by Andy McNab
Ethan wasn’t listening. He had to close this as quickly and silently as possible; he knew there was only ever one instructor on night watch, but he had no idea if the others, who were probably asleep beyond that one door he’d not yet seen open, would be able to hear what was happening. Going up against an instructor one-on-one hadn’t been a part of the plan, and if another one came to help his mate, Ethan knew he was dead for sure.
With terrifying speed, the instructor was on him, pushing him with a flurry of punches that sent him stumbling back into the cubicle and onto the toilet. The instructor followed in, grabbing Ethan’s head and slamming it sideways into the thin, chipboard wall. Ethan would’ve yelled out, but the thump stunned him. Dazed, but forcing himself to stay alert, he brought his foot down onto the instructor’s own. It did no good; he was barefoot, the instructor was in boots.
More punches came. Ethan deflected most, but one caught him in the side of the face, knocking him backwards. This was going even worse than he could have ever expected. He was getting trounced.
The instructor brought his foot up to grind Ethan into the toilet itself, but Ethan dodged and went in, driving punches at the instructor’s crotch. The instructor yelled out, more from surprise, but it was enough to allow Ethan to get out. Now the roles were reversed and Ethan had the instructor trapped. He didn’t give him a chance to recover, driving a foot into the back of his legs. He dropped to the floor. Ethan sent in more kicks at the instructor’s torso. He wasn’t aiming for anything in particular, he just wanted to make sure the instructor was seriously out of action. Then, while the guy sprawled on the floor in pain, Ethan dodged out of the cubicle only to come back holding the electric prod.
The instructor turned to see Ethan holding what should’ve been on his belt.
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
Ethan looked at the thing in his hand. He knew just how painful and horrific they could be. Then he glanced back down at the instructor.
‘You know what,’ he said. ‘I think I would.’
Standing back, and out of breath, Ethan looked down at the instructor unconscious on the floor of the toilet. But he had no time to contemplate what he’d just done. Dropping to the body, he stripped it, ripped his own clothes into rags and a gag, to make sure the instructor stayed where he was, then changed into the instructor’s outfit. He’d never actually given any thought as to whether the clothes would fit or not, so was relieved to find that they did, despite the pain his feet were now in thanks to the boots which, despite the size of the man they belonged to, felt at least two sizes too small. The disguise would be useless if someone came up close, but Ethan hoped it would give him an edge if he was seen at a distance.
Double-checking the instructor one last time, Ethan gave him one more blast with the electric prod, then stuffed him into the cubicle and tied him to the toilet with the rags. He didn’t want him gaining consciousness and making a break for it. In the pocket of the instructor’s trousers that Ethan was now himself wearing, he found what he was looking for – what this whole escape plan depended on: the key card for the doors.
He slipped from the shower block and out into the hallway. From now on, everything depended on a whole world of luck and guesswork. It wasn’t great, but it was all he had. The first part of his plan, the only bit he’d had any control of, he’d managed to pull off, but only just. He could only hope now that the rest of it went just as smoothly, but the next stage was a complete unknown. Once through that third door that led from the canteen, he’d be in unknown territory. He pushed away all thoughts of what would happen if he was caught.
Ethan headed from the shower and toilet block, went through the canteen and walked over to the single door. From all the information he’d gathered, he had to assume it led to the way out – which he guessed was also the way he’d been brought here in the first place.
At the door, he pulled out the key card. He had no idea what was on the other side: if he was about to walk out to freedom; or find himself surrounded, and then dead. And no amount of waiting around was going to provide him with the answer. Letting out a long, slow breath to calm himself down, Ethan slipped in the card, saw the little red light in the mechanism turn green and turned the handle.
Through the door, he found himself in a short corridor which headed off in a curve to his left. He followed it round, and within a few metres came to a number of doors in the wall on his left. He knew he had to check what was behind them, not just for his own safety, but for when he brought the team back to find the server.
At each door he listened before swiping the key card. Behind the first, he found a small kitchen area. It was well-stocked, but contained nothing more suspicious than fridges filled with food and a large cupboard dedicated to sports performance supplements. The second door led to what looked like a staff room. A few sofas were scattered across the floor and a television was bolted to the wall. But there were no bunk beds. Maybe the instructors didn’t live on site at all.
Ethan slipped back out into the hall. The further along he moved, the fresher the air became. Then, just as he was getting hopeful, another of the doors ahead started to open.
Without thinking what was on the other side, Ethan quickly turned to the next door along, whipped out his key card, slipped it through the locking mechanism and dived through. Wherever he was, it was dark, but the window on the door was clear and in the corridor outside Ethan saw the one person he really didn’t want to run into at all: Chief. He’d been lucky with the instructor in the toilet cubicle. He had a sickening feeling that with Chief no amount of luck would be enough.
Ethan gave him long enough to pass before he made a move. First he had a quick look at the room he was now in. With the light slipping through the window in the door, he was able to make out exactly what it contained: weapons. It wasn’t a large room, but wherever he looked he saw things designed with one use in mind only: killing people. Shelves were laden with ammo boxes. Racks on the walls were filled with M16s and AK-47s. And everything looked very, very new. A thought struck Ethan; these weren’t weapons for the instructors, because they didn’t actually need any. No, this looked more like a showroom than anything. Perhaps this was where Mr X brought customers to check out his merchandise? For a moment, Ethan wondered if he could collect any decent intel from the room, but binned the idea sharpish. What he’d seen was more than enough, and he knew that what he already had stored in his head would get the team back on track with the job to bust Mr X.
He checked the door again to make sure the way was clear, then slipped out. Against his better instincts to get shifting, he edged down to the next door, the one from which he’d seen Chief emerge, and pulled out his key card.
Ethan slipped into the room. It was quiet except for a faint electronic hum and clicking. He waited for his eyes to accustom themselves to the darkness, then shapes started to appear: computer screens, green and red LEDs blinking. Was this where Mr X kept the intel Gabe was so desperate to get his hands on? It had to be, he thought. Why else would a place like this have a room stuffed full with computers? He’d look forward to telling Gabe all about it. He also remembered that if he got the team here, then it would be Kat sorting this room out and downloading the intel Gabe was after.
The thought of turning this mission into a success gave Ethan renewed sense of purpose. He slipped out of the room, turned left and continued along the corridor. Two further doors lay ahead, one again to his left, the final one at the end of the corridor and directly in front of him.
Ethan opened the first door. Inside, the darkness was thick, but that wasn’t what bothered Ethan; it was the smell. His mind was instantly run through with memories of his fight in the cage, his opponent’s face, the sounds and smells and terror. He didn’t bother to look further, or even find a light switch; he knew exactly where he was – the room that contained the cage.
Ethan forced away the horrors of that moment and backed out of the room. He couldn’t allow himself to get swamped by
them, not now. Later perhaps, but right now, all that mattered was getting out.
Back in the hallway Ethan turned to the final door. On the other side he found himself faced with a sweep of stairs heading upwards. And there was a definite draught now; it was bitingly cold. Ethan climbed the stairs. At the top he found one final door. The key card opened it and he walked through.
A fresh wind swept into Ethan and he gasped. It tasted so different to the air he’d been breathing down below. He could see stars above and was almost overcome by the sense of vast openness.
Ethan steadied himself against the door and allowed his head to clear. The air was a shock, not just because it was so cold, but for tasting so damned good. He drank it into his lungs. It was filled with the smell of the sea and Ethan soon realized that the sea surrounded wherever he was. If the place was built on an island, just how the hell was he going to get off now? He knew they’d arrived in a helicopter, he’d known they were by the sea, but he hadn’t for one minute thought he was on an island! How the hell was it possible for anything else to go so wrong?
Ethan was annoyed, angry and scared all at once. He remembered now Gabe saying there was a possibility that the facility was offshore, and he cursed himself for being so stupid. It became suddenly very clear why he had only found one instructor and the Chief at the facility that night; they didn’t expect anyone to escape, because escape was actually impossible. So what was the point of staffing it?
Running round the outer edge of the structure, glancing down now and again to the crashing white tails of the waves far below, desperate to find something, a boat – anything – to help him escape, Ethan heard a sound humming in the dark. He recognized it immediately and, making sure he was as well hidden as he could be, started to scan the skies for an approaching helicopter. He watched it coming in and, in the last few moments of its final approach, saw a dimly lit helipad area light up with red landing lamps in the shape of an ‘H’. Without that, thought Ethan, there was no way anyone would be able to find this place in the dark. And leaving the lights off till the last moments no doubt limited the possibility of the helipad being spotted by other aircraft.
When the helicopter was down, Ethan watched as it was unloaded: a lad with a bag over his head, shaking with cold and fear, was led by two instructors to the door he’d only minutes ago emerged from. But none of that was as important as the fact that, sitting only a few metres away from him, was his only way out.
The pilot had remained in the helicopter, but with the sound of the rotors as his cover, Ethan knew he had a chance of getting in without being noticed. It was a risk, but one he had no choice but to take.
Ethan dashed across from where he was and slipped silently into the rear of the helicopter, burrowing himself under some old tarpaulins for cover. He knew now that all he could depend on was luck. The new arrival would be taken to a cell, Ethan’s absence would be noticed and the missing instructor would be found. Then all hell would break loose. Ethan had no more cards to play. All he could do was sit in the dark and hope.
And he wasn’t a moment too soon as he heard someone climb up to sit next to the pilot. The engines thrummed into life and the helicopter lifted off.
Ethan lay as still as he could. He had no idea where he was now heading, but the fact that it was away from where he’d just escaped was good enough. From where he was lying, he could just see through the windows in the door of the helicopter and he watched as the blackness of the sea soon gave way to land, dotted with the lights of villages, streets, roads and towns. All he had to do now was stay hidden, wait for the thing to land, then get the hell out and fast.
Without warning, the helicopter bucked and shook, dropping in the sky, before continuing on its heading. But that little movement was all that had been needed for Ethan to be kicked out from his hiding place and lose the only protection he had – his electric prod. It skidded across the floor, but amazingly, neither pilot nor co-pilot noticed and Ethan shuffled as quietly as he could back under the tarpaulin. Then he spotted something strapped to the wall of the helicopter cabin within arm’s reach: a parachute rig, probably for use in emergencies only. A thought struck him; why wait until the thing landed and risk getting caught and shot, when instead, if he could just get to that rig and strap it on without being noticed, then wait until the helicopter was flying over land, he could be out through the door and dropping to safety …?
24
With an eye on the pilot and co-pilot in the cabin, Ethan reached up for the rig. It wasn’t exactly state-of-the-art, but it would do. For a moment he thought about the risk; he knew nothing of the rig, where it was from, who’d packed it. And so long as he made sure he was jumping over dry land, he’d be fine; land at sea and he’d be dead in minutes. But none of that mattered; this was his best chance yet to get the hell out and save his own life using the one skill he knew he could depend on – skydiving.
Ethan strapped on the rig. He didn’t have Luke or Johnny here to check it for him, so he ran over what he’d done himself, double-checking everything in a way that would make even Luke proud. And the thought of the team, of what they’d say when he told them what he’d been through, brought a grim smile to his face. He’d survived, and he sure as hell was going to return with some payback.
Ethan looked at the door. He could see the handle; all it would take was a single yank and it would slip open, but he’d have to be quick. He knew that as soon as he made his move, the two blokes flying the helicopter would feel the shift of weight, hear the door and see him jump.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Ethan slipped across the floor until his hand was able to reach the door handle. Through the windows in the door he could see below him the lights of towns glinting and the headlights of cars zipping down roads. He could also see the coastline.
Ethan hadn’t a clue how high he was and, with no altimeter, this jump was going to be half guesswork, the rest pure luck. And it was dark. Ethan had done night jumps, but never from a helicopter at an unknown altitude without a DZ in sight or an LED to make sure aircraft could see him in the air. This jump would be something he’d dine out on for years. More importantly, it might even make Johnny jealous.
If he survived it.
Ethan shot a final look at the helicopter cockpit, said a prayer to anything or anyone that was listening, then heaved the door open and pushed himself out into the cold, dark air …
The night sucked him out of the helicopter like it was hungry and Ethan immediately lost all awareness of where he was in the sky. But his training took over and he arched his back, got himself stable. The sound of the helicopter disappeared, swamped by the noise of the air rushing past him as he accelerated to terminal velocity.
Ethan looked up and was just able to catch sight of the lights of the helicopter. Below him, he could see the blackness of the sea beyond the coastline and the lights of a small town or village. It was the only guide he had to give him any sense as to how far away he was from slamming into the ground.
He adjusted his course, decided the best plan would be to hope that if he aimed just to the side of the village, he’d end up in a field rather than feet-first through someone’s roof. He tried not to think about all the other things he could hit, like electricity pylons and telephone wires or rivers.
Reaching round to release the drogue that would rip the main canopy out of the rig when it grabbed air, shocking his body from 120 mph to 10 in only a few seconds, he stopped; if he pulled too early, there was a chance the pilot in the helicopter would spot him. They’d have seen him leave anyway when he’d ripped open the door; he didn’t like the idea of them sweeping back round to try and ram him out of the sky. Or slice and dice him with the blades of the helicopter.
Ethan didn’t want to draw any attention to himself, so he stayed on his current heading and waited until the very last second to deploy. It was a risk he knew could cost him his life, but it was a risk he had no choice but to take.
With one last glance up behind h
im, he pulled the ripcord. The main grabbed air, yanked him hard. He felt himself slowing down rapidly, then a few seconds later everything was dark. He couldn’t see a thing!
Ethan knew he was in the dark zone, the air space below one hundred feet where ambient and moon light is lost. Crap! He was closer to bouncing than he’d realized, didn’t want to think about the altitude at which he’d deployed his canopy. He desperately pulled at his steering lines to slow his descent, then the ground rushed up at him like it was trying to kick him back up to the helicopter and he hit the deck.
The world became a tumbling mess. Ethan’s landing was chaotic and he rolled and tumbled forwards like a drunk circus entertainer. The wind grabbed at his canopy, dragged him sideways. Twisting round, he managed to dig his feet into the soft earth of the field he’d slammed into and kill the canopy completely. But he didn’t have time to feel any sense of relief, or even rest a moment. He had to find out where he was and get back to the team.
Jumping up, he rolled up his canopy, threw it over his shoulder, then made his way across the field to the lights of the village. On the way he passed under some electricity pylons; he didn’t want to think just how close he’d been to getting snagged in them.
Stepping out onto the road leading into the village, Ethan was relieved to find he was still in England and not, as he’d briefly wondered, in France.
Breaking into a jog, he made his way through the streets and soon found what he was looking for: a solitary phone box miraculously unvandalized. Pulling the handset free, he reversed charges to Johnny’s mobile number. For the first time since he’d met him, Ethan made Johnny speechless.
‘We found the tracker,’ said Luke and flicked something to Ethan.
Ethan caught what was left of the tiny device. ‘Last time I saw this, I thought I was about to get a serious kicking. How time flies when you’re having fun.’
