by Bear Grylls
But it hadn’t escaped Jaeger’s notice that her two chosen weapons – the knife and the sniper rifle – were so often the tools of the assassin. The assassin; the loner. There was something about Narov that set her apart, that was for certain, but there was also a part of Jaeger that found those traits oddly familiar.
His son’s best friend at school, a boy called Daniel, had exhibited some of Narov’s characteristics: his speech had been oddly matter-of-fact and direct, sometimes seemingly bordering on the rude. He’d often failed to pick up on the social cues that came naturally to most kids. And he’d found it painfully difficult making and holding eye contact – not until he really knew and trusted someone.
It had taken Daniel a good while to learn to trust Luke, but once he’d done so, he’d proved the most loyal and constant of friends. They’d competed over everything: rugby, air hockey, even at the local paintball facility. But it had only ever been the healthy competition between best friends, and they’d stuck up for each other against all outsiders.
When Luke had disappeared, Daniel had been devastated. He’d lost his one true companion – his battle buddy. Just as Jaeger had.
Over time, Jaeger and Ruth had become friendly with Daniel’s parents. They’d confided in them that Daniel had been diagnosed with Asperger’s, or high-functioning autism – the experts didn’t appear sure which exactly. As with many such kids, Daniel proved to be obsessed by and brilliant at one thing: mathematics. That, plus he had a magical way with animals.
Jaeger cast his mind back to the close encounter they’d had with the Phoneutria. Something had struck him then, although he hadn’t quite realised what it was. Narov had acted almost as if she had a relationship with the venomous spiders – like she understood them. She’d been reluctant to kill even one of them, not until there was no other option.
And if there was one thing that Narov would obsess over and excel at, Jaeger had a good idea what it might be: the hunt and the kill.
‘How far?’ she demanded, her voice cutting through his thoughts.
‘How far to what?’
‘The air wreck. What else is there?’
Jaeger pointed ahead. ‘Around eight hundred metres. You see where the light breaks through the canopy – that’s where the forest starts to die.’
‘So close,’ she whispered.
‘Wir sind die Zukunft.’ Jaeger repeated the line that he’d heard in the closing stages of his nyakwana-induced vision. ‘You speak German. Wir sind die Zukunft. What does it mean?’
Narov stopped dead. She stared at him for a long second, her eyes frozen. ‘Where did you hear that?’
‘An echo from my past.’ Why did this woman always have to answer a question with a question? ‘So, what does it mean?’
‘Wir sind die Zukunft,’ Narov repeated, slowly and very deliberately. ‘We are the future. It was the rallying cry of the Herrenrasse – the Nazi master race. Whenever Hitler tired of Denn heute gehort uns Deutschland, und morgen die ganze Welt, he’d try a bit of Wir sind die Zukunft. The people lapped it up.’
‘How come you know so much about it?’ Jaeger demanded.
‘Know your enemy,’ Narov replied cryptically. ‘I make it my business to know.’ She threw Jaeger a look that struck him as being almost accusatory. ‘The question is – how do you know so little?’ She paused. ‘So little about your own past.’
68
Before Jaeger could answer, there was a terrified scream from behind. He turned to see a blaze of fear flash across Leticia Santos’s features as she was dragged beneath the water. She broke the surface, arms flailing desperately, her face a mask of terror, before she was ripped under once more.
Jaeger had caught the briefest glimpse of what had hold of her. It was one of the massive waterborne snakes that Puruwehua had warned him about: a constrictor. He charged through the shallows, diving for the deadly serpent and grappling with its tail as he frantically tried to wrest the coils free from her body.
He couldn’t use his shotgun. If he opened fire he’d blast Santos at the same time as hitting the snake. The water thrashed and boiled, Santos and the serpent entwined in a blur of snakeskin and limbs as she fought a battle that she could never win alone. The more that Jaeger fought it, the more the monster constrictor seemed to tighten its murderous grip around her.
Then from behind him Jaeger heard a sudden crack. It was the distinctive sound of a sniper rifle. At the same moment, somewhere in amongst the blur of snake and human, something erupted in a burst of blood and pulverised flesh as a high-velocity round hit home.
A second or so later the struggle was over, the snake’s head hanging limp and lifeless. Jaeger could see where most of its skull had been blown away, the high-velocity sniper round leaving a telltale exit wound. One by one Jaeger started to unwind the dead coils, and along with Alonzo and Kamishi he hauled Santos free.
As the three of them tried to pump the water out of her lungs, Jaeger glanced at Narov. She was standing in the swamp, the Dragunov still at her shoulder in case she needed to take a second shot.
Santos spluttered back into life, coughing frantically, her chest heaving up and down. Jaeger made sure they’d got her stabilised, but she was badly traumatised, and still shaking with terror at the attack. Alonzo and Kamishi agreed to carry her the final stretch to the warplane, leaving Jaeger free to rejoin Narov at the head of the party.
‘Nice shooting,’ he remarked icily, once they were on the move again. ‘But how could you be sure you were going to blow the snake’s head off, and not Leticia’s?’
Narov eyed him coldly. ‘If someone hadn’t taken the shot she would now be dead. Even with your help it was a losing battle. With this,’ she patted the Dragunov, ‘at least I stood chance. A fifty-fifty chance, but still better than none. Sometimes a bullet saves a life. They are not always fired to take one.’
‘So you flipped the coin and pulled the trigger . . .’ Jaeger lapsed into silence.
It didn’t escape him that Narov’s bullet could just as easily have hit him as Santos, yet she had barely hesitated before taking such a shot – such a gamble. He didn’t know if that made her the ultimate professional or a psychopath.
Narov looked over her shoulder towards where the snake had been killed. ‘It is a pity about the constrictor. It was only doing what comes naturally to it – trying to get a meal. The mbojuhua. Boa constrictor imperator. It is a CITES Appendix II listed species, which means it is in high danger of extinction.’
Jaeger glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed more concerned for the dead snake than she was for Leticia Santos. He figured if she was an assassin it made it far easier if all she really cared about was animals.
The ground rose as they neared the dead zone.
Ahead, Jaeger could see where the vegetation fell away on all sides. It was replaced by ranks of bare tree trunks bleached white in the sun, like endless rows of gravestones. Above lay a skeletal latticework of dead wood – what remained of the once verdant canopy – and above that again, a bank of low grey cloud.
They gathered on the brink of the zone wherein all life had died.
From ahead of him, Jaeger could hear the rain drumming deafeningly, instead of dripping from the leaf cover high above. It sounded unnatural somehow, the area of the dead zone seeming horribly empty and exposed.
He sensed Puruwehua shiver. ‘The forest – it should never die,’ the Indian remarked simply. ‘When the forest dies, we Amahuaca die with it.’
‘Don’t go dying on us now, Puruwehua,’ Jaeger muttered. ‘You’re our koty’ar, remember? We need you.’
They stared into the dead zone. Far ahead, Jaeger could just make out something dark and massive, half obscured among the bony fingers reaching towards the clouds. His pulse quickened. It was the barely discernible silhouette of a warplane. In spite of the previous night’s vision – or maybe because of it – he longed to get inside it and uncover its secrets.
He eyed Puruwehua. ‘You
r people would warn us if the enemy were anywhere close? You’ve got men shadowing that Dark Force, right?’
Puruwehua nodded. ‘We have. And we move faster than they do. Long before they get near we will know.’
‘So how long d’you think we’ve got?’ Jaeger asked.
‘My people will try to give us one day’s warning. One sunrise and one sunset before our work here must be done.’
69
‘Okay, heads-up,’ Jaeger announced, calling his team together.
They’d gathered in the cover of the last few yards of the still living forest. They were on higher ground, and it didn’t look as if the flood waters ever reached this far.
‘First, no one goes any nearer without full NBC gear. We need to ID the threat, at which stage we’ll know the severity of what we’re dealing with. Once we know the toxicity, we can work out a regime to better safeguard against it. We have three full NBC suits. I’d like to be first aboard, to take samples of water and air and whatever else we find. We can then rotate protective kit around the team, but we’ve got to keep the risk of cross-contamination to a minimum.
‘We’ll set a base camp here,’ he continued. ‘Sling hammocks well away from the dead ground. And understand the urgency: Puruwehua reckons we have twenty-four hours before we get a visit from the bad guys. We should get early warning from his people, but I’d like a cordon of security thrown around the site as well. Alonzo – that’s something I’d like you to get sorted.’
‘You got it,’ Alonzo confirmed. He nodded towards the distant warplane. ‘That thing – man, it gives me the creeps. Don’t mind if I’m the last to see inside.’
‘You okay to stand security?’ Jaeger asked Leticia Santos. ‘Or you need us to sling you a poncho and hammock? That was one hell of a snake you picked a fight with back there.’
‘As long as I can keep out of the water,’ Santos replied bravely. She eyed Narov. ‘And as long as the crazy Cossack keeps her sniper rifle pointed in someone else’s direction.’
Narov’s attention was elsewhere. She seemed utterly transfixed; unable to tear her eyes away from the distant silhouette of the warplane.
Jaeger turned to Dale. ‘I presume you want to film this – and make no mistake, I want it filmed. The first opening of this aircraft after seven decades – this needs to be recorded. You take the second NBC suit so you can follow me in.’
Dale shrugged. ‘How bad can it get? Can’t be worse than facing down a shoal of piranhas, or a crotch full of leeches.’
It was the kind of response Jaeger had come to expect from the guy. Dale wore his fear on his sleeve, but it wasn’t about to stop him from doing what was necessary.
Jaeger eyed Narov. ‘I get a sense you know more about this warplane than anyone: you take the third suit. You can help guide us around whatever we find in there.’
Narov nodded, but her gaze was still fixed on the distant plane.
‘Puruwehua, I’d like you to get your guys out deep into the forest, forming an early-warning screen in case of trouble. The rest of you – you’re on Alonzo’s security cordon. And remember, zero use of comms or GPS. Last thing we want is to send a warning signal to whoever’s keeping watch.’
That agreed, Jaeger broke out the nuclear, biological, chemical protective gear. The threat from whatever toxic material was leaking from that aircraft was twofold: one, breathing it in; two, ingesting it via a living porous membrane like the skin.
With the need to carry all their kit on their person, they’d only been able to bring three full NBC suits. They were a lightweight design, made by the British company Avon, and would protect the body from any droplets or vapour that might remain in the air.
With the suit went the Avon C50 mask – which with its single eyepiece, high protection and close-fitting design was a superlative piece of kit. It was the mask – the respirator – that shielded the face and eyes and prevented the lungs from breathing in any toxic material.
Once fully suited up, they’d be shielded from just about any chemical, biological, nuclear or radiological threat, plus toxic industrial chemicals – which should encompass every conceivable hazard lurking on that warplane.
As a bonus, each Avon mask carried an embedded transmitter-receiver, which meant that those wearing them could speak to each other via a short-range radio intercom.
Having fought his way into the cumbersome suit, Jaeger paused. He figured he’d power up the Thuraya and check for any data-burst messages. Once he pulled on the bulky mask and gloves, there would be no easy way to use such equipment.
Jaeger held the satphone in the open, and a message icon appeared on the screen. He stepped back beneath the cover of the jungle to read Raff’s missive.
0800 Zulu – called all satphones. One + 882 16 7865 4378 answered, then immediately killed call. Gave a call-sign (?) sounded like White Wolf (?). Voice Eastern European accent. KRAL?? Come up comms – urgent confirm locstat.
Jaeger read the message three times over as he tried to fathom its import. Clearly Raff was worried as to their location and status (military speak: ‘locstat’), or he wouldn’t have risked making a voice call. Jaeger would have to send a quick data-burst response to let him know all were present and correct at the site of the air wreck.
Or rather, all bar one – Stefan Kral.
And in light of the message, Jaeger sensed that a dark cloud had fallen over their absent Slovakian cameraman.
He scrolled through the numbers held in speed-dial on his Thuraya, checking those of the other members of his team. In theory, they only had three satphones with them – his own, Alonzo’s and Dale’s – the rest having been left in the cache above the Devil’s Falls.
Sure enough, number + 882 16 7865 4378 was a Thuraya that supposedly had been left behind.
Jaeger cast his mind back to 0800 Zulu that morning. They’d just broken camp and recommenced their trek. None of his team would have been able to receive Raff’s call. But if Kral had hidden a Thuraya in his kit, he was quite capable of taking a call at the Amahuaca village clearing.
Not to mention making calls as well.
The question was – why would he have hidden a satphone? And why the code name – if Raff had caught it right – White Wolf? And why had he immediately killed the call upon realising that it was from Raff in the Airlander?
Jaeger felt a horrible suspicion taking hold of him. Viewed in conjunction with Kral’s failure to disable the GPS units on Dale’s cameras, the only possible conclusion seemed to be that the Slovakian was the enemy within. If he was indeed a traitor, Jaeger felt doubly betrayed. He had been suckered right in by Kral’s hard-done-by family-man act.
He called Puruwehua over. As quickly as he could, he explained what had happened.
‘Can one of your men head back to the village and warn the chief? Tell him to hold Kral until we can get to him to question him. I’m not saying he’s definitely guilty – but all evidence points that way. And remove all but his bare essentials, to prevent him making a break for it.’
‘I will send one,’ Puruwehua confirmed. ‘One who can move fast. If he is an enemy to you, he is also an enemy to my people.’
Jaeger thanked the Indian. He sent Raff a brief update by data-burst, then returned to the task at hand.
He threw his shoulders forward, pulled apart the rear of the Avon gas mask and dragged the thing over his head, making sure that the rubber formed an airtight seal with the skin of his neck. He tightened the retaining straps, and felt it pull closer around the contours of his face.
He placed his hand over the respirator’s filter, his palm making an airtight seal. He breathed in hard, sucking the mask tighter on to his face, so making doubly sure the seal was good. That done, he dragged in a few gasps of air through the filter, hearing the rasp and suck of his own breathing roaring in his ears.
He pulled the hood of the suit over his head, the elastic sealing around the edge of the mask. He dragged the bulky rubber over-boots on so they encased his j
ungle boots completely, then laced them up tight around his ankles. Last but not least, he pulled on the thin white cotton under-gloves, plus the heavy rubber over-mitts.
His world was now reduced to whatever he could see through the eyepiece of the gas mask. The dual filter sat to the front and the left, in an effort to prevent it from impeding the view, but already Jaeger was feeling claustrophobic, and he could sense the heat and the stuffiness starting to build.
Suited up, the three figures stepped out of the living jungle and into the wasteland.
70
After the chattering of birdlife and the buzz of insects in the green and leafy jungle, their entry into the dead zone seemed eerily quiet. The steady patter of the rain against Jaeger’s hood beat out a regular rhythm to accompany the suck and rasp of his breathing, and all around, the terrain appeared devoid of life.
Rotten branches and bark squelched underfoot.
Where Jaeger’s over-boots kicked aside such debris, he could see that insects had started to recolonise the dead zone. Swarms of ants with iron-clad skin scuttled about angrily beneath his footfalls. Plus there were his old friends from Black Beach Prison – cockroaches.
Ants and roaches: if there were ever a cataclysmic world war using nuclear or chemical weapons, it would be insects that would very likely inherit the earth. They were largely immune to man-made toxic threats, very likely including whatever might be leaking from that warplane.
The three figures pressed onwards in silence.
Jaeger could feel the tension emanating from Narov at his side. A step or two behind came Dale, filming. But he was struggling to keep the picture properly framed, with his hands encumbered by the thick gloves, and the gas mask restricting his vision.
They came to a halt fifty feet short – from where they could try to take in the enormity of what lay before them. It remained half shielded by cadaverous tree trunks – denuded of leaves and bark, and dead to the core – but still there was no mistaking the sleek, elegant lines of the gigantic aircraft that had lain hidden in the jungle for seven decades or more.
