way to dump a plan was to prove that it couldn’t work. He began by breaking it down into phases: target assessment and vulnerabilities, methods and options, feasibility studies, equipment procurement, and evacuation plan. But he could neither dismiss nor approve any scheme due to lack of the one thing that was the key to any operation: information. He went back to the file. But it did not have sufficient detail and Stratton slowly dozed off again with it open on his chest.
10
When Stratton finally fell asleep for the second time it seemed like only minutes later that a knock on the bedroom door woke him up again. As he sat up tiredly it opened and Seaton stepped into the room wearing running shorts, T-shirt and trainers.
‘Want to go for a run?’ he asked.
Stratton rubbed his face in an effort to push the sleep away. ‘Sure,’ he said, not entirely meaning it. It was practically instinctive for an SF operative to say yes to such an offer, especially when it came from a foreign host in a similar profession.
‘You got any kit with you?’ Seaton asked.
‘Yeah. Give me five minutes.’
‘Great. The boys want to meet you. They’re fans of British special forces and,’ lowering his voice, ‘I’ve told them some stories about you, maybe a little polished in places, but you know what kids are like.’
Stratton forced a smile which disappeared as Seaton stepped forward and picked the file up off the floor. ‘See you in a couple minutes,’ he said as he left the room with the file tucked under one arm.
As Seaton closed the door behind him Stratton dangled his legs over the side of the bed and breathed a sigh. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Seaton taking the file: it seemed a little like withdrawing a gift. But perhaps he was being oversensitive. The file wasn’t his to keep anyway and he put thoughts of it out of his head.
Five minutes later Stratton walked down the stairs in running gear to see the front door open and Seaton outside stretching his legs. He was talking with two boys, both of them on BMX-type bicycles and wearing helmets, as well as knee and shin pads.
‘Hi,’ Stratton said as he stepped outside. The two boys immediately went serious and looked up at him in some kind of awe.
‘This is Bobby,’ Seaton said, introducing the older boy. Stratton shook his hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Bobby.’
‘And your namesake, John.’
‘John,’ Stratton said as he shook the youngster’s hand.
‘They’re gonna come with us, see if they can keep up with us old-timers. But we’re going to give you guys a run for your money,’ Seaton challenged them.
‘You’re on, Dad,’ Bobby said. Both boys were grinning. ‘Which way you going?’ he asked as he pointed his bike up the path. His younger brother followed suit.
‘Ah, well, that’s the catch,’ Seaton said. ‘We get to choose the route as and when and you’ve got to see if you can hang on in there.’
‘No cheatin’ and goin’ over fences this time,’ the smaller boy piped up.
‘Okay. No fences,’ Seaton said, winking at Stratton. ‘You ready?’
‘Whenever,’ Stratton replied, getting a quick stretch in.
‘Let’s go.’
They set off down the sidewalk towards a large patch of woodland in the distance. Seaton led them across a main road empty of traffic and onto a wide earth track, moving at an easy pace. Stratton felt cold and a little stiff at first but soon warmed up and came alongside Seaton as they entered the wood. The boys pedalled along behind, hot on their heels, watching their father like young hawks as if at any moment he might attempt to make a break for it.
Stratton was feeling in good shape, having managed to get a fair bit of running in since returning from Iraq and he moved easily along. Within a mile he felt completely awake and warmed up. The two boys cruised happily behind, their little legs going like the clappers with seemingly limitless energy. Stratton wondered if Seaton’s earlier wink indicated that he had some sort of surprise in store for them. Then, as if he’d read Stratton’s thoughts, Seaton picked up the pace and suddenly darted off the track onto a narrow, muddy footpath. Stratton moved up a gear behind him, as did the boys.
The path narrowed even more as it moved out of the wood and threaded through a large patch of dense bushes. Yards before it went back into the wood Seaton bounded up a steep bank and into the trees where the ground foliage was sparse with no defined path.
The boys had trouble peddling up the bank and John had to dismount to push his bike with his brother’s help. But they quickly remounted at the top and were soon closing in.
Seaton did not relax his pace and Stratton began to wonder who he was challenging – Stratton or the boys. Whatever, Stratton felt he was up for it and with several gears still in reserve he pushed up onto Seaton’s heels.
The ground dropped away suddenly to reveal a large puddle that could not be circumnavigated without diverting through large bushes and Seaton ploughed into it. The water was only a few inches deep but the soft muddy bottom dropped the level to just below their knees and their feet were covered in a thick black sludge when they emerged on the other side.
Stratton glanced back to see the boys enter the mud pit, keeping as close to the edge as possible. It immedi ately slowed them but perseverance pulled them through. Once again they shot up to speed and closed the gap.
Seaton took a second to check on his boys. Then, as if disappointed that he had not yet lost them, he abruptly changed direction again and speeded up.
The ground rose up a steep incline to where the trees gave way to a thick heather-like shrub and they pressed on across a large patch of open ground before descending into the wood once more. The sun had failed to break through the heavy cloud and it began to look dark enough for rain. But at this stage of the run it might have been welcome as Stratton was beginning to sweat from the humidity.
The boys had suffered a little with the lumpy undergrowth and, unable to find a rhythm, started to drop further back. Seaton was aware of this and put on another spurt.
A stream some twelve feet wide appeared across their front with a steep bank on the far side. Seaton did not slow as he leaped in up to his hips and waded through the fast-moving water. Stratton was halfway across when Seaton scrambled up the other side and pushed off at the run without looking back. When Stratton made the top of the bank he paused to look back and see the boys sliding to a halt at the edge of the stream. Bobby looked up at him, frowning. Stratton shrugged and sped off in pursuit of Seaton.
Seaton had put some distance between him and Stratton and kept the pace up across a stretch of open ground towards a line of trees. It was now obvious to Stratton that he was the focus of the race since Seaton must have been aware that his boys had stopped as he pushed on into the trees. Stratton accelerated after the other man and kept up the pace until he was at his heels again, lowering his hands in an effort to relax his shoulders and control his breathing whose rate had markedly increased. They were pounding along at a fair trot and Stratton began to wonder how much more Seaton had left in him. The man was obviously a regular runner and both were playing a game of who would break first, though Stratton was aware that Seaton’s main advantage was his knowledge of the terrain.
They hit a muddy path used by horses and Seaton kept up the pressure along it until they hit a dryer patch where it opened up as it dropped down a steep incline. Stratton put on a spurt to come alongside Seaton but as the path began to narrow again Seaton elbowed him hard in the side in a bid to take the lead. Stratton’s hackles immediately rose as he almost tripped, unsure whether or not it had been an accident.
The dip bottomed out and the path widened again. It looked straight now for a good half-mile or so. Stratton moved alongside Seaton to let him know that he was up to the pace and Seaton responded by increasing it still more. Stratton kept up with him, moving up into what he felt was probably his last gear short of an all-out and very
