by Ray Carole
The muzzle disappeared instantly.
He unleashed another volley slightly more to the left and at ground level.
Decker paused and dropped down to collect his thoughts.
‘Have I hit him? I didn’t hear anything so no I didn’t. Right let’s stalk this piece of shit in to submission. He’s an officer for fuck’s sake Decker , lets close him down.
Decker knew not to push it too fast, too soon. He was sure it was Ivan. It was a stalking situation in an Antarctic rubble field that meant Ivan could easily hide and ruthlessly pop up and kill him in the blink of an eye. He took a breath, the feeling of having an M4 assault rifle in his hands again was breathtakingly natural. He had never, ever forgotten how it felt in his hands, how much it weighed or the feeling of the light but comfortable kick you felt in the shoulder from the recoil. He trusted himself, and he trusted his rifle, that was enough. Before he moved off he quickly went to ground and changed the magazine. Knowing he had about 13-15 bullets left he slickly removed the magazine, throwing the half magazine in his pocket and seating the new one into the magazine housing, checking it was fully home and locked in place.
Through his whole career he’d always put a fresh magazine on in situations like this; a slight lull in the battle gave him the moment to ensure he had 30 bullets for the next contact instead of guessing what he had left. He almost smiled as he recognised that pure blood instinct and training was taking over his mind again, flooding into him. It gave him renewed strength.
To come to face to face with Ivan would require a couple of bursts to shatter the ice formation, before the bullets could cut through and take him out.
He began to move out further North with the aim of cutting back East in a box-like movement, then South to where he thought Ivan was hiding. This would confuse Ivan as Decker suspected he would be watching the tracks behind him only, and not expect anyone to pop up from another direction.
Crouched over and taking small paces with his weapon up on aim he started his box move heading off North.
It all seemed a little surreal again as he fanned his way around corners of huge ice formations, many ten foot high and then some. Years of close-quarter battle had taught him to never telegraph or highlight his position by clumsy barrel discipline so he never walked past an ice feature with the barrel leading. This had almost cost Ivan his life moments earlier. Each turn he made around the ice was instantaneous, the moment his barrel protruded so did he, in a position to engage anything that moved behind it.
Now turning East, Decker made his way another 30 metres before stopping again to get his bearings before starting to head South to surprise Ivan. He could see both trucks 100 metres in front now but could not see any activity. Maybe they were all in cover trying to revive Andrew, he figured.
‘God I hope he makes it, Trans-Ant had nothing to do with this,’ he thought before quickly quashing any kind of thought that threatened his concentration.
‘Switch on Decker, this guy is close, his death is my survival.’
As the wind picked up a little more it sprayed the spindrift into the air again, with this he noticed his own shadow to his left, which spooked him a little as he had missed this initially, his impeccable high standards were still in check, just a little rusty.
Ivan may have called forward the helicopter that must have dropped them off. Ivan wasn’t just going to make a run for it, he would stand and fight till his fellow Russians came to back him up with force.
Then again maybe he was heading back towards the trucks, he couldn’t let The Clinic escape surely Decker thought.
Or was he actually dead?
Not a chance.
White static from a handheld radio grabbed his attention. This was the exact reason he didn’t take the Russian’s radio.
Decker froze as he tuned in to the peripherals and listened acutely over the light breeze that seemed deafening.
He knew it was the noise of a handheld radio. It was the noise it makes when another radio is transmitting with no one speaking into it.
Was it a trap to lure him in? Maybe there’s a radio on its own I may hear upfront with Ivan pressing his own radio to create the transmission sound? An ambush within an ambush? Is he waiting behind me ready to pounce?
Immediately throwing his head around to check his prediction he sighed, nothing. This was pissing him off. Unless the wind was deceiving him, the static was about 30 metres away to his front amongst some large rubble.
He started to creep backwards a few metres until he got behind a huge ice block and went to ground. This terrain was perfect for concealment to track someone as he was doing, but equally perfect to lie in wait and kill someone like he assumed Ivan was. Seeing the tent he knew he was now directly behind the original ambush position where Ivan was shot.
Five minutes passed seeming like an eternity especially as patience was not naturally in his make-up. All the guesswork had taken its toll and it was time to close the deal he thought.
Fuck it Decker, no more fucking about let’s end this shit and stop dancing around. Right straight up the middle let’s confront this bastard, he’s in this vicinity somewhere.
He was initially going to do another deception leg to cut back in from the East but he had just convinced himself to go straight South to the radio noise.
Stalking slowly on his final attack heading he was close to Ivan, he sensed it.
That intuitive feeling was flooding his body, it was a great feeling that brought immediate awareness, that sixth sense kind of thing. With that came the anxiety, as he knew he was about to brace for a collision course. Either a head-on with Ivan, or the hope that he would surprise him from behind as planned.
20 metres away he spotted a brown mountaineering boot with a pool of blood around it.
Instantly seeing that a leg was attached to it he went to ground and paused. As much as this was an imminently life endangering moment he couldn’t help but think, I’m not falling for the empty boot trick to find a gun in my head.
It was not the case as he saw it move slightly in the pool of blood.
Cautiously moving sideways to come slightly behind left of Ivan, Decker got into a position just over 10 metres away, tucked up against an ice pillar, he observed what was in front of him.
Ivan had his weapon held up to his eye obviously observing the kill zone to his front. Five metres away was the other radio on its own in the snow.
In his left hand was his own radio. Watching, WHITEOUT could see him intermittently pressing the pressal switch.
Bingo.
Decker had known that this was a trap and this had just confirmed it.
Moving in silently he had him.
Closing with his weapon trained directly on his back, if Ivan moved an inch he would get a quick burst in his torso.
Decker had the M4 butt in his shoulder, now pulling it in tightly anticipating the recoil when he pulled the trigger, with his index finger pressed against the trigger mechanism.
Wrapping his left hand around the front hand guard he was now poised for action. There was no need to look through the sights he was too close.
What was about to happen next was clear-cut. He’d just rehearsed it in his mind, played it out and was about to rewind and press play for real.
Squeezing the trigger four times in quick succession Decker double tapped Ivan’s lower limbs adding to the trauma of the bullet that had already struck his leg.
Letting out a scream and immediately dropping his weapon Ivan naturally spun over. He obviously knew enough to know that there was no point in spinning round with a weapon still in his possession, that would be instant execution.
Still grimacing and naturally trying to grab his lower legs he faced up to Decker towering over him.
Snarling and spitting whilst gritting his teeth he looked up.
‘Just do it Harry, I’m not a terrorist. One soldier to another just end this fast,’ Ivan asked trying not to wince or show any pain, though it was obvious four gunshot wounds to the lower legs was unbearable.
Looking down at Ivan’s shredded legs covered in blood he shook his head.
‘I knew they were coming and I knew it would end like this Ivan, you should have got a pick-up. Why didn’t you?’ Ivan groaned in pain. ‘What were your orders, how far away is the quick reaction force from us now? Decker continued asking.
Ivan had respect for Decker and in a bizarre way actually felt embarrassed that he had taunted him earlier. He actually admired the British SAS.
‘Yes they are coming, I sent the code word for contact and they will be here in 60 minutes, you don’t have long,’ Ivan warned.
‘What else, who the fuck exactly are these people? Are there more of them to come for me? Decker asked impatiently.
‘We don’t know but please end this when I tell you that my last intelligence update was that they were now here to take you alive, that’s why we needed all of you so badly. I was told to capture Gerry too as the intercepts established he is high up in The Clinic. “Just kill the rest” were our orders.’
Decker looked hard at Ivan to try and gauge the sincerity and truth in his last comment. He made the snap decision it was genuine, well he hoped it was but would still tread carefully.
‘Gerry?’ Decker said, quickly thinking back to the guy at the truck who had been shot in the shoulder.
Ivan broke his train of thought ‘Do you really not know what it is you know?
‘I’m not a defector, but I know the guys trying to kill me know that I’ve uncovered their existence.’
‘So you trust they want you alive,’ Ivan struggled to get the words out, grimacing in pain, spitting blood across the ice.
‘You said that’s what your guys intercepted? So yes, fuck it, I will roll the dice Ivan.’
‘Don’t trust these people Harry. Now please end this humiliation,’ Ivan was begging him to execute him.
‘This wasn’t your problem and you don’t deserve to die, so hang on and one day tell your kids you met the explorer Harry Decker.’
‘A pleasure asshole,’ Ivan managed a small laugh.
Decker picked up Ivan’s weapon. ‘Stay here and don’t be a hero, you will make it.’
Ivan didn’t reply, he was concentrating too much on breathing as Decker started walking away.
Hearing a man’s voice shouting, ‘Harry are you okay, Harry it’s Gerry show yourself.’ Convinced Gerry and Sean were not going to kill him he jumped up on an ice mantle to see the men both standing 60 or so metres away next to the trucks.
Decker shouted whilst waving his weapon.
‘I’m fine they’re all dead, just checking.’
‘Okay let’s get out of here,’ Gerry yelled back.
Simply waving his left hand notified Gerry that he understood.
Looking back down at Ivan before heading back something caught his eye about 40 metres to the East.
It was a movement but all he could see was the other dead Russian, the one Sean had killed with the sniper rifle.
Maybe it was his imagination and slight paranoia at this stage of the game. Brushing it aside he started to move off then as he passed a snow mound he spotted Mick.
‘That fucking piece of shit that started it all,’ Decker said, his blood instantly boiling. He had forgotten about him in the hail of bullets.
Darting over to take a quick look to see if Gerry and Sean were looking. They weren’t.
Twenty seconds later Mick received a kick straight into the face. So hard it actually hurt Decker’s foot. Still bound tightly and mouth taped, Mick had no retort or verbal scream to alert the others.
Dazed with blood pissing from his nose Decker was straight on to his torso with his hands around his neck. Leaving his mouth taped he started demanding answers.
‘Who are you lot? Why are you trying to kill me, who do you work for? Motioning silence with his finger to his lips Decker continued, ‘You raise your voice I will execute you’. Ripping back the bloodstained tape slightly, Decker lowered his head to listen.
‘Start speaking fast, I want the whole story, do you work for the government? If not, who, and what was your mission?’
Almost unconscious, Mick spat out a load of thick blood with chips of his teeth mixed in from his beatings. Forcing his eyes to focus in on Decker he gasped a few times then started to whisper.
‘Fuck you.’
‘Really, are we really playing tough guy today?’ Decker gripped both of his hands around Mick’s jacket collar and pulled him in closer and almost spitting blood on his face Mick continued to whisper.
‘You’re fucked like me, these Russians will get you soon.’ Mick like Decker seemed to be predicting they were closing in soon. Noting this Decker changed his tack trying a more empathetic angle.
‘Look buddy, you know I’m the innocent party here, you all know it. I think you have been crossed on this job, whoever’s contract this is they have fucked you too. You sound South African, yes?’
‘Yeah.’
‘South African contractors on a British Government contract? Really? I think that this was always a one-way ticket for you lot mate.’
Mick was silent. Obviously processing his words, Decker continued.
‘So come on asshole, you know the rules of this game what’s the score? You’ve failed, you’ve been deceived and it’s not looking good for you when I leave you here for the Russians to clear up.’
Mick obviously knew he was in a desperate position and was trying to contemplate whether or not they’d been crossed by Sully.
‘You killed my best friend.’
‘The British government killed your best friend, not me. I’m like you remember, but just a tad smarter it seems looking at this current dilemma.’
Mick closed his eyes, Decker knew that one had hit home. No one likes to come off worst when you’re attempting to assassinate someone.
‘We’re on a contract,’ Mick spat out more blood.
‘What contract?’
‘To capture you, get answers off you then kill you.’
‘Who for?’
‘I don’t know their names.’
Decker knew he was lying but carried on. ‘What questions did you need to ask me?’
‘We were never told. When we caught you we were to phone in, the Boss would ask you the questions. When you were finished we would kill you. That’s all we were told, you know how it works.’ Mick managed a slight grin.
Decker took a quick look back towards the trucks and could see someone walking in this direction. Still not knowing what to do with Mick he started to rush.
‘What’s this outfit called, who are they?’ Hoping he would get The Clinic as a response to confirm Ivan’s story.
‘He never said, none of them did, but it’s something new, it’s big I know that as my team leader was excited to be working with them.’
‘What did they say about me?’
‘You could compromise the latest covert psychological manipulation programme or something, I was only told this after you killed Robby, we never asked questions before this.’
Decker knew his self-appreciation society moment could wait as this confirmed his theory.
‘Why did he give you this information after I killed your mate?’
‘It was only me left close to you and I was going to sack this job off and walk out of here. He said I was in for sure if I pulled it off.’
‘The Russians, when did they get here?’
‘No idea. I was looking for you, I thought I shot you about 10 times, but turns out it was them out of the fog, then minutes later they started
shooting at you.’
‘What have you heard them talk about?’
‘Nothing, they thought I was you and it’s all been in Russian dialect.’
‘Did you know who I am?’
‘What?’ Mick says.
‘Did you know I was a former SAS Sergeant, a soldier just trying to make a life for myself again after this lot destroyed it?’
‘Yes, we knew you were a retired professional but didn’t know the background to this.’
‘Retired?’ Decker was enraged, ‘You can take the man out the SAS but you’ll never take the SAS out of the man. Was this what you fucking amateurs expected hey? A quick jaunt to Antarctica, capture me, ask some questions then fuck off home with my dead body frozen here?’
Mick never answered as he sensed the situation was changing rapidly.
‘Well this contract killing world is simple when you pick the right targets, this time they got it wrong mate. Wife? Kids?’
‘Yes both.’
‘You can tell that to the Russians if they pick you up before you freeze to death.’
With that Decker stood up, turned his rifle around and butt stroked Mick as hard as he could. Mick looked unconscious, maybe even dead, Decker couldn’t care less.
Knowing he has already been searched he left him and moved over to the dead Russian to search him. He was interrupted by one of the guys screaming at him from the trucks, he quickly checked over the Russian’s military rucksack.
‘Harry, we have got to go it’s the chopper, it’s the Russians coming for pick-up, move it.’
This wasn’t ideal.
Damn I need my Moleskines. He rapidly shook the contents out, knowing that they were in there somewhere with the kit but there just wasn’t enough time to go through everything.
Cutting his losses he started to head back to the trucks with his weapon trained in his shoulder but stopped after a few metres, turned and walked back.
It wasn’t just for the Moleskine diaries.
It was unfinished business.
A professional knew that loose ends always bit you in the ass, he looked down at Mick’s body. Not sure whether he was dead and not bothering to check, he drove the butt of his M4 rifle hard into Mick’s temple three or four times confirming he was dead.