by John Kerr
He made no sound entering through the window and dropped silently onto the concrete floor. He glanced all round… It was a place he knew well, but a place he never thought he would ever have to sneak into. He lifted the Barbour jacket from the peg on the back wall to reveal his trusty old friend… An old friend that had helped him survive many a cold wet night in times gone by. It was an old Belgian army jacket. Plain green good insulation with zipped pockets and a large plastic zip up the front. He’d had it tailored and knew even after all this time it would still fit like a glove. Slowly Jake removed it and held it to his face; a damp musty smell filled his nostrils but it didn’t matter one little bit… It felt good to have it back in his hands. It had been in here far too long. As Jake’s eyes gradually became accustomed to the dark he turned and surveyed what lay before him. Within a few moments he realised that almost everything in there had either been bought by Vicky and him or used by them at one time or another. There was almost no light coming in through the small window, but what there was only added to the very surreal feelings running through his head. Slowly he picked his way round, examining everything that held a memory for him. He rubbed his hand over the portable barbecue, remembering how he had burned the sausages and she had told him off - big time! Jake could hear her telling him, that’s it; I’m not letting you near this again… ever! Little did she realise that he had meant to burn the food, in order to sit and watch her do what she did best - organise everything… Christ, she was good at it.
What had seemed like only a few minutes had in fact turned out to be a little over an hour, and for a short time it had felt like he was back home, where he felt he belonged. It was almost 2.15 a.m. when Jake closed the small window behind him and dropped silently onto the ground behind the garage. He stood motionless at the corner, looking at the house…
There was no sound to be heard anywhere. Suddenly he had the feeling that the world had somehow stopped. For the briefest of moments he couldn’t even hear his own heartbeat or feel his own breath. His eyes drifted upwards and fixed themselves on the bedroom window, knowing that only a few metres away the beauty who had been his whole life was lying beside her new lover. Jake suddenly felt physically sick… She was up there with someone else; she was so close that he could actually sense her very being. Jake could feel her presence but there was not a thing he could do… He felt almost paralysed and so very, very lost.
How long he stood there he had no idea, how he had got back and the route he had taken were a complete mystery. All he knew was that he got back just after 3 a.m. Jake was still in a daze when he turned the light on in his small bed-sit. He began to feel slightly more relaxed; the night was without the bitter cold that was usual for this time of year and he was looking forward to getting started at first light. It was a relief to get his head onto the pillow, but sleep didn’t come easily. Jake lay awake most of the night and his thoughts inevitably drifted to Vicky. What would she be doing right now? Jake looked at the clock, the numbers said 3.45. Would they be making love? He curled up into a ball and tried so very hard to make the hurt go away… It didn’t. He curled up even tighter and, just after 5 a.m., he eventually drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.
THIRTY-THREE
Jake’s feet slammed onto the floor as the first sound came from the alarm clock. It read 6.45 a.m. He moved through to the bathroom in a daze. He felt knackered but knew a quick shower would make him feel a whole lot better. Twenty minutes later he looked at himself in the mirror. He had his jacket on for the first time in just over two years. It immediately took him back to a time and a place he had almost forgotten about. He looked into the room and saw his pack lying against the wall, fully loaded and ready to go. A quick glance out of the window told him it would be a nice day for a walk, and an even better day to die. He knew in his heart of hearts that when he was finished there would be a number of body bags heavy with the bloody remains of crumpled bullet-ridden corpses. They would be lifeless and still, unable to carry out any more suicide bombing missions or attacks on unsuspecting innocent people who had harmed no one. Jake wouldn’t feel bad about their deaths, he never did. He only ever thought of the people he had saved by ending these people’s miserable, misguided lives. If one death at his hands let a young mum get back home to her kids, or a policeman visit his sick mother in hospital, if killing a terrorist before he exploded a car bomb let the people at the bus stop get to work and go about their business, then it was all worthwhile to him. It all made perfect sense. Jake was protecting them without them even knowing he was out there. He could sleep easy at night. He didn’t have bad dreams, he didn’t have nightmares, and he never had. Jake was the very best at what he did, and not many could do it.
He left the house and this time only glanced at the back of the bank. He moved quickly out of the town and into the cover of the trees. It was almost the end of February and it would be sometime after 7 p.m. before it got dark. Jake had timed his movements to perfection; he never picked up weapons until after dark and he had almost eleven hours to cover just over 70 kilometres…it would be a fair tab. A long tab before a job made him focus and cleared his head. Anyway, it would be easier in the daylight and Jake wouldn’t go tactical until it was dark and he was armed. There was quite a lot of mist this morning, which would hopefully clear when the sun rose. Branches cracked under foot and the birds were making enough noise to wake the dead. He pushed on and on. The clouds were thin and it didn’t look like it would rain. Jake’s pace was fast; he wanted to get there quickly. He told himself to take it easy, but he just pushed on faster. Jake was breathing easy and felt excited as the adrenaline started to pump it’s way round his body.
Out of the woods he climbed steadily higher. It was colder than it looked, but he was generating heat and was feeling good. The early morning dew made the bottoms of his trousers and boots wet. He jumped the boundary fence with a single leap, coming down hard on the other side, and stepped out without a pause. He had settled down to a fast and steady pace and was covering about seven kilometres an hour. Jake knew he could, if necessary, keep this up until dark and beyond. Jake’s map and compass were still safely tucked inside his jacket pocket. He would need the compass to retrieve his weapons, weapons which he had hidden a number of years earlier. They would be in perfect working order; they were well protected from the elements, prying animals and, worst of all, rust. Jake knew they would fire first time, every time, because that’s the way he had left them. It would be something of a miracle if anyone had found them. Jake put that thought straight out of his head and carried on.
Leaving the well-worn path he headed towards the summit and automatically leaned into the steep slope. He stopped behind a large outcrop of rocks away from the cold wind and made a quick brew. The hot steaming liquid was just what he needed. The difference a hot brew made to a soldier suffering in the cold was in-calculable. Jake loved tea more than he cared to admit. Hot. Milky and plenty of sugar. Life itself, no dispute. As the day wore on the walk got decidedly tougher but he ploughed on. The time on his watch said 2 p.m. he had been out for seven hours and was almost there. Christ, he was fit… he had hardly broken sweat and, although it was almost March, it was still cold. Looking skyward, he could sense there was some rain ahead and in the distance he could just about see the shape of Lightburn Ridge. Jake hadn’t been there for what seemed an overly long time, and it gave him an immediate jab of excitement. He was looking forward to meeting more of his old friends; it had been a number of years since he had fired a weapon and he couldn’t wait to hear the crack from the working parts.
Twilight came on slowly, and brought with it another rush of adrenaline. Jake started to look at where he placed every step: it made him stay that little bit more alert and helped him to avoid any large pot holes or rocks that could very easy cause a mishap. He was completely switched on, and was very nearly in fighting mode. There were no more than two hours till last light and he was moving like a freight train. Jake could still feel the da
mpness in the air; he could smell it when he took a deep breath in through his nostrils. His heart rate was very nearly normal. It made him feel good about himself, which was something that had been missing for the past couple of months. Jake had now covered just over sixty kilometres in eight hours and he could see his target location just below the top of Linklater Fell.
It would be dark in an hour or so, so he took shelter behind a large outcrop of rocks on the valley wall and waited. He went automatically into silent routine, scanning all around with his night vision binoculars, and listening. There was no sound, just a light wind that whistled softly past his location. He waited… The area was uninhabited, with the nearest house being over sixteen kilometres south-west, so the chance of anyone being in the area at this time of day, with no roads nearby, was somewhat remote… But you never know!
The next three hours dragged by very slowly; lying up like this was always necessary but it pissed him off nevertheless. A last check through the night sight, and Jake moved out down to the valley floor. He would box round the trees - evergreens, great for sleeping under but a fucking nightmare to push through. It would only add another thirty minutes on to his time. Jake’s eyes were working well in the dark and he could keep up almost the same pace as during the day.
He started up Linklater Fell and could see the large standing-stone as its silhouette pushed towards the sky. It stood out like a darkened lighthouse, and was only a little under one kilometre away. Jake dropped his pace as he turned his head side on; any noise from in front or behind would be easier to hear. He stopped, dropped on to one knee, and listened… Nothing. He pushed on slowly as his heart rate rose; this was tactical, he was unarmed but still felt vulnerable. Another 100 metres and again he went down on one knee, head turned… Nothing. Two minutes… Go. By now Jake’s head was moving from side to side: any movement either side of him and he would see it. Only 200 metres to his target – again he went down. Everything seemed normal, quiet and still. He was surrounded by the darkness and it made him feel easier. He pushed on and felt the relief as he eventually put his back against the standing-stone. It was a huge boulder, standing about three metres high, which had been thrown out of a long-extinct volcano a few million years ago. It had come to rest on this very spot. It had become a good reference point for Jake, as it would never move from here. Again he listened, and very slowly made his way round to the other side where he would find his second reference point. Jake slid down into a sitting position and looked out over towards the moors. In the distance he could see the ridgeline going left to right, up towards the summit of Linklater Fell. Two-thirds of the way up, just above the parallel line from his position on the ridgeline, stood a second large stone. He took out his compass and read the bearing to the right-hand edge. It was a bearing he knew, but he would check it as always. Okay, got it… He lifted himself upright and moved out, counting the steps, never once taking his eyes off the ridgeline ahead of him. Reaching the number forty-five, he immediately started going down into what felt like an old shell crater. It was only about two metres deep and three metres wide, but it was his third marker. Once outside, he counted a further twenty-five paces and stopped. Jake dropped to his knees and removed his pack. Directly beneath him was what he was looking for. He soon had his collapsible shovel in his hands and was slowly removing the earth from above his package. Fifteen minutes later he had cleared the top of the old army ammunition container. It was wooden with plastic hinges, non-magnetic and lightweight. It eliminated any chance of it being discovered by a nut with a metal detector. Jake lifted the lid and opened his very own Pandora’s Box. Inside it contained a further two boxes, one of which held a Browning 9mm pistol submerged in oil. He quickly dried it off and loaded it with the rounds Peter had given him. The larger box revealed a Heckler and Koch MP5 which was also submerged in oil. This time, when dried, he rubbed over the working parts with graphite grease, which would cut down the risk of a stoppage during a tricky moment. The MP5 magazine was loaded with a magazine again containing Peter’s rounds. Jake quickly filled his pouches with the remaining ammunition and a few other goodies from his box of tricks. He thumbed through the group of maps till he found the two he was looking for and slid them down the front of his Jacket. He closed the case, lowered it back into its grave and covered it over as if it had never been disturbed. Twenty minutes later his lonely figure could be seen going over the top of Linklater Fell and down out of sight.
He was ready… he was armed… and he was going back to war.
THIRTY-FOUR
Jake travelled out of the area and kept going until just after midnight. He had to get his head down and found the perfect place at the bottom of a railway embankment. There was a boundary wall, which gave him shelter from tonight’s downpour. He sorted himself and his kit out had a brew, got out of the cold and into his sleeping bag. He lay under his poncho and listened to the noise of the rain as it dripped from the branches above. It was eerily quiet. He could hear nothing moving anywhere; the wind had also died away, and as the rain stopped, Jake felt it was quieter now than ever before. Soon he drifted off to sleep. This night it came easy and he sank into a deep slumber, never moving once.
The nightmare that would eventually come to haunt Jake Silverman started that night. It was almost daybreak, and just before he woke his mind drifted to Vicky. It was very faint at first. She came slowly out of the gloom and into his dream. He could see her clear as day; he could almost touch her. She was standing close to him on some sort of line, a railway line and her foot had somehow jammed between the points. She couldn’t move. Jake was standing at the side of the track but, as often happens in a dream, he couldn’t move his arms. They seemed to be fixed to his sides. In the grey distance, very quietly at first, could be heard the unmistakable sound of an approaching train, the rumbling noise gradually getting louder and louder. There was nothing Jake could do. He couldn’t even turn his head to look at the train, but he could hear it and he could feel it. The ground started to shake as more than 150 tonnes of steel moved closer towards the most important thing in his life, and he was helpless. Jake was transfixed, but even in this dream she was so very beautiful. It was getting closer, it was getting louder, Vicky was crying. She mouthed the words for help but Jake could hear nothing over the sound of the unstoppable train that would soon take her from him. And it was getting louder. She struggled to get free, but Jake was powerless to stop it. Louder, louder… Closer, closer… It was right on top of them. Louder… Closer… Louder… Closer… She was seconds from a horrible death… Jake screamed… No!!! Suddenly, and without warning, Jake was free to move. He stepped forward in front of Vicky and turned to face the oncoming train. It was only metres from them. The lights at the front were so bright they completely blinded him, just as it crushed them both.
Jake sat bolt upright, his face covered in sweat, as the train at the top of the embankment roared past. Fuck! He screamed inwardly as he threw his hands directly out in front of himself, feeling like his chest was about to burst. Within moments he had jumped from the bag and had run to the top of the rise. He watched the early-morning train as it quickly disappeared into the distance. Without stopping to think, he quickly lifted a handful of stones from the trackside and fruitlessly threw them after the departing train. ‘Bastard!’ he screamed. ‘Bastard! Bastard! Bastard!’ He kicked a small pile of stones in the direction of the train before he leaned over, rested his hands on his knees to support himself and exhaled everything his lungs held. He breathed heavily for the next few seconds trying desperately hard to lower his heart beat. He was shaking almost uncontrollably and knew he had to compose himself. Jake fell hard onto the line and covered his face with his hands…Shit! He felt like a complete wreck.
THIRTY-FIVE
The time on his wristwatch said 6.55; Jake felt the morning dampness in the air brush against his face and for the next few minutes he was totally disorientated…lost…
Think! …Think! Get a fucking grip! What the hel
l’s going on? As the words bounced around inside his head he tried desperately to take in his surroundings. He was breathing heavily and shaking uncontrollably. He dragged himself to his feet and scrambled back down the embankment to his sleeping bag, where he curled up into the tightest ball he could and tried hard to block out the outside world. ‘Let it go, Jake,’ he said in a quiet voice, ‘just let it go, mate.’ It hurt so very bad and he wondered if he could take much more.
Then, just as he was about to pull his head inside his bag, away from everything that was bad outside, he put his hand on the barrel of the fully loaded MP5, and it all came flooding back to him. Okay, boy, let’s check-fire these weapons. It was the first clear thought to enter his head that morning. He moved… His weapons were quickly concealed. In the daylight he didn’t want to be seen armed by anyone. The last thing he needed was some passing walker reporting him to the authorities and for the hills to be swarming with police looking for an armed gunman. Jake packed all his gear and started off along the railway line in the direction the train had come. He made good time and was soon moving well. By mid-afternoon he was out of the area and into the woods.
