by Chris Ryan
‘Stay put!’ Angel shouted. For once, Abby resisted making the obvious sarcastic remark. Do we have to? I fancied a quick swim. Instead, she gripped the side of the RIB and, following Woody’s lead, looked up. A giant crane hovered above them, over the side of the patrol ship. Woody stood up in the boat. A set of ropes with attached carabiners was winched down, and Woody reached out to grab them. He clipped the ropes to anchor points on the RIB, then took a torch from his life jacket and shone it up towards the deck. The RIB rose from the water’s surface, buffeted by the wind. Abby’s stomach lurched as the RIB was swung over the railings. The winch lowered it down into a metal frame onto the deck. They were aboard.
Abby took a few seconds to take in their surroundings. They were at the stern of the ship. High above them were the vessel’s communications masts and air-surveillance radars. Across the deck was a helicopter landing pad. There were crew members dotted around, in black berets and storm coats, all of them seemingly busy. A man was waiting for them. He had greying hair, a full beard and a bearing that told Abby, without her having to ask, that this was the ship’s captain. Woody and Angel jumped out of the RIB and strode up to him. ‘What do we know?’ Woody shouted.
The captain looked from Woody to the three teenagers. His brow was furrowed and he didn’t immediately reply. Abby got it. It must have been quite a surprise to see three kids being winched up from the South Atlantic. The existence of the Special Forces Cadets was a secret to almost everybody, this guy included. Abby could see a hundred questions crossing his face. Woody stepped up to him. ‘They have full security clearance,’ he said. ‘You speak to them as you speak to us.’
‘On my vessel,’ the captain said, ‘I speak to anyone as I choose.’
‘Would you like us to get London involved?’ Woody asked.
A muscle in the captain’s right cheek twitched. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ he said. ‘Follow me.’ He turned on his heel and stalked along the deck towards the bridge.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Woody asked the cadets.
The cadets jumped out. Their sodden clothes dripped as they followed the captain, Woody and Angel. They drew perplexed glances from the other crew members on deck, which was no surprise to Abby. But nobody stopped them to ask awkward questions. It must have been obvious to them all, from the captain’s march along the deck, that serious business was afoot.
They left the deck through a heavy door. The captain led them up some metal stairs and into the main control room of the bridge. Abby stopped beside Angel. ‘Where are we?’ she asked.
‘HMS Stirling,’ Angel said. ‘It’s a Royal Navy offshore patrol vessel. Fifty crew members, top speed twenty-four knots, range five thousand nautical miles. Thirty-millimetre automatic cannon, two miniguns, four machine guns and two Pacific 24 seaboats. Welcome aboard.’
‘Thanks,’ Abby muttered. There was something ominous about the way Angel had made a point of listing the ship’s weaponry and firepower. ‘Do we know anything about Max and Lukas?’
A shadow crossed Angel’s face. ‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘Let’s hear what the captain has to say.’
The bridge was light and low-ceilinged. There were six other Royal Navy men in here, sitting at high-backed chairs in front of an impressive array of navigation and communications equipment. The captain walked up to one of the crew members, who was sitting at a large screen displaying nautical charts.
‘Show us,’ he said.
The man pointed to a blinking dot on the screen. ‘This is us,’ he said. ‘We have a fix on all vessels within a hundred-mile radius. They’re mostly private vessels or Argentine fishing boats. Our understanding is that British citizens have been removed from the Falklands in a minisub. If we eliminate all those vessels out of range of these minisubs, we’re left with five ships. Four of them are heading back to harbour in the Falklands. Which leaves this one, at a 275-degree bearing from our current position.’ He pointed at another blinking dot.
‘What is it?’ Woody said.
‘It’s an Argentine fishing trawler. It’s been circling in this area for as long as we’ve been tracking it.’
‘How big is it?’
‘Eight metres.’
‘So big enough to host a military force?’
‘Perhaps. There may also be regular submarines in the vicinity. The presence of the minisubs would certainly suggest so.’
‘We’ve been attempting radio contact with the trawler,’ the captain said, ‘but there’s no reply. That’s usually a giveaway.’
Woody turned to the captain. ‘I’d like to request that we set course to intercept that vessel. We think we have friends on board.’
The captain turned to the crew member. ‘Do it,’ he said. He looked back at Woody and the others. ‘I’ve assigned you a couple of cabins. There’s dry gear in there. Anything you need, let me know.’
‘How long before we make the intercept?’ Angel said.
‘About forty-five minutes.’
‘That’s too long. Can’t we get there any quicker?’
The captain narrowed his eyes, clearly unimpressed with Angel’s abrupt questioning. However, it was equally clear that he understood the seriousness of the situation. ‘My men will get us there as quickly as they can. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to brief the SBS team. They’ll board the trawler when we get close. Their equipment is already aboard the RIBs.’ He gave the cadets a meaningful stare. ‘Make sure you stay out of their way. They’re the professionals, not you.’
The captain’s assistant led them from the bridge, back the way they had come and then below decks. The crew’s living quarters were off cramped corridors. There was one cabin for the boys and one for the girls. Abby followed Angel and Lili into their cabin and was grateful to find dry towels there. Two sets of clothes waited for each cadet: regular military fatigues, waterproof trousers and storm coats, and a wetsuit and life jacket. The cadets stripped, dried and changed. There was no discussion about which set of clothes to wear. They all put on the wetsuits and life jackets. If there was work to be done, they needed to be properly prepared.
Abby sat on the edge of her bunk. A wave of tiredness crashed over her. She put her head in her hands, overwhelmed by the seriousness of their situation. Immediately, Angel was by her side, one arm around her shoulders.
‘What if they’re dead?’ Abby said.
‘We don’t deal in “what ifs”,’ Angel said, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. ‘We deal in facts. The fact is, you saw them take Max and Lukas alive. That gives us hope. And while there’s hope, we don’t give up. Agreed?’
Abby breathed deeply. ‘Agreed,’ she said. She stood up. ‘I want to be on deck. It doesn’t feel right, hiding down here.’
Angel nodded. She opened the door and led Abby and Lili outside. Woody and Sami were exiting their cabin at the same time. Silently they filed along the corridor, up the stairs at the end and onto the deck.
The Watchers led them to the bow. From here, it was clear from the rush of wind in their faces and spray from the prow cutting through the waves that the patrol vessel was making good headway. Abby checked the sky. The clouds had parted and she soon identified the Southern Cross. Seconds later she had established that they were heading in a roughly westerly direction. She gripped the deck railings and closed her eyes. Max’s face appeared in front of her, as clear as if he was really there, then Lukas’s.
‘We’re coming,’ she whispered. ‘We’re coming to get you. Whatever it takes.’
When she opened her eyes again, it had started to rain and the others were staring at her. If they thought she was weird, talking to herself like that, they didn’t let it show. In fact, they appeared even more determined than before.
14
Pathfinder
‘Something’s happening.’
Max’s head lolled on his chest. He’d given up trying to navigate. His eyes were closed. He felt sick, tired, and in pain, but Lukas’s tone of voice made him open hi
s eyes. ‘What did you say?’
‘Something’s happening.’
Lukas was right. There was a renewed burst of activity on the boat. Frogmen were hurrying over to the starboard side. RIBs were being winched down into the ocean. Men were shouting instructions at each other. And was it Max’s imagination, or had the trawler’s engines stopped? There was less vibration on deck. Less mechanical noise.
Lukas was right. Something was happening.
‘I think they’re mobilising,’ Lukas said. ‘I think they’re launching an attack.’
Max thought about the transponder back at the listening station. He wished he’d managed to destroy it, but he hadn’t. It meant fast air – incoming aircraft on a bombing mission – could score a direct hit on the station in the event of an attack on the Falklands. He looked up into the night sky. Was that attack imminent? Something told him that it might be.
Figures approached. Max and Lukas’s interrogators were returning. Their handguns were holstered across their chests and they carried something much worse than weapons.
Body bags.
The bags were the length of a tall man, fastened with sturdy zips along the top. The interrogators laid them out on the deck. One in front of Max, one in front of Lukas. They said nothing. They just gave Max and Lukas a meaningful glare and walked away again.
‘They’re trying to scare us into talking,’ Lukas said. Something in his voice suggested to Max that he was trying to persuade himself that this was true. ‘We need to keep them guessing for as long as possible. The others will be here soon.’
‘The others don’t know where we are,’ Max said. His face was agony. The rest of his body was numb with cold. He could feel his motivation slipping away.
‘They’ll work it out.’
‘You reckon? I can’t help thinking of that old farmer last night. They took him out to sea when he was already dead, remember? They must have done that so they could get rid of the body.’ He nodded at the body bags. ‘You reckon they stuffed him in one of those?’
Lukas didn’t have a chance to reply. The two interrogators were approaching again. They were carrying rocks the size of footballs. The rocks were obviously heavy. A strain to carry. The men dropped them next to the body bags, then unzipped the bags and stuffed the rocks inside. When they stood up again, the guy with the red eyes looked at Lukas and Max in turn. He spat at them, then the two men walked away again.
‘Maybe we should talk,’ Max said.
‘If we talk,’ Lukas said, ‘they’ll kill us. No question.’
‘Then what do we do?’
‘We wait,’ Lukas said. ‘The others will be here soon.’
Max said nothing.
‘How long?’ Abby said.
She was still standing at the bow of the ship, rain lashing against her face. Sami and Lili were on one side of her, Angel and Woody on the other. It was difficult, somehow, surrounded only by water and sky, to keep track of time.
But before anybody could answer, there was a sudden change in the sound of the patrol ship’s engines. Abby sensed a shift in the vessel’s momentum. They were changing course.
‘What’s happening?’ Sami said.
They turned back towards the bridge. The captain was striding in their direction. Abby could instantly tell, from his expression, that something was wrong. Panic rose in her gut. She stepped forward, but Angel put one hand on her arm to restrain her.
‘What is it?’ Woody said.
‘We have new orders from London,’ the captain said. ‘Follow me.’
‘Wait!’ Sami shouted. ‘What’s going on? We need to intercept that fishing trawler!’
The captain didn’t answer. He had already turned his back on them and was heading back along the deck. ‘Do what he says,’ Angel told them. Her voice was tense. Her eyes flashed. ‘Let’s go.’
They were silent as the captain led them back onto the bridge. It was immediately clear that something important had happened. There were more people in here now. At least fifteen men. Some were scrutinising the navigation screens. Others were typing furiously on keyboards. There was a general hubbub of radio noise. Three men were speaking urgently over the ship’s comms system.
‘What’s happening?’ Woody demanded.
‘We’ve detected suspicious movement of vessels originating from the trawler,’ the captain said.
‘Then we need to get there as soon as we can!’ Abby told him.
‘It’s not as simple as that, young lady. There are other factors at play here.’
‘Our friends are on that boat!’
‘That may be, but we have a bigger problem.’
‘Bigger than –’ Abby started to say, but a look from Angel silenced her.
‘There is a sizeable movement of personnel from the trawler towards the Falkland Islands. We’re talking multiple RIBs, and sonar is picking up a number of submersibles.’
‘How many vessels?’ Woody asked.
‘Hard to say. Twenty, maybe more. A Pathfinder force in all likelihood. The Argentines are launching an attack. It’s happening. Now. I’m sorry, our priorities have changed. If the Argentine troops make land, the lives of everyone on the Falkland Islands are at risk. We’re the only naval vessel in the vicinity. We have to cut them off. We don’t have any choice.’
‘No!’ Abby whispered. ‘Max and Lukas … You can’t leave them –’
‘I have no choice, young lady. I have to balance the lives of two military personnel with the lives of everyone in Stanley and beyond.’
‘But they’re our friends!’ Lili and Sami shouted in unison.
A grim expression fell across the captain’s face. ‘And what difference do you think that makes?’ he said. ‘You think we make decisions based on what is best for our friends, rather than what is for the greater good?’ His eyes narrowed again. ‘I don’t know who you kids are or why you’re here. I’ve got a feeling I’ll never find out. But if you think you’re going to make it in the military, you’d better understand this: sometimes we have to make tough choices. This isn’t the playground; this is the real world.’ He addressed Woody and Angel. ‘I want these children off the bridge and below decks. They’re not to leave their quarters until I give the word. I’m holding you responsible for them.’
Neither Woody nor Angel replied. They simply inclined their heads politely. The captain turned his back on them and started to bark orders at his men.
‘This way,’ Angel said quietly, and she led them from the bridge.
None of the cadets spoke until they were alone at the top of the stairwell. ‘You didn’t even argue with him!’ Abby hissed, accusation dripping from her voice.
‘Did he look to you like a man who was going to change his mind?’
‘Well, no, but …’
‘We choose our battles wisely, Abby.’
‘But Max and Lukas,’ Abby snapped back. ‘What are we going to do about them?’
Something seemed to pass between Woody and Angel. ‘It’s too dangerous,’ Woody said.
‘Do you have a better idea?’ Angel said.
‘No. But it’s too dangerous. You know it is. We’re already two cadets down.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘Hey, do we get a say in this?’ Abby cut in.
There was a moment of silence. ‘There’s no easy way of getting to Max and Lukas,’ Woody said.
‘You think we don’t know that?’
‘Your chances of success are vanishingly small,’ Angel added.
‘If Max and Lukas were here,’ Abby said, ‘and two of us were on that trawler, they wouldn’t hesitate.’
‘That doesn’t make it the safe thing to do,’ Woody said.
Something flipped inside Abby. ‘The safe thing to do?’ she hissed. ‘We’re teenagers. You’ve sent us in to armed sieges. You’ve sent us to North Korea. You’ve sent us into the jungle and into the favelas. Since when did we make decisions based on whether it’s the safe thing to do?’
�
��Those risks were calculated,’ Woody snapped back. ‘Right now, our only way of getting to Max and Lukas is by launching a RIB from this patrol ship and approaching by stealth. It’ll take two of us to launch the RIB and that will have to be me and Angel, because we’re the only ones with the authority to stop the captain despatching a team to cut you off when he realises what you’ve done.’
‘We’re doing it,’ Abby said. She looked at Lili and Sami. ‘Right?’
‘Right,’ they agreed.
They were at the foot of the stairs. Angel turned to Woody. ‘They grow up fast, huh?’ she said.
Woody’s friendly face was shrouded in anxiety. He glanced back up the stairwell. ‘I don’t like it,’ he said. ‘If they get into trouble on the water, we’ll have no way of helping them. It’s not a swimming pool out there. It’s the South Atlantic and there’s a storm coming in.’
‘I think they know that, Woody. They’re fit and they’re capable. They’ve as much chance of pulling this off as anyone. But we need to move fast.’ Angel opened a door that led outside. A violent blast of wind tore through it. ‘Are you prepared to do what it takes?’ she asked the cadets.
The three cadets looked at each other. Then at the Watchers. Then they nodded.
Woody and Angel led them out onto the aft deck. There were several members of the ship’s personnel here, going about their business. None of them paid the cadets any attention. Instinctively, Abby checked for CCTV cameras. She noticed the others doing the same. There were a couple of cameras pointing towards the stern of the ship. The cadets skirted behind them, out of their field of view, and along the starboard deck. The crane was unmanned, but they were not entirely out of view of the sailors on the aft deck. The RIB that had transported them from the cove was on its metal frame, still attached to the ropes by carabiners fastened to three anchor points. The outboard motor was hinged up at a 30-degree angle from the transom at the back of the boat.