the wall to take a look.
Stratton paused before closing the door and crouched to face Morgan, something on his mind. ‘You said you had a place to go in Gaza.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Why don’t you go down there. Today . . . like, now.’
Morgan looked deeply into Stratton’s eyes and saw something he had never seen there before. Fear was probably over the top but if not fear, it was the look of someone who had grave doubts about their business, and Stratton’s business was not just the job, but also staying alive to do it. Concern for his friend rose in Morgan but he knew better than to ask why Stratton was worried.
‘All right, mate,’ Morgan said.
Stratton nodded and was about to stand up when Morgan put his hand out.
‘Stratton.’
Stratton looked down at the big, black hand and took hold of it. Morgan leaned over and placed his other hand on top of Stratton’s, who did likewise. They held on to each other for a moment, no words spoken but everything being said.
‘You take care, mate,’ Morgan eventually said.
‘You too. And remember, nothing in this business is what it seems and there’s always more than what they tell you. Don’t trust any of ’em, Morgan . . . Better still, get a fucking real job.’
They smiled at each other.
‘I’ll see you back in Poole, mate,’ Morgan said. Stratton released him, closed the door and crossed the road to join Abed. Seconds later they were gone. Morgan stared at the gap in the wall for a moment, unable to guess why Stratton had told him to leave the West Bank. He would not allow his imagination to run wild but one thing was certain: when Stratton looked you in the eye and told you to get out of town, you had better do it. He started the car and headed away.
Stratton and Abed reached the top of the old stone quarry and crouched by several jagged boulders to view the area. The route through looked obvious; with a sheer wall of rock on one side and a steep craggy climb on the other it had to be along the bottom. The settlement was out of view from their position but no doubt they would see it from where the track disappeared around the side of the quarry.
Stratton glanced at Abed who was concentrating on the area ahead and wondered what he would be like if they ran into a problem. He looked athletic and alert, and anyone who could climb a supertanker at night in rough seas and murder the entire crew was undoubtedly capable. However Abed was the leader and Stratton’s concern was whether the man would take commands from him. He had to rate Abed’s value on this op as high, if for no other reason than he was all he had, after Gabriel. If there was contact of any kind in the quarry they would have to go either forwards or backwards. Backwards meant having to find another way out, which would also burn up time and possibly increase the risk since the authorities would know that someone was trying to avoid the checkpoints out of Ramallah. Going forward meant moving quickly into unknown territory, and that was always a high risk and inadvisable. This was one of those situations where there was no point in hanging around since no further information would be forthcoming.
‘I’ll lead off. Give me some space, okay?’ Stratton said.
Abed nodded and Stratton moved around the boulder and headed down a steep, loose track. Abed gave him a good distance before he followed.
Stratton kept his eyes ahead, his ears telling him Abed was behind.
They reached the bottom and carried on along the track that tightly hugged the quarry wall. Within minutes, they reached the furthest point they had been able to see from their start point and Stratton squatted to take a look at the ground ahead. The route looked obvious enough, keeping to the lowest point of the valley. The tough part was, as Morgan had said, the settlement on the top of the hill. It lined the ridge like a fortress, its battlements made of sheer plates of concrete fifteen feet high and knitted together to form an impregnable defence against a human assault, the tops of the ramparts fringed with razor wire just in case anyone was crazy enough to get that far and put up a ladder.
Abed joined him and looked at the route for himself.
‘You up for it?’ Stratton asked.
‘If you are,’ Abed said, matter-of-factly.
Stratton concentrated on the route again, taking stock of his senses that were working hard but not reporting back anything in the way of danger. He got up and walked forward. Abed let him get a dozen yards ahead before following.
Stratton repeatedly switched his gaze between the path ahead and the settlement above. There was no sign of life in any direction. As always, he automatically scanned for immediate cover he could drop behind in the event of a contact. The bad news was that as they moved around a gentle bend protection from above slimmed and the route was highly exposed. If they were going to be hit from the settlement this was the ideal place.
He increased speed across the open stretch, his eyes on a crop of boulders ten yards ahead. Suddenly something whistled through his jacket sleeve and struck the ground a few feet away with tremendous force, kicking up stones. It was accompanied by the loud report of a gun firing from above that echoed around the quarry. Stratton lunged forward and dived for the boulders, immediately looking back to see Abed sprinting across the open space towards the foot of the hill to dive and roll behind a collection of small rocks.
Abed could not get more tightly against the rocks but he still felt highly exposed. He looked over at Stratton who held up a hand indicating Abed to stay where he was. Abed had seen the round strike close to Stratton and if the man was wounded, he gave no indication of it.
Stratton pulled up his sleeve to find a bloody crease across his forearm but not deep into the muscle.That was too close for comfort.
He took stock of their tenuous situation. At first take they were pinned down by a sniper with nowhere to run and a good eleven hours before darkness. However there was some useful information to be gathered to help form a strategy other than waiting for nightfall. The first and most obvious point was that the sniper was a lousy shot. The ground immediately in front of the battlements of the settlement, the most likely place for the gunman, was no more than two hundred yards away.An average sniper, using the term as a military qualification, with a 7.62 rifle, was expected to hit a man at six hundred yards every time. A good sniper could do the same at a thousand yards in ideal conditions: good light and no wind. The next point was the type of weapon. If it was an automatic or semi- automatic rifle the sniper had plenty of time to take another shot at Stratton or adjust his aim and shoot at Abed, but he had not. That would suggest the shooter had a proper sniper or hunting rifle that required a manual reload. The best sniper rifles had as few working parts as possible to improve accuracy, the main parts being the barrel that floated in a wooden stock, the scope fixed on top and the breech. The only parts that actually moved during the firing process were the trigger mechanism and firing pin. As few working parts as possible meant each round had to be loaded manually. That meant moving the scope off the target, reloading the breech and then relocating a target. A good sniper would have had ample time to reload and squeeze off another shot at Abed as he was exposed for several seconds, but this one could not manage it, another indication of his amateur status. Looking around at the hill and surrounding ground Stratton found one more indication of the sniper’s inexperience. A few yards further on up the track was a small gully that looked like it ran all the way up the hill. The lowest point of the gully would be dead ground to the sniper, out of his view. If Stratton could get to it, he might be able to make his way up. The main glitch would be if there was more than one sniper.
Stratton looked back at Abed who had not moved. ‘Abed,’ he called out, just loud enough for him to hear. ‘You’re gonna have to draw his fire.’
Abed understood what the Englishman wanted and although it crossed his mind that it might be a ploy to allow Stratton to escape, his instincts said to trust him. The Englishman was a soldier and calm under fire, and, more compelling than any other reason, he had no choice.
Abed nodded and looked around for some better cover. He did not like where he was anyway, with his face in the dirt, and a safer hiding place would be very much appreciated. But there was nothing close by. His best bet was to move up the hill where there were larger rocks and some foliage. Cover from view in this case was as good as cover from fire. But it was closer to the sniper.
Abed gathered himself, took a breath and sprang like a cat, rolled over the rocks towards the sniper and scrambled forward on all fours. The sniper fired hitting the ground inches in front of Abed, smacking him in the face
