believe, Captain,’ PT said. ‘Your wife and daughter are both very pretty.’
Ramsgate’s mouth gaped as he felt inside his trouser pockets to confirm that his things were really gone. ‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ he laughed. ‘So I’m not the only one who knows a few tricks, eh?’
But Henderson seemed cross. ‘PT, using your pickpocketing skills on a senior officer is not appropriate behaviour. You’re lucky he’s taking it in such good humour.’
‘I didn’t take anything,’ PT explained. ‘But I had to check that you were who you said you were. You might have been a German storm trooper for all we knew.’
Captain Ramsgate and Henderson both laughed. ‘What would you have done if I was?’ the captain asked.
Joel answered. ‘Commander Henderson showed us how to make garrottes out of chicken wire last week. I’ve still got my one under my bed.’
‘They’ll take your head clean off if you twist hard enough,’ PT added, before making a dramatic choking noise.
‘OK, that’s enough, you lot,’ Henderson smiled. ‘You should have been in bed and lights out ten minutes ago and we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
Captain Ramsgate spoke discreetly as Henderson opened the door out on to the hallway. ‘I’m desperate for a tinkle.’
‘No problem, sir,’ Henderson said. ‘There’s one just down the hall. Our facilities are newly installed and quite impressive, even if I do say so myself.’
The two men were all smiles as they headed down the hallway. Back in the bedroom, PT, Paul, Marc and Rosie gawped desperately at each other.
‘They’ll find Luc!’ Paul said.
‘Maybe they won’t,’ Troy said encouragingly. ‘He might be asleep or something. But remember, I had nothing to do with it, and I’d better get back to my room. Goodnight!’
‘Dammit!’ Marc said, as he crashed backwards on to his bed. ‘We’re right in the shit now.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Captain Ramsgate’s early arrival had scuppered Henderson’s plans for an elaborate display, but he was too busy to deal with the incident in the showers and an unspecified punishment hung over the trainees’ heads as they rose early and completed their normal cross-country run with heavy packs. Paul managed despite aches all over, but Marc got a lie-in because his lungs weren’t up to anything athletic after the smoke inhalation.
Admiral Hammer arrived by taxi shortly after breakfast and Marc stood at the main entrance to greet him.
‘Not much of a reception committee,’ Hammer said.
He meant this as a joke, but Marc was nervous and took it seriously. ‘Captain Ramsgate said you didn’t want a fuss. I’m supposed to take you out to meet everyone on the shooting range. The ground’s a bit muddy, I’m afraid.’
Hammer nodded. ‘March on.’
‘May I ask how your father is?’ Marc said.
‘Of course,’ Hammer replied, as they began the walk across rocky ground at the side of the school building. Rifle fire rattled in the distance. ‘My father is shouting at nurses, complaining about his food and jabbing the patient in the next bed with his walking stick when he snores. In fact, I’d say he’s almost back to his old self. The doctors are only keeping him in because he’s elderly.’
Henderson, McAfferty and Ramsgate stood in line and saluted as the admiral approached. The Group-A trainees lay on their bellies in the frosty grass, firing across uneven ground at painted targets more than fifty metres away. Group B were new to the range and a light-skinned African named Rufus was demonstrating the benefits of different firing stances.
‘What’s the purpose of this?’ Admiral Hammer asked. ‘How much shooting can these boys do when they’re undercover?’
McAfferty answered. ‘Sir, our objective is to ensure that young agents will survive in extreme circumstances. We don’t anticipate that they’ll routinely carry guns, but situations may arise where agents need to defend themselves or use a weapon to
Ramsgate’s mouth gaped as he felt inside his trouser pockets to confirm that his things were really gone. ‘Well, I’ll be darned,’ he laughed. ‘So I’m not the only one who knows a few tricks, eh?’
But Henderson seemed cross. ‘PT, using your pickpocketing skills on a senior officer is not appropriate behaviour. You’re lucky he’s taking it in such good humour.’
‘I didn’t take anything,’ PT explained. ‘But I had to check that you were who you said you were. You might have been a German storm trooper for all we knew.’
Captain Ramsgate and Henderson both laughed. ‘What would you have done if I was?’ the captain asked.
Joel answered. ‘Commander Henderson showed us how to make garrottes out of chicken wire last week. I’ve still got my one under my bed.’
‘They’ll take your head clean off if you twist hard enough,’ PT added, before making a dramatic choking noise.
‘OK, that’s enough, you lot,’ Henderson smiled. ‘You should have been in bed and lights out ten minutes ago and we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.’
Captain Ramsgate spoke discreetly as Henderson opened the door out on to the hallway. ‘I’m desperate for a tinkle.’
‘No problem, sir,’ Henderson said. ‘There’s one just down the hall. Our facilities are newly installed and quite impressive, even if I do say so myself.’
The two men were all smiles as they headed down the hallway. Back in the bedroom, PT, Paul, Marc and Rosie gawped desperately at each other.
‘They’ll find Luc!’ Paul said.
‘Maybe they won’t,’ Troy said encouragingly. ‘He might be asleep or something. But remember, I had nothing to do with it, and I’d better get back to my room. Goodnight!’
‘Dammit!’ Marc said, as he crashed backwards on to his bed. ‘We’re right in the shit now.’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Captain Ramsgate’s early arrival had scuppered Henderson’s plans for an elaborate display, but he was too busy to deal with the incident in the showers and an unspecified punishment hung over the trainees’ heads as they rose early and completed their normal cross-country run with heavy packs. Paul managed despite aches all over, but Marc got a lie-in because his lungs weren’t up to anything athletic after the smoke inhalation.
Admiral Hammer arrived by taxi shortly after breakfast and Marc stood at the main entrance to greet him.
‘Not much of a reception committee,’ Hammer said.
He meant this as a joke, but Marc was nervous and took it seriously. ‘Captain Ramsgate said you didn’t want a fuss. I’m supposed to take you out to meet everyone on the shooting range. The ground’s a bit muddy, I’m afraid.’
Hammer nodded. ‘March on.’
‘May I ask how your father is?’ Marc said.
‘Of course,’ Hammer replied, as they began the walk across rocky ground at the side of the school building. Rifle fire rattled in the distance. ‘My father is shouting at nurses, complaining about his food and jabbing the patient in the next bed with his walking stick when he snores. In fact, I’d say he’s almost back to his old self. The doctors are only keeping him in because he’s elderly.’
Henderson, McAfferty and Ramsgate stood in line and saluted as the admiral approached. The Group-A trainees lay on their bellies in the frosty grass, firing across uneven ground at painted targets more than fifty metres away. Group B were new to the range and a light-skinned African named Rufus was demonstrating the benefits of different firing stances.
‘What’s the purpose of this?’ Admiral Hammer asked. ‘How much shooting can these boys do when they’re undercover?’
McAfferty answered. ‘Sir, our objective is to ensure that young agents will survive in extreme circumstances. We don’t anticipate that they’ll routinely carry guns, but situations may arise where agents need to defend themselves or use a weapon to
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