The Clinic

by Ray Carole

  Not a whimper came from Mick as the right side of his head was caved in with visible brain matter and skull fragments on show confirming the job was done.

  A few moments to compose the few seconds of rage was shaken off with ease as Decker turned once more and headed to the trucks.

  As he approached Andrew was being placed into the back of the truck, in fact on closer inspection Decker realised it was the trailer, shit he must be dead.

  The rush of anger he’d just shaken off engulfed him again as he started to run over.

  Dropping Andrew’s legs, the man he recognised from before quickly pulled his pistol out at exactly the same time Decker raised his M4 in his face. Arms almost crossed, each of them had a weapon a foot away from each other’s faces. Both men’s fingers had already taken up the first trigger pressure.

  ‘Gerry?’ Decker stated. Finally remembering his name.

  ‘Listen Harry listen. We don’t have any time left. This is happening. This is real. I will explain when we get on the plane.’

  He was clearly out of breath trying to get it all out in one blurb, obviously aware that Decker could pull the trigger at any time.

  Breathing heavily and not taking his eyes off Gerry, Decker again recalled Gerry’s face and knew somehow he had to trust him.

  ‘Bosnia, 2000, Ustinov was our target,’ he thought again.

  ‘Harry we have to go, if I have to put this down I will,’ Gerry indicating with his eyes that he meant the pistol.

  Decker nodded and watched as Gerry lowered his pistol.

  Decker remained on aim.

  Throughout this exchange he clocked Sean motionless in the trailer.

  ‘Out the fucking truck you and get your hands up,’ Decker ordered Sean who obliged instantly but slowly.

  Rotor blades were getting louder, probably 15km or so away now, the reaction force were closing in fast.

  As Sean moved out of the van Gerry without moving his feet quickly swung his pistol up on aim to his right and without hesitation delivered a swift double tap to Sean’s head, then dropped the pistol again immediately.

  Even Gerry was shocked by his accuracy with his left hand, knowing a miss could’ve got himself killed.

  Decker raised his eyebrow. Mildly surprised. ‘That little move could have cost you your life.’

  ‘That’s the last one, the last member of your assassination team code name Icarus. Get in the truck and follow me to the airstrip. Once we drive straight onto the aircraft Ilyushin I will brief you up fully. Ilyushin crews that you met before have all been bribed so there is nothing to worry about.

  ‘Our evasion corridor back to the UK starts now. We have about five minutes to clear the area. By the time the Russians land and figure things out we will be too close to the South Pole station and US/UK territory for them to enter the air space. For them it’s a clean-up operation to deny anything happened back there, you know how this works,’ Gerry finished.

  Decker had many questions but again focused on the rotor blades was reminded that now was not the time to be asking them.

  Looking down at Sean’s dead body Gerry looked at him again.

  ‘Come on, it’s time we got the fuck out of here. Even I’m starting to get confused about this whole thing.’

  Instinct. Always rely on instinct Decker thought again as he held his weapon ready to execute Gerry.

  Looking at Gerry’s eyes he noticed a genuine look of confusion but not panic. It was a face that could be trusted and a face that had just driven into a suicidal ambush to get him.

  Decker stared hard at him wondering what he saw back, before nodding, ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter 40

  Decker clasped his hands around Sean’s dead body, placing his arms underneath his armpits, linking his fingers together behind his back made him wince, the first time the pain from the cut that Andrew had unwillingly inflicted on him suddenly registered. Exploding from the kneeling position he managed to throw the body halfway into the trailer, Gerry wincing at his injured shoulder made a token effort to push Sean’s legs in the trailer. Decker jumped into the back dragging Sean back over the growing mountain of dead bodies. Luckily they had not started to stink of death yet, though they felt stiff and deformed as he laid Sean to rest on top.

  He hoped this was the last body to join the trailer of death and it wouldn’t be his to top it off.

  Surely this can’t be another double cross? Decker thought, I know this guy’s face, MI6 Bosnia, 2000. My ordeal is over, isn’t it, surely? I’ve learnt to trust people on instinct and raw gut feelings, can I really trust again after all this?

  Gerry broke through his silence. ‘Harry we have to move, their waiting for us to execute extraction. They will be on us soon. I’ll take the front truck, you follow we will stop once we see the South Pole station so we can quickly talk. I don’t want to use the radios or phone because of Russian intrusion. I am sure you have questions but let’s get the fuck out of here now, the flight home is the time for that.’

  Decker could tell that Gerry didn’t want to appear too forceful, he’d now proved on many occasions that he wasn’t a man who needed prompting, antagonising or certainly manipulating.

  ‘Yeah sure, I was having a moment trying to figure this whole fucked-up situation out and you’re right, we will talk before and whilst on the plane Gerry, is that clear?’ Decker changed his tone so Gerry would take that as an order almost, backed up by the fact he still had the M4 in his right hand as he jumped out of the trailer, Gerry knew the trailer had enough room for his dead corpse if he pissed him off.

  ‘What’s the plan if a Russian attack helicopter starts shooting the shit out of us?’ Decker enquired knowing full well what the actions on would be.

  ‘There’s only one answer to that Harry,’ Gerry held his gaze back. Decker nodded his head once, ‘Yeah I thought so.’

  Leaving it at that Gerry then walked to the front truck and jumped in, clearly and quickly started scrolling through the GPS menu until it displayed the data field for waypoints.

  Decker having located the automatic option on the Arctic truck gear selector followed Gerry already thinking about whether the next curve ball on this journey would be a Hip attack Russian helicopter on their bumpers. He actually imagined it firing a Hellfire missile, locking on to his truck as he observed the vapour trail dancing about in the side mirror before obliterating them. He prayed this would just stay a disturbing thought and not be reality in the next five minutes.

  They were speeding over the ice now, looking at the backdrop he had called home over the last month he started to worry, How the hell are we going to get these bodies out? I mean if they have bribed the Ilyushin crew that’s fine, but Punta Arenas? What after that? ‘STOP IT, FUCKING STOP IT MAN!’ Decker shouted at himself, focusing back on the ice field ahead before another rant at himself.

  ‘It’s done just believe this guy. No more questions, what else could test me today? Nothing. Just follow Gerry and keep your eyes peeled to the rear.’

  Though Decker desperately wanted all the answers now he knew he wouldn’t get them until he was probably in a sanitised debriefing area. Locked in a room, video cameras rolling, tape recorders turning in front of a large mirror on the wall that hid the main man, who would be directing the line of questioning. No doubt they would produce evidence of him murdering an innocent expeditionist in cold blood, with a load of other prefabricated bullshit to hang him on, if he got anti and didn’t want to play the game The Clinic were proposing.

  That wouldn’t happen.

  Absolutely impossible, he thought, he was a killer, a calculated tactician. If The Clinic was aligned to what he had imagined, or been mistakenly made privy to, it was a win-win.

  Even in such a short space of time Decker was already debriefing his own performance during these last few day
s.

  Beyond this he started to actually make an objective assessment as to whether the pain of the last few years caused by The Clinic was justified. This ridiculous thinking snapped him back into the present. He thought about how they had destroyed his life, his career and almost made him kill himself once more.

  Decker knew he was starting to weigh up the suffering with a reward that he still didn’t truly understand and wasn’t comprehensible at the moment.

  Only the future would justify forgiveness he thought.

  He was yet to forgive anyone.

  Bitterness and anger were his primary driving forces, forgiveness was the sort of thinking that dampened and numbed the intensity of these feelings he thrived on.

  No forgiveness.

  Ever.

  Checking his mirror again all Decker could see was the grey contrast of the skies meeting the white sastrugi surface of the ice, as the truck bounced across the Antarctic wastelands.

  ‘That mirror is the past, the truck in front of me is the present, what happens when we get on that plane is the future’ Decker murmured to himself, checking the sky for the Russians again.

  In the distance there were some weird shapes silhouetting the horizon.

  The South Pole station was in their midst finally.

  It was the polar opposite of how he’d imagined his approach to the Pole to be but his relief and curiosity were the same.

  Andrew had told him that the South Pole station looked like a number of alien spacecraft from a distance, especially later on in the day when the terrain took on a tint of yellow that actually resembled the moon’s surface.

  He’d had always thought his last hour of skiing each day was like being on the moon, alone with the combination of his goggles and the sun’s glare at that time of the day… even those memories seemed a lifetime ago now.

  Everything seemed to be clicking now.

  He breathed out a small sigh of relief knowing that the Russians wouldn’t come near this place, they were scared shitless of the Americans. Plus the Americans, being American, would interpret it as an act of war and all chaos would break loose.

  Only ten miles away he thought. Andrew had also said that it always seemed to take forever to close in as the buildings were huge and depth perception could drive you crazy. Shit Andrew, he thought sadly. All of that life and optimism now lying defunct in the back of his truck. He’d been caught in the crossfire and Decker wouldn’t forgive anyone for that. He gritted his teeth again. Clutched the steering wheel harder and focused on the drive.

  They were closing fast at 40 miles per hour across a relatively flat plateau.

  Gerry knew they were on the clock and the Ilyushin crew would be on edge. Even though they dropped off some logistics and were scheduled publicly to pick the Trans-Ant Team up they would be nervous.

  If all went as Gerry imagined they would simply drive up the tailgate of the huge Ilyushin and stop, the loadmaster would ratchet the wheels and chassis of the trucks to the deck, secure them, then get ready to taxi off down the runway.

  Sully had come into the equation with the Ilyushin crew. He would have coordinated the extraction for the team. Gerry was just assuming that Sully would have informed the crew to leave the trucks alone, do their job and just shut the fuck up.

  What Sully had planned for all the bodies and trucks in Punta Arenas was another story. Gerry knew it wasn’t worth pondering on this part of the plan. That was Sully’s bag and no doubt Roman would tell Gerry what was happening when he spoke to him shortly. Gerry hit the brakes and went static and waited for Decker to pull up alongside him which he duly did.

  Winding his window down Gerry started to explain to him what he thought they were about to drive into.

  Having already been dropped off here Gerry knew the layout of the station and knew that Ilyushin would be held as far away from the complex as possible.

  This wasn’t an international airport with high fences, CCTV cameras, wandering guards with attack dogs, but even so, given the cargo heaped in the back of the truck they were driving, Decker could potentially cause a massive stink and blow Sully’s whole operation wide open. Unable to gauge anything from Decker’s trained noncommittal expression, he carried on in the vain hope that Decker was smart enough for them all.

  ‘Harry, we’re nearly there as you can see,’ Gerry pointed to the weird structures on the horizon.

  ‘From here it’s the far right corner; I reckon the Ilyushin will be parked at the bottom near the refuel bunker. It fills up at literally the last minute as the reserve fuel gets pumped into the wings. They do this last minute to prevent stressing out the wings.’

  Gerry had had to filter some incredibly useless information over the years, but had cultivated this bit of trash conversation into an important factor in their extraction from an extraordinarily beautiful worker at Punta Arenas airport.

  ‘They always fuelled last-minute to have a clear weather break of an hour before they ever commit to a take off. That’s why we get here only to be turned away when the weather window is predicted to change within an hour, to ninety minutes,’ she told him.

  Gerry continued: ‘I suspect the tailgate will be down as they’ll be waiting for us. I imagine it will just be us on the flight. The crews are all on the take so don’t worry about them. Stay in the truck when we get on. I will speak to the pilot Roman and get a quick brief, as I still don’t know if we’re flying to Punta. This strategic airlifter has an in-flight refuel capability and as it only needs 450 metres of runway to land with its thrust reversal system we could be landing anywhere,’ Gerry pre-empted Decker’s next question as to where they were landing.

  ‘Harry I will tell the Captain, Roman, that the guys are staying in the trucks. He knows we’re dodgy so it won’t bother him, but I don’t want to raise any suspicions about why the guys aren’t getting out of the trucks.’

  ‘Okay I will stay put, but what if something isn’t right?’

  ‘If there is no clear signal as to what’s happening I will call Sully. Even though we risk interception I am sure he will somehow encode to me what’s happening.’

  ‘Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication hey Gerry?’ Decker’s face smirked at him.

  Gerry shrugged his shoulders instinctively which triggered a shock wave of severe pain through his body. He sucked in his cheeks at the pain.

  Decker didn’t show any physical compassion as he surveyed Gerry’s blood stained jacket and asked: ‘Is it okay?’

  Unsure of Decker’s intentions Gerry grimaced, looked at his bloodied left hand before deciding to return the smirk with a wink.

  ‘Nothing changes Harry.’ For the first time Gerry actually laughed out loud recognising the fact that the ordeal was almost over in the field and his desk was beckoning.

  ‘Right keep tight. If I start acting edgy or anyone tries anything with us and it’s not in the script, we go hell for leather with what we have and if that means Roman flying that fucking freedom bird with a gun barrel in his mouth on take-off, so be it. Understand?’ Gerry waited for a response.

  Without a flinch, nod or reply back Decker did up his electric window and stared straight ahead.

  ‘Ok then,’ Gerry muttered and clicked the vehicle into drive again.

  Pulling away Gerry was relieved the visibility was good. It was time for the extraction, the final phase of OP IGNITION. At least five miles’ visibility with a high cloud base boded well for the planned take-off.

  Ideally they wanted as little interaction as possible with the Station staff, any delay would put everyone on tenterhooks, especially Roman. Not a seasoned pro or an expert liar, let alone a brutal killer Roman just wanted to get home and finish his part of the bargain and retire.

  Ilyushin was on the pan with the external generator keeping all the plane’s operating systems
on standby. Gerry knew Roman would be eagerly awaiting the sight of two Arctic trucks breaching the runway’s perimeter and heading straight to the plane.

  From Gerry’s relentless research he even knew that as soon as the crew saw them come hurtling through the wire that the fuel truck could start pumping the wings full of reserve jet fuel.

  Decker sat behind the wheel of his truck and sighed, listening to Gerry’s ramshackle plan was just the usual seat of the pants, back of the fag packet planning he was used to from back in the day. It hadn’t fazed him at all, if anything it had humoured him. An hour ago he had just been told he was back in the game unofficially or officially. Now he was getting a really shit brief from Gerry who clearly had no fucking idea what was going on.

  ‘I’ve missed this shit,’ Decker sighed again under his breath.

  Looking to the eleven o’clock position Decker could see the main Station building. A three-storey monstrosity that had been a mere speck in the distance some twenty minutes ago suddenly seemed uncomfortably close now. It was casting a huge shadow across the complex. He clenched the steering wheel in annoyance, this should have been his moment, on skis alone powering towards the South Pole, marked by the ceremonial globe surrounded by the Antarctic treaty countries’ flags.

  He looked for the dome building, intriguing onlookers for years, his mind was littered with all the rumours of secret bunker systems, sensitive military research programmes and NASA projects that had been publicised in the past, adding to the conspiracy theories about this isolated community.

  Short tours of the main station building seemed to fill the conspiracy theorists’ appetite, many claiming it to be the Antarctic version of AREA 51.

  He smiled, screw the conspiracy theories for once, the South Pole station was probably nothing more than the building for where a load of wankers studied ice formations, global warming and other irrelevant shit that cost millions of pounds to fund.

  Driving past the complex to a kilometre away he looked for signs of life. It seemed dead, but he assumed they were all inside looking through microscopes.