Silence descended once again.
“Okay, if there’s nothing else, we move out,” Ryder said finally, the scale and danger of what they were contemplating weighing heavily on his conscious.
They gathered up gear, left the gully and headed through the dense forest towards the mountain.
24
“Captain – sonar. Contact, designate Sierra Two. Submerged. Faint. Stand by.”
“Captain, aye,” replied Michael Curtis, commander of HMS Ambush from his seat in the centre of the control room. Then, a little impatiently, “Range and bearing. Resolve ambiguity.”
“Captain – sonar. Sierra Two, bearing two-nine-two, direct path. Range fifty miles. Losing contact.”
“Captain, aye.” He then swore under his breath before turning to the helmsman. “Make your course two-nine-two. Speed full ahead. Depth 300.”
“Aye, sir.”
HMS Ambush immediately veered to the left towards the Brazilian coastline.
“Captain – sonar. Contact lost. Translation negative.”
“Captain, roger.”
Curtis could hardly conceal his disappointment. The first hostile contact after a week of patrolling and they had to lose it just like the one off the coast of South Africa before heading to the Falklands.
“Could be Russian; no allied subs supposedly in this area. If it is, beats me how the hell it even got this far,” said the XO, standing next to the captain. “At that range, she’s very close in; we’d be lucky to get a positive in all that coastal noise.”
“We’ll give it a try anyway,” said Curtis, somewhat sharply. “We might get lucky if we move in close and go active.”
“We’ll be vulnerable.”
“So be it. If that’s one of the Russians we’re looking for – and I’m betting it is – we have to take the risk. I have confidence in the ACs.” Curtis was referring to the submarine’s UPA-4 acoustic countermeasure system to deflect incoming torpedoes.
“We are now at the northern extreme of the patrol area,” said Talbot. “We might just be chasing a shadow.”
“Remember the orders, Bob: we are at liberty to search at our discretion and that is exactly what we’re going to do.”
25
An early afternoon breeze rippled through the narrow valley. The clear blue sky allowed the sun’s rays to dance across the dense foliage that lined the steep slopes of the lower mountain. Frank Ryder and his team were now on the second day of searching for a way into the mountain, which rose massively before them, almost filling the whole horizon to their left. Nothing so far encountered had even remotely suggested an entry and they had all but given up hope of ever finding one. Food was running short and morale was low after several days in this foreign and dangerous environment. None of them wanted to enter the underground facility through the main entrance, but as each hour passed this option was looking more and more likely. Ryder worried about the captain; she had become moody and a little withdrawn since the lab was found and he wondered if the strain and privations of the operation were really beginning to tell. It was now that she needed every ounce of strength to successfully complete the task ahead; once inside, hers was the most dangerous and unforgiving. One mistake inside a Level 4 and it would be all over for her. He had totally changed his mind about this woman. She was courageous and uncomplaining. He wanted to comfort her somehow, give assurances that everything would be okay and that he would get her back to safety.
In a broad open patch of ground, a short distance ahead, Bom noticed a sudden movement amongst the tufted grass. He signalled the group to halt, pointed to the spot, then raised his silenced pistol – a hare was about to be placed in the larder. However, before he could pull the trigger, a big hawk swooped down from out of nowhere, talons bared, grabbed the hare and flew off into the trees a short way up the mountainside.
“Holy shit, look at that!” blurted Bom in amazement.
“Too slow, soldier, just too slow,” Song grinned.
“Fancy being beaten by a bird,” Chol joined in, grinning too.
“Hey, Greg, don’t tell us you’re losing it,” added Song, chuckling.
Bom shrugged off the jibes.
“Cut it!” shot Ryder, suddenly. “Down!”
All fell instantly, seeking cover wherever they could amongst the shrubs.
Ryder pointed to the other side of the clearing as a file of heavily armed soldiers emerged from the trees and headed straight towards them.
“Patrol. No dogs,” hissed Song.
“Thank God for small mercies.” Frank looked over at Grace, who appeared in pain holding her buttocks.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“We have to move, now!” Ryder snapped, glancing desperately above him, and moments later, “Head up to where that bird flew. Let’s go! Let’s go!”
One by one they followed Ryder, keeping low, under the cover of the dense bush. They climbed the rapidly rising forest floor, hidden from view by the foliage and scattered rocky outcrops.
Grace struggled to keep up with the urgent pace and had to be helped by Song in the rear. It was obvious she had a problem with her side.
Soon they reached a rocky ledge above where the bird had flown. Here, breathless and in thick scrub, they rested. Between the trunks of the tall trees lining the slope, they could just make out the line of men now crossing the clearing below.
Suddenly the line stopped. The lead man raised his binoculars and looked straight up to where the group hid.
All, except Ryder, ducked below the ledge line. He remained still, focused on the line from behind the thickest bush; he wanted to know if, and when, they made their move.
“They seen us?” whispered Chol.
The others prepared for attack.
The hawk flew out from somewhere just below them, startling the group, adding to the adrenaline rush and diverting attention momentarily as it flew upwards through the canopy of leaves.
“If they radio out, we’re in deep shit,” said Bom.
Without looking away from the man with the binoculars, Ryder quietly ordered Chol and Bom to give cover at the far end of the ledge. “Dan, you take the other. Grace, stay with me.”
“This could be fucking tough,” Bom whispered.
Ryder nodded. “Tougher down there if you’d shot that hare. That bird did us a favour.”
The ledge was not the best of defensive positions. If the worst happened, he hoped each would save the last bullet for themselves.
The three men split and crawled away to take up defensive positions at each end of the forty-foot long ledge.
Ryder watched and waited as the lead soldier swept the binoculars back and forth along the ledge. Then, to his surprise, the man dropped binoculars to his chest, turned and moved on, followed by the rest. The tension drained away. “They’re moving out.”
The others joined him, visibly relieved.
“What the fuck interested him up here, if not us?” questioned Bom.
“Maybe a birdwatcher!” Song joked.
The rest chuckled, easing the tension even more.
“Okay, it’s over. We move shortly,” Ryder said, then looked at the captain. “What’s wrong, Grace?”
“I’m okay, just a bit sore that’s all.”
“Sore?”
“It’s nothing, I’ll manage.”
“Where? I’ll take a look.”
She threw Ryder a look that said: “Back off.”
“I said I’ll manage.”
But Ryder was not prepared to back off. “Dan had to help you make it up here. Now, if you’re in some sort of pain we need to check it out; otherwise, lady, you won’t be going into that mountain. And that will be an order.”
She gave in and reluctantly removed her backpack and then undid her trouser belt before turning over and lying on her stomach.