a head-height container forming a wall to his side. He angled the gun a little further back as he bent at the waist and lowered it to the floor. Before it touched the ground he pulled the trigger. The only sound that resulted was the click, click, clatter of the moving parts as the weapon shuddered in his grip and the bang of the bullets hitting the metal container. The silenced SMG fired low-velocity rounds: bigger bullets than the average high-powered rifle but slower and less penetrating. They couldn’t pierce the skin of the container, for instance. Stratton held on to the trigger and emptied the entire magazine, the rounds striking and then ricocheting off the metal wall like billiard balls. He turned to see the figure of a man, juddering as he fell, a gun slipping from his grip.
Stratton moved to the man to look down on him. He was alive but breathing in short, rasping breaths. Stratton checked around to ensure they were alone. He couldn’t leave the Somali in case he was discovered. There was too much more to be done. Under normal circumstances a follow-up team would take care of him, the details of such cases depending on the nature of the operation and its ability to absorb enemy prisoners. In most cases this would be zero. That certainly applied to Stratton’s current situation.
Stratton couldn’t get the man to the platform’s outer edge because of the deck configuration: he’d have to drag him around the container and machinery to do that and risk exposure. The only choice he had was a gap between the narrow gangway he had climbed and the edge of the deck. A more or less unobstructed line of sight straight down to the water.
He slung the SMG over his back and dragged the man to the gangway. He heaved him up, leaned him over the top rail, picked up his heels and let the weight take him the rest of the way over. The man fell silently into the blackness. At first. But instead of a distant plop as he hit the water, a couple of dull thuds followed by a single deeper one came back up, as though the body had struck something very solid.
Stratton had no time to worry about the man’s fate. He was dead either way. The good news was that there was now one fewer enemy to fight. The bad news was that the clock had started ticking, for it would only be a matter of time before the man was declared missing and the reason for it became obvious.
He hid the Somali’s weapon and moved across to the door that led into the accommodation block.
Rowena and Jason were waiting on the spider deck for Binning when Pirate’s body struck the span across the gap from them and jammed awkwardly in a joint. Rowena lost her balance at the shock of it and might have fallen off the spar had Jason not been close enough to grab her.
As she steadied herself the thought hit her. Binning!
Mansfield jolted as if he’d had the same thought. ‘Stay here,’ he said. He shuffled to the end of the girder and climbed through an angled junction to the span where the body lay.
After a brief examination he made his way back. ‘It’s not Binning, or Stratton.’
‘Is he dead?’
‘For his sake I sincerely hope so. There’s little that anyone can do for him if he isn’t.’
‘Then where’s Binning?’ Rowena asked. They peered up into the complex web of light beams and shadows.
There was nothing more for it. She had to see for herself and so she clambered up the ladder. Jason wanted to stop her but instead climbed up behind her.
‘He’s gone with Stratton,’ she decided as Jason stepped onto the next spider deck.
‘He wouldn’t allow that,’ Jason said.
‘What other explanation could there be? Binning was supposed to set up the G43 here. Where the hell is he?’
‘Maybe he had to go further up,’ Jason suggested, craning to look for his colleague.
‘I’m surprised you didn’t go with him too. You and Binning are so keen to prove you’re better than Stratton.’
‘One minute you hate him, the next you’re a fan.’
Rowena ignored the comment. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘He may be having trouble securing the device. Be patient. He’ll be back soon.’
‘Then what about him down there? I suppose he was just taking a stroll in the storm and slipped. Are you going to tell me you can’t sense that something is