Chapters (45)
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Contents
- Prologue
- 2046
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
The steel against the sentry’s throat is sudden and the blade bites deep. He would scream but the hand over his mouth clamps too hard. He would turn and fire but the strength in the arms holding him is too great. He would kick out but the knee in his back drives in with such brutal force that he’s ripped from his feet and slammed down into the ground as the dagger is stabbed through his throat and he catches one final glimpse of the night sky before the huge foot smashes down, rendering him forever silent.
Harry pauses and holds still. A glow catches his eye. The still-burning end of the cigarette dropped from the sentry’s hand. He stubs it out, twisting his boot into the hard surface of the unmade road, and drops down to wipe the blade of his dagger on the tunic of the dead German soldier.
The mission was voluntary. The British Army did not order men to undertake suicide missions. They asked politely and got volunteers instead. The whole regiment volunteered but every man there knew who they would pick.
‘You understand there is no planned extraction,’ the captain told Harry gravely. ‘We can get you in but not out, you need to be absolutely clear on this.’
‘Aye, sir,’ Harry replied, standing at ease in the small office, staring at a point on the wall directly ahead of him. The captain was a good chap. Harry knew he would never send a man to his death if he did not consider the prize to be worth it.
‘If you can get to the boats then you might, and I emphasise you might, get out, but they are under orders not to wait and to only do what is required.’
‘Aye. Understood, sir.’
‘Harry,’ the captain said in such a tone that Harry knew he was required to look at the captain instead of the spot on the wall. ‘This has come from the top. They want destruction. Total destruction of everything. You have absolute permission to cause absolute carnage.’
‘Sir,’ Harry said with a firm nod.
In the wooden sentry hut, Harry finds the short-wave radio. A clipboard fitted with a single sheet of paper hangs from a hook but it holds no value and is simply used as a record for units entering the deep-water harbour of the Norwegian fjord.
Two miles from here to the harbour. Two miles that need to be covered before oh-two-thirty hours, when he can give the signal. Two miles on rough terrain in the freezing cold of a Norwegian winter, but still far easier than the training regime of yomping ten miles with a backpack full of bricks into a live firing exercise.