and I know where he’s currently heading.’
Aïn Oussera Air Base, Algeria
Richter reached the steel centre span of the hangar and swung himself up onto it. There was
just enough space between the beam and the roof panels to allow him to crouch down. His arms and legs were trembling from the strain of the climb, and he needed a few seconds’ respite
before tackling the next phase.
He looped his safety strap around the beam, out of the way, then tested the roof with his gloved
hand: it was made from corrugated iron panels. Taking the collapsible jemmy from his pocket, he extended it and eased the point between two of these panels and pulled gently. With a faint
creak, the lower one gave slightly. He repositioned the tool and applied pressure again, and this time it lifted far enough for him to see the sky. It would, he reckoned, be a big enough gap
for him to climb through.
He checked his equipment to make sure everything was properly attached, then seized the sides of
the opening he’d created, and pulled himself up. He wriggled through the gap and lay flat on the roof, checking all around him before moving on.
At that moment Colin Dekker was still looking in the wrong place, at the nearer edge of the
roof, but he now spotted Richter within seconds of him emerging. He nudged Wallace and gestured towards the hangar.
‘Alpha and Bravo, look sharp,’ he said into his microphone. ‘Spook’s
just climbed onto the roof. Let me know if any of the guards spot him.’
Beside him, Wallace trained his sniper rifle on the roof of the hangar, pinpointed Richter
through the scope, then dropped the muzzle of the weapon so that it would cover the sentries on the ground.
‘Spook. I’m moving forward towards the gantry,’ Richter said softly. He was
confident that the roof would take his weight – having seen the immensely strong steel skeleton supporting it – and now his biggest concern was to avoid making any
noise.
He stayed in a crouch, just in case any of the guards looked up: the sight of a man standing
upright on top of the hangar in the moonlight would bring an instant burst of fire from the ground. Not only would he be less noticeable on all fours, but it would also enable him to spread
his weight more evenly on the rooftop.
The panel he’d forced open was close to the front of the hangar, so it took only a couple
of minutes, even moving slowly and with the greatest care, for him to reach the lighting gantry. From the satellite pictures, the structure had looked fairly substantial, but Richter guessed
that at least some of its apparent width was actually shadow, because when he stopped directly above the main doors and looked down, the gantry seemed incredibly narrow.
He glanced over the edge of the high building, looking straight down. The guard was visible
below, leaning back against the main entrance doors, a cigarette burning in his mouth, and his rifle slung over one shoulder. The advantage for Richter was that human beings are very limited
in their normal field of view: most regard the world at eye level and below, and rarely bother looking up. The bad news is that people in some occupations, pilots and professional soldiers in
particular, are trained to look up, and if the guard below did so while Richter was crossing the gantry over to the adjacent hangar,
he’d be a sitting duck.
Stepping back from the edge, Richter murmured into his microphone. ‘Spook. I’m
starting across now.’
‘Alpha One. Roger that.’
The gantry wasn’t going to get any wider however long he hesitated, so Richter took a deep
breath and lowered himself onto it. He deliberately ignored the guard below, and also the two sentries standing in front of the target hangar, because clearly there was nothing he could do
about them. If any of them spotted him, the first he’d know about it would be a bullet. He concentrated on moving steadily and silently, taking care not to kick
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley