Traitor (13 page)

‘With a pulled shoulder muscle,’ Binning added.

‘Pain is not an excuse,’ Jason countered. ‘Rowena came eighteenth in the women’s competition. I wonder where you would’ve come, Stratton.’

‘In the women’s?’ Binning muttered.

‘No need for that, Binning,’ Jason said. ‘But you do have a point.’

Stratton couldn’t have cared less about the insult. Some things were beginning to add up for him. ‘This isn’t a coincidence, is it?’

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he wondered what Stratton meant by the remark. ‘What isn’t?’ he asked.

‘The varied skills you’re accumulating. You’re all pretty young when I was expecting most of you to be quite old. You keep yourselves fit. You have a killing house. I suppose you’re all good shots too?’

Jason smiled thinly. ‘I see what you mean. You’re right. It’s not a coincidence. We’ve been preparing for a more active operational role for some time now.’

‘Since
you
got here,’ Stratton suggested.

‘Since
I
got here,’ Jason admitted happily. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘Why should I?’

‘If you were in a position to, would you approve?’

‘Probably not.’

‘Would you be specific? Please. We’d all like to know. What are we up against?’

Stratton felt reluctant to answer.

Jason pushed him. ‘Come on. You criticise, but without an explan ation. I would respect your thoughts more than most.’

Stratton gave in. ‘It’s simple. You’re not soldiers.’

Jason looked at the others. ‘I happen to agree with him. I have said as much myself.’ He looked back at Stratton. ‘However, we can learn to soldier. But if, for instance, that surveillance device went wrong in the field, you couldn’t fix it. You couldn’t defeat a sophisticated alarm system with a couple of old cellular phones. I could go on.’

Stratton was growing irritated with the conversation. ‘And you couldn’t take part in the operation without London’s say-so.’

‘True.’

‘Then what is the point of this conversation?’

‘We could do it, though.’

‘Because you can run, swim, ride bicycles and shoot a gun at a rubber target?’

‘I accept that we lack the know-how for climbing the oil platform.’

‘Which is only one of many reasons why London wouldn’t let you do it.’

‘Let’s just play this through a little further, then I’ll let you make your call. If we went together, you and us, that would give us all the expertise we would need to complete the task. That’s my point right now.’

‘That’s it? Are we done? Can I make my call now? I’ll keep this conversation to myself. No one would take me seriously, anyway.’

‘What are you afraid of?’

Stratton sighed. ‘If London called right now, gave you permission to go ahead and ordered me to go with you, I’d tell them to get stuffed. Okay?’

Jason was disappointed.

‘I don’t think he’s going for it,’ Binning said.

‘CNN has just released some breaking news on the Morpheus,’ Rowena piped up, scrolling through a web page.

Stratton looked up at the mention of the name. ‘Morpheus?’ he asked.

‘The hijacked platform,’ Rowena explained.

Binning looked over Rowena’s shoulder at the monitor. ‘Put it up on the screen,’ he asked.

She hit a couple of keys and swivelled in her chair to face a flatscreen television on the wall across the room.

It came to life, showing the CNN newsroom and an anchorman talking about the hijacked oil platform. A picture of the structure filled the background. It had the attention of everyone in the room, including Jason.

The news anchor was saying that only moments ago video footage from the platform hijackers had appeared on YouTube. They were threatening to kill six workers within the next twenty-four hours if their demands weren’t met.

The image changed. Six oil workers stood in a line on the windswept deck. The camera panned across their faces before zooming to a body hanging from the crane in the background. The picture was grainy, as if it had been processed for several generations.

Stratton stood transfixed, certain the man on the end of the line was Jordan. ‘Is there any way you can play that back?’ he asked.

Rowena typed something and the image began to rewind to the beginning of the footage and then played again at normal speed. Stratton watched intently as the camera panned to his friend once more.

In the live broadcast the news anchor was reiterating that the selected workers were to be shot within twenty-four hours if the hijackers’ demands weren’t met. The anchor cut to a man in a studio and Rowena reduced the volume.

A myriad of issues went flying around inside Stratton’s head. But there was really only one that mattered. Jordan, an old friend, had been singled out for execution. The two men’s relationship was a more complex one than that of mere former colleagues. Jordan had saved Stratton’s life. Of course that was all part of the job: the teamwork, covering each other’s back. Stratton owed his life to others in the SBS who’d fought alongside him over the years, as several owed theirs to him. But the situation with Jordan differed greatly. Jordan had almost died trying to save Stratton because of a decision that Stratton had made in the first place. Jordan would still be in the SBS - and as an active member - had it not been for that decision.

Things sometimes went wrong on operations, and when they did it was down to human error, equipment failure or interference from the gods. You went into the special forces knowing this. In fact you volunteered. You had to. The extreme risks and the inevitable failures demanded it. Those responsible for the mistakes were rarely dealt with severely. It could not be described as forgiveness, more a level of understanding, among the top brass at least. Yet the operatives were harsh on themselves as well as on each other. Those who failed colleagues could never forget it, even if others chose to leave it unmentioned.

Stratton had not failed Jordan officially, not according to the subsequent inquiry. Opinions among the operation planners and those who had been on the ground at the time differed depending on who you talked to. Justifiable or not, Stratton had never truly come to terms with the results of his decision. At the time he had stood by it as the best he could have done under the circumstances. That had not made the outcome for Jordan any easier to accept, particularly when the man had knowingly risked his life in order to comply with the order. Time could not heal the wound for either man. If any opportunity came along for Stratton to make amends he would grab it with both hands.

Stratton was well aware that the kidnappers could be bluffing, if not about the execution then about the timing. That was often the case and a part of the strategy of negotiation. But not always. Quick executions had sometimes proved helpful in speeding up the decision-making process in the kidnappers’ favour. The group that had hijacked the Morpheus had already killed one worker. They had to be taken seriously.

Stratton felt a sudden jolt of fear: this could be his only chance to make amends. He needed to think it through - he couldn’t afford to be rash. Time was the major factor. He just wouldn’t be able to work out every phase. He’d have to go step by step until he got to the point of no return. By then he would hope to know if the risks of continuing were acceptable.

His first thought was to get out of this nuthouse and back to Poole as soon as possible. If the SBS were planning to act fast, another team would have to be put together and he would probably be the ideal person to lead it - if he could get there. But that would take time. And if they didn’t have the manpower they couldn’t mount the operation, which would put him in the wrong location. The planners might have to ignore the threat, wait for the time lock, and use the original team. Jordan would be screwed if they did.

Stratton wondered if he could find a way onto the platform alone - a private operation. Even a brief consideration of the idea led nowhere. He didn’t have the right kit, for one thing. For another, he would never be able to get a vessel within fifty miles of the rig without being stopped by the Royal Navy. It might theoretically be possible in a small rubber inflatable, if he could carry enough fuel. But if the weather was anything like it usually was in the North Sea that plan could only lead to disaster.

Stratton looked around at the scientists as he pondered these choices and he felt suddenly horrified. Out of all of them, theirs seemed to have the best chance of success in the time-frame. Yet it was rife with obstacles.

London would not go for it, of course, so he would have to begin with subterfuge. The first step was to get on board the waiting helicopter and convince the crew to continue the task with the new team. But even if he could get them airborne, keeping them in the air and heading towards the objective was another big obstacle.

Unable to think of a solution, he moved on to the next major problem: getting this lot onto the platform. It would be putting them at too great a risk. These arrogant nutters were no doubt capable of much but learning to climb an oil rig for the first time in operational conditions was madness.

He had to be mental for even considering it. But as soon as he tried to put the idea from his mind, Jordan was there instead, looking at him, waiting for him to come and pay him back. That was one image Stratton could not delete so easily. The answer was to use what he had available to get as close to the platform as he could and then go it alone. If the scientists were crazy enough to try, he would use them to his advantage. How, he was not yet sure.

Jason realised Stratton was staring at him and with a strange look in his eyes. Binning saw the same thing.

Stratton went over the Poole options once again just in case he had missed anything. He imagined arriving in Dorset that night, and also the airlock opening to free Chaz. In both cases he heard Mike saying he could not be a part of any team because he was not ‘operationally fit’. The thought of it made him angry.

The only option that had any hope lay with the nutters. Even then, it didn’t have much chance of success but it looked like it was all he had. He thought fast. Equipment. What did they need? MI16 had dry-bags, and the chopper would already hold nearly everything else they’d want in the team’s boxes. One step at a time, he reminded himself. Up until the point of no return.

‘I’ll do it,’ Stratton said.

The other men stopped talking to each other and looked at him.

Rowena turned in her chair to face Stratton, her eyes not filled with expectation like those of the others but with suspicion. ‘What changed your mind?’ she asked. ‘Five minutes ago I’d have said there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of you going along with it.’

‘I don’t particularly care,’ Jason said, jumping in. ‘We can’t get the operation going without him.’

‘You trust him so easily, don’t you?’ Rowena flashed Mansfield a look. ‘You’re really that naive?’

Jason resented the dig but respected her point and faced Stratton in the hope of an explanation.

‘Tell us. Why the change of heart?’ Rowena asked the operative again. ‘It would have to be an exceptional reason. Let’s face it, you’d need to be insane to even attempt the operation with this lot.’

Her directness required a response.

Stratton suddenly found himself in the most bizarre position of having to convince
them
. He ran his fingers through his hair as he pondered the answer. The truth was more convincing than any story he could come up with. He saw no harm in telling them. ‘One of the men they’re threatening to execute on the Morpheus is an old friend.’

‘The one on the far end?’ Rowena asked, remembering how Stratton had looked at that hostage.

‘Yes.’

‘That’s it?’ She did not believe him.

‘I owe him my life. Call it an unpaid debt.’

Rowena studied him, still unconvinced. She turned back to the computer keyboard and began tapping away.

Jason appeared to believe him, whether from desperation on his part or not. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you, about doing it?’

‘I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.’

Binning’s energy soared at the prospect of going on the adventure and he immediately began to plan ahead. ‘Is there anything else we can bring? We have a few items that your service is unaware of that might be useful.’

Stratton didn’t want them bringing anything else along. But neither did he want to dampen their enthusiasm. ‘The final approach will probably entail a surface swim followed by a climb. Trust me when I say that climbing a caving ladder out of a heavy swell is not easy, even for you super-athletes. It’s more technique than strength.’ He needed to sound serious about taking them all the way onto the platform itself, regardless of his own reasons for going. ‘I advise you to carry as little as possible,’ he added.

The men began discussing various items of equipment and their pros and cons.

‘What was his name?’ Rowena asked, cutting through the chatter.

Stratton paused to consider the wisdom of saying anything else. ‘Jordan Mackay.’

‘Dates in the service?’ she asked, typing.

Stratton had to think. ‘I don’t know how long he was in the Marines but he was in the SBS for about ten years.’

Rowena studied the screen, which displayed the faces of several men. She had scanned Jordan’s features from the news report and was matching it to a database of SBS operatives past and present. A match came up quickly.

‘He’s telling the truth.The man on the Morpheus is Jordan Mackay, former member of the Special Boat Service, retired a year ago.’

‘You’re going to the oil platform to rescue a friend?’ Mansfield asked.

‘Did you think I was going for you?’

This didn’t satisfy him. ‘The surveillance system will be set up on the lower levels of the rig without anyone needing to go up top and become exposed. If you go in search of this man, you’ll put the whole operation at risk.’