Fog by Annelie Wendeberg Read Free Book Online Page B

wear our ghillies. I’ll wash now, then we leave.’

A waxing moon illuminates the round top of the observatory. Two broad solar wings spread on either side, its base held aloft by a thin cushion of fog: a monster insect about to pounce.
    Runner and I are high up in two different trees about fifty metres from one another, so we get two different angles and cover more area. The small button in my ear receives his voice and transmits mine. Tonight’s mission is to observe only. But both our rifles are loaded and ready to engage the enemy. This would be my first encounter with the BSA and the prospect makes me nervous. But I try to control myself. There’s no room for fidgety, girly shit. Besides, this observatory appears as if no one has been here for days, if not weeks.
    ‘Tell me what you see, Micka.’ Runner’s voice sounds in my left ear. ‘Main entrance.’
    My night-eye has been pointed at the observatory’s main entrance for more than an hour now, and I see absolutely nothing conspicuous.
    ‘A door, the locking mechanism appears broken. The handle has been taken off and put on again, it seems. There’s a blackish stain around a new-looking lock. So obviously, this too, has been replaced.’
    ‘Describe what you see in the immediate vicinity.’
    ‘Do you see something? Because then you can just tell me, you know.’ I wonder if he’s at his teacher-pupil game again.
    ‘I’m not sure if what I observe and conclude is correct.’
    ‘Oh. Okay. Door frame and adjacent building structure, twelve o’clock: no damage, not even the vine that grows there seems to be touched. Going down to nine o’clock and six o’clock: no damage, no obvious disturbance of that same vine and wall. Going up from six o’clock to three o’clock: black stains at about three thirty, possibly from ricocheting bullets. No apparent blood stains, though. Three o’clock to twelve o`clock: nothing notable, just clean white plaster and a sign with Taiwanese letters and underneath in English, “Jin-Shui Observatory.”
    ‘Moving on to the stairs in front of the main entrance,’ I continue. Runner’s calm breath is barely audible in my earbud. ‘The ground is concrete or some other solid material, so there are no footprints to see, no signs of explosions or blood stains. They might have washed it off, though.’
    ‘Why would they do that?’
    ‘No idea. Rain could also have washed it away, if there was blood at all. But the monsoon isn’t due for another month, maybe two.
    ‘Possible. Go on.’
    I gaze at the entrance and can’t brush off the feeling that something is not quite right. The steps leading to the observatory seem normal, the landing, too. No sign of a fight except for the two black stains at the door and directly next to it.
    ‘Micka?’
    ‘Give me a moment.’
    The vegetation. What’s wrong with the vegetation? ‘Runner, you said this happened two months ago?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Can a plant grow one metre in two months?’
    ‘Some can, reed for example, bamboo can grow even faster. A few vines, maybe.’
    ‘Okay, then there’s nothing suspicious about that entrance.’
    ‘Tell me what you see.’
    ‘Several vines stretch across the landing,’ I answer. ‘The plants are approximately one metre to one metre twenty long. Another two or three stretch across the second step below the landing. When people use stairs, they make sure it’s clear so they don’t trip.’
    ‘Funny,’ Runner says.  
    ‘Why is that funny?’
    ‘Because I see the exact same thing here at the side entrance. They are probably rigged.’
    ‘Shit. How do we get in?’
    ‘We won’t. If they put trip wires on the stairs, chances are that they rigged the doors, too. We’ll install our earbuds on the outside of the building, so we can at least listen to their conversations when they approach. Then we pick the tallest tree at a crest and install the amplifier.’
    ‘Hmm.’ I shift my rifle and scan the white walls of the