The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  But Decker was different he noticed that from the start. He seemed bitter and angry and didn’t give two hoots about stardom, he just wanted success, but that success, Conrad noted, lay somewhere deep within himself. This probably explained why he despised characters like Bear Grylls and Fiennes which made Conrad chuckle so much. Knowing that the public perception had them both down as hardened SAS veterans made Decker furious and saw their fame as an absolute insult to his dead mates on the Clock Tower at the SAS’s HQ in Hereford.

  He knew that Decker had lost close friends who had died for the cause and felt passionately that the likes of Grylls were trading in the SAS’s current reputation to making their millions under an illusion. Blatant fraud. Conrad recalled his last conversation with Decker, he’d wanted his expeditions to be disassociated from all those Walter Mittys in true clandestine fashion.

  A flash of headlights and the sound of some ragged gear-shifting broke him from his reverie. He rose to greet his charge, the next stag party crew to go to Antarctica. The antithesis of Decker he sighed.

  He’d been running around like a lunatic all day to source every piece of equipment in each correct size that the guys needed for their trip. A straight-talking guy who cut to the chase with an old-school attitude that made him the hardcore bastard he was, he did not like gimmicks, shortcuts or fancy technology. The basics done well, combined with a solid mentality to suffer were the only traits that Conrad would install and his face grimaced as he anticipated working with a bunch of soft city slickers minted enough to afford to do this trip at such short notice for a stag-do. He anticipated that the next three days would be painful with at least one problem child.

  He forced a smile, they would of course be funding his existence so he prepared to make nice and pulled open his front doors and strode out onto the wooden porch. The doors all opened in unison from the Landy and the team jumped out and stretched their legs. Conrad focused on their breathing, sure enough they all coughed a little when the freezing night air found its way onto the backs of their throats. ‘Jesus here we go,’ he whispered to himself.

  ‘Hello Gents,’ he greeted them warmly, nodding as each of them returned his welcome with handshakes and gestures of how flipping cold it was. ‘Let’s get you boys inside.’

  *****

  Sean surveyed Conrad as he welcomed his team. Late 50s, a tall wiry man with a Geordie accent. Like most Geordie accents, it did give the impression of being thick, but certainly a good crack and he could see Mick and Robby taking a shine to him straight away. He relaxed, this was a good thing; Icarus needed the best of both really. His expert ice knowledge would be priceless coupled with his intimate knowledge of WHITEOUT as a person and how he operated on the ice. His every action, routines or small idiosyncrasies may give the team an unexpected edge, or equally find a chink in his armour.

  ‘Take a pew and I will put on a brew lads,’ Conrad said as he busied himself. ‘You boys don’t mess around hey? Bloody stag-do present at the South Pole? At least I know you’ll pay me, buying mates a trip like that.’ Again he gave a hearty chortle and the guys all laughed back.

  It was a warm and contagious smile and Mick and Robby kicked their shoes off and let Sean lead the conversation.

  ‘Yeah it was a last-minute thing. Bit of a bet gone wrong really but we really appreciate you getting all the gear together Conrad. We’re looking forward to a quick refresher out here.’

  ‘Not a problem guys I love a little gem like that, glad to help, your mate won’t know what hit him, apart from a few polar storms, a wee bit of frost nip and galloping knob rot if he shags a whore in Punta.’

  Everyone convulsed in fits of laughter once more. Sean grinned, Conrad was a right character and had won them all over in the space of a kettle boiling.

  He looked around him taking in his surroundings, The Lodge was laid out on a split-level flooring system with glass windows making it possible to see through the level below or above. It was a good standard. He nodded at Mick who grinned then watched as his face turned red and he could see him vanquish a shout. Sean’s eyebrow raised immediately on full alert. What had he seen?

  Mick gestured to the desk that was occupied by a huge Mac desktop, he couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw WHITEOUT’s website was uploaded on it. Conrad must have been tracking his progress before they turned up.

  Covertly signalling to the guys and pointing to the screen they all held a unified gaze of dismay.

  Sean gestured to the guys to be quiet by pressing his finger against his lips, indicating he would take the lead. Standing up and innocently walking by the computer to prime himself before Conrad walked up the split-level stairs to join them.

  ‘Okay lads let’s let that brew for a few minutes whilst I figure out what the hell you guys are up to.’

  Looking at them strangely Conrad was a little bemused by the silence. This had caught them off guard and it showed, surely his first question hadn’t created a fracture line in the cover story so early?

  Sean and Mick literally started speaking at the same time and Mick hastily shut up not wanting to piss Sean off or put his foot in it.

  ‘Yeah Conrad we do plant some cracking jokes on each other and this time it’s Dave’s turn, little does he know,’ Sean said before rolling into a smooth transition involving WHITEOUT.

  ‘Glad we’re not doing what that guy is doing, says he’s solo on that site? Who the hell is he?’ Sean pointing to the Mac screen. ‘Someone you know?’

  ‘Old Decker boy, yeah that occupies my day checking up on that one, he’s doing something ballistic, and hammering it too at the moment.’ Conrad’s accent was firing up thinking about it.

  ‘What’s he doing Conrad?’ Sean attempted to focus him, trying to stay calm but desperate to know more.

  ‘He’s creating history at the moment is what he’s doing, especially if he keeps going like that, a real fighter, makes me proud to be British, no offence guys, you sound South African right?’

  ‘No offence taken, yeah SA but we have done a bit of cold weather stuff so don’t freak out. Decker boy you said, you know him then?’ Sean continued on the theme.

  ‘Not long but I trained him over the months prior to what he’s doing now and met him up North, near the Pole earlier this year doing a race.’

  ‘That’s reassuring for us, but not the same intensity of training please Conrad,’ Mick added. Chuckling away Conrad answered, ‘No chance of that Mick, that boy is the toughest I’ve come across physically and mentally, a headcase but a nice one. Really intelligent guy, deep though and focused, that’s why he will succeed. He has the death-or-glory attitude, a real killer instinct, read the site later and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.’

  Conrad was referring to his bio on the site that mentioned he had served in the SAS. ‘Okay boys get this down you, I even bought the Tetley’s teabags from Carlisle the greatest town in the world.’

  ‘Famous for teabags Conrad’? Robby questioned.

  ‘Nope famous because I live there son.’ Sean looked at Mick and Robby laughing and hoped they’d stay on guard and take any intel in. Despite the fact that arguably these few days with Conrad looked like being the most fun. Unbeknownst to Conrad he would be the second person involved in something that indirectly made him an accessory to murder. Roman the Ilyushin pilot would deliver the team to follow WHITEOUT, Conrad was about to prepare them to live on the ice before they hunted him down and killed him.

  ‘Okay I know you guys have been on the move for the last day or so and want to get your nappers down so I’ve placed all your individual kit in your rooms. Check everything and let me know tomorrow if you need to change anything. All the team stores are packed ready in the pulk for training early doors, 7am breakfast, 8am ready to ski, good?’

  This was just what they needed, time to chill. Sean was impressed by Conrad’s style o
f play.

  ‘Great stuff Conrad it has been a long one today. Show us our rooms and we’ll get out of your way.’

  ‘No bother, follow me.’

  Conrad showed them to their rooms whilst pointing out that the computer was free to be used at any time for Skype or emails.

  0800 hrs and the team were all kitted up, poles in hand and looking into Conrad’s instructions outside the back of the lodge. All the guys could ski so Conrad didn’t mess around with the basics. They were walking 60 miles to the Pole on slightly uneven ground. There was no need for theatricals or jump turns to be mastered.

  Instead Sean and the guys listened as Conrad simply gave a quick brief on the pulk they would be pulling with all the kit inside it and without further ado tapped his ski poles and shouted, ‘Follow me guys let’s get out there.’

  This was good for the team, no bullshit. Conrad had two days to fly through this and he was clearly a hands-on guy, not one who liked the sound of his own voice lecturing irrelevant facts and figures.

  Over the course of the day Conrad repeatedly made them rehearse their end-of-day routine. This involved stopping pitching the tent fast getting inside to change clothes, cook food by melting snow, and send emails via satellite phone and pretending to call base camp to confirm positions.

  Pausing for a breather Sean kicked off the chat. ‘So Conrad that Decker guy as a soloist what’s his routine? Any different to us now? And 24 hours daylight down there what hours do people travel?’

  ‘He does exactly the same just a smaller tent, less gear and he’s absolutely fucked and I mean proper trashed. You have three of you to get the tent up if it’s 70mph winds remember, then one to cook, one to send emails etc., he does it all himself. He’s that whacked he falls asleep typing his blog sometimes.’

  ‘Really that bad?’ Robby asks.

  ‘Yeah I spoke to him two days ago. I told him don’t write so much, just go to sleep boy.’

  ‘I bet it’s a struggle getting up in the morning for him?’ Robby followed Sean’s train of thought.

  ‘Ah I don’t know he’s a really bad sleeper actually, he will catch a few hours but tossing and turning the rest of the time. This is what makes him special, so little sleep but massive output each day.’

  These were the variables Sean had been thinking about on their road trip to Conrad’s cabin.

  ‘What’s the score with shitting Conrad?’ Mick asked out of the blue.

  ‘In my experience it’s the last thing we do before sleep and first thing in the morning mate, it’s no different out there except you bag it up.’

  Sean gave Mick a perverted look at the question but no doubt there was some reckoning behind it. It made sense he was probing whether WHITEOUT’s last time outside the tent before sleeping was having a crap.

  After sharing a semi-warm hot chocolate and few more non-probing questions Conrad was off again without warning.

  ‘Okay guys let’s ski back to the lodge, Mick you navigate, Robby pull the pulk as that hot chocolate was shit. Sean keeps an eye on me in case I have a heart attack after that shocking beverage. You lads won’t have any problems down South. 0800 hrs tomorrow lads, for now let’s go back,’ he tapped his poles again and signalled for them all to start skiing.

  Two hours later they reached Conrad’s lodge that had now become a covert training facility you would associate with The Farm, the CIA’s training facility.

  With the first day out the way, they could start talking and rehearsing in detail the four options The Clinic had anticipated for killing WHITEOUT. Alongside this they would test the phones, beacons and mobile jamming devices they would use.

  Sean nodded for the guys to follow him into his room and he started to power up his laptop and scratched his head as he scanned it looking for any updates from Sully after first logging into the secure email via his cell phone connection. ‘Close in lads,’ Sean said. Robby hunkered around him keeping their voices low. ‘Okay, they have intercepted WHITEOUT’s last call earlier today. No real changes except this Trans-Ant expedition team may come into play as they have sent the request to get myself and Gerry with them to possibly interview him. They’re a pretty busy team so we will know more once we’re out there. They are working on the beacon frequency data as this is the only way of knowing where he is now if his beacon actually works. That’s good news. They must have a slick team in action or using some proper big brother technology. I take it the Ilyushin crew has literally fucked themselves into the honeytrap as he says all set for Ilyushin meeting. This is good, going to plan guys and it doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know Gerry but he was speaking fluent Spanish on his cell when Sully called me back to the VW. He has got that MI6 persona about him and Sully would definitely have an intelligence type, or blatant former spy as his right-hand man.’

  ‘You reckon hey?’ Mick added.

  ‘Yeah for sure the British SAS are the guys that get their hands dirty if MI6’s intelligence leads them to the bad guys. They work closely together. MI6 never get their hands dirty, people like Sully don’t even need the green light off them. They provide the intelligence, Sully is used to providing the end state they didn’t have the stomach to sanction.’

  ‘How deep do you think Sully is Sean?’ Robby questions.

  ‘All the way I reckon. By all the way I mean we’re working for something that the PM knows nothing about or just pretends not to know, would be my guess.’

  He was met with silence.

  ‘That’s a good thing. Now let’s talk through what we’re going to do tomorrow when Conrad gives us three hours of playtime on our own.’

  Sean opened up the OPS once more and began scrolling through the document passing through a number of headings stopping at the Actions On paragraph.

  This was all about how they would kill WHITEOUT. There were four options. Pointing his finger at Option 1 Sean began talking. ‘I think it’s best to go through each option in detail, live and breathe it for tomorrow’s rehearsals. Really this is your bag guys as it’s you in the arena, hunting him down. I will play devil’s advocate as we talk through it all.’

  ‘Yep, so what they got planned mate?’ Sean could sense that Mick just wanted to get to the nitty-gritty part of it now.

  ‘Right at the moment Sully has not made it clear whether he wants us to interrogate WHITEOUT first or just carry out a straightforward takedown. When I say takedown, it still stands as though it’s natural causes so we have to plan for both. They are looking at injection options, I stressed the job we did last year by just injecting that guy with an empty syringe of air worked a treat. It would look like he piled in then succumbed to hypothermia, exactly what they want. Obviously capturing him will cause a bit more heartache than blowing him away, but it won’t be a problem for you two.’

  He watched as Mick and Robby literally came alive as this was their part in the covert op, their lives at stake, their blood that he could see pulsing ferociously through the veins on their necks. ‘Talking about how you’re going to capture or kill someone is easy in a benign environment drinking coffee. Doing it is another story,’ Sean continued. ‘The gold, standard takedown option will be when he is in his tent asleep. Second option is taking him out whilst following him; this will be in bad weather. The third is an opportune encounter, i.e. bad weather, low visibility and he is just there, no real time to think, just strike. Questions so far?’ A negative shake of heads from both guys kept him going.

  ‘Before we go through one by one let’s just put ourselves in WHITEOUT’s position. We have to assume that this guy may have a weapon.’ This was a surprise to Mick.

  ‘What! Why the fuck would he have a weapon? North Pole maybe with polar bears roaming around, but South Pole and killer penguins, I don’t think so mate.’

  ‘It’s just a thought. He is a maniac remember. At bare minimum he will have a knife, a
Leatherman or Swiss Army type.’

  ‘Don’t forget his eating fork too Sean,’ Mick added to emphasise the point he thought it was utter bollocks that WHITEOUT would have a weapon.

  ‘Look we have to consider it. Yeah, highly unlikely but if we expect it, we can plan for it, especially for the first option when he’s in the tent. Remember it’s 24-hour daylight, if you two are closing in on his tent and he has seen you, especially with your weapons on show, he will wait until you’re on top of him, just outside the tent then slot you both. He will see you through the vents. You can’t see him remember so you’re walking into an ambush effectively,’ Sean took time to pause to make sure the severity was kicking in.

  ‘Okay, okay I get it mate, good point,’ Mick conceded, Robby, always the more silent of the two just nodded.

  ‘So consider it in your planning. Approach from two sides, weapons concealed only on view at the last safe moment. Do you approach on skis or foot? When do you ditch the skis? Who stands where when you open the tent? You can’t risk challenging him verbally from outside the tent in case he is tooled up, you getting my drift?’

  Questions were coming fast and furious from Sean and they all made sense, and they all equally needed answering.

  ‘I do get it and see your concern. I think he is harmless reference a weapon but this all makes tactical sense. It will sharpen up our final approach position-wise and not let us get complacent,’ Mick was seeing the advantage of Sean’s assumption of WHITEOUT being armed.

  ‘It can do you no harm to think worst-case guys. Tomorrow we will practise all these drills. I will act as WHITEOUT. Each option we will rehearse as though WHITEOUT does not know you’re on top of him and alternatively if you’re seen beforehand. We’ll practise every option so nothing will surprise you.’