Bear Grylls - Burning Angels

‘I thought you said it was the German government who loaned you this place?’

‘The Eaton Square people are very good networkers. At the highest levels only, of course.’

‘So who are you specifically?’ Jaeger pressed. ‘Who are the Secret Hunters? Numbers? Staff? Operators?’

‘We are all volunteers. We are called on only when needed. Even this place is only operational when we are. Otherwise, it’s in mothballs.’

‘Okay, let’s say we’re in,’ Jaeger declared. ‘What next?’

Click. Flash. Miles pulled up a slide showing an aerial view of Burning Angels mountain.

‘Choma Malaika, photographed from the air. It’s part of Kammler’s game reserve, but it’s totally off limits. It’s designated as an elephant and rhino breeding sanctuary, one closed to all but the senior reserve staff. There’s a shoot-to-kill policy for anyone else who tries to enter.

‘Of chief concern to us is what lies beneath the mountain. There are a series of massive caves – originally water-worn, but enlarged in more recent times by the action of animals. Apparently, all large mammals need salt. Elephants enter the caves in search of it, and use their tusks to gouge it out. They’ve extended the caves to mammoth proportions – if you’ll forgive the pun.

‘You’ll notice the main geological structure is a caldera – a collapsed former volcano. It’s left a ragged ring of walls around a massive central crater, where the former cone of the volcano blew itself apart. Mostly the bowl of the crater is awash with seasonal water, so forming a shallow lake. The caves lie off the water, and crucially all are within Kammler’s shoot-to-kill zone.’

Miles ran his gaze around the room. ‘We have no proof that anything sinister is hidden in those caves. We need to go in and find that proof. And that’s where you guys come in. After all, you’re the professionals.’

Jaeger eyed the aerial photo for a good few seconds. ‘Crater walls look around eight hundred metres high. We could HALO into the crater itself, pulling our chutes within the cover of the walls. Drift to ground unseen and head into the caves… The problem is remaining undetected once we’re there. They’re sure to have motion sensors positioned in the cave entrances. If it was me, I’d have video surveillance, infrared cameras, security lighting, trip flares – the works. That’s the problem with caves: there’s only one route in, which means it can be easily covered.’

‘So it is simple,’ a voice volunteered. ‘We go in knowing we will be detected. We allow ourselves to get drawn into the spider’s web. If nothing else, it will very likely reveal to us what they are doing there.’

Jaeger eyed the speaker: Narov. ‘Great. One problem. How do we get out again?’

Narov gave a dismissive toss of the head. ‘We fight. We go in heavily armed. When we have found what we are looking for, we shoot our way out.’

‘Or die trying.’ Jaeger shook his head. ‘No, there’s got to be a better way…’

For a moment he glanced at Narov, and the corners of his mouth twitched into a mischievous half-smile.

‘You know what, I may just have thought of one. And you know something else? You’re going to love it.’

‘This is a fully fledged game reserve, right?’ Jaeger queried. ‘I mean, it comes complete with safari drives, game lodges, the works?’

Peter Miles nodded. ‘It does. The Katavi Lodge. It’s a five-star facility.’

‘Right, let’s say you were a visitor to the lodge, but let’s say you weren’t exactly thinking straight. En route to the lodge you decide to climb Burning Angels Peak, just ’cause it’s there. The high point of the crater rim lies outside the borders of the sanctuary – the shoot-to-kill zone – right?’

‘It does,’ Miles confirmed.

‘So you’re driving to the lodge and you spy this awesome peak. You’ve got time to spare and you figure, what the hell? It’s a steep scramble, but when you reach the summit you see a sheer rock face dropping to the crater below. You see the mouth of a cave: dark, mysterious, compelling. You won’t know its forbidden territory. Why would you? You decide to abseil down to explore. That’s our route into the caves, and at least there’s a good cover story.’

‘So what’s not to like?’ Narov demanded.

‘You’re not thinking straight, remember. That’s the key. What kind of people don’t think straight? Not a bunch of hardened operators like us.’ Jaeger shook his head. ‘Newly-weds, that’s who. A rich, wealthy newly-wed couple – the kind of people who honeymoon at five-star game ranches.’

Jaeger swung his gaze from Narov to James and back again. ‘That’s you two. Mr and Mrs Bert Groves, whose wallets are stuffed with cash and whose brains are addled with love.’

Narov stared at the hulking bearded form of Joe James. ‘Me and him? Why us?’

‘You, ’cause none of us is sharing a safari lodge with another guy,’ Jaeger answered. ‘And James, ’cause once he’s shaved his beard and cut his hair, he’ll be perfect.’

James shook his head and smiled. ‘And what’ll you be doing, while the lovely Irina and I head off into the African sunset?’

‘I’ll be right behind you,’ Jaeger answered, ‘with the guns and the backup.’

James scratched his massive beard. ‘One problem, aside from shaving this off… Can I be trusted to keep my hands off Irina? I mean, much as I—’

‘Zip it, Osama bin Liner,’ Narov cut in. ‘I can look after myself.’

James shrugged good-naturedly. ‘But seriously, there is a problem. Kamishi, Alonzo and me – we’re under the cosh, remember. We’ve got cutaneous leishmaniasis; we’re banned from any strenuous activity. And by anyone’s reckoning, this is going to be tough.’

James wasn’t bullshitting about the sickness. At the end of their Amazon expedition, he, Alonzo and Kamishi had been trapped in the jungle for several weeks. During their epic exfiltration they’d been eaten alive by sand flies – tiny tropical mites the size of a pinhead.

The flies had laid their larvae under the men’s skin, to feed off the living flesh. The bites had turned into open, weeping sores. The only treatment was a series of injections of Pentostam, a highly toxic drug. Each shot felt as if acid was burning through your veins. Pentostam was so noxious it could weaken your heart and respiratory systems – hence the ban on any strenuous physical activity.

‘There’s still Raff,’ Jaeger ventured.

James shook his head. ‘With all due respect, Raff just won’t cut it. Sorry, mate, but it’s the tattoos and the hair. No one would buy it. And that,’ he eyed Jaeger, ‘leaves only you.’

Jaeger glanced at Narov. She didn’t appear the slightest bit perturbed at what was being proposed here. He wasn’t entirely surprised. She seemed to possess few of the normal human sensitivities to how people should and shouldn’t interact, especially between the sexes.

‘What if Kammler’s people recognise us? We’ve got reason to believe they have photos of me, at the very least,’ Jaeger objected. It was the main reason he hadn’t suggested that he team up with Narov in the first place.

‘Two options,’ a voice cut in. It was Peter Miles. ‘And let me just say – I like this plan. You’ll be disguised. The extreme option is to have plastic surgery. The less extreme option is to change your appearance as much as we can without going under the knife. Either way, we have people who can do this.’

‘Plastic surgery?’ Jaeger queried, incredulous.

‘It is not so unusual. Ms Narov has already had it done twice. Each time we suspected that those she hunted knew of her appearance. In fact, the Secret Hunters have a long history of going under the knife.’