Operation Norway

- 22 -

Banks and Olsen led, with Davies and Wiggins behind them and Hynd bringing up the rear. The pathway was steep and treacherous, little more than a foot wide in places, with crumbling scree underfoot and precipitous drops at each turn and bend. Banks kept his gaze eight feet ahead of him — looking at his feet would only make him dizzy and off balance. He felt exposed and expected with every step to be ambushed, fearing a flurry of boulders from above.

But no attack came and Wiggins was even relaxed enough to light up a smoke. “Heigh, fucking ho, it’s off to work we go,” the corporal sang as he smoked then went quiet quickly when Banks looked back at him.

The glance backwards showed Banks how far they’d climbed. They were already almost thirty yards up and almost directly under the cave mouth the same distance again above them. If an attack was to come, it would be now, when they were at their most vulnerable. Every sense was heightened; he felt the winter cold seep through the soles of his boots, smelled salt spray in the air, and heard, high and far off, the screech of gulls. The rock looked damp up here, shaded all day from any sunshine. The dark clouds still lowered overhead and a breeze was getting up; he could only hope there wasn’t a snowfall imminent — that would make getting down a real problem.

He put everything to the back of his mind and concentrated eight feet ahead of him again, heading up.

He was concentrating so hard on not falling that it took him several steps to notice that the path had leveled out; they’d arrived on a wide ledge in front of the cave mouth where the trolls had entered.

He waited for the squad to arrive beside him. Now that they were here, he felt reluctant to go inside, the primitive hind-brain fear of the dark and monsters in enclosed spaces shouting out his rational thought. It took an effort of will to push it away and remember what had brought him this far.

There’s one of us in there. I’ll save him… if I can.

“What’s the plan, Cap?” Wiggins asked, casually flicking the butt of his smoke away over the edge. Banks watched the sparking embers tumble away before answering.

“We go in and see if there’s anything left of McCallum that will listen to reason.” He saw the doubt in Wiggins’ eyes… he felt plenty of it in himself, now that they were here. “And if that doesn’t work, we go to Plan B. Keep the C4 and detonators ready, Wiggo. You might get to blow something to buggery after all.”

He took a last look at the view and the wide, open spaces then turned his back on it and led the squad inside the cave.

They’d only taken two steps before he had to turn on his rifle light. The darkness felt thick enough to touch and the only sound was the pad of their feet on stone. They didn’t have to go far, for the passageway opened out into a tall, wide cavern after only a few yards. Banks and Olsen both cast light beams around the chamber.

Most of the trolls had already gone to the rock; the walls of the cave were a fantastic conglomeration of rocky torsos, heads, faces, and limbs all tumbled together like a manic jigsaw of pieces that had begun to fuse together. Only McCallum stood free, as if waiting for their arrival. The roar as of clashing rocks greeted them.

Banks motioned that the others should stay behind him and stepped forward, aware that he was close to being within the range of a sweep of the troll’s arms should it decide to attack.

Here goes nothing.

“Private McCallum, stand down. That’s an order,” he shouted, his voice echoing almost as loudly as the troll’s roar had done seconds before. McCallum, his head almost scraping the ceiling, his fists dangling almost to the floor on impossibly long arms, gave Banks a sideways lean of the head and a puzzled look that was all-too-human.

Banks lowered his voice.

“There’s no need for any rough stuff. We’re here to help you, lad.”

Another roar echoed around the chamber. Banks saw from the corner of his eye that Hynd and Wiggins had moved up alongside him, each of them holding a fresh syringe of sedative. Without taking his eyes from McCallum, he motioned that they should stay where they were.

We got away with that trick once before. But if this thing’s as smart as I think it is, it won’t fall for it this time.

“Private McCallum, we’re here to take you home. Wouldn’t you like to go home?”

That got him other sideways glance.

At least he’s listening to me.

“You remember home, Private? Scotland? Family?”

He was more than aware that the man’s family, at least the ones he might remember, were probably long dead. And it seemed McCallum was indeed smart, for the troll let out a wail that was more of pain and loss than of anger. The troll waved an arm to indicate the beasts that had gone back to the rock, most of them now barely distinguishable from the stone of the cave walls. The meaning was clear.

These are his family now.

“We can’t let you — any of you — stay here,” Banks said. “You must know that. You have killed people — children. There will be consequences. There must be. You swore to defend the weak. Remember that?”

Another roar of pain echoed around the chamber. Banks sensed Wiggins tense beside him and again put out a hand to remind the corporal to stay still.

“Come with us, McCallum,” he said. “This can be fixed.”

The troll pointed at its belly, where there was still a weeping hole, the one made by Larsen’s auger. Again, the meaning was clear.

You call this fixed?

“That was a mistake. One I won’t be making again. Come with us, lad. Let’s get you home.”

The troll — McCallum — wailed, a mixture of pain and rage this time, and Banks saw movement in the walls as some of those taken to the rock seemed to stir and start to reawaken at the noise.

“Cap?” Wiggins said and Banks heard the worry in the corporal’s voice.

“Not yet,” Banks whispered but he was starting to fear it might already be too late as he saw a huge hand come out of the wall, flatten on the ground, and start to pull its ancient, moss-covered figure out of the wall.

McCallum turned away from Banks and put his hands on the emerging figure’s shoulders to help pull it out.

I’ve lost him.

He gave Wiggins and Hynd the nod.