The Trojan Boy (8 page)

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Authors: Ken McClure

Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Medical, #Suspense, #Thrillers

BOOK: The Trojan Boy
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Someone asked what time reveille would be at.
'Any time,’ came the reply.
The laughter had the thinness of new ice.
Avedissian said good-night to Jarvis, who had the room
next to his, and closed the door. He went immediately to
the bedside locker and reached inside for the gin bottle. It
had gone. A momentary flare of anger subsided and he
resigned himself with a wry smile. That, he supposed, was
one problem taken care of.
He lay in bed and looked out of the window at the full moon, his hands behind his head. Sleep was going to be a long time coming but it did not matter for the sheets were
clean and cool, the bed was firm and comfortable and, in
the moonlight, he could see his clothes spread out in predetermined order. He closed his eyes and rehearsed where
everything was. He opened them again and confirmed it.
As the moon dipped behind the window-frame
Avedissian felt sleep creep up on him. The stars twinkled in
the clear night sky over the dark shapes of the Welsh
mountains and all was peaceful, save for the alarm that had just gone off.
'Boy Scouts!' muttered Avedissian as he got into his
clothes in the darkness. The advantage of not having been
asleep when the alarm had sounded and the fact that there
was still some moonlight in the room made the exercise a
smooth one. He clattered downstairs and joined the throng
of people assembling in the hall. Jarvis was already there.
He acknowledged Avedissian with a nod.
Several of the course members were standing stiffly to
attention, eyes staring straight ahead as if fixed on some invisible Star of Bethlehem. Avedissian adopted a more
leisurely stance and Jarvis hid a smile.
'Good morning,’ said the captain and checked his watch
as the last of the stragglers came through the door, including
one of the girls carrying her right boot. 'I couldn't get the
knot out,’ she said sheepishly. It got a laugh.
'You'll find sweaters and anoraks by the door,’ said the
captain. 'We're going for a walk.’
At first the walk was brisk but not unpleasant. Avedissian
found himself enjoying it and was pleased to note that his
circulation had improved to match the cold night air.
Another two miles and the Captain said, 'Right, we'll run
for a bit.'
Pleasure gave way to pain as Avedissian's lungs dem
anded more and more air and the fact that Jarvis beside him appeared to be breathing quite normally did not give
him a psychological boost.
'Keep up!' yelled the sergeant as the party started to string
out with Avedissian competing successfully for last place.
The shouts of the NCOs and Jarvis egging him on spurred
Avedissian to greater effort and he increased his pace to gain
a little on the pack. He was almost back in touch when they
were ordered to return to walking pace. Jarvis asked
Avedissian how he was feeling but Avedissian was unable to
reply. Oxygen was too precious to waste on mere words.
The outward leg of the 'walk' ended with a climb. The
party followed a mountain track to reach the summit of a
Brecon peak of sixteen hundred feet. By the time he
reached the top Avedissian was feeling ill. He detached
himself from the group and fell down on his hands and
knees behind a rock to be sick. He stayed on his hands and
knees till his stomach was empty and his breathing had
returned to normal.
The sun came up. Avedissian had always found the dawn
an intensely personal experience and, like most people, had
not watched the sun come up that often in his life, so that he could recall clearly the occasions in his past when he
had. He was glad that no one spoke for there was no need
for anyone to say how beautiful it was. He stood alone on an
outcrop of rock and let the red light bathe him in mellow
sadness.
It was six-thirty when they got back to Llangern House to
a hot shower and then breakfast. This was followed by a
morning of lectures on navigation and map reading.
Avedissian could not help but wonder about his fellow
students. They all seemed to be familiar with the basics but
varied a great deal in ability above that level. Were they
civilians? Service personnel? What was more important,
were they all there for the same reason? The fact that the
members of the course split up in the afternoon to do
different things seemed to suggest that they were not.
Avedissian and Jarvis were part of an eight-strong con
tingent, all male, who spent the afternoon in the
gymnasium. There they were hounded by two NCOs in
something called circuit training, in which they were required to complete a series of exercises in succession and
then start all over again. After three circuits Avedissian had
to void his lunch. His attempt to linger too long in the
lavatory was headed off by one of the NCOs who had seen it
all before. Avedissian was permitted to rest . . . after two
more circuits.
The official day finished at seven and Avedissian was in
bed by eight. He had not felt so tired since his basic training
with the Parachute Regiment. Come to think of it, that had
been in Wales too, he recalled.
A new day began at five a.m. and followed much the
same pattern as the one before. Early morning exercise was
followed by breakfast and lectures. Lunch was followed by
afternoon exercise. This time the afternoon exercise for
Avedissian and four others, including Jarvis, was in una
rmed combat. Jarvis did not need it, as the instructors
quickly recognised, but Avedissian did. He spent so much time in the air that he considered joining the Air Force. At
least they would teach him to land properly.
'A bit rusty are we, Mr Avedissian?' inquired one of the NCOs, sending Avedissian into yet another ungainly heap.
'Never had much time for the Paras myself.'
Tumble crash.
'Bit overrated I always thought
Tumble crash.
'Crowd of nancy boys, some people reckon . . .'
Tumble crash.
Avedissian was growing tired of his love affair with the
mat and the NCO was beginning to get on his nerves. He
was just too confident and arrogant, although with good
reason he had to admit, but perhaps it could be used against
him? He staggered to his feet and pretended to be more
disorientated than he really was as the man came into him
yet again. At the last moment he side-stepped and brought
his foot up into the NCO's solar plexus. The man went down and Avedissian was on him, forearm in his throat, fist raised above his face.
That's more like it, sir,' said the man with a smile. 'Com
ing back, is it?'
Jarvis applauded and said, 'About time too. I thought you
were auditioning for a part as a bowling ball.'
On Thursday it was announced that the course would be
guaranteed an uninterrupted night's sleep before moving
on to 'phase two' of their training. On the strength of that
promise Avedissian stayed up past his eight o'clock bedtime
and joined Jarvis downstairs in the reading room.
Jarvis put down his book and asked how Avedissian was
feeling after five days. Avedissian had to admit that, after
the hell of the first two days, things had been improving and he was forced to concede that he felt a lot better than he had
done for a long time. 'But you must be bored?' he said.
'Not at all,' replied Jarvis. 'The run-up to an operation is
never boring. What is it they say about anticipation being
more exciting than realisation?'

Then you've been on a mission before?'
'One.'
'Can you tell me?'
'No.'
'Silly question,' conceded Avedissian and Jarvis smiled.
'What
can
you tell me?' Avedissian asked.
'Just about everything else, I should think. My mother
and father split up when I was fourteen and I went to live with an aunt in Cumbria where I suppose I had a pretty
uneventful adolescence. I don't think my aunt was ever that fond of me, or I of her if the truth be told, but she did look
after me through my school years, and for that I am
grateful. Money was tight when I left school so I applied for,
and got, a University place under military sponsorship. The
Royal Marines paid me a salary while I was a student on
condition that I served with them after graduation. It suited
both of us.'
'Your aunt must be proud of you.'
'She's dead.'
'Parents?'

They're dead too.'
'Wife?' tried Avedissian.
'I'm engaged to a girl I met at university. Annie, she's a biologist, doing a PhD at Edinburgh.'
'You can't see much of each other?'
'It hasn't been too bad. I'm normally stationed at HMS
Condor
in Arbroath. It's not that far from Edinburgh.'
'Except when you're on holiday in Wales.'
'Quite,' replied Jarvis with a smile.
The major gave a brief introductory talk to the second phase
of the course in the library on Friday morning. The key
word that kept cropping up, to Avedissian's dismay, was 'survival'. They would be trained to exact a living from the
most unforgiving of terrains, he said. Not that many of them
would be likely to need such skills, but it was felt by their
sponsors that such training would do them good in an all-round sense.
'Does that mean that we are all here for different
reasons?' asked Avedissian.
'Why do you ask?'
'Because personally I have no idea what I will be doing
when I leave here. Is that the same for everyone?'
The major said, 'It is certainly true that the members of
the staff here, myself included, have no notion why any of you are here. If there is any course member who would like
to say anything? . . .' The major looked round the room.
One man said, 'I know why I'm here. I've been appointed assistant and general minder to Admiral Sir John Sharpe at
NATO Headquarters in Brussels. There's no great secret
about it.'
Another, one of the women, said, 'I'm an army nurse. I
hope to go on the combined services expedition to Borneo.'
Two RAF instructors admitted to being there on a re
fresher course.
'I think that answers your question,' said the major.
It did, but it didn’t help.
Avedissian was convinced that the Welsh mountains had
taken a dislike to him, or so it seemed in moments of damp
paranoia when he thought that it might never stop raining again. People who lived in houses and ate real food had
quickly become a distant sub-species who never in their
wildest dreams considered the kind of existence that he and
the others were experiencing. A life where hunger and
discomfort were the norm, clothes were never properly dry,
and feet were never warm. The sole object of each day was
to get through it.
Avedissian frequently lost track of time as they roamed
the peaks and valleys of the Brecons, like aimless sheep
scratching a meagre living from the hillside. Relationships
within the group were appraised in terms of new qualities, ability to light fires quickly, success in wood gathering, prowess in rabbit snaring. Avedissian had the personal
advantage of having Jarvis at his elbow and took full
advantage of this to learn quickly. He had grown to like the
Cumbrian for Jarvis always understated his ability and that
was the mark of a true professional.

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