by Greg Hunt
The air was sharp with the coolness of the night. The stars were bright in this alpine environment and the smell of the pine was overwhelming. The swish and swoosh of the blades was heard well before the helicopter appeared as a dark, ominous shape. As the craft landed within the clearing and the pilot flung open the side door, Petty Officer Betts pointed his rifle at Lieutenant Archie Malcolm and then swung it lazily towards the pilot.
“Stand back,” he shouted above the roar of the displaced air caused by the down draft of the blades.
Betts clambered aboard the helicopter still pointing his weapon viciously at the pilot and then toting it towards Jackie and Jo, Nick and Archie. Archie raised his hands and just stated calmly, “Don’t do anything stupid, Betts, you’ll be hunted down and swing for this, you do realise that?”
Betts indicated to the pilot with his pistol to take off, and bring the chopper up and out of the trees. The blades rotated at a wilder speed and the engine’s volume went up a notch.
“See ya in hell,” shouted Betts as the helicopter’s two stands edged away from the ground.
Nick dashed forward and threw his body onto the main deck of the mechanical beast, wedging his shoulder against the door frame to ensure that it remained open.
He was unable to push up with his legs and put anymore of his body into the helicopter. Betts pressed on Nick’s hands with the full weight of his body but Nick was too fast for him and managed to lift his left arm up and gain a grip on Betts’ right ankle. Not daring to move his other leg Betts brought down the full force of the back of the pistol onto Nick’s head and this knocked Nick’s head limply to one side.
The helicopter finally took off from the ground with Nick still dangling out of the door, and most of his weight pulling through his left arm at Betts’ leg and lower body.
The helicopter had gained a good fifty metres in height and each man was fighting to ensure that they did not leave the relative safety of the flying machine.
Betts’ superior weight position allowed him to hit Nick’s head a further couple of times with the pistol and, dazed by the ferocity of the attack, Nick’s grip on Betts’s ankle loosened. Betts kicked Nick’s body with his free leg and turned away quickly into the body of the helicopter.
Archie watched in the half-light as the shape of a body fell over a hundred metres. With a thump, he heard it come to rest in the depths of the pine forest.
Nick lay very still with open, but not seeing, eyes. His body was looking up at the stars, a couple of kilometres from where Archie was standing with Jackie and Jo.
Chapter 54
Commander Edgar Bennett disdainfully picked up Lieutenant Archie Malcolm’s report and shuffled the pages between the palms of his creased hands before placing the stack of paper neatly onto the leather topped writing desk that lay between the two men.
“It doesn’t make for good reading, does it Lieutenant?” The Commander struck a formal tone.
“No, sir, it does not,” said Archie, going for the less is more approach.
He knew when the Commander was royally annoyed and this was certainly one of those occasions. Archie could tell what the position was as he, too, was also more than frustrated at the course of events that had taken place in the French Alps.
He did not expect the next few moments, however. The Commander continued, “I had expected more, Lieutenant, much more.”
“Yes, sir.” Archie paused for breath and then stated, “We are now in a position to follow up specific leads received to ensure that both the inhabitant of the chalet and Petty Officer Stuart Betts are found and questioned.”
“Lieutenant, I will be running this operation separately from now on. It is unfortunate, but you will be having no further involvement, is that understood?”
Shocked, and not for the first time in the last forty-eight hours, Archie could only confirm “Yes, sir.” It really was not worth arguing in his tired and depressed state.
Once the full debrief had taken place, although Archie emphasised that there was not much more to say than in his written report, Archie sought to remove himself from the naval base as quickly and quietly as possible.
Monica peered up from behind the sweeping curved reception desk on his way out. “See you, Lieutenant,” she said cheerily, which raised a half smile from Archie in return. He was not able to manage more.
Practically running out past the sentries with his leather hold-all clutched under his arm, Archie decided that he desperately needed a break. There were other thoughts on his mind and people that he had not seen recently.
He wanted to catch up with Emma, David and his bell-ringing group. It had to do him good to be away from the mission, the debrief from the Commander meant his current spirits could not sink any lower.
Chapter 55
On leaving the naval base, Archie headed straight for his flat at Gunwharf Quays on the seafront. Letting himself in, he put on some soothing music, a Jack Johnson CD that he always listened to when he wanted to relax. His upbeat eighties pop music classics were for when he was in a doing mood. This music was calm and allowed him to reflect.
He grabbed a towel and enjoyed a hot shower with the music still floating through to his cleanly rinsed ears. He always remembered to wash behind the ears otherwise his mother would not have been happy, before changing into smart casual clothes. These were clothes in which he could try and forget the events of the day.
The flat had a small balcony and Archie pulled up the black side handle, which allowed him to open fully the sliding doors. He stepped out onto the wooden decking that, suspended at this height, gave a wonderful view onto the happenings of the Portsmouth Harbour entrance below.
Standing with the first glass of lager in his hand, Archie took in the view; the small sailing dinghies bobbing up and down on the large ocean waves with their strong tidal pull, the more substantial yachts mainly returning from their day’s outings and the continual hubbub of ferries taking cars and passengers both to the Isle of Wight and the Continent.
Try as he might, the images of the torn parachute down below the sheer cliff edge belonging to Kevin, his communications specialist, the grimacing figure of James clutching his stomach; and the thud of Nick’s body crashing to the ground from the helicopter above were preoccupying his thoughts.
These negative images were pervading his senses, consuming his mind and eating away at his sanity. His pint glass was still over half full but his soul was concentrating on the element that was empty. Archie knew that he was in trouble. He recognised that he needed to be in the companionship of his friends and groups that lifted his spirits. He just could not dwell on the events of the last few days. It would send him mad.
Yet again he wondered as to why Emma had been on the mountainside in the bright orange survival bag. What had she been doing there in the first place? She must never know that he and his team had been out on a mission. He was truly scared that something in her subconscious may pinpoint Archie and his band as having been by her side in the night. He needed to approach this one carefully. He had to ensure that Emma had no memory of that awful period.
What would raise his spirits? Well, certainly a walk out and about. He could not mull on all that had slipped from their grasp. Where was Petty Officer Betts now? What had happened to the cross country skier who escaped from his secret alpine chalet in a micro-light?
Anyone would have thought it ridiculous. Quite a story you have there, Archie, they’d laugh. It wasn’t a laugh, though, was it? It had cost the lives of three of his close team. The perpetrators were still out there, somewhere, and yet he, Lieutenant Archie Malcolm, had achieved nothing. Furthermore, he had been taken off the mission, which had been his only chance of redeeming himself, of fighting on and proving the Commander wrong and ensuring that all the culprits were brought to justice.
He finished off the cool lager, closed up the sliding door and picked up his wallet, mobile and keys from the round wooden bowl on the sid
e table by the front door of his flat. He could not help himself from slamming the door on his way out as he was so annoyed. He could not stop the ideas, the conflicting thoughts, from swimming around his confused and aching head. He needed the fresh air, the effects of the endless sea horizon and the interaction with friends to distract his mind and wholly absorb him in something, anything, else.
Chapter 56
Archie absorbed the view from the Hard. This was where Portsmouth had originally been fortified. Admiral Lord Nelson himself had visited this area of Portsmouth many times. Steeped in history, it was from the Hard that the pilgrims had set sail to the Americas on The Mayflower.
The fishermen were in their usual place, casting their lines off the small raised jetty to the left, and this was above the isolated pebbled beach where he was standing. As this natural, sea-ravaged part of the coast was surrounded by the thick walls of the Portsmouth ramparts, it was a sun trap in the summer months. Students revising for their exams were attracted here, as were many more who just sought to soak up the sun. It was too cold for anyone to be lazing on the beach today but there were a handful of dog walkers, joggers and old age pensioners breathing in the sea air.
Archie climbed up the stone staircase so that he could walk along the sea defences where roller-bladers, cyclists in the new cycle lane, and walkers were going about their business. This route took him along to South Parade Pier. It gave his mind some air to refresh his thought patterns. Despite it now being the onset of spring, the water was still cold so he was impressed to see so many sailing craft out of their marina berths.
Even more impressive to Archie was the group of windsurfers rapidly flying across the surface of the waves, skimming above the water and somehow managing to stay dry as they shot across.
Their boards appeared to be impossibly small compared with the size of the rigs that drove them forward. The wind would force the rig back and down and to increase the speed further the windsurfer, leaning out from the board by using his harness, normally strapped around his bottom and attached by a hook to the harness loop on the horizontal boom, would close the slot of the gap between the bottom of the sail and the board.
Like a streamlined car, with no roof rack or unsightly extremities to cause drag, the windsurfer and his board would then really fly. So much so that, to stay on the boards, the designers had to introduce foot straps in order to ensure that the windsurfer was not completely dislodged by a wave or just by a slipped foot.
Conversely, it always amused the windsurfers themselves and those watching if a previously strong wind just died to nothing. The windsurfer closing the slot with his body fully out from his board, using his harness with feet secured in his foot straps would suddenly find himself being taken by gravity into the water.
Try as he desperately might to pull on the boom and reach for the mast, normally there would be no recurrence of wind to keep him upright. The observers from the shore and the other sailors would see the hilarious sight of a windsurfer momentarily freefalling backwards into the water with nothing to save his descent. Both board and sail would be going so quickly that the body would fall like a stone directly downwards whilst his board, sail and boom would continue sailing on for ten or twenty metres forward.
Archie checked his watch and it was still only late afternoon. He had the aftertaste of the lager on his tongue and he was starting to feel a little refreshed from taking in the activity of the coastline.
Continuing to walk along the promenade he was aware that he was level with the Royal Marines Museum and their adjacent former barracks, now converted into high quality houses and apartments.
Having walked this far and checking the time, he realised that he could watch the end of the water-polo team practice in Eastney pool. When Archie had shared the house with David, David had attempted to coax him along to the water-polo training sessions. Whilst Archie enjoyed the fun of the competition, most of the swimmers were extremely strong.
Even Archie was aware that the team was better without his contribution. Still, he could see how his ex-house mates were doing and if they were going for a quick drink after training.
Popping into the steamy atmosphere of the 1950s swimming baths he passed through the spectators’ side door, located a couple of steps down from the back of the car park. He sat down on the wooden slatted bench and slid into the centre, trying to cause little disturbance to the training session.
David had the water-polo ball in his hand and lifted it up and over his head and drove it with impressive force, using the palm, towards the other side’s goal. The goalie did well to block the shot and the ball was deflected up to where Archie was sitting.
David noticed Archie on the side and raised a hand, mouthing that it was five minutes until the end of the session. Archie continued to watch and was staggered by the speed of the movement, the fitness of the teams and the camaraderie amongst the teammates.
Eventually the whistle sounded. David’s team had won by one goal and he swam over to the side where Archie sat.
“We’re going to the Winford Inn off Palmerston Road,” he shouted above the hum of the lights. See ya there in thirty minutes, or if you want a lift we’ll be leaving from the car park in ten.”
“No worries,” replied Archie. “I’ll catch you guys in half an hour – some impressive shooting there.”
“Thanks,” David responded and popped off to the changing room.
Chapter 57
The Winford Inn off Palmerston Road, Southsea, was a typical student drinking den.
One of the hockey teams was already standing around the bar. There was a rush to order the jugs of lager before happy hour came to a close. In essence the students were receiving four pints for the price of three so they were keen to line up their drinks. The bar staff were having difficulty keeping up and the landlord promptly rang the bell to indicate his establishment was taking last happy hour orders.
Many of the students were scrambling around for any spare pennies in their pockets. They were attempting to pool together to see if they had enough money between them for another jug, or alternatively whether their group would hit the pool table or the quiz machine.
A couple of locals were enjoying the comfort of the cushioned corner seats and discussing the merits of the new European player who had been bought for a phenomenal sum for their local football team. Would this one player make the impact that they needed? Expectations were high. The player had to perform to ensure their team remained out of the relegation zone.
In the restaurant, connected by the archway that had been knocked through a couple of years ago to create this dining extension, and delineated by more modern laminate flooring instead of the traditional large paving slabs, there were a couple of parties who were finishing up their late, three course lunches.
Some students had their parents to visit for the weekend. In order that they could have a decent meal, courtesy of their parents, and exchange information about their life in Portsmouth for the most recent family news, the Winford made for a reliable location.
Archie had managed to order a pitcher of the happy hour lager and was reading through the local newspaper. There was no breaking news, just the usual local parliamentary candidates views, moaning about rubbish collection rates and car crime and the worrying trend of increased vandalism depressing further the existing poor state of the retail high street. With nothing grabbing his attention, Archie looked up and was pleased to see David enter with a small group from the water-polo team.
David headed over to Archie and Archie offered him a drink from the pitcher. It felt like old times when they had shared a house together. David was attempting to clear his nose as the chlorine in the swimming pool water had irritated his eyes and he sneezed. Archie asked him how he was and what David was up to. David seemed a little shifty. He went through what he was studying on his engineering degree, confirming that he was not enjoying this semester as there was far too much theory and not enough p
ractical. He mentioned that he was still living in the hall of residence in the city centre as a senior student and was still playing mixed hockey, water-polo and bell-ringing at St. Mary’s regularly.
Archie congratulated David on the St. Mary’s striking contest win and asked him if he had seen Emma recently. David blurted out that Emma was popping over to the pub in the next ten minutes or so, and that they were going to the Athletics Union Ball the following night.
Many male students thought Emma extremely attractive and her house on Kent Road in Southsea was one that most of the guys on her course would be thinking up excuses to visit. With her slightly curly brown locks, and slim yet curvy figure she was very popular. In addition, her kind and caring nature and positive outlook on life ensured that those who spent time with her enjoyed the company. These natural qualities made people fall in love with Emma.
“Oh,” said Archie, “that will be nice for you.”
“It sure will,” said David, “you know I’m thinking about asking Emma to move in with me.”
The conversation became strained and Archie could not concentrate again. David and Emma’s friendship appeared to have progressed to something more since his birthday Canadian canoeing on the River Wye.
Archie was going to the Athletics Union Ball anyway as he was well known in student social circles. As his front was that he was undertaking PhD work in connection with oceanography, he did not have a readily available crowd to go with but he’d been looking forward to catching up with Emma and David. He was now not sure whether he wanted to go and see two of his best friends together. One whom he had known for years and one much more recent, but he did not want to see them as a couple, it was not right.
Archie wished David well, confirmed he had to finish off writing up yet another part of his research analysis, and that he would see them both the following night at the Student Union.