Land of Fire

by Chris Ryan

  The gear was all together. It was simply a matter of cut and run. Before we pulled out, we scoured the plinth and path, removing every trace of our presence. I even replaced the mine that I had lifted, thinking that it might keep the Argies busy removing it.

  The woman looked shaken by our weapons and the speed and silence with which we moved. She did not protest when I pointed her down the track after the others.

  Rain was still falling as we reached the gates and the first hint of light was creeping into the sky. Not dawn yet, but a darkness that was easier to see in. While the others crouched at the side in the bushes, weapons at the ready, I approached the gate. Into the lock I inserted the brass key with the plastic tab that Seb had given me and twisted it. Nothing happened. I tried again, still no joy. I tugged at the hasp but it remained locked. I tried putting the key in the other way, pulling it a short way out. Nothing worked. Still it wouldn't turn.

  "Bugger it," I muttered under my breath and, taking a grip with both hands on the key, I twisted it with all my strength. There was a metallic snap and the key broke off at the lock. Shit!

  I went back to the others and told them what had happened. "The fucker jammed in the lock. All this snow and rain must've rusted it up. Now it's busted."

  "You fat-handed twat," Doug snarled in a whisper. "Can't even work a key. Now what?"

  I looked at the gate. It was strung with barbed wire across the top. Kiwi followed my gaze. "No sweat, boss," he said.

  We ran back to the gate. I took off my pack and slung my weapon over my shoulder. Kiwi made a stirrup for my foot and heaved me up effortlessly. I gripped the bar at the top of the gate and pulled myself upright, holding on to the barbed wire with my gloved hands. I hooked one leg over to get a firm stance and Kiwi passed up the pack. I heaved it over and dropped it down on the ground on the far side. I swung my other leg across, let go and jumped down. I was back outside the base. "Easy," I whispered.

  Josh came next, then Doug. As soon as they were down they took up positions with their weapons covering the tracks in both directions. Kiwi seized the woman and boosted her up on his shoulders till she was level with the top of the gate. She picked her way neatly over, gripping the wire between the barbs with her slim fingers. I reached up to help her down but she motioned me curtly out of the way and jumped. She landed lightly as a cat. I laid my hand on her shoulder just in case she had any ideas about taking off now she was outside. She shook herself away angrily, but made no attempt to escape.

  That left only Kiwi and Nobby, the biggest and the smallest of the team. This time Kiwi went first. Nobby made a step for the huge New Zealander and in a second he was up on top of the gate. Nobby handed up both their packs and Kiwi threw them over. He took a strap from his pocket and lowered the end to Nobby, who wound it round his wrist and gripped tightly. With a grunt Kiwi heaved him up beside him on the gate. The two of them climbed over and jumped down one after another. As they did so there came an urgent hiss from Doug up the track. "Vehicle approaching."

  "Take cover!" I rapped instantly, grabbing the woman by the hand. Seizing our berg ens we ran for the bush on the far side of the track, threw ourselves flat and began wriggling in underneath as fast as we could go. I pushed her in front of me,

  whispering at her to keep her head down. She didn't seem to need telling though. She was crawling along on her belly like a pro. Maybe she had been trained that was something else to bear in mind when we had a moment to question her.

  The noise of the approaching vehicles was loud behind us now. This must be the dawn patrol Seb had warned us about. It was fortunate that the rain had washed away the snow and we weren't leaving any tracks.

  We were around thirty yards into the bush and our cammies would give us good cover at this range. Even the woman's dark clothing would be hard to spot.

  Headlamps swept among the scrub overhead and halted. The engine note died to an idle and there was a shouted order. We all tensed. Had we been spotted? I heard the sound of a man jumping down, probably from a Jeep. There was a rattle from the gates. Checking the lock, I thought. Seb had been right when he said the marines here were well disciplined. There was a call in Spanish followed by the sound of the man returning. Evidently everything was in order. The engine picked up again, there was a clash of gears, and the headlights moved on past us down the track.

  Before we moved off I checked my GPS. We still hadn't managed to contact Seb but we had agreed an RV point in a clearing about two kilometres due north. There was an old stone sheep-creep there, apparently, which would provide some sort of cover for us to lie up in during daylight. He had given me a grid reference which I had entered into the GPS memory. All I had to do was call it up to get a bearing.

  We moved out quickly, Kiwi leading this time. We had less than an hour of darkness left and a good way to hike. Even if we kept on going through the twilight of half dawn we would be pressed to make the RV point before sun-up. Whether or not we could keep going would depend on the terrain. The one thing we couldn't do was risk being spotted. A lot depended on the rain keeping up and forcing people indoors.

  I worried that the 'woman wouldn't be able to keep up, but she seemed fit and accustomed to walking and at least she wasn't carrying a bergen. It occurred to me to ask her what she knew of the country round here, but I decided against it. I wanted to keep her under our control at all times, and it was necessary for her to be convinced we knew exactly what we were doing.

  Shortly after leaving the airfield we were back in the pampas again. There were few trees, and the rain had left many deep pools into which we plunged constantly.

  We were headed north, parallel with the coast. The main road was away to our left a couple of kilometres. That was the direction in which there was most likely to be human activity, and we kept well clear.

  We constantly checked behind us, but detected nothing and pressed on.

  The sky was definitely lightening towards the east now, and we still had over two kilometres to go.

  It wasn't long before Kiwi signalled us to halt. I went forward and found we had almost blundered on to a small house, almost a shack, built into the side of a slope. It looked like the sort of place a shepherd might hole up in, almost certainly with a pack of dogs at his command. We backed carefully away and circled round downwind to the west, giving the place a 500-metre berth.

  At one point Nobby, who had taken over the scout position, spotted car headlights in the distance. The main road was less than a kilo metre away. I checked the GPS and changed course towards the east again. The trouble with this coastal strip was that it was hemmed in between road and sea with little room to manoeuvre.

  Soon afterwards we made a second break and dogleg: we cut back across our own track and halted for a moment to check for followers. We were about to move off again when Josh said, "Wait."

  Everyone dropped flat, safety catches snicking off. I glanced at Josh. He signalled to me that he had glimpsed one figure back down the track in the direction we had been coming from. Grey streaks of dawn were now lightening the sky and the landscape was taking on a ghostly appearance as objects emerged mistily from the darkness. The rain had eased off and the wind was dropping. The temperature was hovering near freezing, though a raw, damp cold that penetrated my clothes and set me shivering.

  We waited in the wet grass for ten minutes as water dripped from the bushes, but nothing happened. Eventually I signed to Josh to go forward and investigate, with Doug to cover him. They crawled away into the misty gloom while the rest of us waited, weapons cocked, ready to come to their aid. Visibility had increased till it was just possible to make out faces in the murk. Finally my earpiece gave a click. "Fuck all here," came Doug's voice, irritated and abrasive. "Reckon your kid brother has been jumping at shadows."

  "Are you certain?" I responded. Doug was a good soldier -fast, aggressive and courageous in action, but he lacked patience.

  "You questioning my judgement?" he snapped back, his short fuse igniting
in a trice. "You don't trust me, is that it? You think this jerk knows more soldiering than I do."

  I was tired. "Fuck off, Doug," I told him. "I asked if you're certain we aren't being stalked. If you're happy, fine. Come on back and bring Josh with you."

  Doug emerged from the bush with a crestfallen Josh following. He was sure he had seen something among the gorse and even reckoned he had found a footprint but Doug remained dismissive. "It was one of the chick's," he sneered. "Though what we're brought her along for I dunno unless it's to have some fun while we're waiting at the RV."

  Even if the woman's English wasn't good enough to follow this exchange, Doug's leer made its sentiment plain. She shot him a look of contempt and spat. "English soldier. Bastardo!"

  "Drop it," I told them. "We've got to get moving. I'll lead. Josh, you look after her. Kiwi, you take the rear slot and keep your eyes skinned."

  I cracked on, setting as fast a pace as I could. I was desperately anxious to reach the RV point before daylight made it too dangerous to move. If there was anyone behind us then perhaps we could leave them behind. The only pursuit we really had to fear would be by vehicles.

  Or from the air.

  Less than half an hour later, just as it was nearing 9.15am, we heard the thud of helicopters approaching from our rear.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  "Take cover!" I shouted, flinging myself down into the wet grass. Dawn was breaking slowly, drawing a thick mist out of the ground which covered the country in a dense cloud. The sun was coming up, a weak, wintry orb with no warmth to it. Beads of moisture clung to our clothes and weapons. We could see only a distance of a few metres. All sounds were muffled, and we lay in a nebulous, white world.

  I pulled my camo net over me and lay flat. The machines clattered overhead at speed, invisible in the low overcast as we burrowed blindly into the grass like animals. Heavy-duty troop carriers, I judged by the engine note. Something like the American Black Hawk or our own Puma, each carrying a stick of twelve to fifteen fully armed troops. Enough to give us a headache. It sounded like they were flying high and heading north. Maybe they were trying to spot us through patches in the mist, or perhaps it was just a routine patrol. There was no way of telling.

  As soon as they had gone I held a quick briefing. According to the GPS we now had less than 1000 metres to go to the RV point. "While the fog holds we'll risk it and push on," I told the others. There was no dissent, even from Doug. We were all anxious to reach a place where we could lie up.

  I made another attempt to contact Seb, but he still wasn't answering. I was getting pissed off. First his key didn't work, and now he wasn't picking up his messages. That was the trouble working with intelligence types; they were unaccountable. We needed him to arrange our route over the border, and to take over the woman if possible.

  Five hundred metres from the RV we executed another ambush check to the rear. The sun was coming up fast now, and starting to burn off the mist. We only had another few minutes in which to establish ourselves in a fresh LUP for the day. According to the GPS the sheep-hide we were supposed to rendezvous at lay just over the neighbouring ridge. We halted under some stunted trees in a small gully, and I sent Doug forward to scout the route. He had hardly gone when there was an urgent message from Josh to the rear.

  "Four men moving up the trail in our direction. Armed."

  "Ambush positions!" I snapped to the others, grabbing the woman as I spoke. Instantly we dispersed ourselves in a ring facing back the way we had come. Kiwi had the big GPMG deployed to enfilade the gap in the gorse through which the enemy would approach, the rest of us had rounds chambered. "Doug, watch our front!" I said into the radio.

  "Roger," was his reply.

  "Stay under cover everyone. Don't shoot unless they fire first." A battle now, so close to the RV point in breaking daylight, would be disastrous.

  Josh came scuttling back to join us. I pushed the woman down into the grass beside me. "If shooting starts, keep your head down and play dead," I hissed. "Don't look up and don't run. Understand?"

  She nodded. Her face was pale. It was the first time I had been able to take a really good look at her in the light. A strong face, fine featured, very dark eyes smudged with tiredness, and older than I'd first guessed.

  She clutched my arm. "These men, they may be friends of mine."

  I stared at her, trying to work out whether I was imagining that I'd seen her before. Before I could think any further the first of the group stepped out from a bank of gorse into the gully. He was a young man, in his mid-twenties at a guess, thin and drawn looking. He was dressed like a hunter in khaki trousers and a loose-fitting camo jacket, and he carried a hunting rifle with a telescopic sight on a sling over his shoulder. The man who followed him was older; he wore a woollen hat pulled down over his ears, and carried a pump-action shotgun with a bandolier of cartridges across his chest. Behind them were two more men, also civilians by the look of them, armed in the same way with sporting weapons.

  They moved cautiously in our direction. I had already figured that whoever they were, the best thing would be to let them pass, hoping they didn't spot us. If we could avoid a contact we would save ourselves a lot of grief.

  The woman, however, had other ideas. Ignoring my orders she jumped up. "Julian!" she screamed.

  Instantly the men swung to face her. The man with the shotgun had his weapon up. He was three metres away. If he fired at that range he would cut us both in half. I rose slowly to my feet. My rifle was centred on his chest and my finger was on the trigger. The rest of the team rose from their positions to cover me. I saw the newcomers' eyes widen as they took in the grenade launchers and the yawning muzzle of the GPMG clutched in Kiwi's great paws.

  For a long moment we stared, guns trained on each other. Alerted by the scream, Doug came running back along the gully. He took in the scene in a glance and dropped to one knee, his rifle pointed at the guy with the shotgun.

  "Doug," I told him. "Cut round the rear and check there aren't any more behind."

  "Gotcha, boss." He jumped up and took off, skirting the group and keeping his weapon trained on them all the time.

  The leader of the Argentines seemed to come out of shock. He shouted something in Spanish at the woman. Then the others started calling out too.

  The situation was rapidly slipping out of control. The four men were in a highly nervous state. The one in front was unslinging his rifle and yelling to the woman, and the other men were waving their guns in my direction. Any moment now someone was going to let off a shot and we'd have a load of corpses on our hands.

  "Tell them to put down their guns!" I shouted to the woman.

  "It is OK," she yelled back. "They are my friends. They mean no harm."

  "Fuck that! Tell them to throw down their weapons or we'll shoot!"

  She could see from my manner I wasn't kidding. One look at Kiwi and the others must have confirmed it. But her friends were growing increasingly agitated. They had seen Doug move in behind them and knew their escape was cut off, and they were all shouting.

  "Josh!" I shouted. "Tell the bastards to throw down their weapons or we'll drop them!"

  Josh stepped forward. "Put down the guns! Now, or we will shoot!" he said in Spanish.

  The men gaped at him. Either they hadn't understood his accent or were astonished at being addressed in their own language. The woman stepped forward, repeating what Josh had just said. She spoke quietly but firmly, adding something that sounded like "English soldiers'.

  English soldiers the four clearly got that much. They gaped at us blankly, and we stood our ground. They were bunched together with their guns held defensively in front of them. I studied them carefully. Educated men by the looks of them, ranging in age from early twenties to fifty. They were confused and frightened and there was a woman at stake. They might do anything.

  "Put down the guns," the woman said, speaking in English for our benefit this time. "I am OK. They have not hurt me. They he
lped me escape from the base."

  There was a long pause. The young man she had called Julian spoke to the others, evidently translating what she had just said. None of us made any move. "Please, Julian," the woman said quietly. "Please, no shooting for my sake."

  Slowly, reluctantly, the young man lowered his rifle to point at the ground. After a moment his companions followed suit.

  "Nobby," I said, 'get the weapons."

  Nobby went forward. Firmly but not roughly he took the guns off them and moved away out of the line of fire. The men stood with their hands by their sides. They looked angry still, as if they had been forced into something shameful. The woman spoke softly to them in Spanish. She turned to me. "What are you going to do with us?"

  "Let you all go as soon as we can," I told her. "We are on our way out of here and the last thing we need is a lot of prisoners."

  "Then why not let us go now?" demanded the young man whose name was Julian. "With her too," he added fiercely.

  "First tell me what you are all doing," I replied.

  He looked at the woman. I caught her shaking her head in a quick negative. "That is our business," he said sullenly. "We are Argentians. This is our country."

  "You are fighting the marines. We are against them too," added one of the older men, who looked like a doctor or a lawyer in his forties, and who evidently also had some English. It sounded as though they were part of some kind of resistance group. There had been nothing said in our briefings about any such organisation, though I knew that there was a great deal of opposition to the government. That didn't necessarily make them pro-British, though.

  "You cannot take us with you. Let us go, all of us. Her included, "Julian said reasonably. "We will promise not to tell the military you are here."

  "We'll fucking shoot you too and all," growled Doug. He hated foreigners on principle.

  Our problem was this: we now had five prisoners who needed at least three of us to watch them. That left barely enough to do a proper recon of the RV point. If we were attacked we would have to leave the prisoners and leg it. I decided to hand them over to Seb to deal with.