There was a roar as the terminal erupted and, even from over a kilometer distance and lying prone on the edge of the forest, Morland felt the intense heat and blast hit his face. There would be no Latvian survivors for the Russian soldiers to finish off after all. In fact, Morland wondered whether that massive explosion might not have taken more than a few Russians with it.

And now there was silence from the buildings; silence everywhere in fact, a shocked silence. Then vehicles appeared, supported by infantry, which closed on the building. The fight for the airport was over. The Russians would next spread out to secure the perimeter. He spoke into his microphone.

“Move now. Fast.”

The team quickly retraced its steps to where Krauja and Archer were waiting with the Land Cruiser under cover and mounted up.

One look at Krauja’s eyes told Morland of her desperate need to know what was happening at the airport and to its defenders. He guessed that she would have friends in that Riga-recruited National Guard Battalion, which had defended the airport so bravely. But he knew, too, that this was not a moment for emotion.

Instead, he reverted to the professionalism of a soldier giving a situation report. After the trauma of what he had seen, it was the only way. Anything more than an emotionless statement of the bare facts would be in danger of wrecking Krauja. And he was suddenly unsure how he would handle that.

“Major Russian airborne assault on the airport. I’d estimate it at least a battalion-plus strength; supported by Mi-24 Hind attack helicopters and BMD-4 airborne armored vehicles. Defenders put up a strong fight, but have now been neutralized. The airport is now in enemy hands. I have photographic evidence of Russian helicopters attacking. Our task now is to get those pictures back to the UK as quickly as possible. We need to get to Padstow ASAP.”

Krauja took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “My younger brother was a reservist in that battalion. He was in his first year studying law at the University of Riga.”

Morland was lost for words. Her quiet dignity somehow made the situation even worse. He nodded in acknowledgment of what she had just told him and then pointed at the car. Without saying another word she strode to the driver’s door, got into the seat, turned the key and, once the last door had slammed shut, accelerated hard back down the narrow cycle path toward Riga.

Soon they were through back streets lined with old wooden buildings and back down to the Daugava again. As they drove, they kept the windows down and rifle barrels facing out, all the while keeping a sharp lookout for more Russians. From the scale of what they had witnessed back at the airport, they could be landing more troops anywhere.