by Ray Carole
‘What is the point in meeting Trans-Ant team? Why get them involved they are good people?’
‘To buy time,’ Ivan replied immediately.
‘How exactly?’
‘They meet us, they can make a call back to Union Glacier telling them you’re okay, that way no one is worrying, no one is looking for you.’
‘Andrew would have already done that straight after I called to report that I was injured and the expedition is over…’
WHITEOUT purposely started putting Ivan in a corner.
‘That’s not true. They might not have done so I need to make sure this is done to keep the heat off,’ Ivan began to take the bait and defended himself instantly.
Smirking inwardly enjoying the beginning of the mental mind game he knew he could unfurl on the Russian, Decker continued. ‘Are you for fucking real buddy? You have just added another moving part to this whole fucked-up situation. They would have just waited a few hours then left, they have a flight later tonight hence it was a leaving visit. Now you’re going to have to kill or detain them. No wonder you lot are stuck in Vostok asshole.’
Decker knew the reason but couldn’t show that, and was happy just to get a quick dig into him and hoped that he would bite. He was starting to work on his mind, placing a bit of doubt in his mind to shake him up a bit.
‘There is a reason for everything Harry, not even you have all the answers. In fact at least I know the answers, it appears you don’t even know what answers you’re being hunted for, but that will come with time for sure.’
‘So how are you going to play this RV out?’ Decker cannoned forwards, choosing to ignore Ivan’s attempt at one-upmanship.
‘Seeing as you ask so nicely, I will tell you now instead of later. You will remain in this tent, bound as you are the bait. The team and I will be in an ambush position behind the rubble. Trans-Ant team will pull up in their vehicles, no doubt they will think you’re resting or asleep and approach the tent. At this point they will all be static, probably a few members out of the vehicles to see their little hero. Then we will ambush you all at close quarters. Anyone messes around they will die.’
‘Then?’ Decker asked seemingly nonplussed.
‘That’s umm, how do you say it? “On a need to know basis” I think. You like this Mr SAS man?’
‘As we say, it sounds like a plan,’ Decker sarcastically replied.
He knew there was no point in idle banter so did not labour the conversation. He had got the plan out of him though. Ivan thought of him as a prisoner at his mercy. What did it matter if he disclosed the plan, he was bound hand and legs? He supposedly could not affect it in any way. Trans-Ant and the Clinic would turn up, come and check the tent with him bound inside it.
Then the ambush went in, simple but effective. Three Russians with automatic weapons could deliver this blow easily. Any fast moves by the Clinic or Trans-Ant would result in their deaths.
As Ivan finished reading the daily stats off the inner tent he too started to think more. A few scenarios crossed his mind.
Would The Clinic let members of Trans-Ant greet WHITEOUT then only disclose themselves as The Clinic once back in the wagons with WHITEOUT, he thought.
This would be a major problem for us. Or will they just hold WHITEOUT at gunpoint immediately after they are introduced as the documentary team taking Trans-Ant team by surprise, and then getting them all to obey their commands at gunpoint?
Had they already got Trans-Ant team under duress? All held captured, tied up? This was another consideration for the Russians.
No matter what the situation was, WHITEOUT had to be seen initially on his own and meet them on his own to have the element of surprise intact for the Russians. This had to happen Ivan realised and this part was the weakest link in the chain of events but was the strongest link for The Clinic to get the upper hand in what could be a raging gun battle.
Ivan knew he had some serious thinking to do but at this point he knew leaving Decker on his own while all the guys were in the ambush ready was risky.
He was even considering staying in the tent with Decker himself but this had potential to go wrong and deep down knew he didn’t have the balls to be alone with him when someone entered the tent.
His last excuse was he had to be in a position to command and control so had to observe from outside. He could risk putting another Russian in there but then he would lose one vital source of firepower.
His mind kept thinking. All alone in the inner tent he’d gone full circle. Only days ago he was relaxing after an exhausting day on the ice, flaked out on his sleeping bag knowing another hard day had been cracked.
Now he was bound, laid on his side waiting for ‘The Clinic’ that he’d always profoundly known to be The FEAR who were on their way there. Time for thinking had ceased. He knew a member of The Clinic or Trans-Ant would be entering his tent soon, whether they would leave together, or at all, wasn’t even worth contemplating he thought.
It was all back to being reactive. It was instinctive; when it happened he knew he would react and go for it. ‘My survival is their deaths,’ he reminded himself.
Another thought entered his head, a thought that always comforted him before he slept at night, beautiful Larnaka. He imagined running his fingers through her hair, smelling her warm skin on his. Pure beauty in its true essence. Then quick as a flash she was gone.
Some Russian whistling through their fingers to another member of their team broke his reverie. He caught a quick exchange of Russian dialect followed by footsteps crunching through the snow, then silence.
He pushed all other thoughts from his mind. Forcing himself to focus with one solid fact, one single thought over and over in his mind: ‘The Clinic are finally coming to collect.’ His blood warmed with rage at the thought of it, it had been a long time coming.
Chapter 38
Andrew looked somewhat blankly at the sketch map that Gerry and Sean had decided was the master plan to take the Russian’s down and rescue Decker. For the last 30 minutes Gerry had been talking him through it.
Two trucks, one sniper weapon, an M4 carbine, air marker balloon and Andrew, an unwilling volunteer who now had a critical part to play.
Andrew reluctantly spoke, like a school boy in a strop. ‘Okay so we stop 500 metres away from where we see the tent or RV? Both trucks close together so I can set up an air weather ballon and Sean can establish a sniping position from underneath his truck?’
‘Yes you got it’ Gerry answered, a little taken back by a sudden injection of interest.
‘Hopefully he will locate their positions, then we will proceed forward to within 50 metres of the tent or end location.’
‘Carry on Andrew.’ Gerry ignored his shaking voice.
‘When we stop I get out, I shout for Decker, you take some photos to buy time and locate the Russians. Then I enter his tent with the pistol and say ‘Old Harry Rocks, they need you alive.’ Then I cut him loose if he’s alone or shoot anyone else in the tent? Then just lay low until you collect me?’
Gerry paused for a second looking at Andrew. He did feel guilty though emotions weren’t a problem to him, he just knew how to override them.
‘I’m truly sorry Andrew. I wish I could explain but it’s not that simple. Harry Decker is a wanted man, and wanted long ago. In fact he is called WHITEOUT, Andrew. We set out to kill him but now we may need him alive, and that includes you. I was ordered to kill your friends because my boss knows we are going to meet the Russians when we meet WHITEOUT, if your team knew about all of this we could not risk the secrecy. This won’t help, but it’s bigger picture bollocks and you’ve just been caught in the crossfire.’
As Gerry waited for a response, even some sort of ridiculous understanding or empathy from Andrew he saw it.
Like a red beacon glowing in the dark to wa
rn aircraft of an imminent high-rise building, the bright red doors of the inner tent lit up the horizon. Purposely designed in this bright colour to enable easy recognition for Mountain rescue teams it had done the job. From over a kilometre away it was visible and Gerry maintained his breathing at a calm pace, eyes barely blinking taking in the rest of the surroundings.
Driving into harm’s way without any real actionable intelligence was the hallmark of the SAS’s motto ‘Who Dares Wins’ but even then you had numbers and equipment, a robust team of operators with a true desire to kill the enemy and high-tech infrastructure to back things up if it all went to rat shit.
Gerry knew this plan was lacking all of those constituents, they were literally winging it, back of a fag packet stuff. He was no stranger to letting this type of operation be sanctioned with even less intelligence in the past, but he was normally sitting next to someone akin to Sully watching it all erupt. Now he was in it himself.
This thought hit him hard, if he had been briefing Whitehall he would have had to have maintained a straight face as he uttered the words: ‘A dynamic risk assessment has been conducted and we will be executing an Emergency Response directive.’ People in Whitehall actually got paid to make this sort of jargon up, but that’s the way the government liked things; professionally distorted terminology that conjured up images of fast-thinking individuals, surrounded by high-tech equipment, executing strategic-level ops to save the day. This always got a ‘yes’ vote. Would this ambush plan get a yes? No time to wonder he cracked on.
‘Sean you got this?’ Gerry transmitted over the two-way radios referring to them having a visual marker on the red tent doors that was now the RV position.
‘Roger mate, seen,’ Sean acknowledged.
‘I make it 1100 metres North-West to the RV,’ Gerry said reading the GPS data. ‘It looks about bang on, let’s just slow it down a touch, come to my right mate so your view is not obscured,’ Gerry requested knowing that they now had to start looking for the Russian ambush party without letting them know that this was what they were up to.
‘Will do, are we still looking at a 500-metre stop-short?’ Sean transmitted manoeuvring to Gerry’s right.
‘Yeah, do you see the massive rubble field with a few pressure ridges behind the tent stretching East to West? I reckon that’s the classic linear ambush site Sean if I was a betting man.’
‘Yeah got it, on the money. It looks like a good position if you ask me, unlike ours at the moment,’ Sean replied, knowing that they were wide open now on the wrong side of the rubble field, in the open or killing zone with no protection if the bullets started flying.
‘That’s what I expected, they chose well but the tent is up mate. That’s a good sign. That puts us back in the game, we still have one card left if WHITEOUT is inside it.’ Gerry quickly switched his thinking to the plan he had envisaged for the tent option. He glanced at Andrew who was obviously nervously listening and driving them carefully forward under his directions towards the ambush site.
‘Sean when we are 700 metres away I will count us down to our first stop position for the weather balloon serial. As we planned, stay on my right side, close and tight. I will traverse East to West parallel to the tent and look for a clear line of sight position. We don’t want any sastrugi or ice formations blocking your view of the tent and ambush site.’
This part was essential. Sean had to be able to see the ambush area with no obstacles to his front. Gerry knew that with a ‘line of sight’ he could acquire a target through his scope with no terrain getting in the way of the bullet as it hurtled faster than the speed of sound to the recipient’s instant death. A 7.62-calibre bullet was designed to stop people, not hurt or injure them. A sniper rifle had one purpose and one purpose only. Kill with every single round, one round, one kill.
From 500 metres out this job was a walk in the park for Sean. A conventional sniper on a battlefield would look to stand off between 600-1500 metres picking off strategic targets, their fellow soldiers would be engaging at closer ranges with smaller arms.
‘200 metres to stop-short,’ Gerry transmitted.
‘200,’ Sean repeated scanning the terrain towards the tent; things looked promising so far as the Russians were clearly being slack.
‘Gerry look at the ice formation jutting out North of the tent or behind it.’
‘Got it mate.’
‘It’s like a dog shit on a snooker table,’ Sean joked.
‘That’s got to be the ambush site for sure,’ Gerry said looking around and taking in the surroundings.
700 metres out and scanning the area closest to the tent there was a linear formation East to West about 50 to 60 metres long that had three large lumps of ice and rubble occupying it, almost like three perfectly formed ice pyramids rising from the ground. Equally spread apart it formed three dream positions for the Russians to hide behind and launch an ambush.
Directly North, behind the tent was the smaller of the three pyramids only two metres rising out of the ice rubble.
Gerry quickly muttered under his breath, ‘You fucking twat,’ before transmitting to Sean.
‘The sun,’ Gerry spat down the radio.
‘What Gerry?’ Sean transmitted back a little confused.
‘The sun is high right to them if they’re behind those three larger ice formations North of the tent, do you see?’
‘Yeah, do you reckon that’s where they are?’
‘Yes I do so we are going to have to loop around to the West then come back in on a North-East bearing so that the sun is behind us and in their eyes as we approach the tent. If we stay like this the sun will be to their South and it won’t bother them. Do you copy?’ Gerry again playing his ‘A-game’ waited for Sean to understand what he was thinking.
‘You’re right Gerry, I will just keep following and wait for the countdown.’
Repositioning as Gerry was suggesting would make a huge difference. The sun in the Russians’ eyes would buy them a fraction of a second each time they fired as they would be squinting and adjusting to filter out the brighter light. Those fractions meant the world in close-quarter battle, it would be the difference between living or dying out here.
‘Roger that.’
Gerry redirected Andrew to carry out exactly what he just described to Sean.
After moving West for a few minutes Gerry called it in. ‘50 metres to stop point.’
‘50,’ Sean replied.
The trucks now had the sun directly on their backs, this would definitely cause problems for the Russians Gerry thought as he looked to his rear. A novice mistake by whoever was organising this ambush.
‘Sean when I stop, pull up on my right, there is a piece of sastrugi there, pull your truck up over it, it will give you a great cover position under the truck.’
‘That’s a stop, stop, stop Sean,’ Gerry ordered.
Andrew brought the truck to a smooth halt.
Sean got a visual of the sastrugi and went static on top of it alongside the other truck.
Looking at his GPS Gerry read 512 metres North-East to the RV position.
WHITEOUT’s tent was clear to see, alone with no activity present as of yet, Gerry summised before winding down his window to speak to Sean.
‘Right, I have just noticed something else mate and it’s definitely a sign the Russians or whoever are with him. His tent has been set up with the wind hitting it broadside, WHITEOUT would always set his tent up with the prevailing wind hitting the bell end. I know he is only using the inner tent skin but the principle is the same. The wind hasn’t changed direction today or the last few days for that matter. Maybe he’s letting us know he is under duress.’
A big assumption from Gerry, though Sean wouldn’t be convinced totally until he pinged a Russian through his sights. In some respects Sean thought Gerry was searching
for a signal from WHITEOUT that just wasn’t there.
‘Well spotted mate,’ Sean was impressed by Gerry’s attention to extreme detail but still sounded a little dubious.
‘Okay you sort out your sniper position under the truck while we set up the weather balloon. Start scanning hard as we will take about twenty minutes. Designate prefix positions of objects too and obviously locate any Russians mate or activity of interest.’
‘Roger that,’ Sean confirmed, his adrenalin kicking in to both be on the hunt and eager to confirm this was all for real and not just in Sully’s imagination.
Gerry now switched his attention to Andrew. Though Gerry was sorry for murdering his mates and was going easy on him it was business mode again and this was serious, the nice guy part had worn thin. Gerry now needed to instil a sense of fear into him again. He slammed his hand down on the dashboard loudly. Andrew jumped out of his skin as he was focusing on the tent in the distance.
‘Andrew.’
‘Yes, yes sorry I was thinking.’
‘Andrew I am going to cut you loose. Do not fuck around with me, there are Russians behind that rubble field 500 metres away. We’re the only fucking way you’re walking out of here so we are a team now right? They catch you they will torture you to death, literally cut your bollocks off and throw them in your mouth. They learnt that off the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan in the eighties. Trust me, do as we planned and we might all get out of here.’
‘I have no intentions of pulling any stunts Gerry, I’m shaking all over look at me,’ Andrew stammered holding out his hands that were shaking uncontrollably.
‘Don’t worry that’s natural. Once we get into this you won’t be thinking about your hands shaking, you’ll be too concerned being face down in the snow crawling for your life. But you will make it, we will all make it out,’ Gerry looked at him to give reassurance and he meant it. He wasn’t going to die on this job today, today wasn’t his day to join the fast exit club.
‘Let’s do it, you get the balloon off the back seat and let’s just act normally, they will be watching us through binoculars,’ Gerry added just to put Andrew on edge even more.