The Hunt

18

Jaeger probably should have left the memory cards for the Austrian police to recover. Probably. Plus there was a part of him that felt guilty at not having made himself available to help with the investigation. After all, he had been first at the scene of the crime.

But something told him it was better this way.

In any case, he’d made it out of those tunnels only by the skin of his teeth, and thanks to his alertness and his training. Expect the unexpected: it was a rule drilled into SAS operators. That and Never underestimate the enemy.

Jaeger had seen the imposing bulk of his adversary. He’d also seen and heard the other gunmen a few vital seconds before they had put in an appearance. And by that time, he was pretty much out of the range of their .22s.

They’d loosed off several shots down the tunnel, but Jaeger had proved a far faster runner. He figured he knew why. Each of the mystery gunmen had been laden down with a massive pack. Those, Jaeger suspected, contained whatever the men were removing from the tunnel.

Once back at St Georgen, he’d made it clear to Uncle Joe that they needed to get the hell out of town. They’d paid for their rooms, made their hurried excuses to the owner – a family emergency back in England – and hit the road.

There would be no returning to the Zum Turken hotel. Jaeger would phone and offer the same kind of explanation. Instead, they’d stop at some anonymous chain – a Holiday Inn maybe – and try and digest the full import of his discoveries.

He’d made the call to the Austrian cops from a phone booth on the A1. By then, he and Uncle Joe were well on their way, the Range Rover eating up the miles. He’d given a short report about the mass killing, but refused to provide his name. He’d taken basic precautions to disguise his voice, presuming all such calls were recorded.

Jaeger just had a feeling, a hunch, an instinctive sense that he was being pulled back towards a dark past that he’d been trying to put behind him. It was his soldier’s sixth sense, and as Uncle Joe had reminded him, he should never ignore it.

They’d pushed on across the German border. On the face of it they were heading home. But it would be just as easy to turn a little further north and east and make for the Falkenhagen Bunker, the makeshift headquarters of the Secret Hunters. But only if whatever they might discover on the memory cards from the tunnel seemed to warrant such a diversion.

As luck would have it, the first opportunity to stop proved to be at the Munich Park Hilton, on the outskirts of the city. Once they had checked into their room, Jaeger made sure that Uncle Joe was comfortable, settling him in an armchair, amply propped up with pillows. ‘You good? It may take some time. Each of the cards can hold several hours.’

Uncle Joe forced a smile. He was tired, but he was also incredibly resilient. ‘Will, my boy, I’m fine. Let’s see what you’ve got here.’

Jaeger pulled out his MacBook Air and placed it on the desk. With a feeling of foreboding, he slotted the first memory card into the laptop’s port. He tried several times, but no joy. It wouldn’t open. It must have been too badly damaged.

The second card looked somewhat more promising. Jaeger slid it in. On the third attempt, an icon popped onto his screen: ‘SONY XDCAM’. He double-clicked the icon, his MacBook automatically pulling up the video-player screen, then clicked the play button.

A ghostly image appeared. It showed a figure seated in the tunnel entrance, giving an interview. Jaeger had little idea who it was, but he recognised him as one of the bloodied corpses lying deep in the tunnel’s interior.

It was like the man had come back from the dead.

From his dress and manner, it was clear he was some kind of expert; a World War II historian no doubt. He was speaking German, but even so Jaeger could tell by his hand gestures that he had been one excited interviewee.

He used the digital menu to flip through the scenes. They were deep inside the mountain now. The tunnel was lit by powerful film lights, set on tripods to either side. Figures worked at the slope using pickaxes and shovels to clear a wider path.

Jaeger pointed at the pile of rubble. ‘See. By the time this was filmed, they’d already made the breakthrough.’

Uncle Joe nodded. ‘The man giving the interview – was he speaking about whatever they had discovered?’

‘Most probably.’

Jaeger spun through the footage at twelve-times speed. There was nothing much of note, until the screen went suddenly very dark. He stopped, and replayed the image at normal speed. All was seemingly normal, until a harsh yelling could be heard echoing down the tunnel.

The words were in German and hard to catch, but the aggression and menace was clear. Moments later, the film lights were extinguished, as if by order. A few seconds after that, the camera was removed from its tripod, the image going wobbly as it was lowered towards the floor.

Jaeger could sense hands flipping various switches, then the screen suddenly turned a weird, smudgy fluorescent green, producing an image that was instantly familiar.

Even as he’d lowered it, the cameraman had flicked his camera on to night-filming mode. Jaeger recognised it instantly: it produced the same kind of grainy green image he’d experienced so often on elite operations when using NVGs – night-vision goggles.

Crucially, as he’d placed it on the ground, the man had left the camera running. Given what he had been facing – the shock and fear of an assault by a gang of armed gunmen – Jaeger was amazed by his poise and bravery.

Figures stepped into view: ghostly, menacing, sinister. They were dressed in black, with balaclavas covering their faces. Jaeger counted six of them. Two stood back, pistols at the ready, herding the camera crew and excavators against one wall, while a third started smashing apart the filming gear.

Jaeger figured there was only a few seconds remaining before the image would die on him, and as yet there was nothing to give the barest hint as to the identity of the gunmen. Moments later, the camera gave a savage jerk as the blade of a shovel smashed into it, and the image went suddenly very dead.

He replayed that section of footage several times, trying to glean something of value from the vital last minutes of film. There was something tugging at the edge of his consciousness. He was missing something. A vital clue. He knew it, and yet he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Finally, he ejected the memory card and stared disconsolately at the blank screen. ‘Anything, Uncle Joe? Anything that strikes you?’

No answer.

He turned to check. His great-uncle had fallen asleep in his chair.

Jaeger smiled to himself. He guessed the question could wait until morning.

He suddenly felt utterly shattered. He lifted his uncle onto the bed, marvelling at how light his elderly frame was. Then he lay down on the floor and pulled a blanket over himself.

Just like the old days, he thought. He’d revisit this enigma with a fresh head come morning.