Mission Survival 8

by Bear Grylls

  Then he cursed and leaped out of bed. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep! He should have just been lying there until everyone thought he was asleep. Big difference.

  Granddad’s instructions for a shower and a meal and a change of clothes had all been carried out. But then he had insisted on giving James the grand tour of the monastery. They had started at the top of the highest building and worked their way down to the lowest level. Almost the lowest level. James still remembered the archway and the flight of stone steps leading down. His granddad had just waved a dismissive hand.

  ‘The cellars. Let’s not disturb our little friend, eh?’

  By the end of it all, James had felt like he had hung lead weights on his eyelids. Eventually the old man let him collapse into bed in one of the spare rooms.

  And what time was it now? He fumbled for his watch and flicked the display on. Three o’clock. He winced. Could be worse. He could have slept till morning. Then he would have had to wait another day. He couldn’t do this with anyone else around.

  He swung his legs out of bed and quickly pulled on his clothes, then his boots and cagoule, stuffing his hat into his pocket. He intended to make a quick getaway. There wouldn’t be time to come back to his room and get dressed for outdoors.

  Then he quietly let himself out and made his way down to the lounge.

  The monastery was quiet and its passageways were dim. James only froze at one point, hearing men’s voices. Then he realized that he was passing by the communications room. Wherever he went, Granddad had staff manning the consoles twenty-four hours a day, bringing in information and helping him run his empire. But they were safely out of the way of where James was going.

  Five minutes later he was in the lounge, peering into the little shrine set up for his mother. His eyes lingered on the smiling photograph. When had she last smiled like that? When had she last smiled like that at him? A long, long time ago . . .

  James growled under his breath and reached for the door. And stopped. Supposing it was alarmed? What if he opened it up and the whole monastery went to red alert?

  But then, why should it be alarmed? Who was Granddad expecting to come and steal anything?

  He opened the case with a decisive tug and his fingers closed around the hard drive. ‘Tah-dah!’ he murmured. He slipped it into his pocket, closed the doors gently, and hurried quickly out of the room.

  Chapter 42

  The way down to the cellars was clear in his mind. Thanks for showing me, Granddad. But the stone steps weren’t carpeted and the sound of his boots echoed in the narrow passageway.

  James winced and gritted his teeth and forced himself to walk slowly.

  In the vault at the bottom he could make out the outlines of the junk stored down there, but the corners were in shadow. There were several thick wooden doors set into the walls, but only one was closed. He went slowly up to it. There was a key in the lock, twisted so that it couldn’t fall out.

  He knocked gently. ‘Beck?’

  No reply. Well, what was he expecting? Beck had no reason to trust him. James looked forward to seeing the expression on his friend’s face when he showed him the hard drive.

  He turned the key and slowly pushed the door open. ‘Beck?’

  He almost stepped in, then paused. Supposing Beck was planning an escape? He could be hiding behind the door, ready to clobber the next guy who came in.

  ‘It’s me. James. I’ve got the hard drive . . .’

  He pushed the door all the way open and saw Beck perched innocently on a wooden crate by the far wall. Almost too innocently. There were other crates stacked up behind him so that the wall itself was hidden from view.

  James grinned. ‘See?’ He produced the hard drive. ‘Look, I’m really sorry for all that – I mean, I know how you must feel, but I wasn’t going to shoot you, honest! I was just bluffing. And I know I kicked you – I’m really sorry, but I had to or he wouldn’t have believed me.’

  Beck’s expression froze halfway to a smile, then slowly crumpled. He buried his face in his hands and his voice was muffled. ‘Oh . . . you . . . prat.’

  ‘Huh?’ James frowned. Beck wasn’t being very grateful. ‘What do you—?’

  ‘Do you know your biggest mistake, James?’ said his granddad behind him.

  James gave a cry of surprise and leaped into the room.

  His grandfather emerged from the shadows at the bottom of the steps, backed up by one of his bodyguards.

  ‘Your biggest mistake,’ he said conversationally, ‘was that you never really provided a good reason for turning up here in the first place. OK, you said that Ian was bringing you – but why would he do that? And don’t give me that rubbish about wanting to see Beck die – I thought he was already dead, remember, and Ian would not have wanted to admit he’d made a mistake! If he had discovered he was wrong, he would have quietly had Beck disposed of and no one would ever have known. So Ian was up to something, coming here, and you carried on with whatever it was. And now I know. My own grandson, my flesh and blood, a traitor.’ His voice had slowly been growing colder; now it was arctic. ‘I’ll deal with you after a few days without food or water. That should put you in a receptive frame of mind.’

  He reached in and pulled the door to, sealing James in with Beck and the darkness.

  Chapter 43

  ‘You get used to the dark,’ Beck said. ‘You’ll be able to see in a moment.’

  ‘Just in case it’s not obvious,’ James said bitterly, ‘I came here to rescue you.’

  ‘Yeah. How’s that going?’

  ‘I’ve had to make some adjustments to the plan.’ James paused. ‘Good news is, I’ve still got the drive . . .’ He fished it out and gave it to Beck. ‘Don’t suppose he left a computer down here, did he?’

  Beck looked down at the little object that had cost him so much. His eyes had got used to the gloom again. What he could see of James’s face was a picture of misery. ‘When you’ve finished feeling sorry for yourself, come and give me a hand?’ he suggested.

  James didn’t move. ‘I suppose the great Beck Granger has been able to dig a tunnel through solid rock . . .’

  ‘Yeah, something like that.’ Beck disappeared behind the small wall of packing cases that he had built. He had done it precisely so that no one who came in would see his handiwork. After a moment, out of curiosity, James came over to join him. He whistled when he saw the hole that Beck had opened up.

  It was still only the size of a football, but it was much bigger than the hairline crack Beck had found.

  ‘What’s behind it?’ James asked.

  ‘A big empty space. I’m hoping it’s the cave system they built this place on top of. The plaster is rock-solid – it takes ages to get through. I’ve been working on this for hours. But now there’s two of us . . .’

  James grabbed a piece of smashed-up wooden crate and went to work.

  It took another hour to make a hole big enough for them to squeeze through, one at a time, headfirst. Beck took the lead. His eyes strained in a darkness so deep it felt like something you could reach out and touch. Beneath his hands he felt cold, rough rock. He put a hand above his head and found that he was able to stand up straight without banging into a rocky ceiling.

  ‘OK.’ He spoke quietly but his voice echoed, and so he lowered it even further. This might not be the only place where the monastery covered a cave entrance. He didn’t want their voices bouncing around the system and alerting anyone. ‘Come on through.’

  A few moments later, James joined him. He turned on his watch and let its minuscule light pick out their surroundings.

  Beck had a brief impression of rocky walls and a tunnel stretching away into darkness. The draught was much stronger now – he could feel it moving against his skin. The sound echoed back up the cave, like some faraway machinery.

  ‘Which way?’ James whispered.

  ‘Any way but back. Hold on.’

  Beck reached back through the hole for the wooden plank he
had been using as a tool. He tapped it against the floor, like a blind man might use a stick. If the floor suddenly fell away in front of them, or if they were about to walk into a dead end, then he would have some warning.

  ‘We’ll put out our left hands and stay in touch with the wall,’ he murmured. ‘If we ever come to a corner, we turn left.’ And it sounded like there would be a lot of corners. Sangmu had said that the caves formed part of a whole network. But this way they would always be able to find their way back if they came to a dead end. ‘Coming?’

  The light from the hole soon fell away behind them. They were in the pitchest black Beck had ever known. The darkness was wrapped around them like velvet. It made no difference whether he opened or closed his eyes. Sparks of light and strange patterns from his retinas floated in front of his eyes, but he knew they were inside his head and nothing to rely on.

  He still kept his eyes open. The tiniest glimmer of light will stand out in pitch black. If they ever came to any kind of opening to the outside, he wanted to see it. He didn’t want to walk past and go further into the mountain.

  Their only choice was to keep walking, and turning left, and hoping.

  Sometimes they stumbled. A foot might catch a fallen rock or a hidden dip that the guide plank had missed.

  Sometimes Beck felt the ceiling begin to brush his hair, and he had to call out a warning to the taller James and quickly duck down before he bashed his head.

  Most of the time they could walk upright, twisting and turning with the cave.

  When they finally saw the light, Beck at first thought it was just another random shape produced by his retinas. It was a slightly whiter splash of darkness. It could have been a few metres or a few kilometres away. But the breeze was suddenly stronger and the cave was growing smaller. The walls and the roof closed in until the boys could only walk at a crouch, but by now they could clearly see the way out.

  An iron grating blocked their way, but it wasn’t cemented in and the rock around it had crumbled. Their combined strength was enough to shift it and make it break free. They crawled out into the open air. Finally.

  They still had the precious hard drive. They had made it. So far.

  Chapter 44

  They emerged on the ridge behind a bush, halfway between the top of the stone steps and the monastery. Beck stood up slowly and flexed his back. The tops of the mountains to the east were tipped with orange flame. Dawn was coming. Light was spilling over the valley and Blake’s private airfield. He crouched down behind the bush again.

  James took a deep breath of outside air. ‘Oh, man, that feels good! We’re free!’

  ‘We’re still inside the fence,’ Beck pointed out.

  ‘We’re . . . almost free. Think we can make it back to Sangmu’s?’

  Beck peered out across the valley. It was clear of bushes and trees. There was nowhere for two boys to hide. ‘Not like this. And even if we could – we shouldn’t. The moment they find us missing, they’ll scour the village. They’ll be able to move a lot faster than we can and there’s more of them. No – we need another plan.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Beck simply pointed at the airstrip – and the two aeroplanes at the end of it.

  James whistled. ‘You think big. Can you fly one of those?’

  ‘I had a lesson. Once. I could maybe manage the small one. The one with the propeller.’

  ‘Shame,’ James mused. ‘It would be kinda neat to steal Granddad’s private jet . . . OK, so now we just have to reach the plane without being seen.’ He frowned. ‘That’s still going to be hard. Very hard.’

  From the foot of the steps, the track led across the valley. It veered round the airstrip and carried on to the gate in the fence. Beck narrowed his eyes in thought. The two planes, and their little hangar, were also at the end of the airstrip. In theory, they could head towards the planes and always keep the hangar between them and the guards on the gate. But it would be risky, and they would be perfectly visible to anyone looking out of the monastery.

  And then, as his eyes fixed on a speck in the distance, Beck laughed. Suddenly there was a plan in his mind, clear as day.

  ‘I think we can do that. Look who’s coming. Remember she said she was doing today’s supply run?’

  James peered out, and his face broke into a grin. ‘Sangmu!’

  A human figure and a mule were plodding down the track from the far side of the valley, towards the gate. The mule was loaded up with panniers – big, deep baskets strapped to either side.

  ‘While everyone’s looking her way – come on.’

  Beck quickly jumped to his feet, and James had to follow suit. They trotted down the steps as quickly as they could. For about half a minute, anyone in the monastery could have looked down and seen them. Beck felt his back growing hot, as if laser sights were burning into it.

  But there were no shouts, no alarms ringing out into the clear mountain air. They reached the storehouse and pressed themselves against the wooden wall.

  ‘Found the door,’ James said. ‘It’s not locked.’

  ‘Why would it be? The fence is meant to keep people out. Quick, get in.’

  The inside was lined with shelves and boxes. They lurked behind the door until, ten minutes later, they heard the sound of hooves coming to a halt outside. The door opened and a figure shuffled in. It was wrapped in padded mountain clothing and laden with boxes. Despite his assurance, Beck had to hope that Sangmu hadn’t suddenly gone and swapped with someone else. It was a chance he had to take.

  ‘Give you a hand with that?’ he asked softly.

  The figure jumped and exclaimed, ‘Beck!’ She put the boxes down on the floor and hugged him. ‘When you didn’t come back last night . . . What happened?’

  Beck and James exchanged glances.

  ‘Long story,’ Beck said.

  ‘Very long,’ James agreed.

  ‘Did you get what you wanted?’

  Beck patted the pocket containing the hard drive. ‘Oh yes. Now we just need to get as far as the aeroplanes. And I think I know how we can do it.’

  Briefly, Beck outlined the plan that had come to him when he had seen her approaching.

  Sangmu looked thoughtful. She stepped back and surveyed each of them in turn, running her eyes from their heads to their feet, and nodded.

  ‘Yes. Yes, I think we can do that, though it will not be comfortable . . .’

  Chapter 45

  Sangmu was right, Beck thought. It was not comfortable.

  He was curled up so tightly that every joint was on fire. His knees pressed into his chest and compressed his lungs. His injured leg was agony and he couldn’t do anything to shift himself and relieve the pressure.

  The panniers strapped to the mule were exactly the right size to hold a fourteen-year-old boy, bent double. They could get from the monastery to the planes in broad daylight. Anyone who looked in their direction would see exactly what they expected to see – a mule with panniers strapped on either side, and Sangmu walking next to it. Beck could see the approaching hangar through gaps in the pannier’s wicker sides. His vision lurched with every step the mule took.

  But boy, was it uncomfortable. Beck found two sources of consolation: the tall, gangly James was probably suffering even more, and they were nearing the planes.

  Finally they were so close to the end of the airstrip that the hangar was the only thing he could see. They were out of sight of the guards at the gate. The mule stopped plodding.

  ‘We’re as close as we can get,’ Sangmu whispered. ‘Get out now.’

  Beck and James erupted from their panniers like a pair of jack-in-the-boxes. They both climbed down to the ground, grunting and stretching.

  Sangmu was immediately walking again. ‘I can’t wait. They will notice if there’s a delay.’

  ‘I know,’ Beck whispered back. ‘Thanks. We’ll come and see you.’

  ‘Thank you for helping me to keep my promise to your mother, Beck. Good luck.’


  Beck smiled as Sangmu led the mule away and disappeared behind the hangar. Beck and James headed in the other direction.

  The plane Beck intended to take sat facing the executive jet on a tarmac apron in front of the hangar. It looked similar to the one he’d had his one flying lesson in. The passenger sat behind the pilot and the cockpit canopy slid shut over them.

  They crept forward, bending low, to pull the chocks out from in front of the wheels. Then they climbed up onto the wings and peered into the cockpit. The controls were duplicated in the rear section so that the plane could be flown from the front or the back. And there were a lot of controls. Beck forced himself to remember that this was all relatively simple. He didn’t need all the controls – just the ones that made the plane fly . . .

  The canopy was shut, but there was a handle marked RELEASE and the canopy slid backwards when Beck pulled on it. He was pleased to see that there were parachutes already set into the seats. They could just climb in and put on the straps at the same time as they fastened their seat belts. A headset with a pair of earphones and a mike hung next to the control stick. Beck put his on and told James to do the same. Once the engine had fired up they wouldn’t be able to hear each other normally.

  Beck flicked the switch marked INTERCOM, and after a moment James’s voice crackled in his ears.

  ‘OK, so, you have done this before, right?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Beck said casually. His eyes scanned the other switches and dials in front of him. ‘The instructor let me take off and everything.’ Which wasn’t quite true. He had been allowed to keep his hands and feet on the duplicate controls while the instructor did the actual flying – but he didn’t want to tell James that at this point.

  He had it! A switch marked START. Sounded simple enough. Beck got ready to press it in with his thumb. After this, there would be no turning back. Once that engine started, every guard would be roused.