Operation Congo (S-Squad Book 9)

by William Meikle

  “So what’s this now?” Wiggins said at Banks’ side.

  Banks’ attention had turned away from the crowd down to the warren of streets below them. The whole floor of the arena was empty of movement and as Banks’ gaze went from one length to the other, he knew what he was looking at.

  “Fucking Minoans, right enough,” he muttered.

  “What’s that, Cap?”

  Banks waved his hand to encompass the arena.

  “There’s our test, Wiggo. It’s a bloody maze. And I’m guessing they expect us to be rats and run it.”

  His theory was confirmed when the king addressed them directly, in English. He called down to Banks from above.

  “Have you guessed the nature of the test, Captain?”

  Banks waved at the labyrinth below.

  “We run it, right?”

  “Correct.”

  “And if we make it to the end we go free?”

  The king laughed and the crowd laughed with him, although it was clear that none of them understood the conversation going on.

  “No, sir. If you make it to the end, you join the tribe. You would make fine members of my guard, I think. But do not have any qualms on that front. No one has ever completed the test.”

  “It’s a bloody maze. How hard can it be?” Wiggins said.

  Banks smiled thinly.

  “I don’t think we’re going to be in there alone,” he said. “Like Theseus, we’ll have a monster to contend with.”

  The king clapped his hands with glee.

  “I do like an educated man. And you are right.” He clapped his hands again, louder this time, and there came a rumble of cogs and gears. Banks looked towards the sound to see a raptor standing behind a gate that would only have to lift another few feet to allow it passage into the maze. A young rider armed with a long spear sat high on its back.

  The crowd cheered wildly as the youth raised the spear above his head.

  “As you are tested, so are we,” the king said. “The young have feathers to earn.”

  “Weapons?” Banks asked. “Let us have one of our rifles and we’ll soon see how many feathers fly.”

  “You have your wits. That will have to suffice.”

  The sun came up over the rim of the crater and that appeared to be the signal for the games to commence. Six spear-carriers herded Banks and Wiggins forward to the edge of the platform where a narrow set of steps led down into the shadows of the maze. Somewhere behind the king a drumbeat sounded. The crowd shouted and cheered in reply.

  “The gate opens on the tenth beat,” the King called down. “Best get moving, sir.”

  They got moving.

  A second drumbeat echoed around the maze as they reached the bottom step and headed into the warren of walls.

  “Which way, Cap?”

  The gate with the raptor behind it was to their right. A dark alleyway stretched ahead to their left.

  “Let’s change the odds and take a shortcut,” Banks replied and pointed to the wall to his left, the top of which was some four feet above their heads. “Just like back on the training ground, Wiggo. Think the two of us can get your lardy arse up there?”

  “Ah, fuck, I was always crap at this game,” Wiggins replied. A third drumbeat sounded.

  “I’ll give you an incentive, shall I? Get the fuck up there right now or yon beastie will have us for breakfast.”

  “Same promise as last time? It’s your round and I get a fag at the top?”

  “Deal. Now move, Corporal.”

  It went easier than Banks had hoped. He boosted Wiggins up, the corporal then lay half over the top reaching down and Banks was able to jump, lock hands, and swing and haul himself up beside the other man.

  A fourth drumbeat sounded.

  The crowd went wild, although whether it was at the sound of the drum or at the sight of the two men now standing high up on top of the labyrinth wall, Banks neither knew nor cared. The wall was a foot wide, enough room for them to travel along at a walk, scary if they decided to run.

  “Double-time, Wiggo,” he said. “Let’s put some distance between us and yon beastie while we can.”

  The fifth drumbeat sounded as they started off, heading left away from the gate.

  They came to the first decision point as the sixth drumbeat sounded. Banks, in the lead, mentally tossed a coin and headed left; the warren looked more densely packed in that direction with many more chances to lose a pursuer. But within ten yards, he saw the flaw in his thinking—he’d considered the top of the wall to be a pathway. It was of a kind, but he’d forgotten he was on top of a wall in a maze; mazes have gaps between the alley walls, many of them in a good labyrinth, all the easier to get lost in.

  One of the gaps was coming up directly ahead, six feet wide between them and the next stretch of wall.

  “Okay, fuck,” Wiggins said. ‘I’m crap at this game too.”

  The seventh drumbeat sounded.

  Banks didn’t give himself time to worry. He took the distance between himself and the gap at a run and jumped. In mid-air, he had a bad moment when he thought he’d misjudged it and was coming up short then his left foot landed on stone. He took two stumbling steps, had a wobble, and sat down hard, straddling the wall with a leg on each side.

  He turned carefully so that he was facing towards Wiggins.

  “Piece of pish for a hard lad like you, Wiggo,” he shouted, patting the top of the wall in front of him. “Come on, I’m watching out for you.”

  Wiggins launched himself across the gap. The crowd screamed as the corporal, having definitely misjudged his jump, barreled full tilt into Banks, almost throwing both of them off the wall. It was only the captain’s upper body strength, grabbing Wiggins by the waist and manhandling him up to straddle the wall, that kept them on top.

  The crowd cheered as both men retained their balance.

  The eighth drumbeat sounded.

  “On your feet, Wiggo. We’re going too slow.”

  “Bugger that. We’re up here, the beastie’s down in the alley. We’re safe.”

  “Only if it can’t climb,” Banks replied.

  “Fuck me, Cap, do you have to spoil everything?”

  They got to their feet and started along the top of the wall again, still heading left.

  It seemed like only seconds later that the ninth drumbeat sounded.

  The crown noise went up a notch. Something hit the stone near Banks’ feet and he looked up; they had come far enough left to be within throwing range of the crowd. A large overripe fruit had splashed against the wall just inches from his toes. Another piece of fruit, better thrown this time, arced out of the seating area. Banks judged the flight of it, took three quick steps forward, and plucked it out of the air one-handed. He took a large bite, passed it to Wiggins who took another, and both of them took a bow as the crowd cheered.

  Then they were moving again, Banks leading them more right than left, out of range of any more dangerous missiles than fruit. They arrived all too soon at another gap, ten feet across and too far to jump.

  The tenth drumbeat sounded. The sound of wooden cogs and squealing rope echoed around the arena as the gate lifted.

  A raptor roared and the crowd went wild.

  The hunt had begun.

  - 14 -

  Hynd led the party down out of the cave as dawn broke. He realized he had no plan other than to get these people to the gate and hope the captain was going to keep his end of the bargain and be there as backup.

  The sun came up over the rim of the crater. Somewhere in the distance, a drum beat and he thought he heard a cheer, like a football crowd from a distance when a goal was scored. He wondered briefly what was going on then put it away at the back of his mind. Things closer by were his priority at the moment.

  When he reached the ledge above the clearing, he stopped and looked down. The hyenas had moved on but there was still a small flock of vultures dancing around the carcass, heads and beaks dripping red where they’d been f
easting.

  Hynd got down onto the rim of the ledge, lowered himself over, and dropped among the birds. They fluttered in a loud snap of wings and screamed, moving away but only six feet or so, still forming a circle around the carcass.

  “If you want a bit of me, I warn you, I’m a stringy auld bastard,” he said, addressing the birds.

  Debs landed on her feet beside him.

  “I’ll take my chances,” she said and grinned. Before he could reply, she’d stepped aside, waving her hands and trying to shoo the vultures as if they were recalcitrant chickens. To Hynd’s amazement it worked, after a fashion. The birds moved back into a wider circle more than ten feet away now, leaving enough room for the other people to come down. He had Davies stay up on the ledge until last as cover in case anything was waiting to ambush them from the shadows under the canopy but when Davies dropped down a minute later, he shook his head.

  “All quiet, Sarge. I thought I heard a drum sound over to the right. Maybe some cheering too?”

  “Aye. I heard it. Sounds like there’s a party going on. But we’re not invited. Let’s go and gatecrash.”

  “A pint of Stella and a packet of crisps for me if you get there first, okay, Sarge?”

  “The same for me,” Debs added. “And make it snappy. I’m working up a thirst here.”

  Hynd took Debs to one side while Wilkins and Davies took point and headed into the undergrowth to scope out the path.

  “Look, lass, I’ve spoken to you and to yon black-haired climber, but as for the rest of your team, I’ve hardly said or had a word all night. I need to know they’ll go the right way when I say jump. It might be a hard road out of here and I need to trust you all without worrying unduly about you. That’s the way this goes.”

  She put a hand on his arm again.

  “If they won’t do it for you, they’ll do it for me,” she said. “We all just want to go home.”

  Wilkins came out of the shadows.

  “All clear as far as we can see in the gloom under there, Sarge,” he said.

  “All right, lad, lead this lot out. I’ll watch our backs. Make for the gate but stay in the shadows. They’ve got a good view from on top of it. I don’t want them to see us coming.”

  Wilkins led the group out with Davies in a central position among them and Hynd bringing up the rear. As he left the carcass of the raptor behind and the vultures moved in again, he heard another drumbeat and a cheer, louder than before.

  “Whatever it is, I hope they’re fucking enjoying it,” he muttered. “Because I plan to spoil their day.”

  Morning dew dampened the foliage and they were all wet through within seconds of moving under the canopy. In daylight, Hynd saw it was more open than he’d thought the night before, with several clearly defined trails snaking through the trees. The area was well used by something large and he had a good guess as to what that might be.

  Spiders, snakes, woolly bloody mammoths, and now fucking dinosaurs? Wiggins is right. We are monster magnets.

  If there were more raptors around, they weren’t obvious by their presence, but Hynd had seen that movie—in real life, they were just as likely to be sneaky wee bastards as in the film…at least it was best if he went on thinking that way. His nerves were on edge with every step so he was surprised when the people in front of him came to a halt and Davies motioned him forward.

  “We’re approaching the gate, Sarge. You’re up.”

  He moved forward. Debs put a hand on his arm and squeezed as he went passed, silently wishing him luck. He passed the other WHO members and saw young Wilkins standing behind a thick tree, looking out at the clearing before the gate.

  The platform on which the captives had been winched down the night before had been raised again, and the huge wooden gate was still firmly closed. Six men armed with spears patrolled the top of the wall and although Hynd could definitely now hear the sound of an excited crowd on the far side of the gate, the guards did not seem distracted and had their focus on this side of the wall.

  There was no sign of the captain and Wiggins.

  Hynd knew that he, Wilkins, and Davies could easily take two men each with their rifles and wipe the guards from the top. The problem was what would they do then, for the gate would still be closed and the platform would still be up top and no use to them. The shots would raise an alarm, more guards would come, and they’d be back where they started.

  We’re going to have to do this the hard way.

  He pulled Wilkins back under cover, bent close, and spoke quietly in his ear.

  “I need your climbing skills again, lad,” he said. “We need to get up onto the top level there on one side of the gate or other. I need you up there and you’ll be taking me with you. We’ve got six men to take down nice and quiet, commando style. So find me a way up. Back here in five, one way or the other.”

  When Wilkins left under cover of the foliage, the dark-haired doctor went with him, needing no prompting. Hynd went back and joined the rest of the group under the trees. He brought Debs up to speed on the situation.

  “And if they don’t find a way up?”

  “Then we shoot the guards, rush the gate, and hope we make it up top before anybody gets there from the other side. That’s a risk I don’t want to take so keep your fingers crossed.”

  Hynd checked his watch every minute but Wilkins was never one to slacken on punctuality and the lad, with the doctor in tow, was back inside his allotted time.

  “Our luck’s in, Sarge,” the private said. “Thirty yards to the right there’s a big tree we can shimmy up, get out onto a branch, and drop down right on top of the ridge. The drop’s a wee bit risky, looks like it’s onto a narrow ledge, which is probably why nobody’s watching it. But I can make it and I’ll be there to steady you when you come down.”

  “I can make it too,” the black-haired doctor said. “I want to help.”

  Much as the extra man would come in handy, Hynd knew he couldn’t put a civilian in harm’s way.

  “This is going to be dirty work, knife work,” Hynd said. “I can’t ask that of you, it’s too risky. Sorry.”

  He turned and called Davies forward.

  “Wilko and I are going in. We’re going to try to take out the guards on the sly. I need you to cover us from below. Don’t take a shot unless we get into trouble, but if we do, shoot as much as you like then make a run for the gate. We’ve got to get over or through, one way or another.”

  As plans went, this one had the benefit of simplicity, but that was about all it had going for it.

  - 15 -

  “Down, and sharpish,” Banks said as another roar rose from the crowd. He turned for a look towards the gate but the walls were too high to see what progress the raptor might be making. Those in the seats had a clear view though and judging by the cheering, the beast was already moving in the right direction.

  Wiggins still hadn’t moved.

  “I said down, lad, that’s an order.”

  Together, they dropped down into the maze, and the echo of the crowd’s resultant roar rang around them.

  Banks immediately checked for weapons, but there was only the worked stone wall of the alley and some pebble-sized rubble on the ground. He gathered up some pebbles and gravel, filled his shirt pockets, then went to the nearest junction.

  “We’re heading right,” he said and made as deep a horizontal score as he could manage on the right-hand wall at eye level just inside the alley that lead that way. “This will tell us we’ve been here before if we get turned ‘round or if we double back. Double-time, Wiggo, we’ve got a maze to solve before we get eaten.”

  The very first alley they took was a dead end. They returned to the junction where Banks put a vertical line down through the horizontal one.

  “And that means it’s an instant no-go down that one.”

  Before they moved on, Wiggo gathered his own supply of pebbles and gravel.

  “Just in case we get split up, Cap. I’ll make the marks too
so you’ll ken where I’ve been and where not to go.”

  “We’ve got a plan, then. Let’s hope we can stay out of the beastie’s way long enough to put it to work.”

  Out in the arena, the crowd roared louder.

  Banks realized something else; if they crouched down by a foot and kept close to the walls, then the watchers would not be able to see them and the crowd noise could do nothing to alert the beast to their movements.

  Banks and Wiggins were bent over as they went right at the next chance they got.

  They passed one left turn but kept going right. Two sharp turns later, they were back at the place where Banks had scored the wall. He led them back inside, tried the left they’d bypassed the first time through, and almost immediately came to a dead end. They quickly backed out to the first junction where Banks put a vertical line through the horizontal one.

  “This is good news,” he said, trying to convince himself more than anything. “We’ve ruled out this passageway completely. That’s two down. The more of these we do, the better.”

  Outside and above them, the crowd let out their biggest cheer yet. The roar from the raptor that came in reply was too close for comfort.

  “It’s just across there, in the next lane,” Wiggins said softly, pointing to the wall of stone to their left.

  Banks led them up the alley and went right again at the next junction, scoring a vertical line on the wall as they passed through. He judged they must be somewhere near the labyrinth’s center based on the quick look he’d had from on top of the wall. His theory was confirmed a minute later as they arrived in a circular, open-roofed chamber. There were three other exits, equally spaced around the walls.

  “Straight ahead,” Banks said. “We’ve been going right so far, let’s not start deviating from the plan just yet.”

  Wiggins stepped away from the entrance and into the chamber before Banks could stop him…and immediately came into the sight of the crowd in the arena. A yell of pure delight from a thousand voices in unison rang around them. Then the crowd clapped, two beats then three. Somewhere to the left, the raptor roared.