The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  ‘Sounds good Sean, how are we going to stop Conrad watching us? I mean it will be a little freaky watching us creep up on each other, or chasing each other with rugby tackles at the end.’

  ‘Don’t worry we’ll shake him off us. I’ll tell him we want the afternoon on our own for confidence building to do all our own routines and make a video for the stag. I’ll say that we will call if we need any advice. That frozen lake we skied over today behind the wood line is perfect I reckon. If we go to the far end we can see Conrad coming from 2KM away. That way we have time to stop role playing the murder of WHITEOUT and look like we’re practising putting up a tent.’

  ‘This is definitely what we need mate, you happy with all this Robby?’ Mick asked.

  ‘Yeah more than happy now, it’s not as simple as it sounds so this will give us complete confidence,’ he ended to reassure Mick.

  ‘Now with that planned you need to look here guys. Stay focussed, it’s WHITEOUT’s blogs,’ Sean said pulling up the attachment from Sully. ‘Bloody hell it’s genius. It tells us exactly what he does when he stops every evening. So Thurs 10 Dec for instance, he has written this blog:

  ‘Stopped dead on 1800 hrs again and found a flat spot. It was really windy so I pitched the tent rear into the wind, southward. I even built a snow wall behind in case it picks up tonight. Usual jump inside and get the stoves on and start melting snow while I change my clothes and place the wet ones on my washing line. Phoning base camp before the water boils I get ready for the day’s highlight of eating…’

  ‘He garbles on a bit then,’ Sean scanned ahead, ‘ah, here’s more guys’.

  ‘After I have sent my blog that’s me ready for head down. A quick wee outside then I dive in the bag. This is about four hours after I have stopped. I’m not the best sleeper but seem to get about 5 hours a night. I set the alarm clock that kills me for 0630 …’

  ‘This is critical information. Once we have locked on to his beacon or Sat phone around 1800hrs we’ll know where he has pitched for the night. You can work out the distance to him then do a quick time-distance appreciation. Ideally you want to close in around 1-2 am. Once you have eyes on the tent, stop and observe as per normal drills. Switch to your handheld radios with earpiece, move forward and stop short. Drop all your heavy gear and strip down to bare essentials for your final approach. Probably approach from the rear end, so south facing remember.

  ‘Establish a release point then split up for the final approach from 90 degrees. This is the sort of drill we need to apply, I am thinking out loud obviously…’

  ‘Carry on mate,’ Mick replied.

  ‘In my eyes this is the part you have to nail. You can’t risk shouting at him to get out of the tent when you can’t see him, he has an emergency distress on his beacon and worst-case he has a gun. We have to decide what the immediate action is for this. I mean if you start fucking with the zips and there are two to get through without him waking, it’s a high-risk option. I think he will be spooked.’

  ‘Damn right iced up small zips, rattling tent and the rest. If it’s blowing a gale we might get away with it, although the likelihood is that if it’s blowing a gale he’s awake,’ Mick added.

  ‘Exactly and at minimal you might get a knife in the face, your gun taken off you and chaos inside with the bloke outside not knowing what the fuck is going on. I would suggest collapsing the tent on top of him, dive on top initially. Talk to him, even fire a warning shot, as he won’t be able to see you, then clamp him down and take control. Cut him out and take it from there. Zip-tie him and that’s that, he’s contained. If it’s a straightforward kill option this part doesn’t matter but if Sully wants him to talk then this is what we have to do. What do you reckon guys?’

  ‘Collapsing the tent for sure. We have control and still the element of shock. The tent will actually secure him. I like this option Sean.’ Robby was upbeat for once, for the first time since their briefing with Sully it actually sounded like a piece of piss.

  ‘Let’s move on. What’s the drill for him anticipating your arrival? Let’s think he is tooled up,’ Sean paused to consider it, ‘I reckon he will stay in his tent. The cover man is 90 degrees to the tent. Hopefully we will have rifles so can stand off weapon trained on the target before the final approach. Exactly the same as before but let’s now assume WHITEOUT makes a challenge or starts firing at us,’ Sean looked at Mick, then Robby before continuing.

  ‘If he shoots at the guy closest to the tent then it will be obvious. If he shouts a challenge of any sort then either raise your hand, or quickly fire or transmit contact on the net. Point of fire guy hoses the tent down with a mag. No messing guys, 30 rounds straight into that tent. Enough said on that. WHITEOUT if he survives, stabilise then question him if required. Then kill him.’ Sean looked up at both of the guys awaiting any other comments or ideas.

  ‘I think that’s all for Option 1 until tomorrow,’ Sean took a deep intake of breath.

  ‘Okay Option 2 this time you are in pursuit without him knowing it.

  In fact guys, let’s sack this off. We can do this all tomorrow. It’s been a long day and we’ll be covering it all again. Happy?’

  Mick was quick to answer ‘I’m happy…’

  ‘I am happy. We can do it all tomorrow afternoon. If we think of anything else later we can talk about it tomorrow. Robby are you good?’

  ‘That’s fine, I’m more than happy now, a few things have cleared a lot up and anything else we can sort tomorrow as the rehearsals unfold that may stimulate a few other options.’

  ‘Sully wants us to test all the techie gear tomorrow so they know we are traceable by our phones and beacons. We will do a number of exercise scenarios for all options incorporating this element for their tracking capabilities. Let’s get our heads down now. Feel free to use my computer to read over the OPS again. There’s a file on WHITEOUT in there too with images, background information and this USB has a load of other shit. It’s all worth reading up on.’

  Mick nodded and gestured for Robby to go for it first.

  Robby nodded slowly choosing to take Sean’s laptop to his room with the USB.

  After an hour’s reading, the screen flashed to the home page with a ‘Windows is shutting down’ notification. ‘For fuck’s sake,’ Robby whispered, glancing around for a power cable, a rookie mistake not to grab one earlier. There was no sign of one in Sean’s laptop case and he wasn’t about to disturb his boss’s sleep for it.

  ‘Always me you idiot,’ he thought. Still awake and stimulated by the reading he popped down to the front room where the iMac computer was situated.

  Wanting to finish up and not get rumbled by Conrad, Robby quietly stuck the USB in the computer port and hit the correct document to continue his revision. After a few minutes he felt himself begin to yawn, stretching to try and awaken his muscles he spotted a printer. ‘Yes I can read in bed, perfect.’ There’d also be no chance of Conrad stumbling upon him asleep, with a file containing the OPS on the desktop, he brushed that thought from his mind. The consequences of which didn’t bear even considering.

  Looking around him for Conrad, who seemed to have a knack for popping up out of the blue to water a plant or something, Robby right-clicked on the file, pressing print without even opening the file.

  The printer jolted into life, sounding deafening in the pure silence of night, anxious to temper it he jumped to his feet and pushed the door closed. The printer kept clanking and making the same sound as if something was stuck inside it.

  ‘Fuck,’ Robby cursed himself, starting to sweat and reached to check that the paper tray was full. Nothing wrong there.

  Flashing his gaze back to the Mac screen he saw the bouncing printer icon on the task bar. Hitting the icon it stated the obvious.

  ‘Conrad you tight bastard,’ Robby whispered being a tight person himself grinned as he r
ead the three words commanding the screen: ‘Replace ink cartridges.’

  Shaking his head, Robby ejected the USB stick and did what he should have done three hours ago, the same as everyone else and gone to bed and got a good night’s kip.

  Chapter 18

  Decker was chuffed, the last few days had really seen him pick his pace up. With the monkey of FEAR on his back now gone, he felt almost physically lighter moving forwards. Though habitually still swinging his body around without warning to potentially initiate a full-frontal assault into thin air, he was now laughing at his actions.

  Larnaka wouldn’t be so easy to erase, but at least he was starting the process of letting go. He wondered if the ripped photo of her was now deep in the Antarctic ocean, or stuck in a weather system, never to leave the continent.

  Stopping, he pulled his GPS out from inside his jacket. ‘14.2 nautical’. He mumbled to himself, nodding his head in approval. Another day was flying by with impressive mileage to match. Looking forward, the view was one of the best to date due to the weather window opening up. It didn’t go unnoticed that the weather had turned kind the moment he realised that the FEAR was a fantasy. This world-record attempt was possible and more importantly could change his life forever.

  Tapping his ski poles together, the motion always triggered him to start skiing, he almost tried to hide the fact he was smiling. Enjoyment may be pushing it he thought, still in pain from the blisters, but the sun’s heat had allowed him to expose his face for the first time in weeks. Ironically he felt it burning but welcomed the sensation. With no sunblock to hand he ignored logic to put his balaclava and mask back on. Instead he closed his eyes and lapped up more rays. He knew all too well, things could change around fast here and he needed to savour this moment.

  Resisting the urge to ski on he rolled his head from side to side then back. Feeling the subtle symptoms of mental exhaustion leaking out he welcomed what he was sensing next. ‘Don’t fight it Harry, let go, just let it go, flush it all out.’

  Eyes still shut he began opening them. Squinting into the sun tears began to roll down his cheeks slowly. Ignoring the natural instinct to wipe them. ‘I’m done with instinct,’ he said under his breath. God he’d been low at Old Harry Rocks, compared to where he was now. Those two scenes are poles apart, chuckling at his ‘dad’ joke. It was true though. One signified near death, the other unlimited optimism for the future.

  Wiping the tears away he thought of them as the final drops of poison leaving his body and mind. Laughing out loud, ‘Fuck me Harry, you were inches from ending all this,’ as he scanned the beautiful scene to his front. ‘All because of this hyperactive thinking machine,’ tapping his head as he said the words.

  ‘Sod it let’s take a break Decker .’ Sliding his skis backwards he sat down on his sled for the millionth time he thought. What began as a slump turned into a full-blown lie down, as he stretched his whole body along the sled’s length. No sooner had he begun to drop off he sat back up. He almost forgot about the last call to Steve Jones. Shit, so wrapped up in the elation that a new life lay ahead, he had almost overlooked the flashing low battery icon this morning on his phone. He hesitated; thinking of the video made him cringe. He would have looked idiotic and mental to all his followers if he had sent it.

  Sucking in a deep breath as he always had done before doing something bold, he knew it was time to face the music.

  ‘Let’s do it. Start facing up Harry.’ Pulling the phone and his notepad out of his jacket he took a few seconds to compose himself. Imagining talking to Steve and rambling on about how his mental exhaustion and confusion caused him to blurt that wild conspiracy stuff out.

  Two ringtones and a familiar friendly voice answered. ‘Harry, how’s it going mate?’ Steve shouted out.

  ‘Yeah beautiful Steve, the weather is awesome. Look this is my last call mate so only got a few minutes.’

  ‘Cool quickly send me your current position,’ Steve requested.

  ‘Better than that Steve, I have plotted the next 5-6 days’ anticipated coordinates I will aim for.’

  ‘Got it mate send them over.’

  ‘Got it Harry,’ Steve says as he writes down the last co-ordinate. Decker braced himself for the cringe moment but Steve interjected. ‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you mate. I assumed the phone went dead when you were trying to upload the last video diary.’

  ‘No, so did you see the video?’ Decker asked closing his eyes with embarrassment, knowing he only sent it to Mohammed.

  ‘No that’s what I mean. It didn’t upload Harry so I thought your phone had died in the process.’

  ‘Wait, so no video was seen?’ bluffing again.

  ‘Nothing, but great we know where you are now, so we will update all your followers from on our website.’

  ‘Oh, okay Steve. Strange I thought it got through.’ Decker’s third lie.

  ‘Nothing, anyway I have someone here who wants to chat.’ Standing next to Steve was Andrew Regan. Sporting scruffy neck-length brown hair, aviator sunglasses and a mug full of coffee and rum he grabbed Steve’s phone. ‘Alright asshole!’ Andrew said.

  Decker grinned, recognising the voice instantly. ‘Alright Regan you tosser, what’s going on?’

  Andrew was the leader of Moon-Regan Trans-Antarctica Expedition team. A four-man, two-truck expedition team crossing Antarctica to break land speed records and gain scientific research for a university they were working with.

  His mind flashed back to the scenes at the hotel in Punta where they were all delayed together for three weeks. Rich City boys partying like it was 1999, all on Andrew’s corporate credit card, but then, he did own the company.

  ‘What did I say in Punta mate? What did I say?’

  He left no time for Decker to answer, ‘I said we would say goodbye before we left. And we will my friend. In about 5-6 days we will head toward the co-ordinates you just gave Steve and have a quick drink, say our goodbyes before we meet in London at that dodgy bar I own.’

  ‘Ha-ha sounds like a plan Andrew, it’s great to hear from you and can’t wait to see you out here on the ice.’ Two great pieces of news. No video diary upload and Andrew pitching up for coffee soon. ‘When do you think you will be near me?’

  ‘Oh shit nearly forgot, another thing, did Steve mention a couple of documentary makers want to interview you on the ice? They want to hitch a lift with us but we don’t know if it’s possible yet.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘A couple of guys doing a documentary on the famous Irish explorer Tom Crean.’

  ‘Tom Crean hey?’ Decker was impressed.

  ‘Yes my old friend, they have been following your epic adventure. If we do pick them up then it’s Hollywood for you buddy, on the big screen.’ Decker rubbed his head digesting the sudden change of events. He couldn’t remember if it was good or bad news that came in threes but either way that was excellent he noted with a huge grin.

  ‘That’s great news.’

  ‘Okay I will hand you back to Steve, God speed Decker .’

  ‘This is it Harry, you’re on your own till Andrew comes thundering over for a cuppa.’

  ‘Yeah, he’ll probably fucking mow me down if it’s a white-out again!’

  ‘Ha-ha,’ Steve laughing and looking at Andrew swigging his rum and coffee. ‘I wouldn’t discount that after all you have been through so far,’ Steve added.

  ‘Okay Steve. Is my beacon checking in at all?’

  ‘I think we got a ping earlier mate I will check. Just make it to the Pole then we can sort out logistics there for new phones and solar panels…’ Steve’s voice cut off. Decker looked at his phone. Unsurprised by the blank screen he knew from that point on he had no contact with anyone. Well maybe the beacon if it gets the pings, he thought, not entirely convinced.

  Collapsing the antenna on t
he phone he rose.

  Thinking about Andrew’s conversation he knew that in the next five days he would actually see someone after spending nearly 40 days alone. Then to polish it all off, two documentary makers were creating a film about one of his heroes and he might get to appear on it.

  He knew what questions they’d be asking: How exactly do you cope on your own out here? What do you think about each day? Have you thought of quitting? Are you going to make a TV show? What was it like in the SAS?

  Answering them in his head he let out a huge laugh. ‘Christ I can’t tell them the truth.’ Brushing the questions aside he knew if questions were asked he would reply in a way that made good viewing. It could lead on to a book deal.

  ‘No stop that right now superstar, let’s keep the job in hand at the forefront of my mind, not stupid ideas about stardom. That’s not why I am here.’ He looked at the path ahead, pulling his pull straps back on to get walking again.

  ‘At least I won’t be remembered for being that crazy SAS man who posted a video from Antarctica thinking he had uncovered a conspiracy theory. Even though Mohammed may think I’m nuts when he hears it.’

  He stopped cringing at the thought, knowing he could sort it out if necessary on his return home. He drew his head up and continued walking.

  Chapter 19

  ‘Cheers knobber’ Sean directed to Robby as he attempted to access his emails from the black screen that was now his dead laptop.

  Robby grimaced. ‘Sorry Sean I was reading the OPS but the battery piled in and I didn’t want to wake you to find the power cable.’

  ‘No problems but I will be checking the user history, any Porn Hub activity and you can pay for the petrol to the airport later.’

  ‘Ha no chance, and how do you know about Porn Hub you perverted old man?’

  They moved to gather downstairs. Conrad had already brewed the steaming hot tea to kick-start their day.