Crisis Four Read online

  I’d got away with it, but it was annoying that it had happened, because two people might now be able to identify me. It didn’t mean anything at the moment, but if there was a drama at a later date they might remember the encounter. It could have been worse: at least he wasn’t a nature fan himself.

  It was nine twenty-seven and it had taken two hours and getting my trousers wet up to my arse crossing the creek, but I’d eventually got to within maybe sixty metres of the target. I was right on the lake shore, which was the only way I’d been able to get a decent view of the house because the ground was so undulating. The terrain was different here; the National Parks people hadn’t cleared a swathe, and the treeline extended almost to the water’s edge.

  Some lights were still on on the first floor, but the curtains were drawn and I couldn’t see any movement. It was a question now of finding a position that would give me cover, but with a good aperture with which to view the target. That could only be achieved by carrying out a 360-degree recce of the area around the house.

  I took my time, picking my feet up carefully to avoid making noise by hitting any rocks, stones or fallen branches, then slowly placing the edge of my boot down on the ground first, followed by the rest of the sole. The technique puts quite a strain on your legs, but it’s the only way to have any sort of control over the noise you make.

  When I reached the water’s edge, I stopped after about ten metres and listened, pointing my ear towards the target and slightly opening my mouth to overcome any body-cavity noises, such as jaw movement. I couldn’t hear anything apart from the lake lapping against the shore; certainly nothing from the target house. I had a look at where I wanted to go on my next bound, and started picking my way carefully over the rocks. There were still lights on in the other house as well, but I couldn’t make out much detail because it was too far away. At least the rain was holding off.

  I did my next move and got to within about forty metres of the house. I realized that, because the ground was up and down like a yo-yo, it was going to be very difficult to be stood off from the target and watch from any distance. Yet if I went right up on the higher ground behind, all I’d see was the roof. I couldn’t site the OP (observation point) between the houses. Kids are very inquisitive and by mid-day tomorrow they’d probably be in the OP with me, sharing my Mars bars and pizza. My options were so limited that there was no point doing a 360; it wouldn’t achieve anything.

  I went back down to the shore, took off the bergen and left it by a big overhanging tree. That way, even if there was a major drama, I knew I’d find it again; all I’d have to do was run down to the lake, keeping to this side of the house, turn right and I couldn’t miss it. What was more, the lighter and less bulky I was, the less noise I made while I found a good hide position. For all I knew at this stage, although I hadn’t seen or heard anything, there could be dogs, or even worse, geese – they’re food for virtually everything that moves, so they spark up at the slightest noise; the ancient Egyptians used them as an alarm system. I learned this from living in my new house in Norfolk because the guy who lived nearest me kept geese, and the fucking things never failed to wake me up in the middle of the night. I’d had two in my oven so far. Kelly thought that I bought her favourite Sunday roast from the Co-op.

  I went back towards the house, taking my time, moving slowly; stopping, looking at the target, looking at the area, listening, working out my next bound and then moving off again. With any OP, the closer you are to the target, the better you’ll be able to observe what’s going on, but the greater the chance of compromise. The further away you are, the less chance of compromise, but you might see fuck all. The ideal with this particular target was probably to be stood off miles away, maybe placing a remote, high-powered camera on the house and viewing it from the other side of the lake – but I didn’t have the necessary optics. You have to make do with what you’ve got.

  The sky had cleared and a few more stars were out. I could still hear the lake lapping on the shore, but there was now also a splashing as the turtles came to the surface and dived down again.

  I got to within about twenty-five metres of the house. The tree line stopped and the ‘garden’ began, an area of rough grass with tree stumps which hadn’t been pulled out after creating the clearing for the house. From this position I could see the whole of one side of the target, plus the boat and the lake.

  There were three floors, and beneath them a garage, with its doors still slightly open to fit the wagon. There was a light shining on the first floor, towards the lakeside, but only small cracks of light from behind the heavy curtains. I couldn’t see any movement. A door was facing me on the ground floor which looked as if it went to the garage.

  A light came on on the second floor. No visible movement.

  A few seconds later a toilet flushed. At least there was movement inside, unless the flush was electronic and on some sort of security timer to operate every hour with the lights. I hardly thought so; in another place, yes, but not here.

  I started to cast around to find somewhere to dig in before first light. I found one possible site – a bush set back a little from the tree line. It came up to about chest height and was four feet or so wide, with other, smaller bushes around it. It looked ideal, but first I’d have to check I could see the target while I was lying down in it. Anyone who has ever done OPs has horror stories of digging in under cover of darkness, only to find at first light that all they can see is mud. I got to the bush, taking care not to disturb any of the foliage, then lay down right in front and checked. I could see only the top floor, and that was no good to me.

  I moved further up the hill. The tree line curved right, bringing me no more than twenty metres from the target, which I didn’t really want. I’d be able to hear snoring at that distance, but I also stood a good chance of being heard myself. I moved back down the hill, towards the lake.

  There was one other bush, about thirty metres from the house, but this one was only about waist height. Again it was about four feet wide, but the foliage didn’t seem as dense as the other one. I was running out of choices. I lay down level to where the aperture would be, and found I could see the whole shebang – all three floors, the garage, the side door from the garage and the lake. I could also see the distant lights from the camp site, so I knew that in daylight I’d be able to see movement in the carpark. It looked like this was going to be the one.

  I got behind the bush, out of sight from the house. So far, so good. The next thing was to check that there was a mobile-phone signal. If I saw her, London would need to know. Without the mobile phone I’d have to lie concealed all day, leave at last light, and either get to a location with a decent signal or find a public call box, which would not only mean a possible compromise, but also loss of eyes on target.

  I switched on the Bosch, put my hand over the backlit display and waited. I gave it a minute, keeping my eyes on the house. The toilet light had gone out now, but the first-floor one was still on. I made a tunnel over the display with my hand, pressed one of the buttons and the backlight came on again. The display showed that I had three signal bars out of a maximum four, and that was good enough for me. I turned it off again.

  I sat there for another five minutes, tuning in. Somebody crossed behind the gap in the curtain. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female.

  The temperature had dropped a few degrees and it was starting to feel a little bit nippy now that I’d stopped moving. Not freezing, but it felt cold where sweat had trickled down my spine and where the hair on my head was wet around the edges. My jeans were still damp and felt uncomfortable, but they would dry. I stood up slowly, feeling wet clothing make contact with skin. I turned and started to move in a line directly away from the house, and as soon as I found myself in a decent dip of dead ground, I changed direction and headed straight down to the lake.

  I retrieved the bergen and bow, checked that everything was done up, and carefully ran my hand around on the ground to make
sure I hadn’t left anything. Then I retraced my route to the OP. By now it was just before midnight, which left me plenty of time. First light wasn’t until about five o’clock in the morning.

  I dropped the bergen directly behind the bush. Nothing and no-one goes forward of an OP from this point on, because that’s what the enemy can see.

  I opened the side pocket and pulled out the secateurs and string, hunkered down at the rear of the bush and started to cut. I felt like James pruning his roses. What I was trying to do was make a hole in the bush, as small as possible, but through which I could crawl. It’s pointless just pushing a bush apart and charging inside; you’ll distort the shape, make noise getting in and, once inside, make yet more noise and movement, because the bush is pressing on you. If you’re going to do it, do it properly. As the first branches were cut, I tied them together with one end of the string, like a bunch of flowers. I ran out a spare couple of metres of string, cut it and put the bundle to one side.

  There was no need for my nice yellow Marigolds after all, because it wasn’t a prickly bush. But I was still glad I’d brought them. I’d never believed in being macho about building hides with my bare hands. Why scratch or cut yourself when even a minor injury can slow you down? If you’ve got a pair of gloves and you need them, use them. The object is to get into the bush, not to show how hard you are.

  I was still mincing away, making progress into the bush, cutting slowly and deliberately so as to reduce noise and not fuck up. I didn’t need to create too big a space; all I wanted was to be able to crawl inside, get up to the front of the bush, make an aperture and observe the target. I was edging my way in, pruning it piece by piece. Anything that could just be moved out of the way and not cut, I would leave, sometimes using string to hold it back; it all added to the density of foliage around me.

  It took the best part of an hour to tunnel my way in, and I had about six inches of movement area around me and about a foot of bush in front. Now it was a matter of rigging up the rest of the OP.

  I wriggled back out, unloaded some stuff from the bergen and pushed them into the hide. First out was the digital camera, with its small tripod and cable release. I crawled inside and rigged it up.

  Next was the hunter’s individual camouflage net that I’d got at Wars R Us. I got on my back, put the camouflage over the front of my chest, and then started to shuffle into the hide. Once in, I pushed the net gently against the bush so it snagged, tying it with string where necessary. By the time I’d finished I had created a snug little tunnel. The aim of the cam net was to give the bush more density; without it, if direct sunlight came into the bush the gap would be glaringly evident. If I hadn’t found a cam net, a dark green blanket would have done just as well.

  The most annoying thing about building an OP at night is that you can’t check it, so it’s all down to practice and experience. After my check at first light, I wouldn’t be able to move from the hide, and if it hadn’t been done right, there wouldn’t be a second chance. I’d been doing this shit since 1976 when I first joined the infantry, so I’d got it down to a fine art by now. All you’ve got to do is have patience and know the techniques – and have the aptitude to lie there for days, sometimes weeks, on end, just waiting for five seconds of exposure of a target. Some people defined this aptitude as self-discipline; me, I saw it as being just too idle to do anything else.

  10

  Very slowly and deliberately, trying not to take laboured breaths and make noise, I started to lift the rest of the stuff I’d be needing out of the bergen. I would normally keep everything there, but being so close to the target, I wanted to cut down movement. I placed the pizzas and the rest of the food into the side of the bush and covered them with the sandy soil to try and hide the smell from animals and insects, and to prevent the clingfilm from reflecting shine – not that there was likely to be too much of that tomorrow if this weather continued. The phone, the 3C, the passport and any other essentials would go in my pockets if I had to run; it was just like being a soldier again and keeping belt kit on. Finally, I pushed the bergen inside the OP.

  I carefully put on the Gore-Tex, then got on my knees and felt around on the ground with my hands, both to check there was nothing left lying exposed, and to smooth out any sign I had made. The final check was that my pockets were done up and the kit was secure inside them. Only then did I crawl into the hide, and start pulling in behind me the bouquet of branches that made up the bung. I was now sealed in.

  For two or three minutes I lay still, listening and tuning in to my new surroundings. There was no noise from either of the houses, and the light was off in the target house; all I could hear was the lapping of water. The turtles seemed to have gone to bed. I waited for another couple of minutes, and then it was time to sort myself out, to make sure everything was in place, and make minor adjustments. Moving more stones and damp sand from under me, I built it up around my sides, slowly digging a shallow grave to conceal myself even more. Once past the first couple of wet inches, the ground was quite easy to move.

  I got my wrist in front of my face and had a look at Baby-G. It was just after 2 a.m., which meant I had about three hours until first light. Whenever there’s a lull in the battle, you should eat or sleep, because you never know when you’ll next have a chance for either. I decided to get my head down; the light would wake me up, and so would any movement. After all, I could hear them flush the toilet from here; if I was any closer I’d be able to wipe their arses for them.

  I lay on my front and closed my eyes, but it wasn’t working. The only stone I hadn’t moved seemed to be against my hip. I shifted it, only for another one to rise to the surface and replace it. I got reasonably snug inside the Gore-Tex, which was acting as a kind of sleeping bag, but the ground at this time of the morning feels like ice and you find yourself thinking, What the fuck am I doing here? And even if the weather isn’t bad you still get cold. Total inactivity means your body isn’t generating warmth, and you become a lizard who needs sunlight. You brood about the fact that, as well as the cold, it’s bound to rain soon, otherwise it wouldn’t be an OP. Sometimes the wait pays off and you forget about all the discomfort, but I had lain in hides for days on end, wet and freezing, only to find fuck-all.

  I started to laugh to myself, thinking about an operator called Lucas. We were tasked to OP a meeting point on the Polish border with Germany. It was a farm complex, where weapons-grade plutonium was being traded for heroin by Russians. The plan was to fuck up the meet and get hold of the plutonium. Lucas was a keen diver, and the scheme he came up with was to get into dry bag (military slang for a waterproof diving suit) and bury himself in the mountain of horse manure by the house. He lived there for four days. The meet never took place and it took a week to get the smell off him – mainly because, instead of telling him to lift off straight away, we left him simmering in the heap for a bonus forty-eight hours.

  When I woke up it must have been just before 5 a.m., as I could just see first light coming up. As soon as I could see outside properly, it was time for me to move out and check. Not that anyone finding anything was going to say, ‘Oh look, there’s an OP,’ but if it’s an attractive item, someone could come over to pick it up, then they’re right on top of you and the chance of compromise is big time. I slowly pushed the bung out with my feet and, lifting myself on my elbows and toes, eased out backwards.

  I could see a couple of footprints left from my clean-up in the dark, so I pushed myself out a little bit more and used the bung to brush them away. Whilst I was doing that I looked at the bush itself. It was looking all right; I was quite proud of my handiwork.

  I started to inch myself very slowly in again, feet first this time, carefully pulling the bung into the entry point. I then rolled some of the cam net around the base of the bung and tucked it in as if I was tucking a child in for the night. Then I got into the centre of the little grave I’d dug, curled up and turned myself around, being careful not to create movement in the bush. I did
n’t know what the targets were doing; they could be up there, standing at the window, taking in the view of dawn over the lake, only to see a bush mysteriously shaking . . .

  The next priority was to check the camera, since the only reason I was in this hole at all was to see if Sarah was here, and then confirm it to London photographically. Lynn and Elizabeth took nothing at face value, and they certainly weren’t going to trust me.

  It was now just light enough to see through the view finder. I made a small hole in the cam net facing the target. It didn’t have to be the same size as the lens; as long as light was getting into the centre of the lens it could be as small as a pencil prick. I positioned the lens at the hole – this was now the aperture – and focused it exactly on the area around the garage and the side door. It looked the natural way in and out. If there was movement, I wouldn’t have to fuck about positioning the camera, all I’d have to do was press the cable release. Not only would it cut down on movement, which would mean less noise, but I could look at whoever was moving and ID them, instead of trying to focus a lens.

  Once done, I put sand and stones around the tripod to keep it stable. A final check that the cam net wasn’t obstructing the lens, then I made sure that the cable release was on correctly.

  It was time to have something to eat and drink before the fun started. I opened one of the mineral-water bottles and took a few gulps even though I wasn’t really thirsty. I wasn’t particularly hungry, either, but I munched my way through a slab of luncheon meat, all the time keeping my eyes on the target.

  Once I’d finished with the clingfilm from the Spam, I wrapped it in a ball and covered it with soil. The last thing I wanted was a swarm of insects hovering over my OP like a big pointing hand. After eating and drinking, there were other bodily functions that might need attending to, but hopefully the Imodium was going to do its stuff.