again

      ‘Thunder One airborne,’ the FAC and UNMO teams were informed.

      ‘Confirm you are still in danger,’ MacFarlane was requested.

      ‘Confirmed.’

      So what was she going to do? Kara held Jovan close and rocked him gently. Try to get him to the medical centre in Maglaj new town, which would mean running the risk of the snipers in the daylight and the guns even in the dark? Or stay here and pray the fever didn’t develop and the pain went away?

      The guns were still pounding.

      ‘Thunder One over Adriatic,’ the FAC and UNMO teams were informed. ‘Thunder One crossing coast. Thunder One over Bosnian air space.’

      ‘Magic Five Five.’ The Jaguar pilot to the communications AWACS. ‘This is Thunder One entering the area.’

      ‘Roger, Thunder One. This is Magic Five Five. You are cleared to contact Charlie Two One and Charlie Two Two.’

      ‘Charlie Two One. This is Thunder One. Radio check.’

      Thank God, Finn and Janner thought.

      ‘Roger, Thunder One. This is Charlie Two One. Loud and clear.’

      ‘Charlie Two Two. This is Thunder One. Radio check.’

      ‘Roger, Thunder One. This is Charlie Two Two. Loud and clear. Check position.’

      ‘This is Thunder One. Now thirty miles south of Maglaj.’ The Jaguar travelling at a mile every six seconds and losing altitude for the run-in.

      ‘Roger, confirm target position,’ Janner requested.

      The first target – Janner’s target – was camouflaged in a yard at the side of two houses, both empty except for the gun crews.

      ‘Target as briefed.’

      ‘Okay, Thunder One.’ Janner switched on the laser marker. ‘Lima on.’

      The pilot saw the cross in the HUD, the head-up display, the L to the right indicating the laser was operating. He checked the code and selected the rocket on the weapons panel.

      Four miles and twenty-four seconds out. Cross and L in HUD – he checked automatically. Everything okay.

      Can’t see target but I can see buildings, he thought.

      The ground was a hundred feet below and he was following the course of the valley.

      Three