pressure the past few years; he’d reached that point in his career when the future was uncertain. The pyramid of promotion was getting narrower and more guys were competing for fewer jobs. Those left on the sidelines could count the days to civvy street. Hank had tried to put it out of his mind but the pressure was on to lay on a damn good performance with these guys.
Doles walked past the window and stepped back into the office, followed a few seconds later by Stratton. Hank recognised him from that first day in the hangar with Marty. Stratton did not acknowledge him and joined Doles to pore over one of the many maps pinned to the walls.
‘They said we could use area “A”,’ Doles said, following the boundary line of a piece of countryside with his finger.
‘We’ll also need “E”,’ Stratton said, pointing to an adjacent expanse of land. ‘I need the town.’
‘When I asked about those areas they said 22 were using E and F.’
‘I need E and the connecting road to A,’ Stratton insisted, jabbing his finger on a circular road that ran through both of the areas. ‘Call ’em and tell ’em we need it.’
‘But they’re just going to tell me the same thing.’
‘Did you say the magic word?
‘No, because I don’t know the magic word,’ Doles said with a hint of sarcasm.
‘Op Phoenix.’
‘Can I use that over the phone?’
‘Use the secure phone. Look, we have priority. Trust me, we’ll get anything we want on this one.’
‘But you don’t know what it’s about.’
‘No, but I know who it’s from,’ Stratton said.
‘Then they know what it’s about. I mean, Phoenix was put together today, right?’
‘They won’t know. But when they make the confirmation call to DSF they’ll be told to give Phoenix priority. You know what the SAS are like. They always get upset when we get the big jobs instead of them.You’d think they’d be used to it by now.’ Stratton headed for the door. ‘I’ll get a stores list to you by this afternoon,’ he said as he opened it.
‘Oh, Stratton?’ Doles said, remembering something. ‘Be handy if I could sort out accommodation soon as poss. Got any idea on numbers?’
Stratton did a quick calculation in his head. ‘There’ll be eight from M. Clemens, you and me, that’s eleven, plus two drivers, a cook and a storeman. I want to use the bashers in quadrant A. Once we get into the camp we’re pretty much staying there, okay?’
‘And you don’t know how long for.’
‘Nope.’
‘That might be a problem if—’
‘The magic word,’ Stratton interrupted with a smile, one old friend to another. He winked and then left.
Doles sat at his desk and scribbled some notes. ‘I like magic words,’ he said to himself.
Hank had been watching and listening but went back to thumbing through the lecture pack as Stratton left. Doles paused to look up at Hank as if just realising he was there. His gaze lingered on Hank while he thought about something. Hank looked up at Doles, who remained staring at him. Hank went back to his file, wondering what Doles was thinking. Doles picked up the phone and dialled a number.
‘Sir. Doles here,’ he said. ‘What do you want to do with the attached rank? . . . Yeah.’ There was a long pause while Doles listened. Hank also waited for the reply, hoping he was the attached rank in question, even though he had no idea what for. ‘We’ve got odd numbers at the moment. He’ll even them up,’ Doles said. ‘That would help for some of the serials.’There was another pause as Doles listened.‘No reason why it should be a problem,’ he said. Then after listening for a moment longer he said with finality, ‘Okay,’ and put down the phone.
Hank kept his eyes fixed on the lecture notes, waiting for Doles to say something, but he was silent for what seemed an age. Hank became anxious that it wasn’t him they had been talking about.
‘Hank,’ Doles said finally.
Hank looked up with an expression of nonchalance. ‘Huh?’
‘The team’s on a warning order to move in less than twenty hours. We’re joining another team from M to beat up for an operation. The boss said if you want to come along for the training phase it’s okay by him.’
Hank shrugged. ‘Sure. Sounds great.’
‘It’s an isolation. Do you know what that means?’
‘Once we go in no one comes out or communicates with the outside world till the op’s completed.’
‘After the team is debriefed on completion.’
‘That’s fine by me.’
‘Don’t you want to know how long it could be for?’
‘No . . . When the job’s done, I guess.’
‘What about the wife and kids?’
‘Not a problem.’
Doles liked the answer. ‘We leave tomorrow morning,’ he said. ‘All you need to bring are civvy clothes. No military stuff whatsoever: watch straps, things like that. You’ll need your ID card. No smart clothes. Jeans and T- shirt routine, things you don’t mind getting damaged. There’ll be laundry facilities.You can tell friends and family you’re going to Scotland on an exercise for a couple of weeks.That’s what your wife will be told if she calls the camp. Bring some beer money in case but you won’t need much else otherwise.’ Doles checked his watch. ‘You might as well head home for the day. Bob can take care of stores by himself. Be here by seven for a seven-thirty departure.’
Hank picked up all the lecture packs and put them back in the filing cabinet. ‘Can I ask where we’re going, or do I wait ’n’ see?’ he asked.
‘I can tell you where the training camp is. It’s in Wales. The actual op location is secret. I don’t even know where it is or what the job is.’
Hank nodded as he picked up his cap and smoothed the starched edges. ‘I haven’t been to Wales,’ he said.
‘Hank?’ Doles said, stopping him as he reached the doorway. ‘You’re only going for the training.’
‘Whatever,’ Hank said with a smile. ‘Just glad to be doing something.’
‘I think you’ll enjoy it.’
‘I look forward to it. See you tomorrow,’ Hank said as he closed the door.
As he headed through the wood towards the car park, Hank felt uplifted, despite Doles’s assurance he would not get on the op itself. He had been in England just two weeks and was already going on operational training. That wasn’t a bad start, he decided. Who knew where it could lead?
Hank sat in the second of two unmarked Range Rovers as they crossed the Severn Bridge in close file and passed into Wales. Doles sat in front alongside the driver, in a thick arctic duvet jacket. Apart from Clemens and Doles, Hank didn’t know the other three operatives in his vehicle. In fact the only other person he knew was Stratton, who was in the other Rover, although he had not as yet exchanged a word with him. The men’s personal baggage, all military backpacks and holdalls, were stuffed into the back of each Rover. Whatever equipment they needed for the training was apparently already at the secret camp they were headed for, the unmarked stores lorry carrying food, weapons and ammunition having left Poole before dawn.
Everyone had been pretty quiet throughout the trip, most sleeping. Hank had stayed awake. He was sticking to his game plan of staying in the background, remaining the grey man. He had overheard that the mysterious camp was named Ilustram and was designed and built for Special Forces use only. Its location was classified. The team was hoping to get at least a week of intensive training in before individuals were selected for the mission. Whatever that was he still had no idea. He suspected most of the others didn’t know either. If they did then it was down to their ‘need to know’ - and Hank did not need to know. There was no sense of excitement.
