The colonel visibly contains his impatience. He gives Fournier a full and circumstantial run-down of recent events and speculations. The rest of the escort stand in the tall, sodden grass swapping glances of contempt and disbelief.
As he listens, Fournier considers how best to play this situation—how long a standstill he can negotiate. “We can’t go on until we can be absolutely certain there’s no danger,” he says when the colonel is done with his report. “I refuse to submit my crew to any unnecessary risk.”
On Fournier’s left-hand side but not out of his line of sight, one of the soldiers, Sixsmith, shakes her head in wonder.
“Doctor, the only sensible response is to keep going,” the colonel says levelly. “If there is a threat, the best thing we can do is outrun it.”
“I absolutely disagree,” Fournier says. “We have no idea what we might be running into. Rosie should stay right here while your men reconnoitre further up the road and ascertain whether there’s anything else in our way.”
“And if there is?” Carlisle’s voice is stiff with the effort of being polite. “We’ll still be making the same decision, which is either to plough through or to go around. It does no good to have these soldiers expose themselves on foot to hazards that Rosie is well equipped to deal with. You can see we took no damage.”
Fournier digs in. He really doesn’t have any choice, and he can’t afford to lose the argument. “This trap could be the first of many. To sound us out. Test our resources. So they can hit us harder next time. We can’t assume that because there was no damage done this time there’s no threat. In fact they could be deliberately encouraging us to underestimate their capabilities.”
The colonel raises both hands to indicate the emptiness all around. “Who,” he asks, “are they?”
Fournier is aware of the risk he is taking, the very real dangers he is inviting. If whoever set the barricade did mean it for them, then moving on quickly minimises the window for further ambushes. Standing here and arguing widens it. But he has a job to do. The fate of Beacon is in his hands, and it outweighs the fates of these individuals. Even his own fate, although he shies away from that thought. He wants very much to believe that the real threat is small, even while he talks it up into a crisis.
The adrenalin that flooded his system after his act of espionage in the cockpit has at last begun to ebb. In a more measured voice, he draws his line in the sand. “Driving on into more roadblocks and ambushes is not an option, Colonel. If you refuse to carry out proper reconnaissance, we’ll have to take other counter-measures. We have a vehicle that was specifically designed to function off-road. I suggest we use that capability.”
“What the actual fuck?” Private Sixsmith says, making no effort to lower her voice.
The colonel puts a thin veneer over the same sentiment. “We’ll lose time, Doctor. A great deal of time. The going will be harder and we’ll have to stop earlier when the light gets poor. And the slower we travel, of course, the easier it is for any potential saboteurs to follow us. Are you sure this is what you want to do?”
“Entirely,” Fournier says.
“Permission to speak, sir,” Private Sixsmith says. Carlisle nods. “Going overland all the way means taking longer, and that’s got knock-ons. We’ll run out of water unless we restock. But what I’m wondering is what happens if we blow a tread?”
“You’re qualified to deal with that, aren’t you?” Fournier demands.
“I’ve done it as a drill, Dr. Fournier. But I’m not Brendan Lutes. If we get into serious trouble, I’ll take twice as long and I’ll do half the job. It probably won’t happen, but I thought you should know going in. These hills all around, these are the Cairngorms. Off-road means uphill, and it will get pretty steep pretty quick. If we land in trouble in there, we might not be able to pull ourselves out again.”
Carlisle nods. “Thank you, Private. I appreciate your honesty.”
Fournier doesn’t appreciate it all, but the word Cairngorms has triggered a memory and now he teases it out. An ace in the hole, or at least an argument that he can win. “There’s another reason why I was considering a detour at this point,” he says, trying to look like a man who has thought deeply about this and is not just flailing around at random. “The cache we missed on the way up is very close to here, on Ben Macdhui. If we leave the road and go east, overland, we’ll hit it within a day.”
The idea lands like a dead fish. Everyone is looking at him as if he has just suggested that they camp out in the open and watch the stars.
“Doctor, it was your decision to omit that cache in the first place,” Carlisle points out brusquely. “You argued that it would be too difficult to reach. I don’t really see how our situation is any more favourable now. If anything—”
“I always held open the possibility of retrieving it on the return journey,” Fournier breaks in. “And now, with no findings of any consequence to report, it’s our last chance to find significant data.”
“Why should this lot be more significant than the other ninety-nine?” McQueen demands. Sixsmith and Phillips exchange a glance of amused contempt which they make no effort to disguise. But the colonel says nothing. Clearly the mission statement still has some sway over him. Fournier has picked the right lever.
“The road is straight all the way from here to the Firth,” he presses. “One highway, going south. If we stick to it, we give these people a very easy target. They can set their ambushes at any point they like and we’ll roll right into them. Overland is slower but safer, and it gives us an opportunity to retrieve the cache.”
Carlisle nods at last, prompting angry mutters from the soldiers. “Very well,” he says. “We’ll go overland. As far as Ben Macdhui, at least. Private Sixsmith, you’ll keep the speed low and stick to level ground wherever possible.”
“Level ground? Ben Macdhui is a bloody mountain,” McQueen points out. “Sir, I volunteer to scout the road ahead and see if it’s safe.”
“Thank you for the offer, Private McQueen,” the colonel says. “Your concerns are noted, but for now we’ll do as the doctor suggests. We’ll find the cache, and then we’ll re-join the road at the Forth estuary. Hopefully we’ll only lose a day.”
“Dismiss,” Dr. Fournier says, which is pure wishful thinking brought on by having won his point. The soldiers wait, seemingly deaf. Even McQueen doesn’t move until Carlisle gives the nod. He may hate the colonel, Fournier reflects sourly, but to take orders from a civilian? Clearly he hates that idea even more.
The new regime in Beacon will have its downside for a thinking man with no military background. Fortunately, his own status will be secure. He will have proved his allegiance beyond doubt.
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