Land of Fire (23 page)

I forced myself to make my mind a blank and concentrate totally on moving up the pipe. Push and heave, push and heave. At least we were well concealed and out of the dreadful wind.

We moved in darkness, feeling our way with our hands, pushing our kit in front of us. I had an infra-red torch which in conjunction with the night sights would have made everything as bright as day, but I didn't use it in case the Argies had a PIR sensor monitoring the pipe. The stink was awful and there was a strong smell of aviation fuel. After a few yards the ice became a thin crust that gave beneath our weight, and soon we were soaking in raw sewage. I scraped my hand along the roof constantly to check for a manhole to the surface all I got though were the joints of the pipe sections. Several times we encountered smaller drains discharging their contents into the main duct, but fortunately there wasn't a lot of water coming down because of the freezing cold.

At one point I came to a halt. "What's the matter?" I heard Josh gasp from behind.

"I'm not sure. I'm stuck against something," I called back, fumbling about with my hands. "There seems to be a blockage." I inched myself up, feeling the slimy walls for an obstruction. "It feels like cement has squeezed through the joint between two sections and formed a big lump in the roof. I think we can get under though."

The cement hung down from the roof like stalactite, barring our path. Using my knife, I broke off bits until there was room for us to squeeze through, just. It meant immersing our heads in the stinking flow but it had to be done.

"Boy, the guys are going to be pleased to see us when we get back," said Josh.

We pushed on. At a rough guess we had travelled around two hundred metres. Surely even the Argies must build inspection chambers into their drains, I kept telling myself. If we became trapped down here, how long before the others came to look for us? Would the radio work this far underground if we called for help? If it did would they be able to get us out?

After what felt like an age the darkness up ahead seemed to diminish slightly. Not so much light as a hint of grey in the blackness. The effect was so faint at first I convinced myself my eyes were playing tricks. Gradually, as we drew nearer, it resolved itself into a crescent of pale gloom seeping down from overhead. Urgently we heaved ourselves towards it, terrified we would find a barred grille or a hatch too small to escape through.

With a final spurt I dragged my stinking body up to the gap, my lungs revelling in the fresh air filtering down. Snow was piled on the floor of the pipe, and I seized a handful to wipe the filth from my face. Reaching up I found a square manhole with a cracked lid that was partly dislodged.

"How is it? Can we get out?" Josh's voice came urgently from behind. He could see nothing and had to rely on bulletins from me for encouragement.

"Some kind of access hatch," I whispered back. "I'm going to stick my head out to take a look and see."

Squirming round on to my back in the water, I fished out my pistol, pushed up cautiously on the broken halves of the lid and slid them apart. Snow cascaded down through the hole on to my face. When I pulled myself upright the sides of the trench were level with my head so I could crane my neck to see over the edge. The blizzard was turning to sleet, driving across the bleak airfield like the surface of a glacier. I made a slow and cautious sweep round with the night-vision goggles I could pick out the two big hangars, and there were lights burning nearby, but no sentries that I could see. On a night like this they would be sheltering inside if they had any sense at all.

I dropped down again to confer with Josh. "We're on the edge of the concrete taxiways round the revetment area. No Argies I could see."

"So do we go on or take to the surface?"

I hesitated. I'd have given a lot to get away from the claustrophobia of the drain. It looked to me as though a quick dash of 200 metres would take us to our objective. Surely no one would spot us in this weather? Reluctantly I put the temptation aside. It was taking an unnecessary risk. "We need to get nearer in," I told him. "There must be another access hatch among the revetments. Let's press on."

Josh made no protest. He was a good lad. And the fact we had found one manhole was a big boost to our morale. I jerked the pieces of the concrete lid back into place. In the confined pipe it sounded like the lid going down on a tomb. I wriggled round on to my stomach again and we crawled on. This time it was worse because we were running deeper underground.

The drain seemed endless. Quite possibly it ran right under the apron and on to the runway. Twice we came to narrow sections where we could only squeeze through with difficulty. I was trying to keep some idea of how far we were going, counting each jerk forward as about four inches, making three to the foot. The stink was worse than ever. I just hoped it wasn't all going to end in some massive tank of filth. I had to keep checking the roof with my fingers in case we missed the next hatch. At what I reckoned was 150 metres I called out to Josh that I was halting for a rest.

"I don't know how much further we can go on."

"No sign of a manhole?"

"Nothing. And the water's getting deeper."

Josh let out a chuckle. "Yeah, I noticed that. Some Argy air force colonel taking a shit. You want to go back?"

I dreaded the thought of trying to squeeze backwards down the pipe. I was tempted to use the torch to look ahead but it would risk giving ourselves away. "No," I told him. "We'll keep on for a bit."

Elbows, feet; elbows, feet; we heaved ourselves along, pushing our weapons and kit before us. Then I heard something. "Listen."

A low rumbling sound had become audible. We lay still in the darkness as it grew steadily closer, filling the pipe, setting the concrete vibrating. "Must be a truck, "Josh said. "Maybe it's the patrol going round again."

The sound drew nearer. Dust and droplets of moisture rained down from the roof. Suddenly my straining eyes caught a gleam of light that filled the drain in front of us, a light that persisted for several moments then abruptly cut out. The noise passed us without stopping, continuing along the line of the drain for a while, then turning off towards the north. The booming sound diminished and finally faded out completely.

"Those were headlights. The next manhole must be very close."

"Not close enough for me," Josh panted.

Encouraged, we redoubled our efforts to reach the hatch, forcing ourselves to ignore the stinking flow rising around us. By now, I judged, we had put ourselves well inside the aircraft revetments. With luck we should have only a short distance to cover to the main hangars.

At last my groping fingers met the manhole rim. The ground level was higher here and there was a short access shaft to the surface. As before, I cocked the Sig before edging the lid up to peer out. A blast of freezing wind burned my throat but after the foetid air of the drain I breathed in thankfully. Once again I made a careful 360-degree survey. No one about, no sign of life. We had surfaced right in the middle of the dispersal area, next to what looked like a refuelling point and fire-fighting station. Not far away a single floodlight illuminated a twin-storey building with big roller doors firmly closed, which presumably housed the fire trucks we had seen earlier. Twenty-five metres beyond, the massive bulk of one of the main hangars loomed like a cliff.

"All clear," I whispered down to Josh. "Quick, hand out the kit."

He passed up the weapons and webbing and levered himself out after me. We slid the lid back in place and scuffed snow around the rim to make it look as if it had never been opened. The sleet was interspersed with a freezing rain. With luck it would hide our tracks before the patrol came round again. Without pausing, we sprinted for the side of the fire station and crouched in its shadow. In the whirling night our camouflage whites made us invisible at twenty yards, the dark pattern of our webbing melding into the blackness.

I put my mouth to Josh's ear to make myself heard above the wind. "We'll move round the back. Walk together normally as if we're a couple of Argy marines. And don't shoot unless we have to," I reminded him.

The chances of being spotted in this weather were remote and anyone who did would think twice before venturing out into the cold to investigate. We would do far better acting naturally than sprinting from cover to cover like intruders. Shouldering our webbing, we ducked against the wind. If we were seen, with luck we would be taken for members of the garrison.

Trying our best to look purposeful, we walked around the rear of the fire station. There was a light showing from a second-floor window that looked to open on a stairway, but no other sign of life. The hangar we were aiming for opened out on to a vast concrete apron. Parked outside it were several heavy vehicles, their cabs blanketed with snow, and the main doors were firmly shut. The guards, if there were any, must be inside.

We turned to our left and passed along the side wall, looking for an entry point, a window or hatch that would give us a glimpse of the interior. I put the length at about 325 metres. One hell of a building. The walls towered up at least seventy feet by my estimate. Obviously it had been constructed with ultra-large aircraft in mind. We found several doors, but all were firmly locked and bolted security in this sector was efficient. Attempting to saw our way in would take too long, and it would leave evidence of forced entry.

We reached the end of the building and turned right along the rear wall. Our night sights revealed more equipment parked up here, including bomb cradles and missile trolleys for arming the bombers in the revetments. I made a mental note to mark them on the plan when we got back. The vehicles and trailers gave us some cover and we crouched down by the wheel of a big hydraulic loader, looking for a means of ingress. Josh grabbed my arm and pointed. He had spotted a service ladder giving access to the roof. It terminated a good ten feet above the ground. That was no problem.

I nodded and we darted across. Josh positioned himself beneath the end of the ladder and made a stirrup with his locked hands. I put my left foot in and jumped as he heaved me up. The bottom rung of the ladder was shrouded in snow but I got a good grip and hauled myself up hand over hand. As soon as I was secure I extracted a length of rope from my webbing and clipped the end to one of the rungs. Josh swarmed up and in a moment the two of us were on the ladder and mounting to the roof.

We climbed steadily. The rungs were caked with ice and the wind tore at us constantly. I was hopeful that the noise of constant buffeting by the gusts would cover any sounds. On the roof we found a walkway, running right around the hangar. I guessed it was all part of a fire-escape route. The roof was laid out in a series of long ridges with valleys in between, all choked with snow.

We were now invisible from below, and I figured this had to be as good a time as any to call in and check with Doug's team. I pressed the talk button on the UHF handset. Immediately Nobby's voice came over the earpiece, responding.

"We're on the hangar roof," I said. "No problems so far. The drain runs all the way through into the refuelling area. It's a tight fit. One motorised patrol heard fifteen minutes ago. Propose making CTR of hangar now."

"All clear this end," Nobby answered back. "One set of lights moving near where you are. Must be the same lot you heard."

"Any response from Hereford yet?"

"Negative. Nothing so far."

"Roger. Wait out." I clicked off the talk button.

"Look for a door," I said to Josh. "There has to be one somewhere up here."

We crawled along the walkway, hanging on to the waist-high safety rail. Up here we were exposed to the full force of the storm, and the strength of the gusts was incredible. It was like being on the side of a mountain. The roof was slippery with ice and in places the snow had drifted above the height of our knees. A steady rain was now falling, making the surface underfoot extremely treacherous. Our hands were numbed with the cold in spite of our gloves, and it took all our strength just to hang on. The wind tore at us, sometimes pinning us against the roof, then switching in an instant to suck us out towards the edge. Several times I thought I was going to lose my footing and slide off. With a drop of about twenty-five metres it would have meant certain death.

At one point Josh stopped.

"What's the matter?"

"I thought I heard someone moving."

We both stood still, straining to catch a sound in the wind. "I didn't hear anything," I said. "Let's get this over."

We worked our way around the hangar till at last we came to a hatch set into the end of one of the roof peaks. There was no window, just a low metal door that opened outwards. It was half blocked by snow that the wind had piled up against it, which was now rapidly melting because of the rain.

"Careful," I said. "It's slippery." I tried the handle; it was locked on the inside.

"Fuck," Josh shouted into the wind. "Now what? Bust it down?"

"Quiet. We don't know what's inside, for Christ's sake."

I used the infra-red torch to check around the edge for any wires or other indications the door was alarmed. All seemed clear. Assuming this was a fire escape, the Argies would most likely be relying on the perimeter de fences for security. The hinges were on the inside so they couldn't be unscrewed. It would have to be brute force or nothing. I took out my knife and scraped some of the crusted snow away from the doorjamb. The lock didn't appear particularly strong. It had been designed more to be weatherproof than as a security measure. My saw would cut through the bolt but it would take too long. I forced the blade of the knife into the crack in the jamb and thrust my weight against it. The thin sheet steel of the frame bent but the lock held.

"What about the lights inside?" Jock whispered. "If we open the door won't they see us from the ground?"

I paused a moment. "The lights will all be directed downward into the hangar and this door faces outward towards the fence. We'll chance it." We had come all this way, crawling through a load of crap, and I wasn't going back without seeing inside the hangar.