The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  Decker’s estimation process continued as he had to think about what assets or technical capabilities they had to continue hunting him down.

  Why the hell do they want to kill me here? Why not wait till Punta or back in UK? Decker was convinced this was a hit not a detention operation and nothing was going to change his mind. Thinking hard he rattled on.

  This is obviously time-sensitive, what is it that I can compromise so badly if I get communications again, or reach the mainland. My video? They must have intercepted it and erased it.’ He then saw things slot into place and was pissed at himself.

  This scenario now centred on the release of information and damage-limitation. Decker knew the exact drills to be carried out when they knew they were going to be captured, then ultimately killed.

  ‘It was the same drill his old drug dealer mates from school would carry out: get rid of the job lot fast, anything that could compromise what you were doing and where, now or in the future.’

  The safest way to protect sensitive information was not to let people possess it in the first place. He had been involved in covert operations ten fold. He was never given the full picture or certainly never told the truth on certain target sets. He would be updated with intricate details as the operation went from phase to phase.

  Each phase was normally 24 hours or so. This format was an insurance policy and controlled damage-limitation. If he was caught and immediately tortured, it was accepted each operator would tell all that they knew.

  There were parameters in place to control the release of information but Decker and his colleagues were playing the big boys’ game with big boys’ rules. That’s why they were in the business.

  Decker was having trouble really nailing the exact reason why they would come all the way down here to get him.

  How did they know he had cracked their existence for sure? Wouldn’t they just think that this was just his imagination sticking to what he knew best, embellishing an idea into a clandestine operation or did he genuinely believe they were an active, deniable asset. There was still no proof, only two shadows behind him.

  Right two men, maybe four.

  Weapons? Longs or shorts, I couldn’t see…

  Mode of transport? On skis.

  How do they want to kill me?

  They would know my sleep routine, I would have done it that way.

  So they kill me then what?

  Extraction plan?

  Who is going to meet them, where and when? They have to be sneaky as fuck down here. The South Pole station is paranoid as it is, let alone a load of blokes turning up mob-handed then disappearing soon after. Activity is monitored down here I think pretty tightly, but I may be wrong.

  Unless this is fully backed by the US and they’re using assets at the station in partnership, this is a deniable operation. Everyone involved will have a cover story to protect random activity or out-of-place requests to move around the ice.

  At this moment gut instinct tells me two men are following me to kill me. Like the hackles on a dog’s back rising when danger was all around, he was feeling the tension.

  Do they know that Trans-Ant are trying to meet me tomorrow night? We arranged this days ago as I planned to cover 20 miles a day and they were heading 50 miles north of the Pole.

  Another paranoid but sanely possible thought passed through him.

  Trans-Ant? Are these guys involved in all this?

  What Si? Mike, John and especially Dave? He was an ex-Marine, surely not. They would never have got so friendly with me back in Punta Arenas during the three weeks we were delayed together. They flew in one day after me and their expedition has been planned for two years. They were also here three years ago.

  Nah not possible. They’re not involved in this and they could be my only lifeline out of here. Who knows about the RV? Steve Jones and Trans-Ant team. Have they posted that I am meeting them bearing in mind people don’t know where I am and this RV would put everyone at ease, as they will probably give me another solar panel to continue the expedition?

  Because I have no communications, will this exposure be highlighted in their blogs and the explorer’s website?

  Fucking hell, I hope the guys on my tail have overlooked this.

  Trans-Ant are good guys, seasoned adventurers and they could have killed me out at the hotel on many a pissed-up night out, when they carried me back to my room if they were involved.

  My only concern is, no it’s not a concern really, they are in the middle of nowhere right now, they can’t have an insider or can’t pick anyone up to meet me?

  Go with your instinct remember Harry.

  Right that’s it Trans-Ant are clean, that’s where I am going but I have to burn off time to not get there early as I have nowhere to run once I’m at the RV.

  The Pole is another 50 miles plus, after the RV. That’s too long for me to make that so I have to make it to the RV even if it kills me.’

  There were no two ways about it, he was in for some extreme suffering physically. The RV was still 36 miles away but it was too risky being there before 1830 tomorrow night.

  It was his next move that would require extreme balls of steel.

  Knowing they would wait till he was asleep later, would give him a good head start with what he was starting to concoct in his mind.

  ‘A dummy tent pitch is my first plan of action. I can stop as normal, pitch my tent and behave as I would do normally. They would surely hold back to anticipate my clockwork 1830 finish then move in about midnight to kill me.

  So if I pitch my tent as normal but ditch all my equipment apart from the skis and poles plus my large backpack… Decker gritted his teeth, he would take what he called mission essential kit to survive for two days or so in this shitty weather to make the RV with Trans-Ant.

  As he skied back along to his pulk he played out the scenario.

  ‘Pitch the tent; keep an eye out in case they make a move. In this weather they might, but why take the risk? They know I will stop and pitch.

  Next what do I need to be as lightweight as possible as I have to try and out-ski these guys and I have 600 miles under my belt and being ski-fit doesn’t matter, they are fresh.

  I will have to get the cookers on and melt snow for water before I leave, this will be a vulnerable point but I will keep my guard up, this is unavoidable.

  Water in all three bottles, four or five flapjacks, that’s nutrition sorted.

  Bothy bag and roll-mat for survival shelter and shovel to dig a snow trench. That’s my lifeline in case the mother of all storms comes in. In fact I will take the tent inner and spare poles…

  GPS, compass and a few batteries to get me to the RV.

  Warm North Face jacket for insulation.

  What do I have to kill these people with?

  I need to kill these fuckers badly if I can’t out-run them.

  A slow torturous death wouldn’t be enough to compensate the years of trauma they have inflicted.

  All I have is my Leatherman knife blade, wire from my repair kit, tent pegs? Tent cord? Not much really if I have to defend against an M4 rifle or pistol, I can only assume they’re carrying weapons.

  Ah, actually I have my hunting knife, well all six inches of it. Thank god I didn’t leave it at cache one like I was planning. This may be all I have.

  Inside he knew he wouldn’t have the steam to outrun them if they were fresh and competent skiers. Again he thought of another team being in front of him. Suddenly Decker realised how they’d tracked him down. He caught his breath for a second before instantly figuring out how to entrap them right back, if he had the balls to execute it, as it was a one shot, one deal affair.

  ‘They must have seen my 127 degree bearing comments. All they will have to do is take the back-bearing from the Pole and it will lea
d them to me. This must be how these guys found me, unless they have come straight from the Pole and overshot my position, turned around to come back and look for me?

  This scenario made Decker rethink his initial plan of action.

  Right, after I pitch the tent I will ski off then take a dogleg bearing to avoid a contact to my immediate front, in case a second team is tracking my back-bearing to box me in from both sides. A dog-leg meant leaving his intended ski bearing, heading off 90 degrees right before turning left and skiing roughly along the same bearing.

  This still means I have to burn off the time and make my approach to the Trans-Ant RV from another direction, not the one they’re expecting.

  Decker was sold on the fact this was a four- or six-man team and another two were in front of him. He had to assume the RV was known. It meant lots of extra miles but desperate times meant tactical measures.

  Is the RV the right choice Decker ?

  Yes, stop questioning it.

  They would definitely have some sort of cut-off plan in place for me if I headed straight to the Pole without any support, and I would be exhausted by then so the Trans-Ant RV it has to be.

  Another paranoid thought entered the equation.

  Trans-Ant? Could they have been infiltrated unknowingly?

  If my killers have managed to get in with them it will still be covert. How would they plan to capture or kill me? Surely they wouldn’t kill Andrew and his team just to get my scalp cleanly? Would they just have a quiet word with me so I wouldn’t shout my head off and compromise them? Do they have a ransom or bargaining chip with me? Nah, nothing.

  In fact I am not convinced Trans-Ant have been compromised. They are clean and it is my best option to get out of this mess. Put this to bed full stop, Trans-Ant is my safety net, not another problem. Sold.

  Contingencies?

  What contingencies do my pursuers have in place?

  Weather for starters can easily delay my interception, or they could simply lose me out here.

  They have already fucked up getting too close which confirms they definitely don’t have the capability to monitor my current position real time, without attacking my satellite phone or beacon.

  The team must be small to limit exposure. Only a few people come here each year to the point everyone knows each other’s business, or story as to why they’re down here. Union Glacier base camp is a classic ‘everybody knows everybody’s business’.

  How do they actually want to kill me, and how do they cover it up if that’s what they plan?

  Shoot me, poison or even drug me, that’s a classic these days. Maybe that’s it, capture me to get all the information I have then inject me?

  That way it looks like hypothermia, I said on my blog it’s a fine line here between pushing a little too hard to the point I may not notice exposure setting in. At this point all logical thought processes are lost, along with feeling. Next thing is hypothermia, then death.

  I only have a 6-hour window to meet Trans-Ant and if I don’t turn up it doesn’t matter, that’s what we agreed due to weather and possibility of no communication. This would increase their window again by a few more days.

  What is their last safe moment to take me down?

  They must have some sort of transport in place. After they kill me they would need to get picked up fast and get the hell out of here without suspicion. The support elements will not come looking for me till at least another six days due to the plan I agreed with Steve Jones at ALE. Do they know this plan? Probably, so they have time on their hands.

  Something doesn’t add up.

  I mean two, possibly four guys requesting that they do some scientific research or documentary-style affair around this area, it’s too random, too short notice, things like this take months to put in place.

  If I was Steve Jones I would be suspicious.

  But they might not be using ALE?

  They could again be under the cover of the US banner?

  I just have a feeling that no one knows they’re here. They must have come in under the radar either by the US cover, or by buying someone, even Ken Borak airlines to drop them off somewhere. I know Ken Borak is struggling financially too. Is he going to pick them up too if this is the case? It’s flat enough about 50 miles from the Pole to touch down, not like this shit I’ve been skiing through for the last 100 miles or so.

  Decker was trying to understand his pursuers’ modus operandi to enable him to make the best judgment calls early. All this raw data was ricocheting around his head endlessly. Getting a grip of what was the most realistic scenario was painful.

  Skiing onwards he knew for certain he would do the dummy tent stop, ditch all his technical kit and start skiing for his life with the bare minimum kit on him.

  Knowing it was fast approaching 1830 hours, his daily stop to pitch the tent, he finalised his intentions. Running a quick checklist through his head of what kit he would take. Feeling a touch nervous about stopping for 30 minutes to melt snow for water, this was a risky but critical move. Crux of the bluff he thought, but that’s why they are called ‘cruxes’ he grinned. Vulnerability came to mind, whilst he would frantically pack and melt snow they could stalk up and pounce unannounced if they skied like maniacs once they saw the red flysheet erected. Decker like the professional operator ran his latest plan through his already saturated head. In fact, he quickly ripped his notepad out of his top pocket and started scribbling frantically. As he ran the plan through, the dots all started to join.

  Stop. Wait five minutes for a soak period; observe my rear with this weather bouncing in and out.

  Prep all my kit for the move off before I erect the tent and melt snow. Leave the technical kit behind as planned.

  All set, erect the tent as I would normally so they don’t get suspicious if they come in for a recce first before the strike. Get 3 litres of water boiled and hydrate one meal and stow it for reserves along with a load of flapjack bars.

  Head off on 127 degrees then switch to a dogleg after a mile to avoid any possible ambush by a team in front, coming at me on a back-bearing from the Pole direction. From then it’s ski like fuck aiming to hit the RV in 36 hours coming in at the last safe moment. Also observe the RV first to see any suspicious activity.

  However I know I will have to stop at some point and take these men on. Hopefully the weather will get worse allowing me to put an ambush in.

  You are going to survive.

  Decker once again felt the surge of blood and survival running through his veins that he had been deprived of for years. This was what he was born to do, kill against insurmountable odds. No one else could tell him that or take it away. These bastards were not as good as him. A feeling of indestructibility mobilised every single muscle to twitch with nervous anticipation.

  Nervous anticipation was the sign he grew to respect.

  It let him know he was alive and primed for action.

  This was the trigger that he needed to stimulate his own self-worth back into a game he had to win no matter what.

  ‘I will have to hit and run,’ he whispered. ‘One member at a time in this visibility is possible. Take one out and get any weapons they have on them if they are carrying. They will always be chasing me down, all I have to do is get the first one then I am truly back in the game. If I get a weapon they are fucked. I will murder these callous bastards in a heartbeat. The weather and environment is my equaliser at the moment, add a weapon and that’s me, game over. In fact a weapon puts the end result beyond all reasonable doubt, my only problem then is getting out safely if they have cut offs. If Trans-Ant are clean and I RV, I think that’s it, until I reach the mainland. That can wait. I have 36 miles to ski, at least two men to kill and Christ knows how many to evade after that. He paused for a sombre moment.

  ‘I must make the RV with or without b
lood on my hands. Final.’

  He stopped and took a brief moment to suck in the cold air, close his eyes and breathe out slowly. He did this three or four times leaving his eyes closed throughout. A process during his old days he’d called ‘recalibration’, during which everything that had happened in his life previously was of no consequence. The only script that needed to be running through his head was the one about to unfold before him.

  All his thinking now was geared toward the immediate future. His brain would continually start updating the current scenario and how he could best adapt it.

  The film frames were now running smoothly through his head.

  He felt composed now and at peace with what he had to do. Search for solitude was a figment of the past; he had unwanted company with an unwanted agenda. He opened his eyes.

  ‘You are going to survive.’

  Chapter 30

  ‘He’s gone, fucking off-ski, literally Gerry,’ Mick vented his anger down the sat phone.

  ‘Run me through it Mick you’re speaking in riddles, what’s happened, where is WHITEOUT?’ Gerry stuck to his usual monotone in an attempt to calm the situation from his tent at the South Pole, clearly Mick was in a flat spin about things.

  ‘You say he is gone?’ Gerry asked again. ‘Give me a rundown of what’s gone on between the FRV and the tent?’

  ‘Tent. WHITEOUT’s tent is empty and he knows we’re on him, big style.’

  ‘Explain Mick,’ Gerry repeated.

  ‘We both came in for the hit, everything was normal like he had stopped; pulk was there, tent surrounded with snow walls. We ambushed him, but when Robby jumped on the tent it was empty, not a trace. I just opened up the pulk to find that his skis and poles are gone. We can see his new ski tracks heading away from the tent too,’ Mick ran out of breath.

  ‘Okay does it look like he stopped for long or just set the tent up?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Cookers? Are the cookers there? If they are, are they still warm?’ Gerry started firing on all cylinders. ‘Diaries? If they are in the tent has he made an entry for tonight? Phones? Check the last call if he had any battery life left? Get on this now Mick,’ Gerry impatiently requested.