TURKISH DELIGHT by Barry Faulkner (learn to read activity book .txt) 📕

be back for you here at one o’clock in the morning every night for the next seven, okay? After that, you’re on your own. Flash a light – three short and one long.’ He patted my back. ‘Good luck, off you go.’

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CHAPTER 14

I swung myself over the side and dropped into the sea, hoping Taylor had got the depth right; he had, my feet touched the bottom with the water up to my chest. I let go of the boat and pushed against the sea towards the shore. Taylor waited until I was a good twenty metres away before I heard him increase the throttle slightly, and looking back I could see the FB intermittently between the waves making its way back out to sea, heading left to give the activity around the blazing ship a wide berth. I took no chances, stooping down so only my head was above the water and waited, counting to sixty just in case there was any activity on the shore or coming down from the scrub it led up to. Nothing – no Turkish Special Services Marines appearing out of the scrub to turn me into fish food.

I waded forward and left the water onto the beach where I knelt to get my bearings and relax for a moment – all good so far. That was until I saw headlights moving behind the scrub a good quarter mile away in front of me. The land sloped slightly upwards and the lights were going right to left – there must be a road; they stopped briefly and then continued out of sight along the road. Good, a road would make travel a lot easier than stumbling through thick undergrowth.

I got to my feet and moved up off the beach into the scrub, finding a tree to stand behind and drip dry. I checked my rifle and pistol; they were SBS issue, well-greased so the salt-laden sea water wouldn’t stop them operating, but I took no chances with the bullets, emptying out the ones in the magazines and replacing them with dry ones from my rucksack. The black onesie was not only stab-proof but waterproof as well, with tight Velcro seals around the neck, wrists, ankles and pockets that had kept my undergarments dry, so when it was fairly drip dry I felt comfortable inside it. I needed to be able to pinpoint this place if I was going to get back here and rendezvous with Jones for the journey back to Cyprus so I used the location app on my mobile and took a reading before making my way slowly up towards the road, fighting against the thick scrub and undergrowth tendrils which had other ideas.

From the side of the road I could see the lights of Antakya further down it – a long way further down it – and started a slow run towards them; run a hundred yards and then take a breather, then another hundred, take a breather, and so on. I had to dive into the bushes a few times when a car came past either way; I could see their lights a good way off and was well-hidden as they passed. They were all military vehicles, which was to be expected being so close to the border. Despite the breathers every hundred yards the fatigue still built up in my legs, and after about a mile I sat down and rested.

That was a mistake.

‘Hareket etmeyi!’

A voice shouted at me from close by.

‘Ellerini kaldır!’

I looked to my right from where I was sitting and in the gloom a Turkish soldier had me covered with his rifle; he was in camouflage clothing and his face was blacked out. I don’t speak Turkish but guessed what he was telling me to do and raised my arms. He moved his rifle barrel up and down, signifying I was to stand, which I did; he kicked my rifle which was on the ground away from me, and waved his rifle sideways for me to go out of the scrub onto the road with him behind me. How long had he been on my trail? I thought back to when I was on the beach and had seen vehicle lights stop on the road and then move off again. Had they spotted me then and dropped him off to track me? Why wait until now? Probably because I was getting near the town. I waited, expecting to hear him make a radio call for a jeep to come and collect me. My mind was now concentrating on turning the tables on him before that jeep arrived; if not, then incarceration in a filthy Turkish prison compound looked very likely.

I heard a moan behind me and turned to see the soldier drop his rifle and sink to the ground, blood spurting from his neck where his throat was cut. Behind him a figure in much the same gear as me stood holding a large knife which glinted in the moonlight.

‘He’s been following you since you landed,’ Gold said in a matter of fact way, turning up her balaclava. ‘Give me a hand to put him out of sight.’

She bent and grabbed the soldier’s legs. I thought it best to just do as she said and ask questions afterwards. We lifted the body through the scrub and trees for fifty yards off the road and dumped it. She unfastened his radio from his belt, took the batteries out and threw them far into the woods. I threw the rifle even further in, swinging it round me and away like an Olympic hammer thrower.

‘How did you know?’ I asked.

‘You’ve a radio button in your heel, or have you forgotten that?’ she laughed.

I had forgotten that.

‘We picked you up about half a mile offshore and tracked you to the beach. Luckily I was already waiting for you in the woods