Stratton appreciated displays of confidence and didn’t mind if it bordered on arrogance or even discourtesy. But he drew the line at blatant disrespect. ‘That’s right,’ he answered, a coldness easing its way into his own tone.
The men nearby who had heard the question and the answer stopped what they were doing to watch and listen. Everyone had heard and discussed the rumours but no one knew the truth.
Matt took a step closer to Stratton. Got close to invading the operative’s personal space, a dangerous place to venture. Stratton would give him a lot of leeway though. Matt was SBS, but also upset about his friend’s death.
‘Was that deliberate or did you shoot him by accident?’ Matt asked.
Stratton didn’t react at all. He looked hard at Matt. He had a dangerous look in his eye. But Matt was afraid of no one. Few members of the service would dare to show disrespect to Stratton. Even fewer would threaten him. Matt believed he had a right to confront Stratton, regardless of the fact the man was the most accomplished operative in the SBS. He knew he was in dangerous territory but suddenly felt confident about it.
There were not many men on that deck who would have questioned Stratton’s operational choices. Most believed that whatever he did was for a good reason. Stratton did have his detractors. There were men in the SBS who didn’t approve of him in general. Most of those numbered among the older operators and officers. They believed London should not have favourites, that one man shouldn’t get so many choice operations and be selected over others. They also disapproved of him dividing his time between the SBS and the SIS. If he wanted to work for the London ghosts, then he should sod off and join them.
Matt didn’t share those feelings. Deep down he wanted to do exactly the same things. But he wanted to be the man they came to, not Stratton. Over the years, that jealousy had twisted inside of him. Instead of doing something about making himself more attractive to the selectors, Matt became resentful. He wasn’t helped in his dilemma by the fact that he didn’t have a clue how to go about getting selected for those special ops. You couldn’t just write in and ask. You couldn’t fill in a form, you couldn’t call a number. He knew, like everyone else, that just about every operator got gauged from time to time when the Secret Intelligence Service needed new recruits. He would never accept the possibility that the reason he hadn’t been selected was because they didn’t consider him good enough. That would have been too large a pill for him to swallow.
Matt would never be able to get away with abusing Stratton for no apparent reason at all. That would instantly be recognised as jealousy. And if he decided to get physical with Stratton and it was suspected he did it out of jealousy, he could find himself out of the SBS and on his way back to his commando unit for such a pathetic display. The unit didn’t tolerate such things. They could ultimately find their way into an operation and negatively affect the outcome.
Matt wasn’t that stupid, though. He knew the ground rules. So he also knew Hopper’s death by Stratton’s hand could be an acceptable reason to criticise him openly, show the man some disdain. He wouldn’t miss an opportunity like that. Matt thought he could see a personal advantage in it. He might expose a severe flaw in the highly rated operative while at the same time turn the spotlight on himself. Elevate himself and at the same time shrink Stratton’s stature.
‘It was intentional,’ Stratton said without any edge or emotion to his voice.
There were those nearby who hadn’t known. Some of them had heard but could not believe that Stratton had wilfully killed Hopper. To hear the admission from Stratton’s own lips left all of them confused. Even those who thought they knew him. A few immediately doubted that they could support him.
‘I can’t imagine a scenario where you would have to kill a mate deliberately,’ Matt said. ‘There’s always a chance he might survive.’
Matt had a valid point. Stratton could never be 100 per cent certain Hopper would have died if he hadn’t shot him.
‘Who do you think you are? God?’ Matt said.
Stratton was seething deep down inside. He harboured a great deal of guilt about Hopper’s death, to be sure. But despite the element of doubt that Hopper might not have died at the hands of the fanatical terrorists if Stratton hadn’t shot him, it wasn’t the true source of his guilt. That originated with the events that had led to Hopper being taken away by Sabarak. Stratton’s self-indulgent adventure to the ship was the reason Hopper had been taken to the jihadists’ camp. That was his true crime and the cause of Hopper’s death. But Matt was talking about something else. He didn’t know about that side of the story, and perhaps if he did, he would not have seen anything wrong with it because it was precisely the kind of thing Matt would have done himself. Stratton not only believed Matt was wrong, he resented him for it.
‘You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Stratton said, keeping a grip on his anger.
‘Is that right? Why don’t you explain it to us?’
‘I would, if I thought you’d get it.’
Matt gritted his teeth, reading the insinuation that he in particular wouldn’t understand while others might. He had been accused of being thick in the past, an accusation he didn’t take kindly to. Banter in the SBS could get particularly barbed and personal but people were expected not to overreact and bite on the bait. Matt had been known to take a swing at anyone who ventured to illuminate his restricted intellect. But that wasn’t the only thing that angered Matt this time. He also felt that Stratton had insinuated something else: that his inability to understand the subtleties of Stratton’s actions was the reason why he had not been selected by the SIS for special operations.
Matt’s jaw clenched even more tightly. ‘You really do rate yourself, don’t you?’
Stratton decided to ignore the man and get back to sorting out his glider. Matt’s hands balled into fists. If anyone else had turned their back on him, he might have considered closing the distance and testing the waters further. But despite all his ill feelings towards Stratton, he knew better than to cross a certain line with the man. Matt had some weapons in his arsenal but he would not test them against those in Stratton’s. But then again, there would probably never be a better time than this one.
‘That’s enough,’ Downs said, stepping in. ‘One more word, Matt, and you’re off the op. And you know that ball will bounce all the way to the top by the time you get back to Poole.’
Matt might not have been the brightest light in the SBS but he could instantly figure out the consequences of being kicked off an operation. He not only backed off but gave Downs a look that was pure deference. He didn’t even give Stratton a parting glance as he turned away and got back to his glider.
But anyone who knew Matt was aware he wouldn’t let the issue go completely. He wouldn’t risk injuring his career for anything but neither could he back off when he believed he was right.
Stratton focused on securing his equipment but he could feel the eyes on him. His wound was sorely exposed.
Downs wanted to say something to his friend but he couldn’t. He knew as little about the incident as everyone else and was one of those who had forgiven Stratton immediately, feeling that if he had indeed killed Hopper then he had a good reason and that was that. But it still left something of a bitter taste in his mouth. He could sense Stratton wasn’t exactly comfortable with it and suspected there was a lot more to it. He would ask Stratton, one day, but not at that moment. Perhaps over that pint they had talked about.
It was like the sun had taken advantage of the men’s distraction to slip below the horizon. Darkness came quite suddenly. Which wasn’t helped by the carrier going into full external dark mode, with only dim red lighting inside the superstructure’s entrances. The men used low-light glowlights to finish off preparing the gliders.