Burning Angels

51

Neither Jaeger nor Narov had a clue how deep the water was, but it would take them right into the heart of the enemy’s camp. On the far side of the waterhole, the light of the poachers’ cooking fire gleamed on its stagnant surface.

‘Ready to go to work?’ Jaeger whispered, gently nudging Narov’s boot with his own.

She nodded. ‘Let’s get moving.’

It was gone midnight and the camp had been still for a good three hours. During their time spent observing the place, they’d not seen a single sign of any crocs.

It was time.

Jaeger turned and slid himself in, feeling with his boots for something solid. They came to rest in the thick, gloopy detritus that formed the bottom of the waterhole. He was in up to his waist, but at least the bank shielded him from view.

To either side, unseen, nameless beasts slithered and slopped about. Unsurprisingly, there wasn’t the faintest hint of any flow to the water. It was stagnant, fetid and nauseating. It stank of animal faeces, disease and death.

In short, it was perfect – for the poachers would never think to watch for an attack from here.

During his time in the SAS, Jaeger had been taught to embrace what most normal souls feared; to inhabit the night; to welcome darkness. It was the cloak to hide his and his brother warriors’ movements from hostile eyes – just as he hoped it would prove now.

He had been trained to seek out the kind of environments – sun-blasted desert, remote, hostile bush and fetid swamps – that normal human beings tended to shun. No other sane people would be there, which meant that a small group of elite operators could sneak through unnoticed.

No poachers would be joining Jaeger and Narov in this foul and stinking waterhole, which was why – despite the numerous downsides – it was perfect.

Jaeger got himself down on to his knees, his eyes and nose just above the water, his hand gripping his pistol. Like this he could maintain the lowest profile possible, while crawling and shuffling silently ahead. He made sure to keep the P228 out of the water. While most pistols still worked when wet, it was always better to keep them dry – just in case the dirty water fouled up the weapon.

He glanced at Narov. ‘You happy?’

She nodded, her eyes sparkling dangerously in the moonlight.

The tips of the fingers of Jaeger’s left hand gripped the squelchy, gooey mush as his feet shoved him into forward motion. He flailed about amongst a mass of rotting, putrid vegetation, his hand sinking up to the wrist with each thrust.

He prayed there weren’t any snakes in here, then drove the thought from his mind.

He pressed ahead for three minutes, counting each forward thrust by hand and feet, and translating that into a rough estimate of distance travelled. He and Narov were moving blind here, and he needed a sense of where the poachers’ camp lay. When he figured they’d covered about seventy-five yards, he signalled a halt.

He approached the left bank and raised his head, inching it above the cover. He felt Narov tight beside him, her head practically on his shoulder. Together they emerged from the swamp, their hands gripping their pistols. Each covered one half of the terrain before them as they whispered details back and forth, building up a picture of the enemy encampment as rapidly as possible.

‘Campfire,’ Jaeger whispered. ‘Two guys sat beside it. Sentry.’

‘Direction of watch?’

‘South-east. Away from the waterhole.’

‘Lights?’

‘None that I can see.’

‘Weapons?’

‘AKs. Plus I see guys to left and right of the fire, sleeping. I count… eight.’

‘That’s ten accounted for. Two unseen.’

Narov swivelled her eyes this way and that, scanning her section of the terrain.

‘I see the tusks. One guy standing sentry over them.’

‘Weapon?’

‘Assault rifle slung across his shoulder.’

‘That leaves one unaccounted for. One missing.’

Both were aware of the passage of time, but it made sense to find that missing poacher. They kept watch for a few minutes longer, but still they couldn’t locate the last man.

‘Any sign of extra security measures? Tripwires? Booby traps? Motion sensors?’

Narov shook her head. ‘Nothing visible. Let’s move ahead thirty. Then we’ll be right beside the tusks.’

Jaeger slid back into the murk and pushed on. As he did so, he could hear the sounds of mystery beasts thrashing about in the thick darkness. His eyes were about level with the water, and he could sense vile movement to all sides. Worst of all, he could feel things slithering their way in.

Beneath his shirt, around his neck – on his inner thighs, even – he could detect the faintly stinging sensation, as a leech inserted its jaws under his skin and began sucking greedily, filling its gut with his blood.

It was sickening; revolting.

But there was nothing he could do about it right now.

For some reason – most likely the electrifying adrenalin buzz he was feeling – Jaeger was also dying for a pee. But he had to fight the urge. The golden rule of crossing such watery terrain was: never take a leak. If you did, you risked opening up your urethra and allowing a swampload of germs, bacteria and parasites to swim up your urine stream.

There was even a tiny fish – the candiru, or ‘toothpick fish’ – that liked to insert itself into your tube and extend its spines, so you couldn’t pull it out again. The very thought made Jaeger shudder. No way could he allow himself to take a leak. He’d hold it in until the mission was done.

Finally they stopped and did a second scan of the terrain. To their immediate left the four giant tusks gleamed eerily in the moonlight, maybe thirty yards away. The lone sentry had his back to them, facing out into the bush – where any obvious threat would come from.

Narov held up the tracker device. ‘I’m going in,’ she whispered.

For a moment Jaeger was tempted to argue. But this was not the time. And very possibly she could do this better than him. ‘I’ve got your back. You’re covered.’

Narov paused for an instant, then scooped up a handful of shitty gunk from the bank and smeared it all over her face and hair.

She turned to Jaeger. ‘How do I look?’

‘Ravishing.’

With that she slithered up the bank like a ghostly serpent and was gone.