Terminal Velocity

by Andy McNab

  ‘It’s self-catering,’ said Johnny from the other end of the briefing tent. He was waving a large ladle. ‘It’s like our very own version of Ready, Steady, Cook!’

  Half an hour later the team were sitting down and eating. Ethan did his best not to just sling the food down his neck, even though he was starving. He didn’t want to risk giving himself stomach cramps if Sam had them out running again.

  ‘Here,’ said Kat, passing something to Ethan. ‘It’ll help whatever it is we’re eating taste of something.’ Ethan looked down to see a large bottle of Tabasco sauce in his hands. ‘Remember,’ said Kat, ‘that Johnny cooked this. It needs all the help it can get.’

  Ethan splashed the sauce over his remaining food and soon his mouth was almost on fire.

  Kat flashed her killer smile. ‘Any better?’

  ‘Hot stuff,’ said Ethan, reaching for his water.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Kat, ‘but I was talking about the sauce!’

  Ethan laughed, but it was cut short as Sam marched into the tent. The space suddenly felt much smaller, particularly when, almost on Sam’s heels, two other men entered.

  The first, Ethan and the rest of the team recognized. He was the driver who’d brought them here. He was small, slim and in the strange light of the tent, with evening drawing on outside, looked like a collection of broken sticks and branches covered in combat gear, almost as though a farmer had dressed up a scarecrow in army surplus. But his eyes had a meanness to them, thought Ethan, and the muscles of his forearms were ropes of wire and looked strong enough to rip your arms off with just a twist.

  The other man was a giant, taller even than Sam. He looked like a rugby player, with a smashed nose and damaged ears. Ethan wondered how on earth someone like him bought clothes.

  ‘Now,’ said Sam, nodding at the two men, ‘allow me to introduce you to your instructors for your time out here.’

  The two men stayed exactly where they were, still as statues.

  ‘You’ve all met Reg,’ said Sam, nodding at the driver. ‘And this is Mal.’

  Neither man spoke.

  ‘Don’t look exactly friendly, do they?’ whispered Johnny, leaning in to Ethan.

  ‘They’re not here to be friendly, Johnny,’ said Sam, almost cutting Johnny off.

  Ethan made a mental note to never whisper anything at a meeting led by Sam. He had the ears of a bat. And a stare that could burn your face off.

  ‘Reg joined the Paras at seventeen. Went for Selection three years later. He’s served all over the world, and is an expert in pretty much everything you could imagine that involves either staying alive, or making sure other people don’t.’

  Ethan looked at Reg. He wasn’t sure, but had the man actually blinked even once since entering the tent?

  ‘Mal,’ said Sam, ‘was in the Royal Marines, went through Selection and served with the Special Boat Service.

  ‘Their instructions are simple. Train you well and push you hard. The situations you’ll be put in will test how you react to high stress and pressure. This is not the usual role-play bollocks you’d get if you worked in an office. This will be as close to real as we can make it without actually killing you.’ Sam paused. ‘Though at times you might think that’s exactly what we’re trying to do.’

  ‘Thanks for the motivational speech,’ said Johnny.

  ‘I’m not here to motivate you,’ Sam replied. ‘That is up to you. I’m here to make sure, with the help of Mal and Reg, that if you get sent into a life-threatening situation, either by throwing you out of a plane, or by any other means we think appropriate, you get to come out alive.’

  Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but Natalya leaned across the table towards him and said simply, ‘I think that from now on you should be quiet, Johnny.’

  Standing up, Sam stared down at the team. ‘You are all here because I chose you. Remember that. You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you had what it takes. I’m not expecting you to get everything right, but I am expecting you to bloody well try.’

  Mal stepped forward. ‘Like Sam explained,’ he said, ‘we’re here to push you, to test your abilities to adapt and survive and work as a team as well as individuals.’

  Ethan noticed how Mal’s voice was surprisingly quiet for such a giant of a man. And as he continued to speak, Ethan thought how there was an unshakeable quality to it. He imagined Mal would always speak like that, even with a gun at his head.

  ‘You’ll have to use your initiative and work under pressure,’ continued Mal, folding his enormous arms across his chest like he was trying to tie a boa constrictor snake in knots. ‘From what Sam’s told us, and what we’ve seen ourselves, we know you can all skydive as well as anyone I’ve ever seen in the air.’

  That comment made Ethan feel good. Praise from men like these, he knew for sure, was hard-won.

  ‘You’re a great team, used to working together, and that’s why your cover story is so damned watertight. But we now want to work on what you’re like as individuals. And that’s a different ball game altogether.’

  Mal stepped back and Reg moved forward to take centre stage. He gave them a smile, but Ethan couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t one entirely filled with warmth.

  ‘We’re going to spend a bit of time looking at how you cope when you’ve got no one else to rely on but yourself,’ he said, his voice less restrained than Mal’s. ‘It’s a different set of skills and you need them just as much as you need the ones you use as a team.’

  Reg went quiet and it was back to Sam.

  ‘That’s it for now,’ he said and made to leave the tent, turning just before he stepped outside. ‘One final bit of advice; get your heads down now. It’s early evening; make the most of it.’

  ‘Which means,’ said Johnny as Sam, Reg and Mal left the tent, ‘we probably won’t sleep again until the journey home.’

  Just a few minutes later Ethan, like the rest of the team, had taken Sam’s advice, and he was back in the warmth of his tent, burrowed deep and cosy into his duck-down sleeping bag. The self-inflating camping mat he was lying on was surprisingly comfortable. The wet kit he’d hung up earlier had already started to dry and he figured would be pretty much fine by the morning.

  Judging by what Sam, Mal and Reg had said, the next few days were going to be tough. Ethan was nervous, but he was also looking forward to just getting stuck in. He’d learned so much about himself, what he was capable of, since he’d first met Sam and the team, and being away now felt natural. This was what he wanted to do with his life, wasn’t it? He wasn’t about to start complaining.

  Ethan closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep; it was easy in the peace and quiet of the place, with nothing but the sound of the wind slipping through the trees outside.

  At no point was he expecting to be pulled from his sleep just a few hours later, by a screaming Reg, with the sound of thunder and rain outside like the world was about to end.

  6

  ‘Out! Out! Out!’

  Ethan shook the sleep from his head. It was still dark and that disorientated him a little. After what Sam had said about getting some sleep, he’d half expected to wake up in daylight. Instead, he’d been shouted awake just a few hours after dropping off.

  Ethan knew it was just an exercise, but that didn’t mean he could take it easy, so he grabbed his almost-dry kit from the gear straps, rammed his boots on, pulled up his hood and dashed out into the night. It was soot-black outside and the rain was hammering hard. It felt like someone was throwing ball bearings at him and he pulled his hood even tighter round his face.

  Halfway to the briefing tent, Ethan felt a gust of wind catch at him. But there was a sound to it as well, a thrumming in the blackness. He recognized it at once: helicopter blades.

  Without breaking his stride, Ethan turned to see a helicopter coming in to land just away from the campsite, sheathed in moonlight and rods of rain. The sight of it in the darkness, shattered only by blasts of lightning, made Ethan’s heart q
uicken. The only reason it was here at all was because it had something to do with whatever he was about to do next. Did that mean they were jumping? But a night jump in this weather? Was that at all possible?

  Ethan barged into the briefing tent, quickly followed by Natalya. Luke and Johnny were already inside, as was Sam. Someone was missing though.

  ‘Where’s Kat?’ asked Ethan, sitting down next to Johnny. But it was Sam who answered.

  ‘I’ve already briefed her,’ he said. ‘So don’t go thinking she’s grabbing a bit of extra shuteye because I’m going soft. Listen up, and we’ll get on with what the rest of you are doing.’

  Ethan noticed how, even though they all knew this was an exercise, the team were treating it just as seriously as anything else they’d done. But then that was how Sam had trained them, wasn’t it? To treat everything as though you’re doing it for real, even if it’s just rehearsing skydiving formations on the ground. That way, your mind is automatically ready and alert.

  Sam brought out a map and a selection of black-and-white photographs. ‘This is a hostage rescue. Nice and simple – well, it would be if it wasn’t for the crap throwing itself out of the sky.’

  The photos were of an old farmhouse sat huddled up next to a small lake like it was trying to hide behind it. It looked like no one had lived in it for years. The map showed the location of the farm, the patch of blue of the lake clearly visible in the centre, with some black squares next to it: the farmhouse and the farm buildings surrounding it.

  ‘Luke, Nat,’ said Sam, drawing everyone’s attention to the photographs and the map, ‘you’re on reconnaissance. You will be on the Pinzgauer and dropped two clicks south of the target destination, the farmhouse.’

  ‘Pinzgauer?’ asked Ethan.

  ‘It’s the mean-looking truck outside,’ said Johnny. ‘The one that makes even Sam’s Defender look a little bit afraid.’

  Sam rested his finger near the blue of the lake on the map. Ethan could tell by the look on Luke’s face that every single thing Sam said was not only going in, but being analysed and understood.

  Johnny looked just as focused. He may have been the joker in the group, but Ethan had always been impressed that he could just switch that part of himself off and get on with the job in hand.

  Natalya was calm. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her flustered. She seemed to walk through life as though she knew something the rest of the world didn’t, and whatever it was gave her an edge. Then his mind turned to Kat. Sam hadn’t said anything about what she was doing, other than that he’d briefed her. What was it that Sam had got her doing?

  ‘Your job,’ continued Sam, breaking Ethan’s trail of thought, ‘is to secure the place for Ethan and Johnny. You’ll all stay in touch with each other through a chat-net. And you’ll all be wearing tactical throat mics. Nat and Luke will be eyes on and will make sure you know exactly what you’re facing: number of x-rays, location, hazards, possibles on where the hostage is.

  ‘You’ll be flown out on the bird outside. You’ll do a night jump at ten thousand feet to a designated DZ – the far side of the lake, hide your rigs, tab in and rescue the hostage. Contact with any x-rays is to be avoided. You’ll then RV with Nat and Luke to be picked up at this point here. Questions?’

  No one said a word.

  ‘Good,’ said Sam. ‘And if you were wondering about Kat; she’s the hostage.’

  ‘Remember to do under your cuffs, back of your neck and between your fingers,’ said Johnny as Ethan, now dressed in his black suit for the night jump, with black grippers at the elbows and knees for another skydiver to grip onto if they were in formation, blacked himself up in what they all called ‘war paint’, the camouflage cream they used for working at night. ‘They’re easily missed and stand out if you get pinged by a torch.’

  Sam had done a quick recap of the ins and outs of a night jump. Ethan knew it all, had done a number of night jumps anyway, but a quick bit of revision from the master himself was good. And it made him all the more confident in what he was about to do. Then Sam’d left them alone to get kitted up.

  All the equipment they needed for the night jump was laid out on one of the tables in the briefing tent, but there was no point putting any of it on until they were absolutely sure no skin would be visible during the op.

  Just then, as Ethan did a final check for any bits he’d missed, a head appeared round the tent-flap door. It was Reg.

  ‘Three minutes,’ was all he said, then he was gone.

  Ethan looked at Luke and Nat. They were also in black kit and looked ready for anything. They were each wearing a small backpack with webbing.

  ‘What kit are you taking with you?’ he asked.

  ‘Essential survival equipment,’ said Luke, adjusting the straps. ‘Medical items, emergency rations.’

  ‘You expecting the worst?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘It’s good practice to always be ready for every eventuality,’ he said. ‘Doesn’t matter if we probably won’t need any of it. If we train with it, get used to always having it around, then we’ll find it easier to use if we have to in a live situation.’

  Natalya checked her chat-net was working, squeezing together the dual transponders – the mics – against her throat and saying her name a couple of times.

  ‘You’re coming across nice and clear,’ said Johnny. ‘Try yours, Eth.’

  Ethan copied, then Luke and Johnny did the same.

  Satisfied, Luke and Natalya turned to leave the tent, then Natalya turned back to face Ethan and Johnny. ‘We will see you at the farmhouse. Do not try anything clever, yes?’

  Then Luke added, ‘Just get Kat out, nice and clean.’

  Johnny nodded. ‘I don’t do it any other way.’

  Then Luke and Nat were gone.

  Johnny handed Ethan a skydiving rig and helped him strap it on, checking everything was clipped in right.

  ‘How you feeling?’

  ‘Fine. Better than fine actually, now that we’re jumping.’

  Johnny reached for the rest of the kit on the table and handed Ethan goggles, an audible altimeter that let out a ping for every 1,000 feet fallen, an LED, a rubberized torch and a hook knife to cut away the canopy if it got in a real state before then deploying the reserve. The LED, which Ethan quickly strapped to his leg, was a light visible for up to three miles that anyone doing a night jump had to wear by law. He knew it would stop him getting slammed in the sky by aircraft or any other skydiver jumping with him: in this case, Johnny. The torch, hung by some cord to Ethan’s rig and tucked into a pocket to stop it flapping, was for him to use to do a quick check of the canopy and make sure it had deployed correctly.

  Ethan said, ‘I know I’ve done night jumps before – we all have – but I’ve never jumped out of a helicopter. What’s it like?’

  ‘It’s the airspeed mainly,’ Johnny explained. ‘With a helicopter in hover, you’re jumping from a stationary object, so it’s more like BASE jumping when you exit. It also means you can be more accurate when you do a jump as you can hover over the DZ instead of flying right over it. Good for restricted DZs such as oil platforms and the tops of buildings where you haven’t got room for error in where you land. Because, as you know, we’re always trying to land on them, aren’t we?’

  ‘Who jumps first?’

  ‘We jump together,’ said Johnny. ‘That way we avoid the risk of colliding, and we can break off to safe air nice and easily to deploy.’

  The tent door flapped open. It was Sam.

  ‘Shift it,’ he said. ‘Liftoff is now!’

  Ethan was immediately outside and running behind Johnny, slipping his goggles over his eyes, heading for the helicopter. The rain, thankfully, had eased a little, the clouds breaking and now and again letting the moon poke through; at least they wouldn’t get completely drenched.

  Johnny jumped in, pulled Ethan behind him. Only when the helicopter lifted did Ethan realize that the pilot was Sam. The man, it seemed, could do anything.


  As they cut through the air, heading to where they’d jump, Ethan soaked up the experience. In a plane, you were shut off from the outside world till the door opened and you were out. But in a helicopter it was totally different. With the side fully exposed, the wind raced through and Ethan felt so much closer to what they were doing. And he understood totally why the machines were nicknamed birds: it felt like they were riding on the back of one.

  Johnny buzzed him on the chat-net. ‘You OK?’

  Ethan nodded, squeezed the dual transponders, said, ‘Yeah. Totally.’

  Johnny then tried to raise a response from Luke and Natalya. ‘No answer,’ he said. ‘We must be out of range.’

  ‘That a problem?’

  ‘No,’ said Johnny. ‘We’ll be fine once we land and make for the farmhouse.’

  Ethan suddenly felt the helicopter lose forward momentum and go to hover. Sam gave the call through on the chat-net that it was time to jump.

  ‘Johnny, Ethan; this is the DZ. However, the situation is now critical: Luke and Natalya have been captured en route to the farmhouse. The job is still on. Adapt.’

  Ethan wasn’t given time to think about the implications of what he’d just heard as Johnny grabbed him and took him to the open door.

  ‘Change frequency,’ he said, and they both quickly changed the band they had been using on the chat-net.

  They rested their legs over the edge of the opening and activated their LEDs. Ethan felt Johnny grab his arm. He grabbed Johnny’s.

  And then they were out into the night.

  Ethan felt his stomach go. Johnny’s description was totally accurate; the sensation was just like doing a BASE jump. But for a BASE jump he’d leaped from a few hundred feet, whereas now he’d just jumped from 10,000. He would definitely be at terminal velocity when he deployed.

  Rain was still in the air and it stung his skin. He was holding both of Johnny’s arms and it felt as though they weren’t falling at all, just hovering in a vast dark space as the wind tried to pull them apart.

  Ethan heard both his and Johnny’s altimeters ping. It was time to break free. He let go of the grippers on Johnny’s sleeves and Johnny did the same.