The Ringer

by Greg Hunt

  The remainder of the team, Nick and James as scouts, Jackie and Jo, Archie and eventually Stuart Betts had all made it to the original rendezvous, at the head of the valley beneath the Glacier de Bellecote. Stuart Betts had told them of the catastrophe that had met Kevin. That his chute had not opened fully and meant that he had veered off to the right-hand-side of the glacier. Stuart had attempted to increase the speed of his parachute to catch him up and bring him into safety on the mountain.

  However, the wind had picked up, and taken Kevin faster and further to his death over the sheer rock cliffs where he then must have been thrown down the ice sheet to the pine forests below.

  Archie had insisted that the group retrace the path as best they were able. The naval squad had eventually stood gazing from the rock cliffs to the ice sheet below. Could he see a faint trail of blood where the body had landed? It was not clear. There were the remains of the parachute, cut and shredded by the razor sharp rocks on the mountainside of the cliff edge. Blood was also visible on the parachute; Archie could not understand how it came to be on the parachute if Kevin had been below the material. Still, the wind could have whipped his body around, crashing him into the cliff, perhaps with part of the parachute below him when he was trying to land.

  Team morale was dangerously low. Archie had increased the pace so that any valuable time lost on the initial landing and regrouping had been made up by their navigation to their current position. Jackie and Jo had come into their element. Having memorised the satellite positions where it was thought that communications were being made affecting the import and export position of the UK, both the girls had liaised closely with the scouts, Nick and James, to move the patrol via the most discreet and quickest routes.

  This had involved the team skiing down to the top of the tree level and then following cross country tracks running within the highest sections of the pine forest. The patrol had then met the ridge that they were currently utilising. This was their viewpoint into the target valley. From here they could see the whole expanse of the valley, but it had not been easy climbing up to the ridge.

  With full packs and limited rope, and attacked by the icy wind which was now strengthening dangerously, and with the weight of their mountaineer walking boots, the ascent up the rock gulley to the ridge had been difficult. The team had been reliant on every person working together to bring them all to the top. The ascent had slowed their progress and meant it was now late afternoon.

  Archie was aware of how still and quiet it was. Stuart Betts seemed to be the one person in his team who could not sit still and, subconsciously, Archie’s attention was being drawn to the man. Archie still did not entirely trust him. There was something furtive about his behaviour.

  The Petty Officer’s constant movements did not help Archie’s concentration and it was at that moment that Petty Officer Betts coughed, and he coughed loudly; a bellowing, rasping cough. Archie just looked at him directly and quietly commanded, “Shut up, for the sake of us all and the mission.”

  Chapter 40

  Emma woke from her long sleep. She yawned and stretched and blinked her eyes to move the effects of the previous twelve hours tucked up in her chalet bed.

  The light was straining to pass through the flimsy blue coloured curtains and she could hear the shower running and the kettle straining its way to the boil.

  “Mum,” she yelled. “Are you up?”

  “Do you want a cup of tea?” was the echoing response.

  “Yes, please,” Emma shouted and turned to the romance novel that she was reading.

  Few people apart from her closest friends understood her passion for the romance books that she read like there was no tomorrow. Lost in the pages of Blair and his manly athletic torso; the hero was being reunited with his long lost childhood flame, Candy. Emma again thought about what had happened to her and her brothers over the past couple of days. It seemed like a lifetime ago now.

  She had never been put through a situation like it. Her family experiences growing up had been positive and her mother and father and Joseph and Sam had always held each other together, through thick and thin. True, there had been instances that had been difficult. She homed in on one such time when it had been her birthday and her brothers had had a huge argument all day.

  It had started over whose turn it was on the new computer game that had been bought. Joseph being the elder brother had picked up the black imposing controller with the large red buttons first and had insisted that he continue until all his lives ran out. As he had shot the enemy successfully in the Rambo style game, achieving further penetration of the jungle in which the prisoners of war were being held, he had not wanted to hand over the controls.

  As the game was new, for a reason she could not remember, there had not been an easy way to save his position. Sam had been sulking that it was his turn and had demanded that Joseph let him in on some of the action. Joseph, absorbed in his game, had ignored his younger, irritating brother and even when pushed to end his go by their mum, had steadfastly refused. For Joseph was just about to take out the main munitions bunker by a night air raid that lay behind the defences to the enemy jungle encampment.

  Sam had started to cry, but then launched himself at Joseph to take over the controller. Joseph, still concentrating on the screen, had elbowed Sam out of the way whilst managing to bazooka part of the wall guarding the enemy encampment, to create an entry point for his men.

  Somehow, both her brothers had ended up screaming at each other and rolling on the floor. Hitting each other mercilessly on the shoulders, stomach, and legs; anywhere but their opponent’s head.

  Their father had come in, broken them up and sent them to their bedrooms. They were both in “big trouble, and might have some time to reflect before their big sister’s birthday tea”.

  Her birthday tea had been pretty muted as a result. Try as they might to lift the spirits of the whole family, with yummy cake, chocolate fingers, fun music, bright colours, jelly and ice cream, as her brothers were only answering in one syllable “yes” and “no” answers to how much they wanted to eat and not contributing to the conversation, it was a real dampener on her day.

  This had been an exception to the normal routine of growing up, she reflected. She was so lucky to be a part of a loving, caring, wonderful family and she strongly believed that this is what had pulled them through. It was what had kept them going through the awful cold of the mountainside, through the ever increasing doubt as to whether they were all going to make it back to their comfortable chalet, and to the warmth of their parents’ faces as they were being reunited.

  Now her mind turned on a different track, wandering, searching, to try and make sense still of those hours in the darkness. What had Archie Malcolm to do with it? That was a difficult one. Why did he keep cropping up in her half-sleep? Yes, he was fairly tall, pretty good-looking and athletic. Someone you admired and respected and trusted and, well…it was best not to dwell. Before her ordeal, she had been focusing on David anyway. She had had fun with David and had been able to chat freely. Archie was an enigma. She had never really had time to know what he was like, though the more she thought about it, the more she decided she wanted to find out about him. Just who was the real Archie Malcolm?

  Chapter 41

  Emma finally made it out of bed. She ruffled her crinkled brown curly hair and grabbed a dressing gown before padding in her new reindeer animal slipper socks through to the common area. The chalet had under-floor heating and the South African hosts had already been up and laid out breakfast as it was their day off. On the pine table was an assortment of jams, cereals, a couple of baguettes and clear instructions on how to use the dishwasher.

  Her mum enquired, “Another cup of tea, then?”

  “No thanks,” said Emma, “I want to do justice to the mountains, despite our incident before we leave tomorrow…”

  “You just take it easy, darling,” her mum said. “We don’t want you or your b
rothers any more exhausted than necessary.”

  “Fine, but I’m going to pop up to Plagne Centre for lunch and hit the pistes this afternoon,” Emma reiterated.

  “Well, seeing you are committed to it, I’m sure your father and Joseph will want to join you but I will stay put with Sam whilst his leg is recovering. I just want to keep a mothering eye on him.”

  Joseph and Emma’s father appeared. They were both groggy eyed. As if in unison, they simultaneously went for the orange juice and the croissants piled up next to the baguettes.

  “It’s a good day,” he said. “Are you planning on heading up to the pistes, Emma or … I hope you are going to rest a little?”

  “I was just telling mum that it would be fun to leave La Plagne on a high, even though we have been through such a traumatic experience. I need to find my skiing legs again.”

  “We understand Emma, but we should all go steadily. Let’s look to catch the chair soon after midday.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Joseph chipped in and grabbed his towel so that he could go off and shower.

  Emma buried herself again in her romantic novel. Candy was now more than happy in being reunited with her childhood sweetheart and thinking about some of the deep and meaningful aspects of life. Candy was already planning her future and a house for her and her partner. There was room for a whole family, a beautiful kitchen, a walk-in wardrobe and there would be a garden for them all to play in. Where would they live? Would it be by the sea, or in the forest, or close to the mountaintop?

  Emma read on and on. She could only empathise with Candy. She wanted a perfect man but she knew that her friends had always criticised her for having such high standards. The right man will come along, they would say, but so far, she had just had many a good friendship and not felt secure enough to let any of those male friends into her close family life.

  Chapter 42

  With their minds made up to hit the La Plagne pistes in the afternoon, Emma, her father and Joseph went about it in style.

  Joseph led the way on his twin tip skis with beautiful sweeping turns. Skiers dangling in the chair lifts above, or standing on the side of the piste, would stop and stare. Their eyes followed his line to admire the perfect turns and rare relaxed movements of someone who has been skiing since he was a toddler.

  Emma did not need to compete with Joseph, for her movements outclassed those of her younger brother. Once Joseph had skied past any onlookers, the focus was solely on Emma, for she had the skill and the line of her brother, but she also oozed sophistication. What was beautiful about Emma was that she was innocent of it, for she loved every minute she was skiing. She was back in her dream world of exquisite happiness.

  Their father had been an extremely skilled skier, but his movements did not flow as they once had.

  The runs flew under all of their skis and it was only when Emma looked at her watch later in the afternoon, feeling a little tired, that she was shocked to see that it was nearly four o’clock and only fifteen minutes until last lifts.

  Up they went to the top of the Roche de Mio, and then blasted down the runs all the way to Bellecote, catching the last link over to the La Plagne valley. What an afternoon! Confidence was restored with some beautiful awe inspiring runs incorporating amazing views across to Mont Blanc. These truly were excellent snow conditions with little ice, few loose rocks and quiet pistes. The family party revelled in the fact that they had not had to queue for any lifts the entire week.

  Their afternoon was just what Emma, Joseph and her father needed after the emotional drain of the previous seventy-two hours. It had been the first time since the incident that Sam and his leg had been cast momentarily from their minds.

  On returning to the chalet the family had ordered take-away food from the local pizzeria so that Sam would not have to hobble outside to the nearest restaurant.

  The pizza went down well, with the local red wine and music blasting out from the CD-player, which sat adjacent to the roaring wood-burner.

  Once the family had filled up on pizza, salad and chips, they retired to the comfy chairs around the fire.

  Emma’s father’s favourite chalet game was Jenga. The tower of wooden blocks had to be extended each go by a player taking a wooden block from the existing tower, being careful to ensure that the tower did not topple onto the floor and putting the block onto the top of the tower to create the next level. A simple yet effective game. The family took it very seriously.

  Whilst this was her father’s favourite game the boys loved Risk. They did not necessarily want to take over the world, but it was always fun to do battle with each other, to see how their armies could grow by taking over territories and what tactics their opponent would play to stop them in their path of world domination.

  Emma was itching to read the last few chapters of her romantic novel and see if Candy really did live happily ever after, or if there was a final twist. She was hoping that Candy was able to live her dream but the big what if was the potential for her previous lover to come back and spoil the fun.

  Emma realised that they were also at the end of her holiday and, whilst it had been traumatic in many ways with the night on the mountain, it had brought her whole family closer together. She was uninspired by her student studying and where her geography course was taking her and was a little depressed about the thought of leaving this relatively un-spoilt, Alpine wilderness.

  For some reason she couldn’t quite fathom in her mind, her thoughts were also elsewhere with how she had talked to David on the Canadian canoe drifting down the River Wye. He was lovely, but there was something she was unsure about with him, something she could not place a finger on. Could she really trust him? And could she also trust Archie? Her mind was such a muddle. All she knew was that yes, she needed to understand and know Archie Malcolm better.

  Chapter 43

  David was seated at his small desk within his cramped student digs attempting to avert his gaze from the hall of residence window which gave him an excellent view of the end of the M275. This was the main gateway into Portsmouth. If he leant back in his seat he could glimpse the edge of the naval dockyard and the ferry port whisking their passengers across to St. Malo in France and Bilbao on the north coast of Spain.

  Try as he might to focus on his engineering coursework, which was totally theory based for this semester, he could not concentrate. He just wanted to put the theory into practice.

  David was a practical man. He loved configuring the elements required for an engineering machine to work. One of his highlights as a child, even though he was brought up in a number of homes, was a sponsored trip to the Science Museum in London.

  This had been an exciting break to the standard routine. Whilst football was fun each week, London and the Science Museum was an unknown.

  Having started life in East Anglia, everyone he knew had talked about the Big Smoke as another world, where glimmering office skyscrapers gave way to the pedestrian multitudes shopping at the beautiful high street shops and boutiques of the West End. They talked about the hordes of tourists viewing the sightseeing highlights, – the Tower of London and its Beefeaters, the imposing grandeur and austerity of Westminster Abbey, peering through the gates of Buckingham Palace from the Mall for a view of any of the Royals. They had joked about feeding the pigeons in Trafalgar Square and perhaps daring to go on a scary trip into the London Dungeon or having an introduction to many of the world’s most famous people at Madame Tussaud’s. David had been able to play with miniature red London double-decker Routemaster buses and black London taxi cabs whilst a very young child, so the thought of seeing the real thing had given him palpable excitement.

  To think that he was to be on a day trip where all of these activities lay only a stone’s throw away had given David a focus. More importantly, their home was to be visiting the country’s premier technical museum, which again had had wonderful reviews from everyone he knew.

  David had not been disap
pointed. Staring at the exhibits, soaking in how a steam engine works, he could directly change the amount of water and fuel being provided to the engine and this was a thrill that he would never forget.

  He had left the Science Museum with special memories and was even more determined to pursue a career as an engineer and solve practical problems through his ingenious mechanisms.

  Any concentration that he had had for the textbook soon evaporated. He stood up from his desk chair and wandered down his third floor hall of residence bedroom corridor to the communal kitchen. He put the kettle on and hunted for some bacon that he was sure he had left in the fridge from the previous week. He smiled to himself, it was still there. It was rare in student halls for partially opened food to remain lying around, especially as he had not put a sticker on it with his name.

  As his nostrils were taking in the delights of the bacon cooking, two of his corridor colleagues popped in.

  “We need some more smoke, Davey. Can you sort us out some? Here’s a twenty.”

  “Whoa, whoa, I’m really not the man, and you should be more careful than just casually asking me for this.”

  “But you so are the man, Davey, everyone knows that you can fix anything.”

  David huffed but pocketed the note and looked away from his two student colleagues. In the distance he could hear sirens. They were becoming louder and seemed to be heading for this central area of Portsmouth.

  Just another day, they all thought, sirens were always going off in the centre of Portsmouth.

  Chapter 44

  The sirens grew closer to the hall of residence. It was the whooping sound of a couple of police cars. As they wove their way towards the student accommodation the decibels faded away and then reverberated twice as loudly as the sound tried to weave its way round the density of buildings within the commercial district of the city.