Ryan, Chris - Zero 22

The unmarked white van deposited them at the bottom of the Hercules’s tailgate. Five loadmasters stood together, drinking coffee from plastic cups. Two older men stood slightly apart. Each had aviator shades hanging from the top pocket of their fatigues. They were clearly the pilot and co-pilot. Danny walked up to them and shook their hands. Formalities over. ‘What’s our flight path?’ he asked.

‘We’re heading across the Med and over Cyprus. The Israelis have given us permission to enter their airspace, but my instructions are to keep the Jordanians in the dark. So we’re going to head south along the Israel–Jordan border and make the drop when we’re directly west of Amman. That’ll put you down somewhere between the West Bank and the Jordanian village of As-Salt.’

‘What’s the status in the West Bank? Any fighting?’

‘None reported, but it’s volatile, as I’m sure you know. If we can nudge over to the Jordanian side of the border, we will.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s 19.00,’ he said. ‘Wheels up in thirty minutes. We’ll look to make the drop some time after 01.30 local, if that suits you?’

Danny nodded his agreement, shook the pilot’s hand again and walked over to the loadmasters. One of them, a bald guy with a crusty cold sore on his lower lip, stepped forward. He was clearly the main loadie.

‘Is the quad bike strapped up?’ Danny said.

‘Trussed up like a Christmas turkey,’ the loadie replied. ‘Ready to go.’

‘The rest of my gear?’

The loadie nodded in the direction of the tailgate. Danny thanked him and gave the remaining loadies a thumbs-up. In advance of a HALO jump, these were the guys you needed on your side. He was under no illusion, though, that they were more interested in Bethany, with her damp blonde hair and the pout that Danny knew was entirely affected, than him. He ushered her up the tailgate into the belly of the Hercules.

Danny remembered how, as a kid, the smell of his dog’s damp fur had a calming effect on him. Nowadays, the smell of a military aircraft fulfilled the same role. It wasn’t a pleasant smell. It was greasy and thick. The stench of aviation fuel caught at the back of your throat. But it was a smell that told Danny he was in an environment where he knew what he was doing. He’d thrown himself out of these aircraft more times than he could count. This was his turf.

The same couldn’t be said of Bethany. As they entered the Hercules, her show of cool confidence faltered momentarily. He’d seen it before: the tightening of the eyes and the slump in the shoulders of arrogant young rookies, all piss and vinegar, as they entered an aircraft for their first freefall and were hit with the realisation of what they were about to do. When Bethany caught Danny looking at her, she quickly straightened herself up and made a show of looking around the inside of the aircraft.

It was functional. There were benches along either side of the plane, with webbing straps and medical boxes fixed to the interior fuselage. The space was dominated by a pallet with a quad bike strapped to it. The bike itself was a couple of metres long with large, solid tyres that still held remnants of dust and mud from its last use. It was heavily strapped to the pallet, almost as if somebody had attempted to bandage it, and its bodywork was sprayed in desert khaki colours. A robust, dependable piece of kit which, in a few hours, would be dropped into the desert from 30,000 feet. An enormous parachute pack was strapped to the top of the quad bike and the pallet itself was resting on a set of rails that ran along the centre of the Hercules, all the way to the tailgate.

Danny’s gear was stashed by one of the benches. He walked over to it, crouched down and double-checked the kit. First off, the tandem chute. He examined the release rings and cables, the routing of the strapping and the cutaway handles. Bethany watched him intently as he performed these standard checks.

‘So, you never jumped before?’ Danny said.

‘Never.’ She sounded a bit reluctant to admit her lack of experience.

‘You’ll be strapped to me.’

‘What are they for?’ Bethany pointed at a couple of canisters.

‘Oxygen. It’ll be thin where we’re jumping from. We’ll need it for the first few thousand feet. Otherwise hypoxia – oxygen starvation. We don’t want to pass out before we deploy the chute.’

Bethany looked a bit queasy. ‘What if it goes wrong?’ she said.

‘It’s only the last inch that kills you.’

‘Is that supposed to be funny?’

Danny stood up and walked over to her. ‘Which wrist do you wear your watch on?’

‘My left,’ she said. She held up her left wrist to show him.

‘If anything happens,’ Danny said, ‘that’s the arm you want to hold in the air.’

She looked confused. ‘Why?’

‘You want to break your watch?’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Nothing’s going to go wrong,’ Danny said. He went back to the gear and held up the tandem rig. ‘You’re going to wear this,’ he said. ‘I’ll be securely clipped in behind you and I’ll operate the chute. As soon as the quad goes out, we’ll follow. Put your arms across your chest and keep your head up. Don’t worry if we go upside down, it happens sometimes and we’ll soon right ourselves. Do what I tell you and you’ll be fine. I’ve done this thousands of times before.’ He managed a smile. ‘It’s going to be the best ride of your life.’

Bethany looked deeply uncertain. She pointed at the quad bike. ‘I’m guessing we don’t intend to drive that thing up to the front entrance of a swanky hotel in Amman.’

‘Right,’ Danny said. He had instant recall of the instructions in his target pack. ‘There are some old Roman ruins in the desert on the outskirts of the city. We’ll head for that location where we’ll RV with a local fixer at dawn. He’ll have a more suitable vehicle for us and will show us a place to hide the quad bike.’

‘Can we trust him?’

‘Course not. But he won’t get paid until we’re out of country and he’s not doing it for the shits and giggles. Once we have the new vehicle, we’ll head to a safe house in Amman where there’ll be civvies and press passes waiting for us, so we can get into the General’s hotel.’ He could see her assimilating this information. ‘Just do as I tell you,’ he said.

She gave him a contemptuous look. He went back to checking over the kit: wrist-mounted altimeter, twice the size of a normal watch, and a smaller wrist-mounted Garmin GPS unit; personal weapons and ammunition; oxygen masks; two sets of night-vision goggles for when they were on the ground; NV scopes; day packs; an entrenching tool. When he was happy that everything was in order, he turned his attention to the quad bike. He tugged at the strapping to ensure everything was secure. He checked the fuel tank was closed. The keys to the quad were hanging in the ignition. He removed them and placed them in a secure pouch in his camo gear.

By now the loadies were all aboard, performing their own final checks and readying the Herc for flight. The engines started up. The aircraft thrummed and the tailgate closed, blocking out the daylight. Lights along the fuselage illuminated the interior, but only dimly. Danny and Bethany strapped themselves into the benches, sitting opposite each other, as the Herc began to move.

It taxied for ten minutes, stopped for a few seconds and then accelerated. Moments later they were airborne.

Danny watched Bethany carefully as the Herc gained altitude. Her eyes were closed and she was resting her head against the fuselage. She had looked almost inhuman a couple of hours ago. Now, despite her anxiety about the drop and her anger about being manoeuvred into this situation, she looked entirely calm. Danny wished he knew what was going on in her head. Which version of Bethany existed behind that impenetrable exterior?He thought about what he had been tasked to do to her once she had served her purpose, as the Hercules banked steeply, straightened up and set its course for the Jordanian border.