by Chris Ryan
Standing behind the boulders at the cliff edge, Abby, Lili and Sami agreed to split up.
Sami would take up position at the end of the ditch that led to the cliff edge, from where Max had watched the cove the previous night. He would be well hidden there, and could monitor the presence and movement of any vessels out at sea, should they arrive. Lili would hide in a sturdy gorse thicket twenty metres from the top of the ridge that led from the cove: a dense, uncomfortable place, full of thorns and foliage, where nobody else would venture. From here, she could watch – and count – any frogmen coming up the ridge onto the clifftop.
‘And I’ll head over there,’ Abby said, pointing beyond the ditch to a small copse a good three hundred metres away, perched precariously on the clifftop. There were few trees on the island, and Abby wondered how these trees had survived in such an exposed and windswept position. Then she thought that they were an obvious landmark, rather like the boulders.
‘Why there?’ Sami said.
Abby frowned. ‘I’ve got a theory,’ she said. ‘Those frogmen had heavy rucksacks, right?’
‘Sure, but –’
‘Hear me out. So far as we can tell, they haven’t been staying on the islands. They’ve been coming ashore and then leaving the same night. If they were staying, and needed a load of survival gear, I’d understand the rucksacks. But if they’re only here for a few hours …’
Lili nodded. ‘Maybe they’re bringing stuff onto the island and hiding it.’
‘Right,’ Abby said.
‘What sort of stuff?’ Sami asked.
‘I guess that’s what we need to find out,’ Abby said. ‘But if I was going to hide something, I’d probably choose somewhere I could easily describe to the person who needs to find it again. I’d choose some kind of landmark.’ She put one hand on the nearest boulder. ‘These are a bit too exposed,’ she said. ‘The ditch is a possibility, I guess. But those trees …’
Sami put a tentative arm on Abby’s shoulder. ‘You must make sure you aren’t seen,’ he said.
Abby allowed herself a grin. ‘I’ll make a point of it,’ she said.
They separated. Abby ran along the cliff, far enough back from the clifftop that she wouldn’t be seen from below. Her arm ached. There was always some pain there – a souvenir from a brush with an MP5 round on a previous mission – but tonight it was worse than normal. A dull throb seemed to penetrate right down to the bone, like a warning.
She told herself to put it out of her mind, to think of something else. Her thoughts turned, as they so often did, to Max. It was no secret – between Abby and Max or indeed among the other cadets – that her feelings for him were more than friendly. Did he feel the same way? It was hard to tell. They had agreed that nothing could ever happen between them. The Watchers, they knew, wouldn’t allow it. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t indulge in a flirtatious smile now and again, did it? Apparently so. Solemn, serious Max seemed completely focused on their job, and had no time for her.
Or maybe, she told herself, he was just a good actor.
Abby snapped her attention back to the job in hand. She was approaching the copse. It was much bigger up close. The trees loomed threateningly above her. She stopped at the treeline for a moment, catching her breath and looking out to sea. The moon cast a silver reflection over the waves and the stars were beautifully bright. It was with a small pang of regret that she plunged into the darkness of the trees.
She could hear branches creaking in the wind, leaves whispering. The ground was softer underfoot. She paused to allow her eyes to adjust to this different quality of darkness. Then she moved further into the copse and started to examine the trees themselves. The trunks were gnarled and twisted, but their bark was smooth. They were mostly unsuitable for climbing. In the heart of the copse, however, was a tree whose trunk was fat at the base but tapered sharply as it rose, with branches protruding at just the right intervals.
Abby climbed it easily. Within seconds she was crouched on a branch among the whispering foliage, a dark figure, invisible – or so she hoped – from the ground. It was uncomfortable, but a good vantage point from which she had a decent view across much of the copse.
It was a gamble. The frogmen might not come anywhere near this place. If they did, there was a chance she would be spotted. But she was willing to take that risk.
She waited.
Max was not hot, but he was sweating heavily by the time he reached the listening station. He touched the cool concrete with one hand, then looked back the way he’d come. He couldn’t see Lukas. It made him feel quite alone.
Now that he was at the building, he realised he didn’t really know what he was searching for. He knew, from seeing it at a distance, that it was a squat rectangular structure. He supposed there must be an entrance somewhere, but he hadn’t seen one yet. He decided to move stealthily around the building and see what was on the far side.
He took one step along the external wall, then stopped. Had he just heard something? A movement?
He held his breath, remained very still and listened hard.
Nothing.
His pulse was beating hard as, concealed by the shadow cast by the listening post, he crept along the external wall towards the nearest corner.
Sami had been in place at the top of the cliff for a scant ten minutes when they arrived.
The frogmen emerged from the sea in a spookily neat formation. Three men first, in a line. When they hit the sand they spread out, their rifles raised, then two more lines of five men emerged from the ocean. They all had heavy rebreather masks and bulky rucksacks. Sami knew they couldn’t have swum far with all that gear. He tried to spot a vessel out to sea, but saw nothing. Max had said that Hector suspected minisubs. Sami was certain he was right.
He raised his camera and focused it on the emerging frogmen.
Click.
Their arrival was now a matter of record.
The frogmen didn’t remain on the beach for long. They removed their rebreathing apparatus and stowed it somewhere Sami couldn’t see, against the cliff. Then they headed in a line towards the ridge that led to the clifftop, out of Sami’s line of sight.
He hunkered down, still and hidden, hoping that Lili was well concealed.
The thicket in which Lili was hidden was so dense that if she moved even a millimetre, a thorn would scratch her. So she put herself in a position such that her camera was raised, balanced on a sturdy twig, and pointing towards the top of the ridge. And then she stayed very still.
Which meant that, when the frogmen appeared, marching in single file along the ridge, their heavy rucksacks on their backs, they plainly had no idea she was there.
She counted them: thirteen men. They were clearly fit and strong, because the climb seemed to have had no physical effect on them. Each was armed with a suppressed assault rifle, and they all had bulky rucksacks. Lili wondered what they contained.
Click.
Click.
Click.
She froze. One of the frogmen had stopped and turned. He was looking in her direction, his head cocked, a suspicious expression on his face. Her muscles tensed. She held her breath.
Time seemed to stand still.
Then the frogman shook his head and turned away again.
They marched on.
Lili remained still.
Abby was growing cold and uncomfortable. The wind was blowing harder and she had to grip the tree trunk more tightly. Her muscles ached, and she was beginning to lose confidence in her plan. What if the frogmen didn’t come this way?
This was foolish, she decided. She should get down, move to the edge of the copse and see if she could catch sight of anyone in the vicinity. She unwrapped one arm from around the tree trunk.
Then she froze.
She saw the movement in her peripheral vision to her right. She didn’t dare turn her head. Holding her breath, she stayed absolutely still. The figure on the edge of her vision came closer. She could see him now, a
nd his four companions. They were heading in her direction, hauling heavy, bulky rucksacks. They came to a halt directly under Abby’s tree.
Abby exhaled very slowly. She knew that if she allowed herself even the slightest movement, there was a risk that the men might see her.
They spoke. Gruff voices, unintelligible to Abby. Each of them lowered their rucksack to the ground. Two of them withdrew objects which Abby couldn’t quite make out at first. Only when they unfolded them did she see that they were collapsible entrenching tools. Or, as Abby would have called them before joining the Special Forces Cadets, spades.
The two men started to dig. The dull thud of their entrenching tools hitting the ground was slow and metronomic. The other three men stood guard, their weapons slung across their chests as they peered through the trees, checking that nobody was approaching. None of them, however, thought to look up. So they didn’t see Abby, watching them carefully.
Max had his back pressed up against the concrete external wall of the listening station. He was at the corner of the building, listening hard.
No sound.
He turned the corner.
This end of the building was still in shadow. The external wall remained featureless. No windows, no door. Max moved along it in the darkness, his footsteps making no sound. He reached the next corner, listened, then turned.
He was exposed to the moonlight now. It was bright enough to make him squint. Five metres from his position there was a door. He crept towards it. It was sturdy and strong, made of painted iron. And it was locked. There was no way in.
To its left, however, he noticed something.
There was a concrete block by the door: a cube about two metres long. On its nearest side was a metal grille. Max took it to be a housing of some sort. Maybe there was a generator inside, or some kind of plumbing. Whatever it was, a dim red light glowed between the block and the external wall of the listening station.
He moved towards it, his pulse racing.
The red light originated from a box fixed to the back of the concrete cube. It was black and about the size of a cereal packet. Max knelt down to examine it. A panel, just next to the light, read: ‘Mode S Transponder’.
He blinked and frowned. He knew what a transponder was: a device to receive and transmit radio signals. Was this part of the listening station’s apparatus? He didn’t think so. Why would it be fastened to this concrete cube like an afterthought? It was obviously powered by battery as there were no cables leading into it. And it was new. Or at least not weathered, as it would be if it had been outside for a long time.
No. This was a recent addition. And he suddenly knew, with cold certainty, why it was here. The transponder had surely been deployed to relay the precise position of the listening station to enemy aircraft. Because in the event of an attack, this listening post – the purpose of which was to track enemy aircraft – would be a prime target for immediate destruction.
Max pulled his camera from his pocket.
Click.
Click.
Click.
He stowed the camera again and stood up. He decided that he should destroy the transponder immediately. Nobody knew when the Argentine attack might take place. It could be any time. It could even be tonight. This transponder was a crucial piece of kit in the enemy’s arsenal. It had to go.
He raised his right leg and rested his heel against the corner of the transponder, ready to strike it hard.
And then he saw it.
The shadow.
Someone was behind him.
Max’s blood froze. He felt as though all the strength had drained from his limbs. It occurred to him, momentarily, that it might be Lukas. But he knew it wasn’t. Lukas wouldn’t creep up on him like that. He’d have made his presence known. This was someone else.
And Max had to prepare to fight him.
He drew a breath, summoned his strength, and turned around.
He immediately saw that it was one of the frogmen. He wore a wetsuit and his hair was still damp. He was clutching his weapon – an assault rifle – broadside on, by the barrel and the butt. He was clearly unwilling to fire it, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do some damage. He snarled as he lunged towards Max, thrusting the side of the weapon into Max’s face.
Max was fast. He feinted to the right and the weapon passed over his head. Max jabbed his left elbow hard into his attacker’s gut. He heard a gasp as the frogman, winded, doubled over in pain. Pivoting on his left foot, Max spun around, his right leg extended, and kicked the back of the frogman’s left knee. The man collapsed into a kneeling position, giving Max the opportunity to do the one thing he needed to do.
Run.
He sprinted to the corner of the listening post, intending to retrace his steps back to Lukas.
Lukas.
Max suddenly realised that if the frogman had managed to creep up on him, Lukas must be in trouble. That thought was enough to make him hesitate as he turned the corner.
And that moment of hesitation was his big mistake.
A second frogman was waiting for him. It was not only his presence that chilled Max, it was his red eyes. This was the guy who had murdered the old man last night. He too was using his weapon as a cudgel, and he attacked Max with the butt end. It slammed hard into Max’s forehead, the impact increased by Max’s momentum. The pain was sudden and sharp. Max staggered back, the world spinning. He felt another blow to his face.
He tried to call for Lukas, but then there was a third blow. It cracked into the side of his face and knocked Max, unconscious, to the ground.
When he woke – it could only have been moments later – all he knew at first was that he was moving. He could see the grass bouncing below him. His head was in agony. He wanted to vomit. His wrists were tied behind his back and his ankles were bound. A rag had been shoved into his mouth to keep him quiet. He was being carried backwards over somebody’s shoulder.
It hurt to engage his core muscles to look up. But he did it and saw, behind him and to his right, another frogman with another figure slung over his shoulder. Max knew it was Lukas, but he couldn’t tell if his friend was conscious or not. And frankly, right now, that was the least of his worries. He had the urge to vomit again, but knew he mustn’t because if he puked with the rag shoved in his mouth, he could choke. He mastered the urge, but then the world started spinning once more and he had to close his eyes to get rid of the nausea.
Seconds later, he had passed out again.
10
Stinger
It took a long time for the frogmen in the copse to dig the hole. The ground was clearly very hard and there was a frequent chinking sound as the entrenching tools hit stones. Abby’s muscles shrieked, begging her to move, but she didn’t dare to. The way the gunmen prowled around the copse told her that they meant business.
Slowly, the hole began to take shape. The diggers had been going for twenty minutes when Abby realised, with a chill, that the hole was coffin-shaped. A horrible thought occurred to her. Were they planning to bury someone? Had there been another death?
Her mind turned to the other cadets. She felt a moment of panic and experienced the urge to climb down and check on them. But of course, that wasn’t an option. All she could do was wait and watch as the coffin-shaped hole grew deeper and deeper …
Lili had a rising feeling of unease. The frogmen had filed out of sight, but the memory of the man who had looked towards the thicket where she was hiding was hot in her mind. If he returned that way – and he surely would – there was a high chance that he would check Lili’s hiding place.
So she had to move.
It was a painful business, removing herself from the thorny thicket. Her hands and face were scratched and sore by the time she was free. Lili couldn’t worry about that. Scanning the area carefully, she crouched low and ran-walked away from the thicket, past the mouth of the ridge, towards the cliff edge. The wind blew her hair wildly as she kept a lookout for any sign of frogmen.
There was none.
Where were they? What were they doing?
Lili couldn’t answer those questions, but she knew she needed to hide again. And so she ran to the boulders. Here she checked all around her for threats. The area seemed deserted. She ran on towards the ditch where she knew Sami was hiding. She jumped down into it and crawled along it to the cliff edge. ‘Sami!’ she hissed once she knew she was in earshot. ‘It’s me!’
Sami seemed to emerge from nowhere. His face was anxious. ‘What’s wrong?’ he whispered. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Nothing,’ Lili said. ‘It’s okay. I just got worried that one of them might have seen me. I didn’t want them to come sniffing around when they return to the cove.’
‘What are they doing now?’ Sami said.
Lili frowned. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t see any of them on my way here.’
Sami suddenly seemed a little more steely. ‘I think we need to check on the others,’ he said.
He began to stand up, but Lili grasped him by the arm. ‘No,’ she said. ‘We need to trust them to do their job. And we need to stay hidden.’
Sami crouched down again with obvious reluctance. ‘Something’s not right,’ he said. ‘I can feel it.’
They fell silent.
It was hard for Abby to estimate the depth of the hole from her vantage point above it. About a metre, she reckoned, maybe a little less. Certainly wide enough and deep enough for a body.
But whose?
She couldn’t help thinking of her fellow cadets. Where were they? What were they doing? Could this hole be for one of them?
And inevitably, the face in her mind’s eye was Max’s. It was pale and lifeless. The thought was too painful for her to bear.
Then, as her eyes shot open again, she cursed inwardly. The men below had stopped digging and were looking around, as though they had sensed someone watching them. An icy chill crept through Abby’s veins as she forced herself back into stillness. The two men exchanged a glance and shrugged. One of them threw his entrenching tool to the side of the hole, where it settled against the pile of soil they had displaced. The other folded his and placed it on the ground. Then they turned their attention to the four rucksacks that were lying nearby. They each opened one and started to empty it.
