by Stephen Makk
“I’m going for another pint Silky. You want one?”
“Yes, get me a Sussex. A pint of, not a bloody half.” He got the drinks and sat.
“Well, George?”
“Bit of a bloody rumpus.” He said in a mock British accent.
“And your guy, what’s her name? Crutch, got this from the Tel Aviv boys?
You have a handle on why?”
“Not really. We did them a few favours recently, it might be payback.”
“Oh, MI6 helping the Mossad? Where?” She waited as though trying to decide if he should know the information.
“Pakistan.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you’re not short of assets there. Was it regarding...” She held her hand up.
“Don’t push it George, let’s stick to the info you’ve read. Nice try though.”
“Seems a long way away for them, if you’re right that is. Iran; it sort of makes sense, but doesn’t.”
“Yes, have you any leads on that type of thing?”
“I’ll do some digging. I promise I’ll share it with you. But we don’t have any info, not to my knowledge.” He took a drink.
“Nice pint Silky.” He placed the heavy barrel glass down.
“What the hell does Iran want down in Antarctica. Come on Silky, what?”
“We’ve no bloody idea. We’ve sent Crutch down to take a look, she’ll be there now. She’s on a Frigate.” George grinned.
“From hot and sunny Riyadh to the frozen south, I bet she loves that?” George laughed.
“You’ll let us know Silky?”
“Yes, and see what you can dig up on your side. You might try leaning on Tel Aviv. Here, it’s all on there.” She pushed over a RAM stick.
“See you soon George.” Silk Purse got up and left.
HE SHOOK HIS HEAD. What do the ragheads want down in that frozen hellhole?
The Mossad had discovered that something was going on. Mossad. What the hell where the Iranians up to? Israel and its intelligence arm Mossad considered Iran a mortal foe.
Whatever it was, it must be something they couldn’t or didn’t want to handle themselves.
So, the Mossad has reached out to the CIA and MI6? Some heavy shit must be going down. George frowned and wondered. Iran was playing around all the way down there, and whatever it was, the Mossad didn’t like it.
“You ok Sir,” asked the barman, “you look troubled?”
Troubled, yeah you could say that. “I’ve just had some news, that’s all. Some surprising news.” The barman smiled.
“Nothing a pint of Sussex can’t fix. Another Sir?”
“Go on,” he nodded.
He’d have to get Paulis off his ass in Langley and onto this one.
He wished that was all it would take. Whatever was going on it would likely be bad news. George sighed.
Chapter 3
Anupa turned her back against the biting icy wind. Powder snow blew along the shoreline forming wispy eddies.
“So that’s it Tosser. I suppose we’ll have to take a look inside, it’s what we’re here for.” She didn’t like the look of the place at all, it was beyond uninviting. It was forbidding, dark and so unwelcoming.
“Get the NBC suits out. You saw the briefing, we take no chances.” Tosser opened her backpack and started to pull out the suits, along with the gloves and over-boots.
The Mk4 suit and its S10 respirator protects against chemical and biological agents by filtering air through a charcoal filter. They’d be good for a few hours at the most, it would just have to be enough. The pair of them suited up in the biting wind, after several minutes of struggle they were ready. Anupa led the way inside, she’d taken out her torch and looked around the place. It had been hurriedly evacuated, there were personal effects, packaging and discarded filters laying around. Crutch and Tosser took out their cameras and photographed anything that may be of interest. To the left were metal racks for storage, they were empty now but dividers lay on the racks suggesting that they held rows of objects. Towards the rear of the room was a vessel, large and plastic, frozen liquid had seeped out.
Crutch took out a sample bag and placed some of the frozen liquid into it. Next, she opened her backpack and took out two instruments, a Geiger counter and an ION-chamber survey meter. These two would cover low and high levels of Gamma and Beta radiation. The ION-chamber would sense high levels of radiation such as those present after a nuclear explosion.
She switched them both on. The buzzing of the Geiger counter sent chills through her.
“We need some samples Tosser. Get the sample bags out.” Tosser took out the bags and held them open. Anupa took samples of materials and scrapings from walls, various objects and steelwork. The two of them worked for over an hour.
“Come on, through here.” Anupa indicated a back room. It was a long room, totally man-made and running further into the rock. Bolts protruded from the concrete floor, it was clear that large pieces of machinery had been removed from here. Two long rows by the look of it. They took more samples, still, the Gigger counter buzzed. It was all the more active here. Crutch noticed some papers, she picked them up. There were notes in an Arabic script, these were placed in a sample bag. A few filing cabinets had been left, she opened them, but they were empty. Then she spotted more papers. They must have fallen down the back of the cabinets.
“Help me pull these cabinets away.” The two women struggled but slid the cabinets away. Crutch leaned down and picked up the papers along with three photographs. She looked at them and smiled.
“Well Tosser, you can fuck me sideways, these will do nicely.” She placed them in a sample bag. They spent another hour collecting samples and more documents from what must have been an office near the rear of the room. Crutch looked to her companion.
“Let’s do a walk through and take anything of interest.” They spent time carefully checking the rooms. Anupa was chilled to the bone. It was time to leave, they’d picked up anything of use and the instruments would record the radiation levels.
“Let’s go outside, we’ll walk a little further along the bay. Take a look for any further installations.” The two of them left and walked into the howling icy wind along the shoreline. It seemed they’d walked many hundreds of yards along the shore. There was nothing man-made or unusual. Anupa thought about their next move, it would be either set up the tent and wait until morning or try to make their way out now. Up there on the ice field where they’d been dropped off, it would be dark soon. But tomorrow it would be a whiteout or low cloud, either way very low visibility. She decided to go for it. She took out the handheld radio.
“Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.” Nothing. She waited and tried again. “Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.”
“Crutch from Montrose Air provide sitrep over.”
“Montrose Air we are both ok. Request exfil over.”
“Copy Crutch. Wait one.” A few minutes later the radio sparked into life with a burst of static.
“Crutch, we confirm your exfil. Can you make WP1? Over.”
“We will make our way to WP1. I can’t tell you when, over.”
“Copy Crutch. Contact us when at exfil position.”
“Copy Montrose. We are on our way.” The two of them took off the NBC suits gloves and overboots; they were placed in a bag in Tosser’s backpack.
“Ok, let’s be off out of here. The two of them walked back to around the place they’d descended to the shoreline and replaced their skis and climbed the banking. The two of them climbed up and onto the snowfield. The wind was cutting, wild and fierce. Anupa took out her portable GPS, she noted the direction to WP1 and set off.
“Wait Crutch.” Tosser had taken out her buddy line, she clipped on to her colleague and together now roped up they made their way through the raging whiteout. The two walked onwards their skis herringbone style to walk up the incline to the crest of the ice field. Crutch checked the GPS from time to time, onward, onward through the blasting white w
ind. It was lean left, push. Lean right, push. Lean left, push. Lean right, push. She was cold now, very cold and exhausted, she knew that Tosser would be the same. It seemed forever that they’d been walking now. Crutch checked the GPS a quarter of a mile to go. Every yard was now an effort, the two of them were cold and exhausted. Lean left, push. Lean right, push. Lean left, push. Lean right, push. Anupa knew they just couldn’t keep this up. She took out her radio. “Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.” Nothing. “Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.” Crutch waited several minutes. “Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.” What the hell was going on. She looked at the small LCD screen and pressed diagnostic. The small screen told her to wait. It then read ERR. Oh no, she thought. She tried again. ERR.
“Montrose Air from Crutch come in over.” Nothing. She really didn’t want to do this, but they’d have to wait it out. It was against her nature, she wanted to press on and try. As much as she wanted to press on, she knew there was only so much you could do.
“The radio’s buggered. I’m setting the tent up. They pulled out the tent from her backpack and started to set it up. The wind fought them hard. The tent flapped hard in the wind. It tried it’s best to rip itself from their grasp. Eventually they had it set up, it was a poor attempt at shelter, but it would provide some protection. The two of them climbed into the tent and got fully clothed into their bivvy bags. Crutch and Tosser were both now exhausted. Anupa pulled the bag around herself as best she could. They’d have to wait until the morning. She knew they were in deep trouble but all they could do was wait. If this is the end, what a place to be. Why this? Why had it come to this? To die in a frozen hell.
HMS MONTROSE.
THE CAPTAIN WAS OUT doing his rounds of the ship. Leon caught him on the hanger deck.
“Sir, we haven’t heard anything from them. They must be well up onto the snowfield by now. The temperature and wind speed are a nightmare. They’ve got hours on there, that’s all.”
“You may be right about their location Lieutenant Commander Leon. It must be awful out on there,” said Captain Jacques.
“You’ve tried radio I assume?”
“Yes Sir, we got nothing. Either they’re in worse shape than we think or the radio’s down. With your permission, I’d like to attempt a rescue.”
“What did you have in mind?”
The Captain listened, he had reservations, but he knew the two of them would be in bad shape.
His mission was to infil the two SIS operators. He knew that his first consideration was the welfare of his ship and her crew. Montrose was HMS Montrose, and that meant Her Majesty’s Ship. Her Majesty’s government had tasked her with the infil and the exfil of the two operators.
It was a tough choice. It would be very risky. his own crew would be in peril.
Chapter 4
Cape Ann. Antarctica.
CRUTCH SHIVERED, SHE could feel Tosser doing the same, she snuggled up closer. She knew they were in real trouble now. She was falling asleep, or was it sleep? Was this what it was like to freeze to death. Through the tent wall, she caught sight of a flash. Yes, this was it, a frozen death. She’d heard that your brain played tricks on you with light as you neared the end. There it was again another flash, this one lingered. Your brain shutting down, lights, it’s an odd experience. She heard a noise, a rhythmic beat, getting louder. That’s it. She knew what it was.
“Tosser. Get out of your bag now,”
“What? Why?” Crutch got out and opened her breast pocket, she took out her flares. She could hear it now passing overhead, a helicopter. She pulled the tab and threw the flare. It landed burned and hissed. A flare from up above landed twenty yards away. She threw two more. Tosser joined in and threw two of hers. The sound of a helicopter filled their ears and the whiteout swirled intensely.
Soon a man approached in a survival suit and helmet. She heard the smile in his voice.
“Crutch and Tosser I assume? We picked up your tent’s EPIRB beacon. Would you two ladies like a lift back to the ship?”
“Thank God,” said Tosser.
“Yes, we would,” said Crutch, “I could do with a brew.”
LONDON. TWO WEEKS LATER.
“THANKS.” ANUPA SLID the grilled chicken wings towards her. She was with a few colleagues from work. They’d chosen Kolapata in Whitechapel for the evening meal.
The waiter smiled at her.
“Apani ekhane kachakachi basa na?” Anupa shook her head at him.
“Ami banlaya katha na.”
“What was all that about?” asked Silk Purse.
“He was trying it on. Wanted to know if I live around here.”
“He’s not bad actually.”
“I told him I don’t speak Bangladeshi.” Silk Purse frowned.
“I thought it was an Indian restaurant.”
Anupa smiled at her. “They all are, aren’t they?”
After the meal, she sipped her wine.
“Crutch, have you warmed up yet?”
“Yeah, you don’t know how good a ship’s bunks and Galley are. I’d have frozen my balls off, if I had any.”
Silk Purse smiled. “It’s hush hush but there’s a meeting tomorrow. Preliminary results are in.” Silk Purse placed her forefinger over her lips. “Shhh.”
THE NEXT DAY ANUPA carried her teapot and cup into the meeting room in the SIS building and sat at the large table. Sat there were Rudolph and Silk Purse.
“Morning Crutch.” They chatted for a few minutes. There was a knock on the door. A man opened the door and looked in.
“Two Gentlemen are here to see you Sir.”
“Bring them in,” said Rudolph.
Two men walked in, one in his fifties wearing a tweed jacket with unkempt grey hair, the other was younger with a goatee beard. The younger one looked a little overawed and curious.
“Help yourself to tea or coffee and let’s get started,” said Rudolph. The two men sat at the table.
“Welcome to the SIS building. These are my colleagues, you’ll know them as Silk Purse and Crutch. These are Doctor’s Abbott and Heap from the Atomic Weapons Establishment at Aldermaston. Dr Abbott, you and your team have had some time to study the material that we brought you. Could we have your initial report?”
The man in the tweed jacket took some papers from his briefcase.
“The samples were quite good, it’s taken time, we have to be careful. We have detected various substances including WGpu. Neutron sources such as 252Cf or 241Am/Be can also be used for industrial and research applications of course. These usually have higher average neutron energy than WGPu, but they may be moderated in energy by neutron scattering materials such as polyethene. The sources are also strong gamma-ray emitters. 252Cf has a continuous high-energy gamma-ray spectrum. 241Am/Be makes use of capture by beryllium of high-energy alpha particles from...”
“Doctor Abbott,” said Rudolph, “we’re not atomic physics PhD’s. Give us the report fundamentals.”
“But I have to furnish the background. So that you can understand the reports.”
“Dr Abbott, furnishing is what you buy from IKEA as far as we’re concerned,” said Silk Purse.
The younger man placed his hands on the table palms down.
“What do you want to know?”
“What are we dealing with?”
“Materials consistent with the presence of fabrication residues. Typically, these exploit spontaneous radioactive emissions from nuclear materials, or emissions stimulated by x-rays, gamma rays or neutrons.”
“And in English that is...?” asked Crutch.
“Fissile and possibly fusion devices.
Plutonium devices are generally detectable by their neutron emissions. Shielding is by large amounts of neutron moderating materials combined with thermal neutron capture materials. The best moderators have significant amounts of hydrogen in their molecular structure, such as water, polyethene or paraffin.” Crutch sighed.
“So what we’re saying is wea
pons?” The young man nodded.
“Don’t tell me,” she said. “We’re looking at fission devices?”
“Yes Miss. And possibly fusion.”
“Chances?” He frowned.
“How likely?” said Silk Purse.
“I’d classify it as a two sigma event, but...”
“Dr Heap, give us a percentage,” said Anupa.
“It’s hard to...”
“Look, Doctor Strangelove. In our game, about is good enough. Just an estimate, that’s all we need,” said Silk Purse.
“Upper nineties.”
“So,” said Anupa, “we have a ninety five per cent plus chance.”
“Crutch,” said Rudolph, “what are this pair of nuclear geeks on about?”
“Bombs Sir, fucking big bombs. Atomic and possibly Hydrogen weapons. Right?”
The younger man nodded.
“Gentlemen leave your reports on the table when you leave,” said Rudolph, “I think we’re done here.” The two scientists left the room.
Rudolph looked at the pair of them, his expression stern. He rubbed his temples with his fingers.
“So, sum it up for us Silk Purse,” said Rudolph.
She gestured to her younger colleague.
“Crutch was the one who was there.”
Crutch sat forward. “We had an idea of course. We’ve got the reports from linguistics. They’ve gone over the documents we brought back.” She opened the file she had in front of her.
“They’re in Farsi and Korean, That’s a big surprise. Iran and North Korea, both are keen NATO fans. Some of these documents are personnel rosters. Some refer to consignments to be removed from various chambers. They’ve got information about documenting the consignments. Nothing too incriminating, apart from the fact that they’re translated into Korean and Farsi. So clearly a joint enterprise; either side could carry out the tasks.
