“How many are there?” I asked.
“Their man didn’t want to say,” he replied, “but Mateo is quite… persuasive.”
“He threatened to cut his nob off then?” Neil asked innocently.
“Pretty much,” Dan said, “however he did get the information that we should be facing almost fifty.”
“How old is that intel?” I asked. Dan frowned but understood and answered.
“Two weeks, that’s when he was rotated onto the barricade.”
“Take off seven then,” I said, “Nem killed one in the tunnel, I killed two outside and another three on the road. They killed their own man which makes seven, and I’d guess that those were among the bravest.”
Dan pulled a ‘that makes sense’ face at me.
“So we’re looking at around forty, of which we can assume most won’t be trained given the balance of probabilities, and not all of them will be armed given that the group Leah encountered were sharing one shotgun.”
That did make sense, but it sounded a little too much like an assumption to me.
Five of us. Five versus forty with a sniper giving us top cover, assuming Lucien could out shoot his opposition that was. I ran the numbers in my head.
“Eight to one,” I said, feeling the unwelcome gaze of a few people who hadn’t yet figured out the percentages in play.
“Piece of piss,” Neil muttered glumly.
“I’ve already taken out seven on my own,” I said, a little too cockily and sounding like I had no regard for human life, even if it was trying to kill me, “and we did for everyone at the barricade easily enough.”
That truth sank in, most of them considering the concept of the force multiplication factors. We were well armed, well equipped and well trained, which stood for a lot when taking on greater numbers, assuming that those numbers were correct.
Assuming.
“We just need to kill eight each then,” Dan said glibly, “get ready, we move in a few hours.”
~
Rafi, eyes half swollen shut and speaking painfully through broken lips, answered Tomau’s questions. He had no choice, not how he saw it, especially after they had beaten him for most of a day before even asking who he was and where he came from. He had told them about Sanctuary, of the impenetrable walls and plentiful bounty of the sea. Of the farm and The Orchards, of the trading post and of their supply of weapons. Weapons like the one that Tomau held now; its dappled tan camouflage paint fading from the countless times it had been handled. He had told them everything, just to make the beatings stop, and in return he had been given food and water before being locked in a room with just a bucket in one corner.
In the dark, in all the time he had been left alone, which by his disorientated count had been just over a week, he thought of all the people he had let down and especially of Leah who, along with her beautiful dog, would be dead because he couldn’t save her.
He replayed the ambush, every brief second of it that he could recall, over and over in his head and found ways to change what had happened so that she got away, so that he wasn’t knocked unconscious in the impact between vehicle and tunnel wall, so that he died in her place, anything that was different to how it had been.
“How will they attack me?” he asked Rafi in his menacingly quiet voice.
“They will come in force,” he answered, “and overwhelm you with their guns in the first light of day.”
“And how many men does he command?”
“Many,” Rafi said, “but I do not know how many he will bring.”
Tomau made a noise, wondering if the man truly knew the nature of his enemy, and dismissed him with a wave which the guard took as his cue to remove the prisoner who shuffled painfully ahead of him, bouncing off the walls as he stumbled.
Rafi was dumped back in his darkened hole, the door shut behind him, and he took a breath. He straightened, rolling his neck to ease the stiffness in the muscles before flexing his arms. He was battered on the outside, that much was obvious, but he had found within himself a strength that could not be broken. Everything he had said, every scrap of information he had given up in a way that seemed so willing, was incorrect. Although based on fact, he had embellished and understated in varying degrees so that the men who would be facing judgement would do so without advantage.
Darkness
Dan, ever prepared, took two bundles out of his bag and handed me one. I unwrapped it, my eyes growing wider at the rare bit of technology that seemed like it had come from outer space in our normal world. The small binoculars attached to the headset, such a small item in the scheme of things, offered a tactical advantage that almost literally made the difference between night and day. The NVGs, powered by the precious batteries squirreled away over the years, made it awkward to walk sometimes but far less awkward than stumbling around in the dark would be.
Dan handing them to me meant that he and I would be taking the lead at the very tip of our small spear, just as soon as the sun set that was. The day was spent organising the men and women that they had assigned as guards, which I thought had been done completely wrong. They had chosen the unskilled, and in some cases the lame and the lazy, as standing guard wasn’t seen as an important job. Volunteers had been reluctant, even before one of them had been killed without any warning, and even less so now that the air held a sense of imminent violence, like it was electrically charged.
I inspected weapons, offered tips and reassurance, ate with them and talked with them through Alita who had attached herself to me alongside Mitch. The smiling Scotsman had drawn a lot of gazes, from the vest he wore festooned with weapons and gadgetry to the big rifle and its underslung grenade launcher. We must have seemed like paramilitaries to them, or even something from a movie. They relaxed during the afternoon, talking more with us as they warmed up to our presence and seemed to feel comfortable enough to talk more.
We learned that, among everyone in Andorra, there were no warriors or soldiers or even anyone with any experience left. They only had a small police force and had no army to speak of. Being landlocked in the mountains they obviously had no navy either. Everyone left was either trapped there on holiday or else working in the tourism and service sectors.
I smiled when they said that, claiming a simultaneous innocence and apology that they weren’t a war-like people, and told them a little about me.
“I was twelve years old when it happened,” I told them, “I was a child, not a soldier. I learned how, learned from people who knew different things.” I glanced around them, seeing them all glued to my words and hearing the cogs turning in their heads. “I learned things that the army taught,” I gestured at Mitch.
“British Army,” he corrected dourly, softening his admonishment with a wink. I bowed my head sarcastically. It mattered to him, just not to me because I was never part of it.
“Dan taught me things that the police learned too,” I went on, “and Neil taught me other skills, as did Marie and another friend called Paul; someone else taught him about guns but he taught me how to fight without them. All of these things, these skills.” I paused for Alita to catch up with my words after she placed a hand on my arm. “These skills were passed on from person to person, just as I pass them on to new people and they will change them and pass them on again. That’s how we stay strong. That’s how we survive.”
They nodded in agreement, exchanging looks with one another and I dared to think that they were hopeful.
I left them with Mitch and Alita in the late afternoon, walking Nemesis at heel to the toll booth which was on high alert in comparison to the last time I had been there. I felt a sense of doom in a way, remembering the last time I had been there with no clue that I was going to have to fight for my life only a minute or so later.
I found Lucien there, beside the road to the right to afford him the best view into the tunnel as it bent to the left. Despite being exposed to the sun, he held his position as he lay down with his rifle, keeping watch on the dar
k scar in a bright landscape like it was some haunted doorway to the attic of an old house. Fear emanated from it, and just looking inside it made me feel colder. Three kilometres on the other side of that gaping entrance was our enemy, and with them the promise of conflict.
“You should rest,” I told him, “we didn’t sleep much last night.”
He answered with a chuckle in rapid French, of which I only made out a few words.
“What was that?” I enquired sweetly, hiding the edge in my meaning.
“I said nothing,” he answered as he stood, smiling and looking at me funny.
I thought I heard something involving the word ‘wish’ and my mind filled in the blanks.
“Anyway,” I said, trying not to blush, “you should rest.”
“I will be fine,” he said, “how is it you say? Sleep when you die?”
“Sleep when you’re dead,” I corrected him pointlessly. “Fine, you’ll need to set off soon and I want you to take Nem.”
He looked at me, glancing down at the dog and back up to my face wearing an expression of uncomprehending confusion.
“How will I…?”
“I’ll show you,” I said, “the commands are simple; you tell her to heel, stay, get down.”
“And she will do this for me?” he asked.
“She will if I tell her to,” I said, “if you need her to take someone down you tell her to get them, and if you have a prisoner you’ve disarmed then tell her to watch him. It’s that simple.”
Lucien still glanced between me and the dog, trying to fathom whether it was that easy and whether I was serious.
“Try it,” I told him, seeing him look at Nemesis and having his interest returned almost comically.
“’eel” he said, culturally unable to pronounce the h. Nemesis glanced up at me as though double-checking whether she should obey, and I told her to go on. She went, circled around his legs to sit down at his left side and looked up at him.
“Good,” I said. Try a few more.
He walked forwards, looking down at her and making eye contact, and stopped before telling her to get down and stay as he walked away and turned back to see her lie on the ground where she had been left. She still glanced at me, still checked that she should be playing this new and confusingly simple game.
“’eel,” he said again, smiling as she streaked towards him, ready for another command.
“Yeah,” I said, “it’ll work.”
The locals took over the watch, allowing us to reconvene and be fed a meat and vegetable stew called Ollada, apparently, and was served with a heavy fresh bread that I had to force myself not to eat too much of in case I was slowed down in the night when I needed to be slick and switched on. I saw Dan push his own bowl away, leaving food which was something I had literally never seen him do. Mitch, sitting opposite me, stared at me until I met his gaze and responded to his smile by handing over the chunk of bread I had left. Unlike Dan, Mitch never missed an opportunity to eat or sleep, or even take the piss out of anyone he considered a friend.
The meal was eaten quietly, the knowledge of what we were about to do weighing heavy on the mood, and we all felt restless to get it done. Dan stood, thanking Carla quietly for the meal.
The last meal, I thought stupidly, allowing doubt and fear to creep into my head when I should have banished it in an instant.
And we left, heading for the darker black of the tunnel entrance as our small band of warriors moved with purpose. Lucien had already left an hour earlier, taking the looping route up and over the mountain to approach with the last of the light and hopefully find the perfect position to watch over us from. Dan would, if he had put himself in their position, be expecting an attack at first light. That was why we went in darkness to infiltrate beyond their lines well before daybreak.
“Stick to the left wall,” he said in his low voice, “follow it all the way and if there’s an obstruction we’ll tell you.”
“Gotcha,” Neil said in a voice that wasn’t his own, the stress of the situation still unable to prevent him from using an accent. His hand gripped the lead around Ash’s neck, the dog watching his master intently but a veteran of so many missions that he waited for his turn to be called up with all the professionalism of a seasoned soldier.
We set off, Dan and I with the bulbous binoculars strapped to our heads as we led the way into the dark. I glanced back once, seeing the line of Chloe, Mitch, Ash and Neil as they snaked their way inside and kept contact with the wall to guide their walk into the inky black ahead. In my goggles the dull sky outside the tunnel’s entrance flashed brightly, forcing me to turn back to the ethereal green glow of the empty roadway ahead.
I always felt weird walking with night vision goggles on. Going through that tunnel made me wonder how the hell Steve ever landed a helicopter on a moving ship in the dark. I didn’t know how he ever flew a bloody helicopter to be honest but that was him.
Moving through the ghostly glow of the dusty road I could hear my own breathing loud in the wide confines of the tunnel. It was both too big and echoing, yet claustrophobic at the same time. I concentrated on my footfalls, concentrated on pacing properly and scanning every darker patch of green ahead of me as though each shadow could hold one of them with his weapon trained ahead just waiting for us to step into their firing line to light us up and end the plan before it had started. I didn’t want that, obviously, but something about the darkness unnerved me. I missed Nemesis at my side and thought that her body pressing into my left calf as I walked forwards would have given me the strength to keep my mind glued to the task.
I knew from my random decision to check the distance on my first trip driving through that it was about three kilometres, and at our walking pace moving tactically it would take us at least half an hour, probably more with the other three shuffling along in the dark without goggles. Knowing that didn’t help me, because I hadn’t checked my watch when we had set off.
I steeled myself, pushed my nerves aside, and pushed onwards.
“Stop,” Dan said softly, just above a whisper and not loud enough to carry too far ahead. I stopped, turning awkwardly with the added weight sticking out the front of my skull to look at him. I took two steps to my left to be closer to him as my eyes faced forwards.
“The others need to stop,” he said, “they’re disorientated. You can see it in how they’re walking.”
I looked back, seeing what he meant as I focused on Neil at the front. His mouth was open, his eyes wide in the vain attempt to find more light and make them work again. His left hand traced the wall as his feet shuffled uncertainly as though he feared stumbling on something. Dan stepped closer, speaking so softly to them that I couldn’t hear him. I dropped to one knee, keeping watch ahead as I felt the stiffness in my neck and back cramping. I tensed the muscles, rolling my neck and shoulders to try and ease it as I marvelled at how Dan had learned that skill of speaking in the black night and not be heard. An amateur would whisper, thinking that would prevent their words from travelling, but at night that sound would carry further than the soft words he employed. That was another trick of his that I tried to mimic.
We gave them a few minutes, the soft murmurings of Dan’s voice barely audible as he reassured them. I knew how vital it was to move like this, silently and undisturbed, but that didn’t make the task any easier. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be without the ability to see anything.
He gave the order to move again as the tunnel straightened for almost a mile and my legs began to burn with the effort of moving slowly. I thought I could make out a different shade of lighter dark ahead. I didn’t know if my mind played tricks on me, whether I could begin to hope that the unexpectedly difficult ordeal was drawing to a close, and then I saw it.
I stopped. Slightly behind me and to my left I heard Dan stop too. I took two slow steps forwards, trying to be sure that the straight line I had seen at the very edges of my field of view was there or not. That was one of the odd side effe
cts of using the goggles; I couldn’t gauge any depth when I wore them, but it was there.
“Access door,” I said quietly.
“Where?” Dan murmured.
“Ahead and right,” I said, “thirty paces.”
He stepped back and I felt the absence of his presence near me. I heard him speaking softly to the others, probably telling them to wait there for us, then the air beside me filled with the sense of him.
“Go,” he said.
We went. I went to the right side as Dan went down the left. I stopped ten paces short, scanning the dark road ahead and clearly able to make out the semi-circle of the tunnel entrance in the electric-green gloom. Then I saw it and froze. Dan must have seen me go very still as I couldn’t detect any sense of him moving on the far side of the roadway.
The guard sat in a chair near the entrance, tipped back so that it rested against the wall of the tunnel, and the faintest of snoring noises rattled towards me. The door was closer to me than the guard was, but there was no way we could get past them or inside without disturbing them. Going inside the door, into unknown territory in the pitch black, would leave an enemy behind us. That wasn’t an option, obviously.
I turned my head slowly to Dan, careful not to move fast and disturb the air too much, but the guard stayed asleep. I pointed to the door and the guard in turn, seeing the ridiculous binoculared face of Dan turn to gauge the distance between us and the door, then the door and the guard. He looked back at me and I saw the twin circles of his goggles bob slowly up and down.
He took his right hand off his weapon, indicating with a bladed hand for me to take the door as he gripped the weapon again and stepped stealthily forwards. I reached the door, sinking very slowly to one knee so that the barrel of my gun pointed past the door towards the sleeping sentry. Dan came into view on my left, moving so slowly and silently, until he was within six feet of the chair. His carbine lowered, inch by inch, and when the barrel no longer pointed at the guard his right hand slipped away again and reached across his body to return bearing the Walther with its fat protrusion extending from the end of the gun.
The Leah Chronicles_Andorra Page 20