The Alex King Series, A BATEMAN [good books for high schoolers .TXT] 📗

points of interest along the lake shore and through the hills surrounding The Eagle’s Nest Hotel. Colour-coded markers indicated points, in conjunction with the map, and provided a safe environment in which to ride. Rashid had found the GPS unit affixed to the underside of the handlebars and left it beside the garage. If anybody checked, they would assume he had not left the hotel. The unit was rechargeable, and he estimated he would have approximately six hours before anything was noticed - that is, if they bothered to check in the first place. The machine was now parked up beside two fir trees about two-hundred metres west of his position. Rashid now used the reflected light of the snow and moon to watch the area below him in the gloom. He laid upon a silver thermal ground sheet, keeping himself away from the snow. He was dressed in his own clothing and then an all-in-one snowsuit with another ski jacket on top. Over these bulky items, he wore a white over-suit, like those worn by forensic officers. The hood covered his own beanie and only his boots and gloves remained uncovered. Beside him, a pack contained a thermos of strong, black coffee and a packet of biscuits. He had previously discovered that biscuits did not freeze because of the lack of water content. The same went for the packets of crisps. All of which he had swiped from Ramsay’s mini bar. He grinned as he thought about the man’s room bill and his near-constant battle with the Security Service’s accountants.

Rashid studied the area ahead and below him through the rifle’s scope. He suspected King was correct in his assumption that the weapon would be zeroed for hunting use. And a specific type of hunting at that. Close and practical, not for ego. A kill up here meant food and fur. And with quarry like bears, wolves and wolverines, you wanted them dead. Not merely pissed off. King was right about most things, and Rashid would trust him on this, too. He did not have the luxury of range practice and would if his assumption had been wrong, the moment he squeezed the trigger. Like every other time, he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

44

 

The gunfire in the remote landscape seemed to echo for an eternity. Natalia had ducked down behind the fallen tree she had been using to take shelter from the windchill. The wind had increased, and the chill factor was off the scale. Simply being out of the wind had felt twenty degrees warmer.

It wasn’t a hunter. She had heard enough gunshots since she had been here. Occasionally a Sami would wander into the facility dragging a deer in the snow, ready to barter or sell the fresh meat to the chef. Hunting was simply a part of life here, and she had heard the occasional single shot throughout the year. But this was different. A rapid burst with a metallic ring to it. Short, sharp and quieter than that of the hunting rifles the Sami used.

It hadn’t occurred to her that she had been the intended target. Not until the second burst of gunfire and chips of bark shattered from the frozen trunk beside her. She had leapt up at first, then thought better of it and dived onto her stomach. She listened, waited. But then her instincts took over. If someone was shooting at her, then they could be edging closer as she took shelter. She needed to get moving. She had the advantage of the perma-dawn. It was at least another three hours before daylight. Enough to get clear. But how had they spotted her? She then realised it had been her profile. Enough to break the contrast of the sparse forest. The grey hue in which the half-light presented itself was pronounced by the snow. A sort of backlight. She had been readying herself to move. Adjusting her suit, her gloves and hat. She wore black and blue clothing. It would all look dark at any distance, most likely black. But the movement and profile had given her away. She knew she would be followed eventually; but so soon?

Natalia crawled away from the fallen tree. The scraping on the hard, impacted snow tore at the scratches on her stomach. She felt them burn, the tinkling sensation of pins and needles was becoming more acute. She needed medical attention, expert treatment. As for the hundredth time since she had left, she touched her pocket containing the USB and her phone, checking they were still there. Her lifeline to another life.

There were no more gunshots, but she kept low and slid down the embankment. She gathered speed, all the time grimacing at the pain in her stomach. When she reached the bottom of the embankment, some twenty-feet or so, she scraped up a handful of snow and rammed it into her mouth. Perhaps it was the dry air, or the exertion, but she had noticed her thirst was insatiable. She had been shovelling mouthfuls of snow all through the night. But as she felt another surge of rawness on her stomach, she knew with a sinking feeling that there was more to it than that.

45

Rashid had been drifting towards sleep. He snapped to at the sound of the distant gunfire and cursed his own stupidity. If he’d had a man serving beneath him who had fallen asleep on watch, he would have had him RTU’d, or returned to unit. Unceremoniously kicked out of the SAS and back in the guards or wherever they’d started out their miserable military career. How could he have been so stupid? So sloppy? He checked his watch. Perhaps the cold had gotten to him? He’d lost three hours. It was now six-AM. Damn this place! Damn the lack of dawn, the lack of birdsong! Didn’t this place ever wake up? Rashid scanned along the plateau, then