On the Edge of Darkness (Special Force Orca Book 1) by Anthony Molloy Page B
Authors: Anthony Molloy
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bastards in the sea boat, do the best you can with this,” he patted the Bren, “Aim for her bridge, get the officers and knock out their wireless so they can’t let on to their mates. I’ll get back to the ‘Nishga’, let them know the latest. I’ll probably have to stay there for a bit, wait for the ‘salts’ to make up their minds, that bit could take some time.”
“ Something’s got to be done and quick, the E-boat’s between the sea boat and the ship… and between the ship and the sea.”
* * *
“As I see it”, the Captain was saying, “we have two options, the easy one… do nothing and hope they’ll go away… or take her by boarding her.
If we do nothing and she leaves , we won’t know if she knows we’re here or not. She might come back with more friends than we can handle. Mind you, if we board her and she manages to get off a signal… same result.”
“ We could just blow her out of the water, sir,” said the Navigating Officer.
“ Two thousand tons of destroyer creeping up on an E-boat, I think not.”
“ There’s only one option really, sir,” said Grant. “We’ll have to board her and make sure she has no chance of raising the alarm.”
“ And how do we do that, Number One?”
“ Surprise, sir”
“ What shout boo!” laughed the Navigator.
“ No, we board her tonight or early tomorrow morning using our marines”
* * *
The corporal stood at ease in front of the Captain’s desk, staring straight ahead his eyes riveted to a photograph of a ‘Nishga’ leaving Portsmouth harbour.
“ I’ll send Stilson in, sir, there is no better at that sort of work, at least no one I’ve met.”
“ What if there’s more than one sentry?” asked Barr.
“ We’ll be with him, sir, if needs be we can take out three. If there’s more than that, which I doubt, it’s a non-runner anyway.”
“ Is that what you think?” said Barr surprised at the certainty in the corporal’s voice.
“ It’s not what I think sir, it’s what I know. There’s not a man alive who can surprise a mob.”
* * *
Behind the German sentry’s back, a minute grey shadow moved, indefinable, even in the glowing white of the snow. When he turned he saw nothing, nothing but the snow and the swaying shadows of the trees.
Matrose Alfred Becker had been looking at the snow and the trees for three hours now, so long that the only thing he saw was the cold hour he had left before his relief arrived.
Marine Stilson waited while the young German sentry turned again, waited while he walked to the other side of the bridge. Only then did he move, when he moved it was slowly, imperceptibly. He had been in full view of the sentry since the man had come on duty. He expected to be there for another half-hour. Thirty minutes of cold and pain before he reached the E-boat’s bridge. He smiled; in fact he expected to be there for the rest of the young sentry’s life.
Stilson moved like a snake, he thought of himself as one in these situations, it was the secret of his success, why the men in his section called him ‘Snake’; ‘Snake’ Stilson. He was proud of that and of the way Bushel always chose him for a job like this. He was the ‘someone’ to guard the camp, the ‘someone’ to take out the sentry or to stalk the stalker. He believed in himself, he was good, dedicated for, to him, killing was an art; the hardship, the cold, the cramp that assailed his limbs, they were all part of what he was. It was foreplay; anticipation, the mother of delight. The real art was to create the ‘Snake’ to truly believe you were it. He had become addicted to his calling, the danger, yes, but something else, the power. At times like this he knew the future; he knew that the sentry was going to die. He would only die when he, the ‘Snake’ wanted him to die, die, the way the ‘Snake’ wanted him to die, the three ways; ‘The Snake’s’
“ Something’s got to be done and quick, the E-boat’s between the sea boat and the ship… and between the ship and the sea.”
* * *
“As I see it”, the Captain was saying, “we have two options, the easy one… do nothing and hope they’ll go away… or take her by boarding her.
If we do nothing and she leaves , we won’t know if she knows we’re here or not. She might come back with more friends than we can handle. Mind you, if we board her and she manages to get off a signal… same result.”
“ We could just blow her out of the water, sir,” said the Navigating Officer.
“ Two thousand tons of destroyer creeping up on an E-boat, I think not.”
“ There’s only one option really, sir,” said Grant. “We’ll have to board her and make sure she has no chance of raising the alarm.”
“ And how do we do that, Number One?”
“ Surprise, sir”
“ What shout boo!” laughed the Navigator.
“ No, we board her tonight or early tomorrow morning using our marines”
* * *
The corporal stood at ease in front of the Captain’s desk, staring straight ahead his eyes riveted to a photograph of a ‘Nishga’ leaving Portsmouth harbour.
“ I’ll send Stilson in, sir, there is no better at that sort of work, at least no one I’ve met.”
“ What if there’s more than one sentry?” asked Barr.
“ We’ll be with him, sir, if needs be we can take out three. If there’s more than that, which I doubt, it’s a non-runner anyway.”
“ Is that what you think?” said Barr surprised at the certainty in the corporal’s voice.
“ It’s not what I think sir, it’s what I know. There’s not a man alive who can surprise a mob.”
* * *
Behind the German sentry’s back, a minute grey shadow moved, indefinable, even in the glowing white of the snow. When he turned he saw nothing, nothing but the snow and the swaying shadows of the trees.
Matrose Alfred Becker had been looking at the snow and the trees for three hours now, so long that the only thing he saw was the cold hour he had left before his relief arrived.
Marine Stilson waited while the young German sentry turned again, waited while he walked to the other side of the bridge. Only then did he move, when he moved it was slowly, imperceptibly. He had been in full view of the sentry since the man had come on duty. He expected to be there for another half-hour. Thirty minutes of cold and pain before he reached the E-boat’s bridge. He smiled; in fact he expected to be there for the rest of the young sentry’s life.
Stilson moved like a snake, he thought of himself as one in these situations, it was the secret of his success, why the men in his section called him ‘Snake’; ‘Snake’ Stilson. He was proud of that and of the way Bushel always chose him for a job like this. He was the ‘someone’ to guard the camp, the ‘someone’ to take out the sentry or to stalk the stalker. He believed in himself, he was good, dedicated for, to him, killing was an art; the hardship, the cold, the cramp that assailed his limbs, they were all part of what he was. It was foreplay; anticipation, the mother of delight. The real art was to create the ‘Snake’ to truly believe you were it. He had become addicted to his calling, the danger, yes, but something else, the power. At times like this he knew the future; he knew that the sentry was going to die. He would only die when he, the ‘Snake’ wanted him to die, die, the way the ‘Snake’ wanted him to die, the three ways; ‘The Snake’s’
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