He had long since identified it as a kind of loneliness and he was well aware that it wasn’t healthy either. The way his mind worked, no man could really be complete without a family. Surely that was the prime purpose, to find a partner and produce offspring in order to continue the line. But there was time yet for all of that. Right now he was a soldier and he needed to focus on that alone. Every lifestyle had its sacrifices. His was a lack of companion - ship, of love. He would do without for the time being and gamble that he could find it when he was good and ready. When he was no longer in this business.
‘We were going cycling today,’ Hopper said. ‘Bradbury Rings … When do you think they’ll tell her I’m missing?’
‘If they thought we’d taken a boat, then they’d more than likely assume we’d been lost at sea before considering we’d been taken by this shower,’ said Stratton. ‘They won’t rush into assuming the worst. First thing they’ll probably tell her is there’s been an extension to the op. They won’t give her any bad news until they’re certain.’ He knew that much from experience. He’d had to pass on the bad news more than once. Watching a loving wife or girlfriend break into small pieces right in front of you is not something he was built to take, tough as he felt. He didn’t have the tools to deal with it. Which only served to cement his belief that close relationships weren’t worth the pain they could create, even for those not directly involved in them.
‘If Sabarak barters us to Lotto, we’re screwed,’ Hopper said. ‘Even if London agreed to pay a ransom for us, which I strongly doubt, Lotto might not take it. He might rather make a present of us to the jihadists. We should consider making a break for it, and the sooner the better.’
Stratton knew that was the right course of action. But the boxes on the ships were bothering him. Kidnapping Sabarak was one part of a larger operation. The big picture was about something else. They might have failed to bring in Sabarak, but perhaps they had stumbled on another and possibly larger piece of the puzzle. He couldn’t let that go. If they concentrated on saving their own skins, they would be failing in their duties. They weren’t just ordinary soldiers charging at an enemy. They were specialists. That meant thinking for yourself, changing course and making decisions, sometimes major ones, without consulting the head shed. He felt an urge inside him that was far stronger than the need to save his own neck. He couldn’t leave Somalia until he found out what was going on.
‘We can’t leave,’ Stratton said. ‘Not yet.’
Hopper couldn’t hide his surprise. He didn’t know Stratton very well personally but he knew his reputation. Like everyone else in the SBS, Hopper hadn’t been privy to the details of Stratton’s operations for the SIS and, on occasion apparently, for the Americans. But the rumours went around. And Stratton would never reveal anything himself. If he had done half as much as he was supposed to have, he wasn’t someone to ignore in a situation like this.
Hopper had initially thought there was no one better to get caught with after being captured by the Somalis. But cracks of doubt were beginning to appear in his confidence, cracks caused by Stratton’s strength and his own weakness. He could think of nothing but escape and a return to his wife and children. Stratton hadn’t mentioned it since seeing those boxes going on to the ships. The man constantly pushed the limits in order to succeed on an operation. Which was why he was a top operative. He saw success as a higher priority than his own safety, or at least close to it.
Stratton would probably never agree with that statement, but others who had worked closely with him were certain of its truth. Hopper was suddenly concerned. Like most other members of the service, he knew that Stratton preferred working alone. That was probably because few people could play by his rules. Hopper felt in his guts that it was looking bad for them.
‘Those crates they loaded on to the ship,’ Stratton said. ‘I want to know what’s in them.’
Hopper’s heart sank, though he never showed it. He nodded, accepting that it had to be done. ‘OK. Then as soon as we do that, we get out of here?’
‘Then we get out of here,’ Stratton agreed.
The guards allowed no more than two prisoners at a time to leave the room on a toilet break. After the meal, Stratton and Hopper took it as an opportunity to explore. When they stepped out, the Somali pushed them down the side of the hut opposite. The toilet, a hole in the ground, was at the back. All they could see were the cramped little houses left and right, front and back. And guys with assault rifles.
When Stratton walked back into the hut, the girl glanced at him. She did that every time the door opened. Like she was waiting for someone. Most of the prisoners had dozed off. Stratton and Hopper took their places against the wall. The girl remained awake, staring at the wall. She seemed to be in a constant state of anxiety.
The day dragged on and they all lay there in the hut. There was nothing else to do but think. Or doze. The evening meal when it came was fish stew again. The hours passed slowly until darkness began to fall. The girl had hardly moved. Her eyes were closed. The air became colder with the passing of the sun. Stratton firmed up his plans for the night’s activities. He intended to be busy.
6
The moonlight shining in through the paneless opening high up the wall of the prison hut bathed the room in a grey wash. They could hear a couple of small generators chugging away somewhere not far from the hut. The privileged no doubt. The town had no mains electricity. They could smell kerosene lamps and hear the waves pounding the beach, a sound that had not been as obvious during the daytime.
They heard voices occasionally passing by outside. A round of laughter. A vehicle, probably an old truck, puttering along the main road. By now the limited conversations in the room had ceased completely. The sound of gentle snoring dominated.
Hopper lay stretched out on the floor. He was not asleep and was thinking, mostly about his family and what Helen was doing. He estimated the time at around nine or ten o’clock. That put it at six or seven back home. The children would be going to bed soon. Helen would then watch the TV or read a book, a mug of tea in her hands. She would wonder what her man was doing at that moment. But she wouldn’t be concerned. Not yet. It was still too soon. He’d been delayed many times before. It was the nature of the job. They had got married two years after he joined the SBS. She’d grown thick-skinned, used to the long operations and him being away months at a time. He’d only been gone a few days so far and therefore the wait had been nothing.
He suddenly wondered what would happen if something went wrong. If he didn’t make it back. He imagined them coming to her front door, one of the SBS officers and probably the Sergeant Major. She would probably have an inkling something was wrong as soon as she saw them. But she wouldn’t react. She was the optimistic kind. Even when she saw their sombre expressions, at the worst she would expect to hear he had been injured and wouldn’t be home for a while yet. And when they told her he’d been killed, she would suck in her emotion, for a while at least. The first thing she would ask was how he had died. They wouldn’t go into detail. But then she would think the worst and crack up. She would burst into tears, her life would fall apart.
Hopper rolled on to his back.
‘Hopper?’ Stratton whispered.
Hopper looked up at his partner sat against the wall next to him.
Stratton slid down and whispered into Hopper’s ear, ‘Soon as everyone is settled, I’ll make a move out of here.’
Hopper looked at him strangely, like he hadn’t fully understood. ‘You going alone?’
‘I’ve been going over all our options. One person can move more securely than two. If anything happens to one, there’s still a chance for the other. Also, if any of this lot should decide to raise the alarm after I’ve gone, you can change their minds for them. I’ll only be a couple of hours at the most if all goes well. I’ll also be looking to our escape. When I get back we’ll bug out together.’
Hopper understood Stratton’s thought process. It was debatable but he saw the value in keeping the other prisoners quiet. He looked at the prone forms around him. He doubted any of them would make a peep if he and Stratton left together. But it could still work Stratton’s way. And he was the ops leader. ‘Have you got your hands free yet?’
‘Almost.’ Stratton had been working on the clumsy series of knots since darkness had fallen. He had untied most of them.
