the moor. Enders seemed offended, insisting he knew about search and rescue, but Savage pointed out he wasn’t leading a summer letterboxing expedition with the family and they needed all the help they could get. Besides which the team had search dogs that might prove extremely useful.
‘Are we looking for a body, ma’am?’ Enders had gone serious and stopped larking about.
‘No idea. But who in their right minds would be up on the moor in this kind of weather?’
‘Unless they had a death wish.’ Calter, the fun gone out of her too.
‘That’s what I am worried about.’
They pulled up and Savage got out, battling to open the door against the gale. She struggled into her waterproof jacket, cursing as a hank of hair blew across her face and got caught in the zip. A big man, the sort you would want on your side in a drug’s bust, climbed down from the rescue team’s Landrover and strode over to Savage. The wind flattened his waterproof gear against his body, but he seemed unaffected by the weather. He offered his hand.
‘Callum Campbell,’ he said in a Scottish accent, his clear blue eyes holding her gaze a split second longer than was comfortable.
‘Thanks for meeting us.’ Savage handed him the GPS coordinates. ‘We are looking for someone at this location.’
Campbell returned to his vehicle and retrieved a handheld GPS. The unit had a little screen with a map, and once he had entered the coordinates he tapped the display and shook his head.
‘Nothing out there but lousy weather and a few stupid sheep.’
‘We know. Why do you think we called you?’
‘Aye. Best get moving before this lot turns to snow.’ He gestured at the sleet, turned to walk back to his vehicle, but then stopped and shouted over his shoulder.
‘Are we looking for a live one?’
Savage hesitated, the informant hadn’t specified anything, only that the information concerned Forester. The whole thing could turn out to be a wild goose chase.
‘We are not even sure what we are looking for.’
‘No problem, I’ll alert the guys and gals. No sense in busting our guts or risking our limbs if there isn’t someone alive out there.’
They left Princetown in convoy with the rescue team leading the way. Sunset had long gone and the weather showed no sign of letting up. Warm air blew from the car’s heater ducts and Savage stared through the side window and wondered what it would be like to be lost out on the moor in the blackness.
Five miles north east of Princetown Campbell’s Landrover turned off the road and onto a rough track. Savage’s driver muttered a ‘bloody hell’ and followed. The vehicles lurched along, bouncing over exposed rock and crashing into potholes, progress slowed to not much more than walking pace, limited now by the terrain rather than the visibility. Through the windscreen in the headlights Savage caught a glimpse of a few clumps of heather and scrub and beyond the nothingness of the whiteout.
She estimated that they were averaging only about ten miles an hour and after some thirty minutes the rescue vehicle stopped. Campbell got out and came back to speak to them. Savage sat on the sheltered side of the Landrover so she rolled her window down. Campbell poked his head into the fug.
‘Nice in here, isn’t it?’ He grinned. ‘Did you bring a picnic?’
Savage could see the funny side, but didn’t feel much like laughing.
‘Are we there?’
‘The waypoint is about a thousand metres due north.’ Campbell pointed off into the dark. ‘No chance of using the vehicles so get yourselves kitted up.’
Enders had retrieved his mountain gear from his car back at the station and he looked the business in a matching Karimor jacket and trousers and solid-looking climbing boots, like he was about to try for the final push for the summit of Everest. His round face beamed out from under the peak of his hood, eager to get started. The rest of them pulled on the high-vis waterproofs they’d snatched from traffic. Looking at the sleet whipping through the beams of the headlights Savage was beginning to think they would be useless.
Three more of the rescue team clambered out of the back of the Landrover. Two guys and a girl, all decked out in waterproofs and equipped with head torches and a big handheld searchlight. A couple of border collies jumped down as well and the dogs began scampering around, snapping at the sleet and spinning in circles with excitement, their eyes bright and missing nothing. Like Campbell they seemed oblivious to the weather.
‘OK, listen up!’ Campbell sounded serious now, balling his orders out against the howling gale. ‘We are only going about one kilometre from the vehicles but in these conditions you can lose sight of someone in ten metres, so everyone stay close. Slip over and sprain your ankle and get left behind and you are in trouble. The wind will carry your cry for help away and the same wind will be sapping your core temperature. The dogs might find you but then again they might not. By first light you will be dead.’
The wind seemed to be slicing through Savage’s waterproofs and Campbell’s remarks didn’t make her feel any warmer.
‘Jeff will stay in our vehicle and your traffic officer will stay here too. I will lead the way with Carole and her dog. Next you guys,’ Campbell indicated Savage and her two DCs. ‘Then Adrian will bring up the rear with his dog. Adrian and I have radios as does Jeff so we have contact with each other and with our base. If we need to casevac there is no chance of a helicopter in this weather so Adrian has got the stretcher packed up. If we find a dead one I suggest we wait until daylight. OK, any questions?’
No one said anything so he muttered a ‘let’s go’ and with a deliberate, methodical stride began to pick his way out across the open moor.
Savage and the others followed, not moving much beyond a slow walk. Within a couple of minutes they lost all sight of the two Landrovers and the track. Savage became disorientated to such a degree that she had no idea in which direction they were heading. Picked out in the torchlight Campbell was just a lumbering shadow up ahead, beyond him the sleet reflected the light for a few metres and beyond that was total blackness. Campbell had been right, step away from the group and you were a goner.
There was no path, only the occasional sheep track criss-crossing their route, and the terrain was typical Dartmoor: one minute the ground would be firm underfoot, the next you would be squelching through mud and bog.
Every so often Campbell stopped and a pale light flashed on his face as he peered at the GPS screen and used a tiny penlight to cross check with a compass and a map encased in a plastic holdall. Check complete he would stride forward, his steady gait eating up the ground with ease. He might have been a volunteer, but he practiced his art like a professional.
After about twenty minutes the shape of a rocky outcrop loomed ahead in the torchlight. The craggy granite, cold and rough, was incongruous after the softness of the boggy moorland.
‘Caglin Tor,’ Campbell shouted against the roaring wind. ‘This is it!’
They moved closer and stopped in the lee of the towering rock where the wind was somewhat lessened. Savage stood with her hands on her hips taking deep breaths. Campbell breathed easy though, not fazed by the weather or the terrain.
‘The exact coordinates are over on the west side, but sometimes the GPS can be out by quite a bit compared to the map and we have got no idea if the position given is accurate anyway. I suggest we split and skirt the tor in two teams, each with a dog. Keep close to the rock, and if you lose sight of each other for God’s sake stay put.’
The sleet had turned to snow now and even with the powerful torches visibility was down to no more than a few metres. Savage followed the dog handler and Campbell as they skirted the rocks anti-clockwise. A strange howling whistle filled the air as the wind lashed round the rocks, driving the sleet and snow with a force that stung her exposed skin. Savage was glad she was with Campbell.
Up ahead the dog zipped back and forth, disappearing into each rock cleft and running out again to scamper about. Every now and then it would stop and raise a wet nose into the air and whine and race off again. Then a startled sheep shot out from one fissure, the creature’s eyes flashing green in the torchlight. The collie span around and around and barked for all it was worth, the excitement in the dog’s eyes a counterpoint to the fear in the ewe’s.
‘Was it the sheep?’ Savage asked the handler.
