Exit wound

Vladislav’s contact appeared out of the gloom. His fresh boot-marks met Red Ken’s in the frosty dew. They’d done a lot of business during his tour, but this was their biggest deal yet. They hugged like old mates and jabbered away to each other in German while Tenny checked our comms with Dex.

I didn’t know the contact’s name and didn’t need to. Tenny and Red Ken were here to look after Spag, and my job was to look after them. I tightened my grip on the two-foot steel Maglite. There were rules to this game, and one of them was that Brixmis went unarmed. If you were caught with a gun, you got shot, simple as that.

Apart from my torch, the only kit we had with us was the radio in Tenny’s day-sack and whatever Red Ken had in his. A couple of sharp rectangular shapes jutted against the thin nylon. I didn’t know what they were and I didn’t ask. If I’d needed to know he would have told me.

Our biggest weapon was secrecy. No one knew where we were, apart from those who absolutely had to. The KGB and the Stasi had no reason to be out here, sliding around in the shit. And if they were waiting to round us up with dogs and AKs, we were sterile.

Dex stayed in the cockpit. He tended to stick out in this part of the world. He’d be pissed off that he’d had to close down the engines. It was good for security, but bad for us all if he couldn’t get them restarted. That was how he’d got caught last time. He’d ended up being traded for a couple of newspapermen caught spying for the East.

The RAF rule was that he should have taken off again and come back in when Tenny called for a pickup. But Dex didn’t like doing that. He never had. He said it made him feel like he was running away.

4

Apart from the gentle whispers between Red Ken and the contact, it was quiet.

Red Ken’s German was far better than mine, but that wasn’t saying much. I was still at eighteen-year-old-squaddie level. ‘Pommes frites… Bier… Taxi…’ was pretty much my limit, with the occasional ‘danke’ and ‘bitte’ thrown in. If anything else I wanted wasn’t on display – so I could point at it and shout – I had to go hungry.

Spag stormed up to them, both hands still gripping the bag. ‘Shouldn’t we get moving?’

Tenny carried on checking comms. He’d send Dex a sitrep when we were at the meet, and another as we left. If we didn’t report in, it meant a drama at our end. If he didn’t acknowledge, it meant one at his.

I moved closer to the group. The contact was in his fifties. He ignored Spag. He dug in the pockets of his leather overcoat and pulled out a pack of F6.

Red Ken waved a hand. ‘Nein, nein.’ He flipped open his day-sack and dug out one of the mysterious rectangular packages, a carton of Benson amp; Hedges.

The contact beamed as he ran his fingers along the cellophane. When Red Ken threw in a cheap disposable lighter, his early Christmas was complete.

It was too much for Spag. ‘Jee-sus, let’s get going here! We stopping for tea and cucumber sandwiches, or what?’

Red Ken was close to decking him. ‘We’ll go when we’re good and ready.’

Tenny stepped between them. ‘We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for this guy. If he wants to wait and smoke, that’s what we do.’

He shook the contact’s hand, triggering another stream of waffle. Tenny nodded. His German was excellent too.

‘We have to hold back a while. We have to give Vladislav time to make the RV. He wants to be there before us to check it out. And he has something he needs to discuss with Red before we move.’

Spag wasn’t having any of it. ‘Fuck him. He’ll be history when this whole pile of crap collapses.’

Red Ken offered the contact a cigarette from his own pack and they both lit up. Both drew deeply to help their creases along. The tips glowed and the smoke mingled with our breath. Red Ken glared at the American. He wasn’t playing. He showed every sign of being prepared to stand there until they’d smoked the whole carton.

Spag spun on his heel and stormed back to the aircraft.

5

I stood alongside Tenny as the other two kippered their lungs. My eyes were constantly on the move, checking for lights or other giveaways.

Tenny checked his day-sack was secure. ‘You still coming to the wedding?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Even with his hair, Tenny had managed to trap the most beautiful woman on the planet. I was sure she’d been designed in a test tube. She was smart and funny too, a teacher at the girls’ prep school in Hereford. I was more than a little jealous of the great life he had ahead of him.

‘I’ve been thinking about going back to the Green Jackets after this tour. Janice and I are going for kids ASAP. I want to see them grow up, be a proper dad instead of spending years away. What do you reckon, Nick?’

I hesitated. I might have shared food, sleeping-bags and even body lice with him, but I was the last person to ask about family stuff. ‘Don’t know, mate. Big decision. They offering a commission?’