Andy McNab - DropZone

‘And you’ve really got to start taking this seriously,’ Ethan replied. ‘I can’t be arsed with getting killed tonight.’ He looked around. ‘The path’s clear. Let’s go!’

Without giving Johnny a chance to argue, he bolted from the bush, dragging his friend with him. He gave a quick glance up towards where the explosions had come from. He could hear people running around in panic, screaming at each other.

Another explosion lit up the night, followed by the sound of gunfire.

‘Come on!’ shouted Ethan.

They took off down the path.

‘You climbed up that?’ said Johnny, glancing up at the cliff face rising above them. ‘You’re more of an idiot than I thought!’

‘You didn’t give me much choice,’ said Ethan as they raced onto the beach. The crunching of the pebbles and sand underfoot sounded like they were running over Rice Krispies.

Ethan took off his bergen, dropped it to the ground and opened it. He pulled out two large square packages and handed them to Johnny. Then he glanced at the sea. It was dark and oily and he could see the white crests of waves falling into each other. The sky was a thick canvas of black, speckled with stars and flecked with cloud, the moon high. Out there, he thought, is a submarine coming to lift me off this island. Is any of this really happening?

But there was no time to think about that now. Ethan turned to see Johnny opening one of the packages.

‘These are the canoes,’ he said. ‘Rip that one open, will you?’

Ethan knelt down and tore open the other package. He pulled out what looked like a bundle of tightly packed, rubberized canvas. ‘Please don’t tell me we have to blow these up ourselves,’ said Ethan.

Johnny laughed. ‘Automatic inflation,’ he said. ‘Like a life raft. They’re up in seconds. Pull that tab there.’

Ethan looked where Johnny pointed and saw a yellow strap. He pulled it hard and the canoe ballooned in front of him as air rippled through it.

‘Cool, eh?’ said Johnny. ‘Now put these together.’

He handed Ethan a pouch and opened another himself.

‘Paddles,’ he said. ‘They clip together like tent poles. See?’ He held up a finished paddle.

‘You look so proud.’ Ethan watched his friend clip together the remaining poles from the pouch to form a second paddle.

‘It’s the little things that keep me happy,’ said Johnny; then he stood up and pulled something from his own bergen. ‘I’m going to secure the area,’ he said.

‘Are they the Claymores?’ Ethan asked, having clipped together the poles in his own pouch to make two further paddles.

‘Yes. Nasty mix of explosive and ball bearings. If anyone comes in as we’re escaping, they’ll trigger them. Just be sure to look the other way if they go off. It’s not a pretty sight.’

‘Thanks for the advice,’ said Ethan, hoping he wouldn’t get to see one of the things in action.

Johnny ran off across the beach, keeping as low as he could. He set the Claymores and was back in a couple of minutes. Ethan wondered how he made everything look so easy, but as he came back, pebbles and sand exploded in a line across the canoes.

‘Down!’ Johnny screamed, and jumped on Ethan, throwing him to the ground.

Only then did Ethan hear the gunfire. ‘Someone’s shooting at us!’ he yelled.

‘Just keep your head down!’ Johnny shouted back.

Another strafe of bullets zipped past, and Johnny rolled Ethan and himself out of the way just in time.

Ethan could smell the tang of the bullets smashing pebbles as the crack of gunfire ripped the air apart. He could hear the rounds thumping into the sand – and feel them too, the shockwaves from the impact making the ground ripple like it was alive underneath him.

‘Too bloody close,’ screamed Johnny. ‘Less than a metre away to feel it like that. Keep fucking moving! We need to get back up that path. This exit is totally screwed!’

Ethan saw him glance up and down the beach to see where the shooting was coming from. The sea was behind them, the path somewhere in front.

‘Follow me,’ said Johnny. ‘Go where I go. I know where the Claymores are; you don’t. Got it?’

Ethan nodded and they crawled forward towards the path. He was soon able to make it out, carved into the cliff face. He willed himself on; forced himself not to think about the bullets flying above him or of the hidden mines somewhere on the beach.

Then more rounds came in. Johnny looked at Ethan and pointed left down the beach. ‘Two x-rays coming from over there,’ he yelled.

Ethan chanced a look and saw two men running towards them. One of them fired again, this time missing by a mile, thankfully.

‘Get your head down,’ shouted Johnny, grabbing Ethan and pushing him face-down in the sand, ‘or there’ll be nothing left of it but pink mist!’

As Ethan ducked, he heard one of the Claymore mines explode off to their left between them and the approaching x-rays. For a second it was like sheet lightning and the beach blasted into light; then the blaze was gone and they were back in moonlit darkness.

The sound was deafening, and Ethan looked up to see the bodies of their attackers falling through the air. He knew they were dead before they hit the ground. They hadn’t even had a chance to scream.

They pushed on. The path was only metres away now. Then came more shooting, this time from the right, and Ethan could see another two men charging towards them, yelling, firing.

He looked at Johnny, who reached into his pack and pulled out two grey canisters. He gave one to Ethan. ‘Pull the pin and throw it towards them!’ he shouted.

Ethan did exactly as he was told, and they both lobbed the canisters over.

There were two explosions, and the two men disappeared in a cloud of thick white smoke.

‘Move it!’ yelled Johnny, and Ethan chased after him as he heard more firing from behind.

They reached the bottom of the path and just kept on running. Somehow Ethan’s legs kept pumping hard – he didn’t know where the energy was coming from.

The cliff exploded around them as bullets ricocheted above their heads, sending out sharp splinters of rock. But Ethan didn’t feel a thing – he was focused on getting to the top of the path. He’d never run so fast in his life.

As they emerged at the clifftop, another explosion sounded from behind them on the beach. Ethan guessed what it was. ‘Another Claymore?’

Johnny nodded. ‘Horribly effective, I’m afraid.’ Then he squeezed the communicator round his neck. ‘Guys! Can you hear me?’

Ethan heard the voices of Luke, Kat and Natalya reply with a simple ‘Yes’.

‘Beach is shagged,’ said Johnny. ‘Meet at the watchtower in five.’

Ethan looked at him. ‘We’re BASE jumping?’

Johnny grinned. ‘Fun, this, isn’t it?’

Ethan wasn’t given a chance to argue: Johnny simply sprinted off, and he had to try and keep up.

They followed a wide arc around the ruins to the watchtower behind. Another explosion tore the air, and the light from it brought the castle into sharp focus. Ethan could see that the diversion was having the desired effect. Whoever had stolen the disk was now convinced they were under attack. Ethan could see that the way the explosions had been laid gave the impression that someone was firing explosive rounds at the ruins from the other side of the island – and getting progressively closer as they homed in on their target. X-rays were milling about, firing wildly in the direction they believed the explosions were coming from. They had no idea that they were just charges going off at set intervals.

The air was filled with the smell of burning and cordite and the sound of weapons’ fire and shouting. Ethan hoped the diversion had given Sam enough time to do what he had to do.