Dominic Conlon - Silent Warpath

‘Dam’ said Captain Armstrong, sucking a finger. ‘That coffee’s hot!’

‘Sorry Captain, shall I bring another?’ asked the Ensign.

The Captain shook his head.

‘Shall I fetch a spare map?’

Armstrong looked at the damp stain that the coffee had made on the chart.

‘No, don’t bother — I think it will be OK. Next time, please just leave drinks on the side over there.’

The young man looked crestfallen and backed away.

The Captain traced his finger across the chart, but the stain drew his eyes away from the intended ambush site. The night before he and McIver had argued into the small hours about the best location to position the fleet. McIver wanted to blockade nearer coastal waters, thinking that the area under the coffee stain would be too far east.

Captain Armstrong wasn’t so sure. He thought that the sub would want to take to the deeper water further away from the continental shelf. He reasoned that the sub had been boxed in once before and though it was only a machine, it seemed to be able to learn from its mistakes.

The rogue sub certainly appeared to have an uncanny intelligence when it came to evading their hunting group. Armstrong didn’t believe that computers were intelligent in any sense of the word, but he knew that given sufficient processing power they could out-beat the greatest chess grandmasters.

Which, in the end was what this job was all about surely? Chess, played out on a grand scale.

He reached for the telephone.

DD burst in through the door and began to splutter in his haste to tell Lomax the news. Lomax eyed the lad. He had seen DD excited before but this time his expression displayed real fear.

Lomax made him sit down and take a few deep breaths before beginning to talk. ‘OK, take it from the beginning.’

DD sucked in a huge breath. Lomax shook his head. ‘Take it slowly.’

‘They’ve uncovered our bug’ gasped DD. ‘But worse than that, they’ve started a trace.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lomax felt icy tentacles along his spine.

‘It means they’re on to us!’ gasped DD.

‘You’ll have to do better than that. Is our safe house known to them?’

DD shook his head.

‘Are they likely to discover where we are?’

‘No’ replied DD.

‘Then what is the problem?’

‘They discovered our tap. Then they started a search on their network — looking for evidence of when the bug might have been planted.’

Lomax got up and began to pace.

‘I guess they looked at the telephone fault log’ continued DD, ‘and tried to discover when the tap was placed on their system.’

Lomax stopped pacing and sat down again. ‘Carry on.’

‘Well they eventually got round to our false telephone fault. They checked on their system to see when they’d logged the call. Then they checked with the telephone people who must have given it the all clear. I’d altered their system to show that a call had been logged.’

‘And?’

DD ran his hand through his hair. ‘And that seemed to be OK at first. But they queried the call several times as though they didn’t believe the information.’

‘What could have given us away?’ enquired Lomax.

DD looked at the floor. ‘I don’t know. The only thing that ties us in is the location of the tap. They must have discovered the physical location of our tap, checked their logs and then someone must have remembered we visited that room.’

‘So they know they were tapped. And they now know who did the deed. So what?’

‘So they started a back trace. They used some programs to hunt on the Internet for any information about the device we left.’

Lomax looked perplexed. ‘But surely they can’t track it back to here?’

‘No. But since they discovered our tap I haven’t been able to check what they’ve been up to directly. But I have picked up some of their queries at specialist hardware places that sell devices like the one I used.’

‘Can they trace it back to us?’

‘No, but they might get wind that Her Majesty’s Government have an interest — you can’t exactly buy these gadgets off the shelf.’

‘So even if they knew there was a British interest, they still wouldn’t be able to find us?’

‘No — I don’t think so. But I don’t know what access to resources these people have. They discovered our tap more quickly than I thought they would. Perhaps they have access to immigration records? Who knows.’

‘Did you get any useful info from the tap while it was in place?’

‘I got some info about this man Schaeffer. From his emails it looks like he’s head of a security team. I’m not sure who he reports to but I’ve seen a few emails from him to his team. Here’s the latest.’

DD handed a sheet of paper to Lomax. ‘It looks like they know Natasha is heading to her parent’s log cabin. Schaeffer is personally taking charge and going after her.’

Lomax scanned the paper quickly and came to a decision. ‘OK. You had better finish tidying up and make sure that you haven’t left any other traces.’

Lomax handed the paper back and pulled out his mobile. ‘I need to call Sean urgently about Schaeffer.’

He could tell they were not tourists or forest rangers. They had a light slow tread as if unsure of the way. A twig broke with a loud crack. The man in front turned back sharply.

‘Watch where you’re putting your feet!’ he hissed. ‘And you with the flashlight — put it out.’

The flashlight snapped out.

Sean caught the metallic glint from a sub-machine gun slung over the shoulder of the tall man in front. The second carried a long barrelled sniper rifle. Although he couldn’t quite make out the third, he guessed he was carrying a firearm as well.

The men stopped about a hundred metres from where Sean lay concealed. They formed a huddle and their soft voices carried over the gloom. Sean couldn’t quite make out what they were saying but their intentions were clear. They turned and headed towards the cabin, their heavy boots breaking more twigs and branches that Sean had scattered earlier. As they neared the cabin their pace grew slower and quieter.

They spread out. Sean felt a shiver run across his shoulder blades. He was tempted to deal with the hunters near the cabin first, but he didn’t know if they had left someone watching. The last thing he wanted was a bullet in the head when he wasn't looking.

Once the men had passed his hideout Sean crawled back to the path. It was easy to spot the location of the guard because of the cigarette glow: he was sitting in the passenger seat of their 4x4 car. Sean moved around to the back of the car before closing in. He calculated his approach was masked by the blind spot of the rear view mirror. The guard had omitted the simple precaution of locking the doors.

Sean listened carefully. The man finished on his walkie-talkie and tossed it onto the seat next to him. Sean yanked the door open and pulled him out. A swift jab to the thorax followed by a hard side punch to the temple and the man slipped into unconsciousness without making a fuss.

Sean pulled out some plastic cuffs from his rucksack and bound the man’s hands and feet. Next he taped over the mouth and dragged him 50 metres into the undergrowth. When Sean looked in the truck’s cabin he heard the radio playing softly. He found the keys still in the ignition, turned it off and opened the bonnet. He checked the engine with his flashlight, reaching in to remove three plug leads. He hid them carefully in the back. If the worst came to the worst he wanted spare transport.

Shining the flashlight around the back he saw a tarpaulin draped on the seat. Pulling it away revealed a long barrelled rifle glinting in the gloom. Sean lifted it out and checked the safety. He examined it closely in the torchlight and whistled quietly. It was a Heckler & Koch PSG1 with telescopic sight still attached. He found a box of rounds in the glove compartment and slipped them into his pocket.