Ryan, Chris - Zero 22

They gained altitude. Danny unclipped himself from his seat and made his way to one of the hammocks. He lay on it and succumbed to the weariness that had been pressing in on him. He was asleep in seconds.

Parker woke him. It felt like only minutes had passed, but Danny could tell from the SBS man’s demeanour that they were closing in on the drop zone. ‘We’re an hour out,’ he said over the noise of the jets. ‘Time to brief and prep.’ He checked his watch. It read 16.46 hrs. He put it back the requisite seven hours. 09.46 hrs, local time.

Parker handed round dry suits. There was nowhere for Bethany to have any privacy as she changed. She took herself up to the front of the aircraft where there was an area less illuminated by the dim interior lighting. It didn’t stop the men all glancing over as she undressed in the shadow and awkwardly pulled on the tight dry suit. Even the General watched, which surprised Danny. He’d have thought the old boy would have wanted to forget about the sight of Bethany semi-naked. Danny kept her in his peripheral vision. She still had the pistol she’d taken from the Wagner Group guy back at the hotel in Amman. He saw her stow it in a waterproof pouch in the dry suit. He did the same with his Sig as he changed. His phone was dead. He found an external power pack in Parker’s rucksack and plugged it in to recharge.

The SBS team were already rigged up: life vests, fins hooked to the front of their dry suits, freefall rigs for Parker, Emerson and Gordon, tandem harnesses for Parker and Emerson, helmets. Parker was talking intently to the General, clearly repeating the details of the jump. Gordon handed Danny a tandem harness, a helmet and a freefall rig. ‘It’s been checked,’ he shouted.

Danny didn’t care who had checked. There was no way he’d use a chute without giving it the once-over himself. He checked the packing and the strapping and, once he was completely satisfied all was as it should be, he put the rig on his back. He unplugged his recharged phone and put it in the waterproof pouch with his Sig.

They had forty-five minutes to kill before the jump. Danny and the others took seats along the sides of the aircraft. The time passed quickly. A loadie gave them the signal and he walked over to Bethany. ‘You ready?’ he shouted over the engine noise.

She smiled at him. The brittleness had suddenly gone. She seemed softer. It made him wary. ‘This is getting to be a habit,’ she said.

‘Different to last time,’ Danny said. ‘A lower jump. No oxygen. But we still have to fall stable. You remember what to do?’

‘I’m a fast learner.’ They moved further to the back of the aircraft before clipping themselves together. Parker and the General were waiting for them by the tailgate. The remaining three SBS guys were packing up gear at the front of the plane, but they soon joined them. Lewis and Emerson clipped themselves together, while Gordon remained solo. Seven people. Four radar splashes. The Yanks would have no idea that this seemingly routine training jump was actually a covert op.

The tailgate opened. They had flown west with the sun, so it was a morning light that entered the C-17. There was a brisk, biting chill as the cold air entered the plane, and the external noise of the jets doubled in volume, making it impossible to speak. The Atlantic stretched out to a hazy horizon. There was no sign of any ships below and that figured: the guys planning the drop would have made sure the DZ was out of view of shipping, in case anybody noticed that three of the chutes were carrying personnel in tandem. The loadie by the red jump light held up five fingers and then, two minutes later, three. The parachutists positioned themselves according to Parker’s previous instructions. The tandem team of Lewis and Emerson to the left of the tailgate, with Danny and Bethany close behind them. Gordon to the right, with Parker and the General behind him.

The jump light turned green. Lewis, Emerson and Gordon fell from the C-17 out into the clear air. Danny, Bethany, Parker and the General followed close behind. The sound of the aircraft instantly disappeared, replaced by the rush of wind as they accelerated through the air towards the Atlantic, which sped up to meet them. Danny saw, in the distance, the dot of a ship and he knew that must be the frigate. But he kept his main focus on Lewis and Emerson and, when they deployed their chute, he deployed his just seconds later. The rush of air dissipated. The chute flapped open above them and then they were drifting. Danny used the steering toggles to follow Lewis and Emerson’s path. He could feel a wind blowing from the south. Lewis and Emerson turned into it. Danny did the same.

He had performed freefall jumps into water not nearly so often as onto land. Maybe six or seven times in his whole career, and never operationally. He knew, however, that one of the greatest dangers was cutting away too early. In the past, the SOP had been to cut the chute away when the parachutist was a couple of feet above sea level, but distances over water could be deceptive and Danny had heard of guys cutting away a hundred feet too soon. Not a good idea, especially in a tandem rig. Nowadays, the trick was to cut away as soon as your feet hit the water. So, as well as concentrating on Lewis and Emerson’s position, he focused on the ocean. The glint of morning sunlight on the surface. The curling flash of an occasional white horse. He estimated that he and Bethany were separated from the SBS guys by a hundred feet of altitude. He saw them cut away as they hit the water. ‘Get ready,’ he told Bethany. ‘Remember what they said about not inhaling.’

Bethany didn’t reply, but he could feel her chest expand as she drew a breath and held it.

Thirty feet.

Ten.

Five.

Water.

Danny yanked the cutaway handle at his shoulder. He felt the chute separate from his body.

The cold was no less shocking for being expected. The silence no less sinister. Even though he was prepared for the darkness and the sense of disorientation that naturally accompanied a sudden submerging, he had to work hard to prevent the instinctive panic. He was good at it. Bethany, still attached to him, wasn’t. As they plunged deeper, he felt her flailing with panic. She wasn’t dealing with the sensory overload. He could tell that she was trying to find the inflating cord on her life vest but she couldn’t work out where it was, and was desperately grabbing different bits of her apparatus. Danny was experiencing the overload of his senses too, but his muscle memory kicked in and he yanked the inflating cord on his own life vest. He felt the pressure of the vest against his abdomen, but it wasn’t immediately sufficient to stop their downward momentum. He opened his eyes. Bethany was little more than a shadow in the underwater gloom. She was fumbling for her own inflating cord, unable to find it. He stretched out one arm, located it immediately, and tugged.

The second life vest made the difference. They rose towards the surface. The gloom dissipated. Seconds later, they broke through the water into the open air. They both inhaled deeply, and it felt as though Danny’s ears were inhaling the sound of the ocean too. The SBS guys had predicted a calm sea state, but there was a noticeable swell that blocked his view not only of the horizon but also of his immediate surroundings. He couldn’t see the frigate. He couldn’t see the SBS guys. He couldn’t even see the cut-away chute.

‘You’re okay!’ he shouted. ‘We’re safe.’ She replied with a nod. Danny noticed that she was shivering as she gasped for air and he felt protective. ‘I’ve got you,’ he told her. ‘Move your limbs. Arms and legs. Do it.’

She started treading water and Danny copied her movements so they were bobbing in sync. The current turned them and the swell raised them, and Danny saw their chute and its lines just a couple of metres away from them. They kicked away from it.