The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  Sean nodded his head in silence again.

  ‘So, I think the beacon data to communicate is secure for now but I don’t really want to send another message unless it’s critical. We can choose to break radio silence to use it deceptively to our advantage, as another weapon of manipulation to feed the Russians a false game plan? But again it’s a balancing act, I think it’s better to not give them any clues we’re here.’ Gerry paused.

  Sean jumped in, ‘How do you think the Russians will play it, any idea of numbers, are they on foot, in trucks, any heavy weapons? We could be walking into a fucking shit storm Gerry. I mean who knows what those fuckers have stored at Vostok?’ Sean looked pissed off that he was now in this mess with no warning, not to mention whatever the hell was happening to Mick.

  He continued, ‘WHITEOUT has probably killed Robby and possibly Mick, the Russians have WHITEOUT we think, and it’s only a possible mate. He may be on his own for Christ’s sake. Even Sully could have played this one out wrong?’ Sean had a valid point, Sully could be wrong and all this planning may be for nothing.

  Gerry paused, he knew Sean was getting a bit twitchy and he had every right to be, but in his mind they had to trust Sully’s instinct and intel, they were definitely walking into a shit storm and he needed Sean’s A-game. Going home was a long way off, it was time to dig their heels in.

  ‘Yeah you’re right and I hope it is the latter and we take him straight out of the game and go home but we have to plan for the worst-case scenario. This means we will be postured for the shit storm you mentioned with the Russians. Now, I reckon they’re light in numbers to lower the footprint for sure, they must be on foot and have been dropped off by helicopter or light plane, logistically this is the only way as their base is hundreds of miles away.’ Gerry had seen Vostok on the map when he was researching Antarctica and read it was the Russian scientific base. Shrouded in the same secrecy the South Pole station was by the Americans and Brits it had all seemed a bit far-fetched from his laptop in London. Out here however…

  He carried on: ‘Right let’s work on a four-man team, so a maximum of four shooters. One or two with WHITEOUT, the other two in left and right cut-off positions in a linear ambush. What’s their mission and main aim?’ Gerry asked his questions out loud to aid his thinking and also prompt Sean for his input. As per usual Sean was too slow to react and Gerry was off again.

  ‘They need WHITEOUT alive as well as us two. The intercepts would tell them we’re higher up in the food chain with all the information. This gives us our critical window to take them down, once we have them located. The hesitation period they need to identify us is the edge we need.’

  ‘Yeah for sure,’ Sean agreed his curiosity starting to get the better of him.

  ‘Andrew has to meet WHITEOUT to give us that initial stand-off distance to locate the Russians. They won’t know if Andrew is one of us or one of the Team.’

  ‘Yes that’s a good point, I see where you’re going with this one.’

  ‘Tactically I’m thinking one wagon stays in depth initially. That will be you with the Sniper rifle. Initially we will stop and look like we’re setting something up, even a weather balloon just to take their attention away to get you in position from 500 metres or so away—’

  ‘I can get under the truck and start observing and dialling in.’ Gerry knew that by ‘dialling in’ Sean meant he could locate targets and estimate distance and wind to deliver killer shots with his sniper rifle when required.

  ‘Andrew and I will go forward but not all the way to WHITEOUT. We’ll park the truck 50 metres away. Andrew can walk out to meet him. The Russians now have three things to watch, your truck, my truck and WHITEOUT meeting Si. This is our window. Hopefully you can locate a few of them from 500 metres away through your telescopic sight, cross hairs on their bodies preferably.’

  ‘Carry on,’ Sean nodded.

  ‘You’re in position 500 metres away and we move forward and stop 50 metres short from WHITEOUT. Andrew jumps out waving and ranting at WHITEOUT and starts to walk forward. Surely the Russians will now be suspicious and maybe know something is up, but they can’t commit to shooting Andrew, as it could be one of us and they want us alive remember.’

  Sean tracked every word.

  ‘I am even thinking we could give Andrew a pistol to give to WHITEOUT so he can fight at close quarters. It’s a dangerous option but WHITEOUT will know it’s part of a bigger thing. If you and I have taken the others out by then, we just put some bullets around his head or feet from our positions, WHITEOUT will drop the pistol and be at our mercy.’

  ‘Hold on mate,’ Sean put his right palm up at Gerry. ‘Bearing in mind he’s killed Robby and possibly Mick, do you think he will just drop his weapon? I mean this guy is a fucking maniac and will be massively pissed off by now.’

  ‘I don’t know Sean, I really don’t know. If he decides to fight we take him out. But if he complies I will interrogate him, we will kill him them put him in the back with the others, and head to the Ilyushin. Sully will have our extraction at the South Pole all sorted by then.’

  Sean breathed out slowly, clearly not convinced, ‘Fucking hell Gerry, this is borderline insanity, but I have nothing better at the moment. You’re right about the time of WHITEOUT meeting Andrew being the only window we have to take them down.’

  ‘It’s not great, but it’s possible,’ Gerry confirmed.

  Sean nodded in agreement knowing full well that his brain couldn’t match Gerry’s when it was going at full pace. The weather was closing in, they were getting cold and time was running out.

  Gerry knew it as he pulled the think velcro flap back on his top right pocket and pulled his notepad out. Leaning against the truck he started drawing, with Sean peering over his shoulder. ‘A quick sketch mate to show Andrew our masterplan.’

  Both managed a small chuckle, then the sober light of day hit Sean. Both of his mates could be dead, Robby already was. The smile left his face.

  Within a minute Gerry ripped the leaf of paper out of his pad and presented it to Sean.

  Quickly taking a look it was simple to follow. He had a quick laugh at Gerry’s signature signed Gerry aged 5 years.

  ‘Yeah, old British joke’ Gerry watching Sean tap it with his finger before handing it back.

  ‘Okay let’s get on with it, I will explain it all to Andrew.’

  ‘Good luck with that one buddy.’

  ‘This ride isn’t going to be the most topical I’ve experienced,’ Gerry said as he walked to the front of the truck.

  ‘Do you think it might be a good idea to give WHITEOUT the weapon handover with Andrew telling him we’re here to “capture, not kill him” or something?’ Sean suggested to Gerry, ‘builds some trust up doesn’t it, and keeps him thinking.’

  ‘Good point and I think I have a piece of information that will do this. It can only increase our chances Sean, yes let’s do that.’

  ‘Yeah okay, I am sure he would want to kill a few Russians if he hasn’t already, it may even help us out a little.’

  Looking hard at each other they knew this was the best they had. It had finally sunk in to both of them that they would potentially be fighting for their own lives shortly, that hadn’t been in the script.

  ‘Right let’s brief up Andrew,’ Gerry said tapping Sean on the shoulder. ‘It’s important we let him know he will not get killed by us and in all honesty I will push Sully for this, poor fucker. No one was supposed to die. Look now, five possibly dead with us now facing our own fights for survival.’

  Collateral damage was expected during war but completely frowned upon by Gerry in this commercial setting. It was effectively mission failure when innocents got killed in the contracting world.

  With less than three hours to fine-tune the plan a few things had to be squared away, they both knew what was coming ne
xt.

  ‘Sean, you need to battle zero the G28 rifle for complete confidence as he would need to put people down from over 500 metres away.’ A quick zero at 100 metres would suffice but 300 metres was more realistic for complete confidence especially as he would be the first to shoot if it went to plan. Confirmatory zero ensured that Sean could adjust his sights for distance and wind to distances beyond 300 and still know his shots would hit, theoretically back to 1000 metres and more. Sean nodded in agreement and moved to carry out Gerry’s orders.

  Without delay, Gerry, with Andrew still loosely zip-tied to the steering wheel, drove off to 300 metres using the GPS trip metre to judge the distance exactly.

  Gerry grabbed the foldable table and erected it, turning it lengthways and standing it up. Finding some duct tape and piece of an A4 document he turned it blank side and taped it to the table. Using another small piece of duct tape, he ripped off a small square and stuck it to the middle of the A4 paper as an aiming marker.

  Happy no-one had sent a message on the sat-phone, Gerry switched the jammer off. Using the two-way radio he gave Sean the go-ahead to fire when he was ready. He could visualise Sean’s preparation, which would be nothing short of gold-standard marksmanship principles, building a strong firing position around the weapon so he would be naturally aligned to the target, so that he wouldn’t have to muscle in to force the scope sights onto the duct tape aiming mark. He would also start his breathing cycle noting his mil-dot sight moves perfectly up and down on the duct tape centre point with no diagonal movement left or right.

  Closing his eyes he would continue the cycle three more times before opening them after exhaling for a few seconds. If the millimetre dot sight is still perfectly centred on the duct tape, he had confirmation that his position was rock-solid and perfectly balanced without having to force the shot.

  Big-timers at local gun clubs tended to hold their breath then pull the trigger, either snatching it in anticipation or flinching as the shot release surprises them causing the shot to go high right. Pros however knew that you had to breathe out slowly, almost emptying your lungs of oxygen causing no internal diaphragm movement, then after three or four seconds the slow trigger pull suddenly releases the shot without warning to the firer.

  Sean had obviously just executed this cycle perfectly as the first bullet smashed through the plastic table.

  A single round that he knew would hit low from a cold barrel was initially ignored as he primed himself for the second. Hearing the second bullet penetrate the plastic Gerry walked over and checked the fall of shot. He shivered, actually feeling quite exposed, Sean could just kill him now if he wanted. He wondered if Sean was thinking the same?

  Inspecting the table and A4 paper the bullet hole was just inside the left hand edge of the A4 paper by about 2 inches and slightly low of centre.

  Feeding that back to Sean, he informed him that he needed to adjust four clicks right for deflection and one up for elevation.

  Sean fired his second round.

  On quick inspection it was on the outer left edge of the duct tape but smack on centre. Gerry transmitted ‘one right elevation good,’ before moving out of the way again.

  As Sean split the duct tape perfectly in the centre Gerry nodded. The battle zero was complete.

  Sean rejoined Gerry and they quickly switched over positions for Gerry to zero his M4 rifle from only a hundred metres. After two rounds Gerry was dead-centre and happy.

  ‘I will lead off with Andrew driving,’ he instructed. ‘Keep up with us and we will stop about thirty minutes out. We will quickly go over the plan and add anything new we come up with on the way. Andrew will not be briefed until this point.’

  ‘Understood, let’s go then. It’s high time we finally meet WHITEOUT and more importantly have the satisfaction of letting Robby’s family know that man who killed him is now in the dirt too,’ Sean said.

  Chapter 37

  For the first time on this expedition Decker was not alone inside the comforts of his Hilliberg two-man extreme-weather tent.

  It wasn’t an extreme-weather tent anymore as it was only the inner of the tent. The outer flysheet had been left standing when he made a run for it to look like the tent was normal. He had thrown the inner into his rucksack with the spare poles though he never expected to be sharing it with a Russian.

  Either way it did keep some of the wind out and offered a limited form of protection. Decker was amazed that the Russians hadn’t brought their own tents, but then again they’d had no idea what they were getting themselves into and probably thought it was going to be a simple few hours out.

  Bound with zip ties around his hands and ankles, he was out of the elements but by no means out of danger. Held captive in what could only be called an ad hoc detainment facility in Antarctica, his destiny and future were in the hands of the Russians.

  Fortunately so far, the Russians had cottoned on that beating and attempting to torture him for information would be futile.

  Ivan had a dilemma to thrash out in his head.

  Had the Clinic members disclosed their real identities as calculated cold-blooded killers? Or were they still playing the grey incognito bullshit?

  This mattered, it was essential and he knew he would have to work it out fast; he wanted this ambush to be executed with minimal fuss with maximum casualties minus Gerry, Sean and WHITEOUT.

  The Commander at Vostok had already told him that a clean-up operation would happen once they had secured The Clinic members. How this would happen he didn’t know, that wasn’t his problem.

  The big two were all he needed and he already had one, the rest were simply collateral damage.

  Decker was lying on his side in the foetal position with his back towards him.

  No doubt reading all the writing on the tent walls. It seemed to be a combination of mantras that Decker could look at, every waking second on his back in his sleeping bag.

  Next to the mantras was the daily statistics of each day’s work. Miles covered, hours spent walking and finally his final position for that day.

  Written with a thick black permanent marker some of the early statistics had faded a touch but were still readable to Ivan.

  On the other hand the mantras and mission statements were bold, black and readable from 10 metres away. Decker had obviously meticulously kept retracing over the original statements to ensure they kept the crisp, sharp and penetrating thoughts clear in his head.

  Like the ice he skied on every day they were crystal-clear and clean. No room for pink fluff or outdated clichés that normal folk spewed up everyday, in a vain attempt to be inspiring or turn that negative situation into a thriving positive.

  It was a pure language he believed in.

  ‘In order to win, you must suffer,’ Ivan said as he read one out. Decker rolled his eyes back awaiting the cocky, patronising follow-on comment.

  ‘Ha, “Who Dares Wins” now I like that one. It is the greatest Special Forces motto in the world I have to admit Harry, and B Squadron hey?’ Ivan commented seeing it written underneath the quote ‘Who Dares Wins’.

  ‘Bravo Two Zero I recall, they were B Squadron. It is a great book, it would have been even more enthralling if my English was better when I read it over ten years ago.’

  Decker had seen little of Ivan’s features apart from his face and that was through the large eyeholes of his poorly fitting balaclava.

  He placed him at around 28-30 years of age, judging by his lack of laughter lines, or maybe that was because the Russians weren’t renowned for their sense of humour. He wasn’t a seasoned hard man or killer looking squarely at him in the eyes, but what officer is? Decker concluded. They simply unleashed the dogs of war; and he had been one of those dogs for years.

  Decker knew he had the psychological edge over Ivan. He sensed an almost childlike nature about him,
a kid that read action-hero books especially the American and British Special Forces’ books, hence his knowledge of Bravo Two Zero. Now he had his little prize, a burnt-out, exhausted former SAS Sergeant as his prisoner. Though he tried to be cocky reading off the mantras it was all a show, a dick-measuring contest to let Decker know that he was not intimidated.

  Decker knew he could rip this guy’s throat out in a heartbeat. Simply grabbing his throat and staring into his greyish eyes that had faded from a piercing blue over the years, would make Ivan piss and shit himself.

  Ivan was smart though.

  Not engaging Decker for information but merely repeating the fact that he was being hunted down by his own people almost kept him neutral.

  ‘How do you think this is going to end Harry? You are lucky, I have saved your life today. Christ knows how many else are out there after you.’

  Decker pondered this in relation to the RV.

  If I asked him why we are meeting Trans-Ant what would he say? There is no tactical reason for meeting them. Why possibly compromise this mission when he could cut and run back to Vostok.

  Now I know he knows there are other members of The Clinic with Trans-Ant, this is why we’re meeting them.

  He has no idea I have figured this out.

  Does he want to detain them, kill Trans-Ant I assume then take us all to Vostok, then Russia. Or maybe everyone, it would be a Bermuda Triangle moment for a lot of people to try and work out, but that could be his plan.

  Fuck it I will ask him.

  Rolling onto his back in order to look Ivan in the eye when he asked the question, Decker grunted as the pain of rolling on top of his zip-tied arms shot through him, before rolling fully on to his left side.