The Hunt

92

Jaeger stumped down from the Range Rover. His right leg was still painful, but he hated using the walking stick. While it was healing, he wasn’t too proud to lean on Narov’s arm.

She’d offered to drive, for which Jaeger had been grateful. He wasn’t supposed to get behind the wheel, not with the powerful painkillers that he was taking.

What mattered most right now was that he was alive, he was out of hospital and he was about to see his boys again. Plus the world was safe – for now, at least. Until another madman like Kammler tried to wreak havoc and destruction.

Luke and Simon strode across from the far side of the playing field: muddy, soaked and steaming, but proud in their new school colours.

They’d lost the match, yet they’d played like demons, which was all that really mattered in a game of rugby. Or indeed in life, Jaeger told himself. As they approached, he marvelled how a few months at a school such as this could have turned his sons from boys into young men.

They had matured so much. They weren’t just bigger, taller and with voices noticeably gruffer; they walked with a new sense of purpose.

They stopped a few yards short of him. Eyes smiling, but a little unsure whether to go for a hug in front of all their rugby mates, and with this stranger of a woman standing by their father’s side.

Jaeger eyed the thick mud plastered over them. ‘Glad I cleaned the Pinkie for you guys – caked in all that crap!’

Pinkie: it was their in-joke. During World War II, the SAS had learnt that a light pink colour was the best camouflage for their vehicles while on desert operations. Not brown or khaki or yellow or ochre, but pink. SAS Land Rovers were still painted that hue for desert ops, hence the nickname for the Range Rover.

Despite the mud, they piled into the vehicle.

‘So, does every SAS soldier get a gorgeous blonde to ride shotgun?’ asked Simon, Jaeger’s adopted son, tilting his head in Narov’s direction.

Jaeger choked back a chuckle. ‘Sadly not. But just to be clear, she’s driving; I’m crook; and I’m former SAS. Plus you need to wind your neck in.’

‘Hey, I’m winding it.’

They laughed.

Narov got the vehicle under way and they pulled out of the school grounds, heading for the motorway.

‘So, guys, this is Irina,’ Jaeger announced, realising he’d failed to do the introductions. ‘She offered to help me get you home, so be real nice to her.’ He paused. ‘She can be very scary when she wants to be.’

The boys looked at each other.

‘Like we’re ever not nice.’

‘Yeah, as if.’

‘You know why we lost the match?’ Luke volunteered. He lived, ate and breathed rugby, and like his dad he was one bad loser. ‘We got greedy in the second half. We thought we’d won. We took stupid risks and paid the price.’

‘Just like your father tends to,’ Narov volunteered flatly.

Jaeger rolled his eyes.

Luke glanced at his dad, his face all serious for a second. ‘I miss Mum.’

‘I know. We all miss her.’ In a way, Jaeger did.

After Brooks had contacted the Chinese authorities, they had descended on Kammler’s lair in force. They’d flown the wounded out to the nearest hospital, which had been equipped with the most advanced medical facilities. That had been critical to Jaeger and Miles’s recoveries.

It was in hospital that Jaeger had learnt all that had been discovered about his errant wife. The remains of Ruth’s laptop had been retrieved from the scorched wreckage of Kammler’s lair. That, plus her emails, had revealed the full extent to which she had been seduced by Kammler’s crazed schemes.

In his own gentle way Miles had explained to Jaeger that Ruth’s warped allegiances had been more anchored in trauma than in any coherent beliefs or philosophy. She’d demonstrated all the classic symptoms of Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome was something studied during the kidnap and ransom phase of SAS counter-terrorism training. Jaeger remembered it well. It was named after a Stockholm bank heist in which the hostages had ended up siding with the robbers. It referred to the propensity of a hostage to bond with his or her captor, especially if they shared similar values and views.

Jaeger had forced himself to contemplate this with regard to his wife. It would explain an awful lot of her behaviour over the past few months, though forgiving her would still take time. Serious amounts of time. As for the love, it was there, but warped forever by grief and anger.

Several bodies had been discovered in the getaway vehicle, one of which was that of a woman. The Chinese authorities had promised DNA samples to confirm that Ruth Jaeger and Steve Jones were amongst the dead, but they were taking their time.

It was hardly surprising. Brooks and the CIA had hardly rushed to alert them when Kammler was plotting world devastation from Chinese soil. Why would they hurry now to share their findings?

Even so, Jaeger had few doubts that his wife had perished in that vehicle. Still, until he had absolute confirmation, he wasn’t going to say anything to the boys. They had more than enough to deal with.

‘Any news?’ Luke pressed. ‘Anything?’

Jaeger shook his head. ‘Nothing concrete. But let’s not lose hope. Let’s not give up.’

He felt like a Judas saying it, even though he was just trying to shield them from the worst. He glanced at Narov. She looked just like she had when he’d first met her. Cold. Detached. Unemotional.

Only of course deep down she wasn’t. Jaeger knew that. In a way, that was what he loved about her. Her impenetrable calm. Her blunt honesty. Her straight-talking no-bullshit ways.

Her quiet, unassailable strength.

He figured it was time to lighten the mood a little. He’d try some corny jokes. Another long-lived Jaeger family tradition: on long drives, Dad cracks the worst ever jokes.

He turned to the boys. ‘So… why don’t they play poker in the jungle?’

Luke rolled his eyes and groaned. ‘Don’t tell us – too many cheetahs.’

Jaeger grinned. ‘Very good. How about this. What’s a Hindu?’

Luke groaned again. ‘Lay eggs. Ha ha. Very funny.’ He nudged Simon in the ribs. ‘I guess everything’s gotta be okay if Dad’s started on the crappy jokes.’

Simon grinned. ‘Talking of Hindus, we’re learning all about it at school. It’s kinda cool.’ He put on a deep, gruff, God-like voice. ‘Now I am become death, destroyer of worlds! Lord Krishna, the blue-faced dude.’

The colour drained from Narov’s face and she snapped her head around. ‘What did you say? Now I have become what?’

Simon shrugged. ‘Death, destroyer of worlds. That’s how the quote goes. Like I said, Lord Krishna.’

‘Yeah, but some guy called Oppenheimer also used it,’ Luke added. ‘When the Americans detonated the first atom bomb. We learnt about it in history. Kind of summed up the moment pretty well, too.’

Narov flicked her eyes across to Jaeger. There was a hint of panic in them that he was at a total loss to comprehend. ‘There’s a services just ahead. I’m pulling over.’

She turned in and brought the Range Rover to a halt. As she did so, Jaeger could sense the fear that had crept into the vehicle.

‘What’s going on?’ he queried.

Narov eyed him nervously. Worriedly. It was hugely unsettling. If she was so perturbed, then whatever was happening had to be some seriously heavy shit.

‘I… terminated Kammler. That much you must have realised.’ She was trying to choose her words carefully, mindful of the boys sitting in the rear. ‘But you know what the weirdest thing was? He died almost triumphantly.’

She locked eyes with Jaeger. ‘His last words were choked off mid sentence. But you know what they were: Now I am become death… I didn’t get the significance of it at the time.’ A beat. ‘I do now.’

Jaeger felt his blood run cold. The pieces were falling together in his mind, and it was utterly chilling. ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’ he ventured.

‘We’ve been fooled.’ Narov answered, as if confirming his worst thoughts. ‘Kammler tricked us all, even those supposedly closest to him.’ She shook her head, horrified. ‘There weren’t just eight devices. There’s another out there somewhere.’

‘Jesus,’ Jaeger muttered. ‘Nine. And the last one presumably primed to blow.’

Narov nodded darkly. ‘Plus there’s this: Kammler’s final message, it was personal. He said: Tell Jaeger.’