We moved downhill until we came to the junction and the path that led to the hay field It crossed my mind that perhaps, for maximum security, we should continue to push our way through the trees, rather than use the track. But then I thought, To hell with it. There's nobody about. Let's just get there.
By 6:50 we were on the edge of the field, which glowed brilliant white in the moonlight.
"They'll see this, all right, when they jump," I whispered.
Sasha nodded. I saw him swallow, and sensed that he was just as hepped up as I was.
"I've told them this is the forming-up point, by the old wagon," I said quietly.
"You stay here, just in case anyone's been following us up. Keep back against that tree-trunk, in the shadow. As soon as I've collected everyone I'll bring them over.
OK?"
"Da, da." Sasha nodded vigorously, then said, "Good luck!"
I punched him on the arm and moved away, skirting the edge of the field to keep in shadow. At 6:55 I stopped to wait, halfway up the long side, and stared to the south-east, way out among those millions of stars. I knew the Here would be coming on the same path we'd used, flying at 28,000 feet. I also knew that I'd never see it or even hear it. All the same, I couldn't help searching for it in that phenomenal sky. I imagined the tailgate descending, the red warning lights, the guys lined up, three abreast, packed tightly together and laden with all their gear, toddling towards the lip at the back of the cabin floor with good old Pat Newman overseeing.
A minute to go. Maybe the plane was late. No the S-F air crews could hack it to the second. In that case, the Here must be almost overhead.
I walked out a few metres into the field and stood in the open, feeling very exposed. Twenty seconds to run… ten… five, four, three, two, one. P Hour.
Now where were they?
I found I was holding my breath, and had to make a conscious effort to relax. Were the lads on their way? It was almost impossible to believe that twenty bodies were hurtling down towards me at terminal velocity, a thousand feet every five seconds. Twenty-four thousand feet in two minutes. Then the chutes would deploy at 4,000 feet.
I counted the seconds, staring upwards, with the Firefly in my right hand. Then at last I heard the magic sound I'd been waiting for: the sudden, rattling, snapping flutter of a chute breaking out.
It came from high in front of me, and was quickly followed by another, and another, four, five.. then several all at once.
Holding the Firefly above my head, I punched the rubber button on the base and saw a brilliant flash bounce off the snow.
In the enormous silence of the mountains the thin electronic whine of the unit building up to its next discharge sounded like a jet engine. Flash went the light again and then suddenly in my earpiece there was Pat Newman's voice saying, "OK, Geordie, I've got you. Close it down. I'm coming in."
A moment later I saw the angular black shapes of the parachutes gliding across the stars like a formation of giant bats.
In the last few seconds I heard the rush of air spilling from the canopies: then suddenly men in pairs were touching down all round me.
Brilliant! I thought but at that instant, away to my left, a dog began to bark hysterically. The noise was coming from inside the trees, just beyond the old hay cart. Ijabbed my press el switch twice and listened for Sasha to come up on the air.
Nothing.
I jabbed again. The dog was still barking. One of the incoming figures had disengaged from its partner and was coming towards me. I recognised Pat from his rolling walk.
"Get in! Get in!" I hissed.
"That bloody dog."
Even as I was talking the barking ceased.
The lads didn't need telling. Pat had briefed them already, and in any case their instincts and training made them head straight for the dark edge of the pines, dragging their chutes behind them.
In the shadows, Pat had a quick head count.
"We're OK," he said.
"We're on. What's the crack?"
"Not sure. See that old wagon on the edge of the field? I left Sasha there. That's our forming-up area. It sounded as though he had a contact. Wait one."
Two more jabs on the press el Still no answer. All round me there was a general scrabbling and scrunching as people rolled up their chutes, and a rattle of working parts as they readied their weapons.
"Whatever's happened, we've got to go that way," I told Pat.
"OK," he said quickly.
"Us two'll move up and check it out." In the lead, I advanced with my 203 at the ready, every sense on full alert, with Pat ten metres behind me. Our boots, cushioned by the snow, were making no sound, but I knew we'd show up as black silhouettes every time we passed an open area.
At the corner of the field I stopped to scan with the kite-sight.
Nothing moved, and I'd just started again when my earpiece hissed twice.
"Sasha?"
"Where are you?"
"Same place."
"What happened?"
"One man came after."
"Where's he gone?"
"I keen him."
"What about the dog?"
"I keen dog also."
"OK. We're closing on you now.
"Prinyato."
"The guys can come up," I told Pat.
"There's a cache here for the chutes.
While the rest of the lads came up I moved on, and was right beside Sasha before I saw him, standing against the trunk of a big pine. The snow on the track beside him was spattered with black-looking stains, which I realised must be blood.
"You OK?"
"Sure."
"What happened?"
"I am waiting here. The man comes past. I shoot him with knife gun.
"Where's the body?"
"Here." Sasha pointed behind him at a dark heap beside the tree.
"And the dog?"
"Same place. Knife also."
"Was it that German Shepherd that came along the perimeter wire last night?"
"I think."
I turned to Pat and said, "No point in trying to hide the bodies.
We need to get in and out fast before anyone comes looking. But there's a well here we can dump the chutes in."
"OK," said Pat.
"Let's go."
We bundled the chutes down the old water tank, threw snow over the cover and hustled on.
I went as fast as I dared, trying to combine speed of advance with maximum alertness. The snow helped by deadening our footsteps, but all the way I was thinking that the surface of the field behind us must look as though a football match had taken place.
We came to the wire at the point where Sasha and I had lain to observe the baffler.
"This is it," I told Pat.
"Once we're over, we'll be on target in less than a minute."
"We need to tell base we're on our objective," he whispered.
"They'll get the Chinooks airborne right away."
"OK."
I waited as he quickly set up his Satcom and reported his position.
How long would it have taken for the sentry to make a normal circuit of the fence? How soon would his failure to return be noticed? We had a few minutes yet.
With the set back in Pat's bergen, we went up to climb the wire. Over the fence and hidden in the trees again, we held a quick 0-group.
"Now that the device has gone," Pat began, 'that's knocked out one of our objectives. The summerhouse is no longer relevant. Forget that.
"I've designated three parties. Party A to block the road, Party B to assault the villa, Party C to watch the helipad and prevent any take-off "Our objective is to rescue the hostages. But no one else gets out of that building alive. OK?"
He got a few grunts for answer, and went on, "I've briefed the parties already, Geordie. But for your benefit, Party C consists of two men these two." He pointed, but in the dark I couldn't recognise faces.
"Party A, the road, is these three. Two gym pis and a sixty-six. That leaves fifteen, counting Sasha. I want to leave two back somewhere to act as sniper-observers. That makes thirteen for the house assault..