The primary weapon was a CAR-15 carbine version of the M-16 assault rifle. He'd picked his weapons load-out in the fervent hope that he would not need to fire a single shot. Kelly was working on his woodcraft, again, as he'd been doing for several weeks. Each knew that if death was to be risked, then this was the time and the purpose for it. There were husbands to be restored to their wives, fathers to their children, men to their country. Would things go right or wrong? If the former, what elation would they feel? If the latter - well, they all had long since decided that, win or lose, this wasn't the sort of thing you walked away from. They watched TV in the open bay, read books or magazines, waiting for the word in the knowledge that halfway across the world other men were waiting, too, and in the quiet of twenty-five individual human minds, questions were being asked. They knew about the mission, and the high-spirited horseplay common to young men was muted. Remarkably, their off-duty hours were more relaxed now. Five minutes later he stepped into a black London taxi and directed the driver to head towards Harrods Department Store in Knightsbridge. It required all of his considerable self-control not to laugh aloud at the mixture of what he had just accomplished and the thundering irony of the portcullised stone arch before his eyes. 'No, Peter, you will not.' George walked down the stone steps towards Traitor's Gate.
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