Blood Prize (17 page)

T
om followed Noah along the pathway leading to the latrine. At the halfway point, they jumped from the slush of muddy tracks and into the nearest clumping of burnt snow gum forest.

Tom protected his face with glove-covered hands, as he fought his way through the dead wood and profusion of saplings, but it compromised his balance and he fell several times into the tangle of branches.

Keep on your feet. Keep dry.

He felt Noah’s hand grasp his arm and lift him to his feet.

“We’ve made it to the track.”

He reached over and pulled Tom close.

“We’re quite some way below the hut and the storm’s blowing pretty hard, so I think we can risk some light. It’s going to be slippery, but we need to run from here on. Are you ready?”

“Does it matter, Noah? Does anything matter? Even if we get off this mountain we’ll die.”

Noah started to push Tom down the hill.

“We all die, Tom. Sometimes it’s just smarter not to be smart.”

“So I have to lower my intelligence … Unsmart myself?”

“Yes. If your mind’s full of fear, you’ll fall into a cycle of hopelessness and you’ll begin reacting in accordance with your belief.”

“How do you stop thinking about the inevitable?”

“By employing something I call mindless confidence. When the fear comes, don’t think, just act.”

Tom concentrated on following the dark loping shape in front of him; his lack of thought becoming a meditation, which altered his perception of time until it disappeared entirely.

He existed in a vacuum, somehow separated from reality, yet not from the weirdness of his surroundings.

Steady rain replaced the snow and sleet, and instead of the squat, frozen snow gums, pillars of rough eucalypt boles rose high above a thick understorey of bush. Tom dodged long moving strips of bark as he jogged down the track. They swayed and creaked from the upper branches in unison with the wind.

“Tom.”

Noah spoke for the first time since the beginning of their run.

“We’re at least half way down. We should have caught up with the others by now. They must be moving faster than I thought.”

Tom discerned movement. A dark shape in the undergrowth.

“What the hell … Isobel?”

She smiled and he flushed; his skin beginning to tingle and his heartbeat accelerating beyond the rate of his run. For a tense moment, he felt an overwhelming desire to run over and take her in his arms. He teetered there, holding his breath until she spoke.

“I’m glad you made it, Tom.”

His shoulders slumped out of their tension and he stuttered an almost unintelligible welcome.

“Yeah … Likewise.”

She seemed tired and drawn, and vulnerable.

“You look like shit, Iz. Are you alright?”

“Oh, thanks so much, Tom.”

“I didn’t mean you look bad. I meant … are you … uninjured?”

“I’m just fine. Thankyou.”

For God’s sake, say something that isn’t garbage.

“Iz. I … You look great.”

“What?”

“Look. Can I just start this conversation again?”

“Tom. I’m tired and I’m freezing, and I’m scared … and … I don’t give a damn how I look.”

“Right.”

Oh God. I just can’t keep being this stupid. We’re in danger and I’m acting like a complete dick.

Surat materialised from the scrub, saving Tom from further embarrassment.

“What do we do now, Noah? They’ll be hard at us soon.”

“Yes. From behind and in front. There’ll be SRP guarding the bottom of this track.”

Tom entered the conversation as a means of diversion.

“How could they have known which way we’d go?”

“They didn’t. They’ll be a small force; one or two at the most. Vogel will have them stationed at the most likely exit points.”

Tom thought Isobel’s voice sounded shrill as she asked the obvious question.

“How the hell are we going to get past them?”

He noticed her flinch and try to pull away as Noah gripped her shoulder.

“Let’s get down first, Isobel. We’ll worry about the bottom when we get there. Surat, take the rear. Tom and Isobel, you’re in the middle. I’ll lead. No more talking.”

Isobel’s question brought Tom back to his previous unwanted reality. Surviving their current dilemma would not be the end of their predicament.

_____________

Vogel crouched in the snow, hidden amongst a clump of frozen eucalypt saplings. Beside him, his sergeant searched the area around Federation Hut with infrared field glasses.

“Yes, sir. I can just see him through the blizzard.”

For brief moments between the swirling clouds, the hut became visible.

“He’s guarding the hut from the shelter of the verandah. I can see an automatic weapon resting on his lap.”

“I can see people, sergeant. Please confirm.”

“Yes, sir. I can see moving shadows through the window.”

Frederick considered only one option. As soon as he received confirmation of troop placements, they could start the gas attack. With such an effective weapon and in such a tight space, it could bring a man to unconsciousness, as fast as a bullet.

“What’s the hold up, sergeant? How many confirmations do we have?”

He felt frustrated; troop placements didn’t normally take this long unless a difficulty existed.

“We’re still waiting on two positions. There could be a problem.”

“Like what?”

“They’re the second and third placements in a ring around our objective; the positions covering access to the Bungalow Spur and the northern area of the hut. They should’ve been the first men with confirmations.”

“The G11’s don’t seem to have left the hut. It must be Uta.”

She doesn’t know that we found her tracks and saw her light over Molly Hill.

“There are so many tracks, sir. It’s near impossible to know if she returned to the hut or is still out there.”

“What about our rear defences?”

“Still intact. Nobody’s broken through and nobody’s left the hut.”

Frederick felt like throwing up. His forefinger shook as he aimed it at the sergeant.

“We need a new tactic. Do something.”

“Yes, sir. Our net may already be compromised. Under these circumstances, I’d advise a lightning, one-man reconnaissance. If the positions are vacant, our man reports and retreats without taking any further action.”

“There won’t be any retreat, sergeant.”

“No, sir. He pulls back only enough, so we can either tighten the net, or attack at once.”

Vogel gave the order and within minutes, their scout made contact.

“Sir. Our man’s missing and there’s blood on the floor. I repeat there’s blood on the floor at position three.”

The sergeant shifted the formation of his team; moving each man in the circle in a clockwise direction. He tightened the ring, until the closest man reached the first of the vacant positions.

“Sergeant, signal the attack. When the hut’s secured, send more men to strengthen our defence. Let’s go.”

Gas bombs exploded through the hut’s small windows and a barrage of bullets struck the guard by the door. Within fifteen seconds, the SRP secured their objective.

Vogel raced towards the hut. By the time he reached it, three of their men moved to fortify their northern defences.

He felt anxious and his gloved fingers fumbled as he tried to fit his mask. Once on, he burst into the small room; his eyes attempting to adjust to the smoky environment.

“What’s going on here?”

People shuffled about in tight circles. Each wore a helmet and the uniform of the elite Australian SRP commando unit.

“Sir, they’re gone.”

Frederick ran from the building and flung his mask at the storm.

“You bastard, Noah. This isn’t over. It’s not nearly over.”

In his rage he didn’t hear his sergeant walk up behind him.

“Sir. They propped a dead man up as a ruse and used the firelight to create the illusion of movement.”

“I don’t care, sergeant. Leave one man to cover our northern perimeter and call the rest back here at once. Find their tracks and make no assumptions.”

Vogel felt so angry, he struggled for breath.

“And, sergeant, if any one of them get away, I’m going to make you eat your own testicles. Is that clear?”

Vogel waited until his sergeant ran off shouting orders to his men. He walked a short way from the cabin and into the storm. He couldn’t let these men see his anxiety.

No … No way.

Frederick shook with hatred and under his Gortex jacket, his inner woollen layers felt wet with sweat.

I don’t lose. Not ever. This is just a setback. They can’t escape.

No matter what track the G11’s and Uta attempt, he’ll have them in his net.

People are going to die and that’s a promise.

U
ta spotted the two men hiding near the track that zigzagged down from Feathertop junction. In disbelief, she watched Vogel’s sergeant raising his head above the cover.

If she could see the idiot from her position, then so could the man sitting on the verandah.

You’re blinded by your own greed, Vogel.

Noah would never have a roaring fire going and leave the door open, on such a delicate mission and the man on the verandah …?

It’s a poor ruse, but a clever distraction. Vogel can’t afford to be wrong.

Uta wrenched the glove off her right hand and dabbed at the grizzled mess of wounds on her face. Her skin felt clenched and taut, like a permanent scowl.

She tried once more to convince herself that it didn’t matter.

Will he still want me?

Her cardinal’s opinion meant everything. It also mattered operationally. She couldn’t see herself as a clandestine agent, with a multitude of scars on her face.

You’re The Raptor … Focus.

She needed a clear mind to determine her next move. Taking the Prize meant everything, including the heart of her cardinal.

I need flexible tactics to suit a range of differing scenarios. A mistake and they’ll kill me on sight.

She hurried into position and assessed her target. This soldier seemed wary. He gave the area a brief check, reported in and backed off to a defensive position.

This guy’s way better than the others.

A close kill didn’t seem possible, which forced her to change strategy.

Uta knew she could utilise three different strategies. The first of these involved the elimination of Vogel and his force, which created the greatest danger. She couldn’t hope to keep the element of surprise until she completed the job. Once in full attack, these SRP soldiers could be lethal.

No.

Possibility two meant applying a scavenger’s tactic: get behind them and follow at a distance, allowing Vogel to do her work and hope for maximum casualties. Then she could finish the job. This scenario required the weather to remain foul. If the SRP got the chance to reinforce, or employ helicopters with infrared, her chances became ruinous.

No.

Uta marched into the wind and it battered her senses; hampering her thought processes. It swirled and gusted and fired ice projectiles into her facial wounds.

Keep on track. Don’t waiver.

She slapped her own face, causing fresh blood to dribble off her chin. She must decide. Each scenario required a different timing.

The sound of breaking glass and gunfire solved her moment of indecision.

Alright … Option three.

Within seconds of her surety, fresh troops arrived to reinforce the SRP’s western perimeter; covering the entrance to the Bungalow Spur. As she expected, they stayed put and didn’t advance.

It’s time for The Raptor to hunt.

She crept forward and waited for movement. It didn’t take long. The soldier died before his face hit the snow. The other two soldiers in the vicinity reacted; spraying bullets into the storm.

Uta smiled, returned fire for three seconds and retreated.

Suckers … Part one completed.

Because of her actions, the enemy behind her could not proceed with pace. They could move only after their forward party secured each section. Her plan required operating this tactic until she located a site that posed the most danger for their advance; hold them there and begin the second part of her plan.

_____________

Panic overtook Frederick Vogel’s ability to rationalise. He couldn’t stop the chaos bombarding his mind. It felt to him as if his stress levels escalated out of control, like an over-revving engine that he couldn’t switch off.

“Bastards … I’ll kill you … I’ll kill you all.”

A tiny part of his consciousness began to communicate a danger: if he didn’t turn it off he might blow a piston through the side of his brain.

He became aware of his sergeant. The man marched toward him, switched on his torch and came into view.

“Sir. We’re under attack. We need to respond at once. We need your orders.”

He could see the confusion in the man’s expression, yet he couldn’t answer him.

They stared at each other. No-one moved.

“Sir … Is everything alright?”

“No.”

His hatred boiled in his mind and needed to spill out; needed a target. He withdrew his handgun and pointed it at the bewildered soldier.

“Get down on your knees. Down. Now.”

The sergeant continued to stand; his head jerking from side to side.

“You’re all alone, sergeant
.
No-one’s going to help you.”

“Sir. Our team’s under attack. We’ve got to turn this around, or …?”

Frederick’s smile felt ugly.

He didn’t need this imbecile to explain their vulnerability. Of course they needed a counter strategy. Their underbelly remained dangerously exposed.

“Get on your knees, soldier. I won’t tell you again.”

The sergeant lowered himself into a kneeling position and continued to plead with his superior.

“Sir. We’re letting the enemy take control. The longer we leave it the harder it’ll become …”

Vogel stepped forward and placed the barrel against the soldier’s head.

The man’s a brave one.

The sergeant didn’t sag or show weakness. He returned Vogel’s angry expression with equal menace.

“Sir. You’ve got to listen to me.”

He pushed his face against the gun and rose back to his full height.

“Stay where you are, sergeant.”

“No. If I’m going to die, it won’t be on my knees.”

Vogel started to laugh. It sounded hysterical even to him. He removed the gun from the soldier’s head and holstered it.

“Alright … Your courage has earned you a chance to live. But, you have to prove your loyalty.”

“I took the oath already.”

“Shut up soldier and listen. When this mission is over, apart from Fox and myself, there will only be one other left alive; it could be you.”

“The others … Why?”

“The Assembly marked you all for death, but you’re a fortunate soldier. My covert SRP soldier is dead; killed only moments ago.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Don’t look so dumbfounded, sergeant. The Assembly utilise the clean-up when they have to keep a secret hidden. Witnesses have to be taken care of.”

“You’re asking me to kill my own men?”

“No. I’m
ordering
you to kill them. If you refuse, you die here and now.”

Vogel removed his weapon and for a second time, forced the barrel into the side of the sergeant’s head.

“Take note, soldier. If you accept and betray me, the Assembly will hunt you down no matter where you go. No traitor has ever escaped their wrath.”

“This is murder. Most of these men are friends.”

The heady power of determining whether this man lived or died alleviated some of Frederick’s anxiety.

“Sergeant. I want your answer.”

“And what about me? Am I expendable when this is done?”

“Good question. The Assembly never take out the clean-up man.
Your survival is guaranteed. You’ll live and you’ll be promoted well above your current station.”

Vogel nodded and smiled with satisfaction. For the first time, the man before him began to wilt.

He’ll kill to save his own miserable life. I can see it in his eyes.

“So what’s it to be, sergeant. Their blood or yours?”

“You already know the answer.”

“Yes, but I want to hear it from you.”

“Theirs … I’ll take their blood.”

The sergeant couldn’t live with such a betrayal without smothering his guilt with hatred. Frederick knew from experience that to finish the job, the sergeant needed to loathe his men from this point on.

Good.

“Sergeant. You’re forthwith promoted to captain.”

The security chief removed the gun from the man’s head and turned his back on him. This human being belonged to him now. He owned his soul.