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.
A whispered conversation started directly across from them. It was the girl talking with her friend. The guy had been lying there when everyone returned from the beach. He’d been conscious but looked like he was in a lot of pain. She had fed him his meals and made him comfortable as best she could but there was little else she could do for him without medical attention.
Stratton hadn’t decided exactly when he was going to get out of the hut but a fundamental prerequisite was that everyone else in the room be asleep. He’d accepted that might not be easy, especially when they had little else to do during the day but sleep. But that was a chance he was going to have to take and why Hopper should remain.
Stratton attacked the final knot with his teeth and quietly unravel led the nylon line from around his wrists. It was a relief to get it off. He bit off a couple of lengths and threaded them through the empty eyelets in his boots and tied them up. He was good to go but he remained quietly where he was for another hour. The Chinese couple had finally stopped talking and seemed to have drifted off to sleep. Everyone else was equally quiet.
As he decided it was time to leave, there was movement in front of him. He thought it was someone turning over. But they slowly got to their feet. The figure went to the door and paused like they were listening. Stratton raised his head just barely enough to take a look. In the moonlight he could tell it was the Chinese girl. She took a hold of the door knob and pulled on it gently. The door was firmly bolted.
She stepped back through the middle of the room between everyone’s feet, moving quietly and carefully, and went to the wall below the opening. She reached up but her fingers were a few inches short of the sill.
She looked behind her, around the room, checking to see no one was watching her. Stratton closed his eyes. She turned back to the wall and jumped for the sill. Her fingers hooked on to the edge and she fought to pull herself up. She was strong and determined and, trying to be as quiet as possible, managed to throw a hand through the opening to the other side. Slowly she pulled herself up. She was small enough to manoeuvre her legs through the opening while sitting on the sill. A second later she was gone.
Stratton listened hard for any sounds. He heard nothing. Not the girl landing, not any commotion. Which suggested no guard at the back. He doubted the Somalis had much of a guard routine going. She had clearly been as confident about that as he was.
He looked around the hut. No one had moved. If anyone was aware of her departure, they had, like Stratton, remained still and made no sign of it.
He sympathised with her completely. She’d made the right choice. If she stayed in that hut, there was little doubt about what would happen to her and probably by more than one of the bastards. It might not be any easier on the outside. But it was well worth the try. She would probably head for the water and find a boat. As a yachtswoman she had a good chance of making it once she got herself out to sea. He couldn’t really see another option for her. Anyone who could sail around the world should be able to navigate the Gulf of Aden in a fishing boat. All she had to do was get as far away from the Somali coast as she could and wave down the first vessel that came by. Preferably a navy boat.