Ghost Flight

28

Jaeger outlined to Narov what he had in mind.

The emergency chute that Narov had been forced to pull was a smaller, less substantial piece of kit than his own BT80. It looked to have been badly torn when she ploughed into the treetops, which was why Jaeger proposed getting them stabilised under both canopies, forming one strong point from which they could lower themselves to the ground.

After he was done explaining, they proceeded to cut their rucksacks free, which until now had been left hanging suspended on the lines below. The heavy packs crashed through the layers of vegetation, each landing with a clearly audible thud on the forest floor far below. There was no way to complete the series of manoeuvres that he had in mind with thirty-five kilos of kit hanging on a line below their feet.

Next he got Narov to swing towards him, and he did likewise, each using their canopy like an anchor. With arms gripping the lines above, they twisted this way and that, until each was able to grab for the other at the furthest reach of their pendulum-like oscillation.

Jaeger’s legs felt for Narov’s body, hooked around her hips and held tight. Then his arms grabbed for her torso and he clipped her chest harness tight to his. They were now locked together at the point midway between their two chutes.

But in contrast to the tandem jump, they were joined face to face, attached via a thick carabiner – a D-shaped metal ring with a spring-loaded clip. Jaeger found the position and the close proximity decidedly uncomfortable, particularly as he was boiling up in the heat – the thick and cumbersome survival suit plus the rest of the HAHO gear serving to roast him alive.

But hell, anything to get them down in one piece.

Using a second carabiner, he locked the parachutes firmly together at the base of their rigging – the narrowest point of each. He then took out a length of Specter paracord – a high-tensile khaki cord about as thick as your average washing line, but with an extraordinary strength. It had a 500-pound breaking strain, but Jaeger doubled it over anyway, just to be certain.

He threaded it twice through a belay device – a climber’s abseiling tool – to provide added friction, tying the upper end on to the parachutes. The rest of the paracord he uncoiled carefully below him, letting it fall the one hundred feet or so to the earth below. Finally, he clipped the belay device on to the carabiner attached to his chest harness, so that he and Narov were attached to the makeshift paracord rope.

They were now hanging in their chutes, whilst at the same time being attached to them independently via the paracord rig that Jaeger had just assembled. Now came the crunch moment: it was time to cut out of their parachutes, and for Jaeger to perform a free abseil, so lowering them to the ground.

Both he and Narov ripped off helmet, masks and goggles, letting them fall to the forest floor. Jaeger was sweating like a pig after all the exertion. He could feel the perspiration running down his face in rivulets, soaking the front of his clothing where he was clipped skin-tight to Narov.

It was like a wet T-shirt competition – only up close and personal – and he felt as if he could trace every minute contour of her body.

‘I sense that you are uncomfortable,’ Narov remarked. Her voice had an odd, matter-of-fact, mechanical ring to it. ‘Such close proximity can be necessary for several reasons. One: practical necessity. Two: to share body warmth. Three: sex. This now is for reason number one. Stay focused on the job.’

Blah, blah, blah, Jaeger thought. Trust me to end up trapped in the jungle with only the ice maiden for company.

‘So, you tricked me into your embrace,’ Narov continued flatly. She pointed upwards. ‘Whatever you next have in mind, I suggest you hurry.’

Jaeger looked where she indicated. Three feet above his head there was a gigantic spider. It was about the size of his hand, and it appeared semi-luminous and silvery in the half-light – its body plump, its legs like eight emaciated fingers groping towards him.

He could see its bulbous, evil red eyes glaring, the chomping moist maw of its jaws moving hungrily. It lifted its front legs, waving them aggressively, as it edged ever closer. Worse still, he could see its fangs – presumably tipped with poison – poised to strike.

He whipped up Narov’s knife, ready to slash it to pieces, but her hand stopped him.

‘Don’t!’ she hissed.

She pulled out her back-up blade and, without bothering to unsheathe it, slid the narrow end beneath the spider’s hairy body and flipped it into the air. It spun around and around, torso glinting as it caught the sunbeams, then tumbled downwards, jaws hissing in anger at having been thwarted.

Narov didn’t take her eyes off the treetops. ‘I kill only when I need to. And when it is wise.’

Jaeger glanced where she was looking. There were scores more of the arachnids crawling towards them. In fact, their parachute rigging seemed to be alive with the things.

‘Phoneutria,’ Narov continued. ‘Greek for murderess. We must have hit a nest as we came through.’ She glanced at him. ‘Rearing up with their front legs is a defensive posture. If you cut one, the body gives off a scent that warns its siblings, and then they really attack. The venom contains the PhTx3 neurotoxin. A nerve poison. Symptoms are very similar to a nerve gas attack: loss of muscle control and breathing, followed by paralysis and asphyxiation.’

‘Whatever you say, Dr Death,’ Jaeger muttered.

She glared at him. ‘I will fend them off. You – you get us down from here.’

Jaeger reached behind her with the commando knife and began to cut through the thick band of canvas-like material that joined her parachute harness to its rigging. As he sliced away, he saw Narov’s knife dart forward and flick a second and a third spider away.

She fended off more and more of the things, but he figured she must have missed one. It came pulsing towards him, front legs rearing up, fangs just inches from his bare hand. Acting on instinct, he flicked the knife towards it, the razor-sharp stiletto point jabbing at its underside. As the blade nicked it and drew blood, the spider balled up, rolling away and plummeting towards the forest floor.

The instant it did so, Jaeger sensed a clicking, clacking alarm signal pulse through its scores of fellow arachnids, as they sensed that one of their number had been blooded.

As one, they surged forward to attack.

‘Now they really come!’ Narov hissed.

She unsheathed her blade and lunged to left and right, stabbing at the hissing mass of arachnids. Jaeger redoubled his efforts. After a final few slashes, he succeeded in cutting Narov free, her weight dragging her down at an alarming rate before the carabiner locking her to Jaeger’s harness pulled her up short.

For a split second he tensed for his canopy giving way under the extra weight, but luckily it held fast. He reached above his head, hacked at his rigging savagely, and a moment later it too gave way.

Both he and Narov broke free, as if they were falling.

For a second or two he let them plummet – the paracord rope hissing through the belay plate – until he judged they were well out of reach of the army of deadly arachnids. Then he closed his grip on the length of paracord and snatched it vertically downwards, pulling it tight.

The friction against the belay plate served to slow and halt their fall. They were now dangling on the paracord line some thirty feet below their chutes, which were now a seething mass of enraged and highly toxic spiders.

Phoneutria. Jaeger would be very happy never to see another as long as he lived.

He’d hardly had time to indulge the thought before the first of the writhing silvery blobs launched itself after them. It plunged vertically downwards, trailing out its own rope – a thin thread of spider’s silk – behind it.

In response, Jaeger released the paracord and he and Narov plunged into the fall once more.