Marine D SBS

by Peter Cave

  He thumbed the button twice in rapid succession, sending two brief beams of light out towards the inflatable. The effect was immediate, he noticed with satisfaction. The two men stopped paddling abruptly, and Martin could clearly see the two white blurs of their faces as they turned and gazed towards the shore. Almost simultaneously, he saw two sudden disturbances on the calm surface of the sea, one on either side of the inflatable. A pair of black shapes rose above the darker mass of the water, throwing themselves up over the rounded rubber sides of the small craft.

  The occupants of the inflatable never stood a chance. Both men died immediately and soundlessly as one strong arm wrapped around each face and pulled the head back and another black arm drew the razor-sharp blade of a gleaming knife across their throats. It was all over in a split second. Martin continued to monitor the scene as Willerbey and Crewes slashed the rubber sides of the inflatable and then silently slipped back into the sea, leaving no more than two small rings of disturbed water and a few air bubbles. Only the savage hiss of escaping air echoing across the sea towards the beach showed anything had happened.

  The sound had obviously been picked up on the boat as well, for suddenly a bright searchlight snapped on from the upper deck, beaming out over the surface of the water. It played for a while on the crumpled shape of the destroyed inflatable and the two bodies floating in the water, then swept in towards the shore.

  Both Martin and Sooty were suddenly illuminated in the full glare of the beam. Temporarily blinded, each man’s reaction was identical and immediate. They dropped like stones on to their bellies, rolling apart several feet before assuming a prone position and bringing the MP5s up into a businesslike position. Exposed as they were, they were like ducks on a fairground rifle range.

  Martin tensed himself for a raking burst of sub-machine-gun fire from the boat, but it never came. Instead the searchlight died abruptly, plunging them into darkess again. Seconds later came the sound of a diesel engine coughing into life and being hastily revved up. By the time Martin had retrieved the night-sight binoculars and trained them out to sea again, the boat had already described an arc in the water and was heading straight out towards Turkey.

  Sooty pushed himself to his feet, slipping the safety-catch of his weapon back into position. ‘Looks like we got off lucky,’ he observed. ‘They obviously didn’t have the stomach for a fight.’

  Martin rolled over on to his back and sat up, wiping sand and grit from his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘Maybe they weren’t looking for one.’

  He rose to his feet as Willerbey and Crewes surfaced in shallow water and walked up the beach, peeling off their masks.

  ‘Well, what was in the inflatable?’ Martin wanted to know.

  Willerbey shook his head in puzzlement. ‘Bugger all,’ he said flatly. ‘Not a bloody thing. Strange, eh?’

  Martin nodded thoughtfully. ‘Very strange,’ he echoed. He turned to Crewes. ‘What about the occupants? Did you get any impression of who they might be?’

  Crewes shrugged uncertainly. ‘Greeks? Turks? All these Mediterranean types look pretty much the same to me, boss,’ he said, then looked at Martin with a querulous expression. ‘So if they weren’t smugglers, what the hell do you think they were doing?’

  It was a question Martin couldn’t answer. ‘Christ knows,’ he said wearily.

  ‘Do you want us to retrieve the bodies, boss?’ Willerbey asked. ‘They might tell us something.’

  Martin considered the suggestion for a few seconds before saying: ‘Where do you reckon they’ll end up if we leave them?’

  ‘The way the current appears to be running, my guess is that they’ll eventually wash up over on the Turkish coast,’ Willerbey ventured. ‘They won’t be coming back here, that’s for sure.’

  Martin made his decision. ‘Then we’ll leave them,’ he said testily. ‘Let the Turks sort it out. Dammit, this has caused me enough problems already.’

  Now that the immediate crisis had passed, he was starting to get angry. Angry with the Greek military authorities who had assured him that the area was secure, and angry because the integrity and delicacy of his mission might have been compromised. He would have strong words with Selina in the morning. Martin happened to be the only other person on the island of Samos who knew that the girl was in fact a liaison officer with Greek Military Intelligence. Her very presence had been a condition of allowing the operation to go ahead. But liaison was supposed to work two ways, Martin thought bitterly. They would be strong words indeed.

  Sooty brought him back to the present problem. ‘So what do you want us to do, boss? Maintain full security patrol for the rest of the night?’

  Martin shook his head. ‘I don’t think anyone will be coming back,’ he said decisively. ‘But you and Donnelly stay on beach patrol and stay in radio contact with Williams and Graham up on the headland. Wake me up again if there are any further developments.’ He turned to Willerbey and Crewes. ‘You two might as well catch up on your kip.’

  With one last look out over the dark surface of the sea, Martin turned away and began to walk back up the beach towards the villas. At least the incident seemed to have been handled without disturbing the civilians, he reminded himself, looking for something positive. They remained crucial to the entire bizarre operation, and the less they knew about what was going on behind the scenes, the better. This consideration had figured largely in his decision to let the two bodies float off to wherever they might eventually wash up. Having two corpses to dispose of could have proved an embarrassment, to say the least.

  Willerbey fell into step beside him as he walked up the beach. He said nothing, but glancing sideways, Martin could see the troubled expression on his face.

  ‘What’s the problem, trooper?’ Martin asked.

  Willerbey sighed, looking miserable. ‘I’m just wondering about those two guys,’ he admitted. ‘If they weren’t smuggling drugs, then what the hell were they doing here?’

  Martin stopped in his tracks. He waited for Crewes to catch up with them before he spoke again, addressing them both. ‘Look, let’s get one thing straight,’ he said. ‘Our visitors weren’t up to anything harmless, that’s for sure. Innocent people don’t sneak ashore from boats at night carrying sub-machine-guns. I had to presume them hostile, and you carried out your orders. It’s what we do – remember?’

  ‘Sure, boss.’ Willerbey nodded, although he still didn’t appear totally convinced. ‘I just can’t help thinking that we might have just topped a couple of Greek coastguards or similar. Maybe they were just another couple of poor sods on a military training exercise, or something like that.’

  Similar doubts had already occurred to Martin himself, causing him his own moments of anguished doubt. But, for the sake of his men, he wasn’t going to let it show. He spoke with quiet authority. ‘Even if such an unlikely situation were possible, then it’s not your responsibility,’ he assured the two Marines. ‘If anyone is responsible at all, it’s the Greek authorities for failing to ensure this base was kept clean. We had a clear agreement, and everything was spelled out in no uncertain terms.’ Martin paused briefly. ‘Personally, I very much doubt if they would have broken it, knowing we were here. We do have something of a reputation, after all.’

  Taking some comfort from the assurance, Willerbey managed a thin and rueful grin. ‘Yeah, the rest of the world thinks we’re a bunch of evil murdering bastards who shoot first and ask questions afterwards,’ he observed. ‘One of the many reasons we don’t bring the subject of our occupations up on a first date.’

  It was an ideal opportunity to inject a bit of savage humour into a grim situation – something which was standard practice in SBS circles. Crewes seized upon it.

  ‘You mean you get dates?’ he asked, feigning jealousy. ‘You jammy bastard.’

  Despite his misgivings, Willerbey smiled. Martin felt a sense of relief. Even with his training and the responsibilities of command, he was still sensitive enough to feel for his men whe
n they agonized over a kill which was dubious, or might have been avoided. He racked his brains for anything else which might help put their minds at ease.

  ‘What guns were they carrying?’ he asked, as a sudden thought struck him. ‘Did you get a chance to notice?’

  Willerbey thought for a moment. ‘One was definitely toting a Steyr MP 69,’ he reflected. ‘I’m not sure about the other guy.’

  Martin glanced at Crewes. ‘Well?’

  The man shrugged. ‘I didn’t really notice,’ he admitted. ‘But it could have been a Czech Skorpion machine-pistol.’

  ‘Then it’s pretty safe to assume that they weren’t on any official business,’ Martin said firmly. ‘All Greek military personnel carry Uzis as standard.’

  The further reassurance seemed to cheer Willerbey up even more, although the last niggling little doubts were certain to remain. But that went with the territory, Martin told himself. Friendly fire, he thought without bitterness. It happened. It was always a very real danger of the job itself.

  The three men continued to walk back towards the villas in silence.

  9

  The rest of the night passed without further incident, only increasing Martin’s sense of frustration as he tried, without success, to get back to sleep. He lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling and almost willing Sooty to come charging back with news that they had intercepted further interlopers within the perimeter fence area. Even further hassle might have been preferable to not knowing anything.

  It was not to be. Finally, as the first rays of dawn light began streaming into his room, Martin rose, dressed and strolled down to the beach again. He stared intently along the shoreline, from one end of the cove to the other.

  Willerbey had been right. There was no sign of the two bodies, or of the wrecked inflatable. Only the figures of Sooty and Andy Donnelly patrolling either end of the beach gave any indication that the incident had been real and not just a bad dream. Both men had their backs to him. Martin sighed faintly to himself, turned and walked back to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee and wait for Selina to wake up.

  * * *

  He did not have to wait long. The girl was up long before anyone else. She looked only mildly surprised to find Martin waiting for her as she walked into the kitchen.

  Martin rose from his chair, crossed the room and closed the door firmly. He studied Selina with a steady, penetrating gaze. ‘We had visitors last night,’ he said flatly.

  Cool as a cucumber, the girl merely raised one perfectly trimmed eyebrow a fraction of an inch. ‘Visitors?’

  Martin gave her a brief run-down on the incident. When he had finished, he eyed Selina expectantly. ‘Well?’

  The girl shrugged. ‘Smugglers,’ she said, a little too dismissively for Martin’s liking.

  ‘The inflatable was empty,’ he pointed out. ‘Smugglers don’t usually waste time by taking little boat trips in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Then perhaps they were landing to pick something up,’ Selina suggested.

  Martin shook his head. ‘That doesn’t wash, either. My men scoured the whole area for the rest of the night. Nobody showed up.’

  Selina studied his face for a few seconds. ‘It seems to me that you’re making an accusation of some kind, Lieutenant-Colonel,’ she observed. ‘You think I know something about this? Or even that I might have had something to do with it?’

  Martin felt a trifle embarrassed. He wasn’t very good with women. ‘I’m not suggesting that,’ he muttered defensively. ‘Merely pointing out that your people assured me that this section of the island was completely under control. Also that there would be absolutely no interference from any section of the Greek authorities.’

  ‘Ah.’ Selina nodded, finally understanding the gist of Martin’s suspicions. ‘You’re thinking that this was some sort of covert operation under our control?’

  It was out in the open. Faced with it, Martin could only nod faintly. ‘The thought had occurred,’ he admitted somewhat sheepishly.

  There was the faintest flash of defiance in Selina’s dark eyes. ‘Contrary to some popular beliefs, the Greeks are an honourable people, Lieutenant-Colonel. They keep their word. If you were promised a policy of non-interference, then that is what you will have got.’ Her expression softened slightly. ‘Besides – what would be the point? My presence here leaves no possible reason for the authorities to wish to spy on you. Even more to the point, they are fully aware of the secret nature of your mission and your ability to defend it. We don’t run suicide squads.’

  It was a perfectly logical argument, and one which Martin found impossible to counter. ‘Which leaves us with a mystery,’ he said with a sigh.

  ‘Or perhaps no mystery at all,’ Selina put in. ‘Some potential drug smugglers simply checking out different parts of the coastline for possible landing sites. Our coastguard patrols are on the lookout for regular, known operations and boats which follow recognizable routes and patterns. The odd newcomer might easily slip through the net.’

  Martin considered the argument, yet remained unconvinced. There was still one aspect of the puzzle which worried him. It was something he hadn’t bothered to mention to Willerbey and Crewes, but he brought it up now.

  ‘Maybe I’d go along with you – but for one thing,’ he said. ‘The reaction of the character left on the boat after my men attacked. It doesn’t make sense. He made no attempt to investigate or mount any kind of rescue attempt for his two mates. He simply got the hell out, as fast as he could.’

  Selina couldn’t quite follow the argument through. ‘So what are you suggesting?’

  ‘That they were half expecting opposition – which in turn presupposes that they knew we were there,’ Martin told her. ‘All the man on the boat could see was a wrecked inflatable and two of his comrades floating in the water. It could have been a simple accident – in which case he would have tried to pick them up, surely? At the very least he should have been curious, or surprised. But his immediate reaction was all wrong.’

  For the first time, Selina’s personal conviction wavered. She frowned slightly as she ran Martin’s argument through her mind.

  ‘Maybe he just panicked,’ she ventured. ‘Maybe he could tell they were both dead – who knows? And maybe you’re just trying to read too much into this whole thing.’

  ‘And then again maybe there’s something bloody fishy about this entire incident which your people might have some ideas about,’ Martin put in, capitalizing on the girl’s moment of doubt. ‘Worth at least trying to follow through, wouldn’t you say?’

  Selina was thoughtful for several more seconds, finally conceding the point with a vague toss of her head. ‘OK, I’ll check,’ she said. ‘But if you’re looking for a weak link in the chain, might I suggest you look more to your own camp? Your tame Russian, for a start. What do you really know about him? A supposedly simple merchant seaman, who jumps ship in Copenhagen and demands political asylum in Great Britain. Perhaps a very convenient way for the KGB to insert a double agent?’

  ‘That was three years ago,’ Martin pointed out. ‘Following which he was thoroughly debriefed by two separate branches of British Intelligence and every aspect of his story checked and double-checked. Since then he has given us invaluable information concerning the deployment of Soviet spy ships posing as fishing trawlers and factory ships – every detail of which has checked out one hundred per cent.’ Martin broke off to shake his head vehemently. ‘No, Pavlaski’s straight, I’m sure of it.’

  There was a look approaching hostility in Selina’s eyes as she spoke again. ‘It might be nice if you could credit me with the same degree of trust, Lieutenant-Colonel,’ she said coldly. ‘And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to start preparing breakfast for our guests. More like a woman’s work, as I’m sure you agree.’

  There was nothing else to say. Feeling uncomfortable, as he always did in the company of strong-minded females, Martin had no choice but to do something which went against e
very fibre of his being, and retreat in the face of the enemy.

  10

  ‘You’ve got to admit it’s one hell of a fascinating design problem,’ Jim Mallory said, peering over Bright’s shoulder at some of the Englishman’s preliminary sketches.

  Bright started slightly. He’d been so engrossed in his work he hadn’t heard Mallory enter the room. He turned and looked up with a surprised grin on his face. ‘Oh yes, it’s fascinating enough,’ he agreed. ‘But rather pointless, I can’t help feeling. I mean, feasibility studies and concept designs are one thing. But producing anything practical out of it is something else.’

  ‘Who knows? But as it’s all Martin seems to want – for the moment, at least – we might as well enjoy ourselves. Hell, let’s all take the money and run.’

  ‘You sound almost disappointed,’ Bright said, with slight surprise in his voice. ‘I thought you were sceptical about the whole concept.’

  ‘I guess I was,’ Mallory admitted. ‘But the more I think about it, the more enthusiastic I get. It would be one neat little machine.’ He paused to study Bright’s sketches more closely. After a while, he bent over and pointed to the rough design of the board itself. ‘Ever considered the possibility of getting away from the single-hull concept?’ he mused. ‘Like twin outriggers, for instance?’

  Bright frowned – partly because he bristled at the idea of other people telling him his job and partly because he couldn’t see any point in such a suggestion. ‘You mean something like a catamaran rig?’ he said rather dismissively. ‘It’s already been thought of – and tried. Too unstable in rough water.’

  Mallory wasn’t going to be put off. He shook his head and picked up one of Bright’s propelling pencils. ‘No, I was thinking more in terms of two separate sections which would slot and lock together,’ he said, doodling a couple of rough shapes on Bright’s sketch pad.

  Bright’s eyes narrowed. ‘What’s the point of that?’ he wanted to know.

  Mallory looked a little sheepish. ‘It would do me one hell of a favour,’ he admitted. ‘There’s one little problem I can’t see any other really efficient way around.’