by Chris Ryan
‘You don’t know that.’
‘Yes, I do!’
‘HEY!’ Abby stepped between them, like a referee in a boxing ring. She genuinely thought they might start fighting. ‘Exactly what is this achieving? How is this stupid argument helping them? Huh?’
Her two friends fell silent.
‘We need to get back to the guest house and alert the Watchers. This is out of our hands now.’ Sullenly, Sami and Lili nodded. They were silent, but Abby could still sense the fire between them. ‘Come on,’ she said.
Never had their fitness been so important. They sprinted back across the beach and up the ridge without slowing down. At the clifftop, they hurtled towards the road at top speed. They were barely out of breath by the time they had run back into Stanley and wound through the streets of the sleepy town to the front door of the guest house. Everything was still and silent. No sign of anyone. They crept back into the guest house. Abby winced when the stairs creaked as they climbed them, and for a few seconds they all froze, listening for evidence that they had disturbed Arlene. They heard none, so they continued upstairs and headed straight into Max’s room.
The understanding that Max would be in charge of the sat phone had been unspoken. There were no ranks in the Special Forces Cadets, but the others quietly deferred to him in most matters. That he, along with Lukas, was in great danger, unnerved the three of them. But Abby was honest enough with herself to admit that the desperation she felt in the pit of her stomach went further than concern for a team-mate. She told herself to smother that feeling. But it was difficult, standing here in Max’s empty room, the bed still unmade, as though he’d just stepped out of it.
She caught Lili staring at her and strode up to the bed. Max had stowed the suitcase underneath it. She pulled it out, placed it on the mattress and opened it up. The sat phone was in the hidden compartment. She activated it and dialled the number they had all memorised. It only rang a couple of times before Hector answered. If he was surprised at receiving a call at this time of night, he didn’t sound it.
Go ahead, Max.
Abby glanced at the others and steeled herself. ‘It’s Abby,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a problem.’
She had to hand it to Hector. During training he could rant and scream at them like a lunatic. But now he was calm and he listened. Abby told him how they’d split up and why. How the frogmen had arrived again, and how she’d seen them digging in a weapons cache. Then she told him about the abduction.
For a moment, Hector was silent. Then he said:
Are you certain Max and Lukas were alive when you saw them?
Abby thought back. She pictured Max’s and Lukas draped over the frogmen’s shoulders, their faces grainy in the light of the NV binoculars. ‘Certain,’ she said with confidence. ‘They were alive.’
Are you sure you saw those guys caching a Stinger?
‘I … I think so. I’ve never seen one in real life, but I’m pretty sure, yes.’
There was a pause. Then Hector said:
We have to get you out of there. Right now.
‘What? Why?’
If the frogmen have Max and Lukas alive, they’ll be interrogating them. Max and Lukas will give up your position.
‘I … I don’t think they’d do that.’
Trust me, they will. Maybe not immediately, but eventually. They’re in for a bad time. As soon as the Argentines learn where you are, they’ll send someone in to deal with you. You have to get out of there. Leave all your stuff where it is. Make your way back to the cove, immediately.
‘But we’ve just come from the cove.’
Get back there, now.
‘What about Max and Lukas? We can’t just leave them …’
Right now, we can’t do anything else. We don’t know where they are.
‘B-but as soon as the Argentines have finished questioning them, they’ll k-kill them …’
There was another pause.
Not on my watch. Get out of there. Now.
The line went dead.
Abby looked at Lili and Sami. Their eyes were wide with dread.
‘Well?’ Lili whispered.
‘We’ve got to get out,’ Abby said.
Max was still achingly cold. He could barely talk. His vision swam in and out of focus. The booming of the waves against the hull of the fishing trawler echoed in his head. His chin dropped to his chest and he was only vaguely aware of Lukas’s voice. ‘Someone’s coming!’
Max lifted his heavy head. He saw two dark figures approaching, now blurry, now sharp. There was a light somewhere behind them. It blinked in and out of sight as they approached. When they stopped, it shone into the space between them, dazzling Max.
‘Who are you?’ a guttural voice said in English, with a pronounced accent. His face came into view. The whites of his eyes were red. A tattoo covered his left cheek. It was the man who had killed the old farmer. The man who had attacked Max at the listening station. He oozed violence.
‘No one,’ Max said. ‘You’ve made a mistake. We were just –’
There was no warning. The man hit him suddenly and violently: a brutal punch to the nose. Max felt blood flow from his nose. Then he felt thick fingers around his throat, tight and threatening.
‘Who are you?’
Max was so exhausted that for a moment he considered telling them. It would be so much easier, because maybe then they would let him get warm, and sleep. But then the image of his friends’ faces swam in his mind. Lili. Sami. And in front of them both, Abby. He felt a surge of defiance. ‘We’re no one,’ he repeated. ‘We’re just here on holiday. I have no idea what’s going on. What have we done?’
He could tell his words had an effect. The man loosened his grip and looked at his companion. They exchanged a few words in their own language. Then the man looked back at Max. ‘If you’re lying to us …’
‘We just want to go home,’ Max said, in as small a voice as possible.
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ the red-eyed man said, and he gave a harsh bark of a laugh. There was no humour in that laugh. The two men walked away.
Max and Lukas looked at each other. ‘You know what that meant?’ Lukas said.
‘Yeah,’ Max said. ‘I know what that meant.’ He set his jaw. ‘We have to hold out as long as possible. We can’t let them know about the others …’
His chin dropped to his chest again. Blood trickled from his nose.
Abby, Lili and Sami crept back down the stairs, wincing again as they creaked. Hector’s urgency had freaked them out. The very walls of the guest house seemed to close in on them. It didn’t feel safe.
They stepped out into the street and closed the front door behind them. They crossed the deserted road, ready to run out of Stanley again. Abby glanced back at Atlantic View guest house. It would be the last time she set eyes on it.
Then her heart almost stopped.
The curtains were parted at a first-floor window. A face was at the glass.
It was an old face, pale and ghostly. At first Abby thought it was just that: a ghost. But that was only because she didn’t immediately recognise the old woman’s face. By day, Arlene was jolly and kind. Now, though, she was glaring at them with suspicion. Her eyes narrowed. She stepped away and out of sight.
‘Did you see that?’ Abby said.
‘See what?’ Lili and Sami said in unison.
‘Arlene. She was watching us from the window.’
There was silence.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Sami said.
Typical Sami, Abby thought. So trusting. She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. She didn’t seem friendly. And remember what Hector said? That there might be Argentine spies on the island?’
‘Her?!’ Lili whispered.
‘Everyone knows Arlene,’ Abby hissed, repeating Peter’s words. ‘Think about it. How come the frogmen knew to find Max and Lukas at the listening station? What if Arlene had been speaking to Peter and found out what happened today? Wh
at if she’s an Argentine agent and she tipped them off?’
Sami and Lili gave her a horrifed look. ‘We need to get going,’ Lili said.
There was no further argument. The three cadets sprinted back through the capital towards the road that had now become very familiar to them. They didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. Abby was certain that Stanley was not a safe place for them any more. As they sprinted back along the long, straight road, she kept checking back over her shoulder. She had an uncomfortable feeling that somebody was watching them. As she ran, she tried to tell herself that she was just unnerved by the sight of the old woman in the window.
When they were three-quarters of the way along the road, she saw lights.
‘Someone’s coming!’ she shouted.
The others slowed a little and looked back. Their faces said it all. This was the first time they’d seen any vehicle on the road after dark. It didn’t bode well.
They carried on running. Abby was eager to get off the road, but that would be counter-productive. To the right was sea. To the left was land, but that direction would take them away from the cove. They had no option but to continue along the coast road until it turned back on itself and they could head cross-country. Every time she checked, however, the headlights were closer.
Could the occupants of the vehicle see them? She didn’t know. All she knew was that she was getting tired. They all were – they were slowing down. It was a massive relief when they reached the turn in the road that meant they could go across country. But they’d only been running along the grass for a minute when, behind them, Abby saw the unmistakable beams of three torches lighting up the sky. ‘They’re following,’ she gasped. ‘We have to move quicker!’
There had been times, back at Valley House, when she had truly hated the Watchers for beasting them in their fitness sessions. Now she was grateful. Because although her muscles shrieked and her lungs felt as though they would burst and she was desperate to stop and catch her breath, she had felt like this before and knew it was possible to break through it. The three of them did not let up. They raced across the uneven ground towards the cove as Hector had told them to, painfully aware that the people with torches were following them, but not deviating from their course. The cove was getting closer, and although it hardly felt like a safe haven, if it was a choice between that and turning to face whoever was following them, Abby knew which option she favoured.
Finally they saw the clifftop up ahead: the boulders and the copse were silhouetted against the night sky. They veered towards the ridge and, moments later, were hurtling down to the cove. There was no sign of the torches now. They half ran, half stumbled downhill in the darkness and a minute later were on the beach. They could see their own footprints in the sand, and the footprints of others, but they focused on the ocean. Standing at the base of the cliff, so they couldn’t be seen from above, they looked out to sea.
And saw nothing.
‘We’re trapped here,’ Lili said breathlessly. ‘If those people following us decide to come down the ridge …’
‘Look!’ Abby said, and pointed towards the water.
They were distant and faint at first: two dark smudges on the horizon. They were clearly moving fast though. Within seconds, Abby could see that they were two RIBS – rigid inflatable boats. She thought she could see four passengers in one boat, two in the other.
‘Who is it?’ Sami asked.
‘It’s the SBS,’ Abby said.
‘How can we be sure?’ Lili demanded. ‘What if it’s the Argentines?’
‘We know they approach by minisub to avoid being seen,’ Abby replied. ‘These people don’t care about that. They’re supposed to be here. It means they’re British. Come on, let’s get to the water’s edge.’
‘Wait!’ Lili whispered. ‘Look!’ She was pointing to their right, back towards the ridge. Beams of light were shining from that direction. ‘They’re coming. What do we do?’
‘Stay here,’ Sami said. He sounded calm. ‘Wait till the boats are close. They’ll cover us as we run down to the water.’
‘What if they don’t even know we’re here?’ Abby said.
‘They know we’re here,’ Sami said. ‘They’ll be watching us.’ He lifted both hands in the air and waved in the direction of the RIBs, which continued speeding towards them.
Abby stared from the ridge to the RIBs and back again. She was trying to estimate how long they had before the people with the torches arrived at the beach. Less than a minute, certainly. And what of the RIBs? How long till they reached shore? That was harder to gauge. They kept disappearing as the waves rose and fell. Would they get to the water in time? A panicked sensation in her gut said no.
Twenty seconds passed.
Thirty.
The RIBs were twenty metres from the shore.
Their pursuers were almost on the beach.
‘Let’s go!’ Abby hissed.
They sprinted. Their instinct was to stay close together, but they resisted it. Bunched up, they presented a single, easy target. Spread out, they would give their pursuers a tougher time of it, if they were armed. They ran at five-metre intervals. As she belted towards the water, Abby looked over at the ridge. Their pursuers had reached the bottom. Their torches were pointing in the cadets’ direction. There was shouting … then a shot echoed out into the night.
As soon as the shot rang out, one of the RIBs curled off to the ridge end of the beach. It had a general-purpose machine gun mounted at the bow, manned by one of the crew. A burst of automatic fire exploded from the GPMG. In her peripheral vision, Abby saw their pursuers hit the ground and she knew that the shooters in the RIB were laying down suppressing fire to allow the cadets to approach the other vessel. Seconds later they were knee-deep in water and the closest RIB had performed a crash stop, turning 90 degrees to port and presenting the beam of the boat to the beach. There were two other people in the boat. One was at the wheel, the other was gripping the port side of the RIB. Abby couldn’t make out their faces, but then one of them shouted at the top of their voice: ‘GET IN! NOW!’
‘Angel,’ Abby breathed. The RIB was ten metres away. She plunged into the ocean and swam through the waves as powerfully as she could. Thirty seconds later she was clambering over the slippery side of the inflatable boat, the first of the three cadets to do so. She felt a strong arm grip her: Angel, pulling her roughly into the boat. She tumbled in, aware of more suppressing fire in the background. Woody had the wheel, and he wore an expression of grim determination on his normally friendly face. Angel pulled the other two into the boat. ‘Go!’
There was a low roar from the RIB’s motor, and a surge. The boat curled around in a tight circle and headed out to sea, ploughing recklessly through the waves. Salt and spray covered the cadets and glowed in the moonlight.
13
HMS Stirling
The worst thing was the waiting.
Max and Lukas knew that the red-eyed frogman and his mate would return. And they knew that, when that happened, there would be more violence. Max half wanted to get it over with.
Yeah, waiting was the worst.
The fishing trawler was in motion. Max passed the time trying to determine their direction of travel. It was cloudy. From time to time, though, the clouds parted and he could make out the Southern Cross twinkling in the sky. Each time it came into view, he extended an imaginary line from the top of the cross down its long axis, five times its length, then dropped the line down to the horizon. This told him where south was, but that wasn’t much use. The Southern Cross kept disappearing and reappearing with a new bearing. They seemed to be travelling in a circle. But that didn’t make sense, did it?
Spray covered them. They were soaking wet, so it was difficult for Max to tell if his nose was still bleeding. He was certainly still in pain, and the pain increased when he saw the two figures approach again. When they were close, he saw that the red-eyed guy held a handgun. The man knelt in front of Max and put the gun to h
is forehead.
‘Who are you?’ he rasped over the noise of the engines and the ocean.
Max swallowed hard. ‘No one.’
The man nodded and gave a grim smile. Then, without taking his eyes from Max, he aimed the handgun at Lukas instead. His implication was clear: Answer me, or your friend dies.
‘Who are you?’ he repeated.
Max glanced sidelong at Lukas. His friend was looking straight ahead. He seemed calm, and Max understood why. So long as their captors thought Max and Lukas had information, they were more valuable alive than dead. ‘Please don’t hurt him,’ Max said. ‘We’re just here on holiday. We don’t know what’s going on.’
The man’s red eyes narrowed. He stood up, turned to his mate and nodded. They moved away along the deck.
The RIB carrying Woody, Angel, Lili, Sami and Abby sped through the waves. Conversation was impossible. The cadets gripped the sides of the RIB. Their clothes were sodden and heavy, their eyes blinded by spray. All Abby saw was dark, threatening sea and endless cloudy sky. They seemed to be speeding into the middle of nowhere. Her eyes fell on Angel and Woody and it was impossible not to feel slightly reassured. They were like the cadets’ parents, siblings and best friends all rolled into one. They schooled them, trained them and comforted them. Woody’s friendly face and Angel’s fiery red hair were a source of encouragement. They knew what they were doing and would stop at nothing to ensure the cadets’ safety.
But there were some things they couldn’t do. Like bring people back from the dead. She tried not to think about what had happened to Max and Lukas. Could they possibly still be alive? She shuddered when she thought of what could be happening to them right now.
They had been travelling for perhaps five minutes when a vessel suddenly appeared on the horizon. It looked like a large military ship. Abby remembered Hector telling them that Woody and Angel would be stationed on a Royal Navy patrol ship with a Special Boat Service unit. Surely this was it.
Minutes later they were in the shadow of the enormous steel-grey vessel. Being alongside it somehow made the ocean feel deeper and scarier. There was a deafening engine-grind and the salty air was thick with the stench of fuel oil. The second RIB drew up alongside them and for the first time Abby could see its occupants properly: four armed men in wetsuits and life jackets, one of them still manning the GPMG. The SBS? She reckoned so.