He stood up and shouted to his companions, "Count the spoils! Weapons, ammunition, radios, take everything that can be carried! Retreat in ten minutes!"
Hardley was dragged up and tied together with four other survivors. He counted, there were at least twenty attackers, moving with swift efficiency, transporting weapons, searching bodies, setting traps, someone was laying a trip mine beneath fallen soldiers.
Terrifyingly professional.
A young attacker walked over, looking under twenty, with freckles on his face.
He stared at Hardley for a few seconds and suddenly said, "I know you. You're Tom Hardley, right? Your dad is a postman in Glasgow East District."
Hardley was stunned: "You..."
"My name is Callum Macaulay. Three years ago, you delivered our family's exam results."
The young man squatted down, lowering his voice, "Listen, Tom, don't do anything foolish. We don't kill hostages, but if you try to escape or resist... I can't guarantee."
