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‘Well, not this week. Settle, girl,’ the handler said in a soothing voice, before pausing and looking at Janie, a slight frown on his lean face. ‘You know I was talking to the dog, right?’
Janie laughed. ‘I was about to report you for a microaggression.’
They were soon close to the trees, the high whine of Barney’s drone hovering ahead of them. ‘No signs of life either side of the loch, or the trees. Clear to proceed, I’d say,’ came Barney’s voice over the radio.
‘Okay, I’m gonna cast the dog out and quarter her into the woodblock and see how we go, stay back from me, and if she decides to rush towards you just stand still, and I’ll call her off. She normally stops,’ said the dog handler, with a smile.
‘Define “normally”?’ said Janie.
‘Ach, eight out of ten times?’ said the handler, with a puckish grin, releasing the dog’s leash, with a command of, ‘Go on, Wendy, where, where?’
She streaked off like a bullet, towards the trees, ears flat against her head in a cheetah-like bound, the picture of pure, unadulterated commitment.
‘Wendy?’ said Ross, looking at the handler, with his hands on his knees breathing deeply.
‘Aye. I didn’t name her; she was a gift dog from a member of the public who got fed up with her eating the sofa and biting deliverymen.’
‘But fucking Wendy? Why not Lucifer, Beelzebub or Exocet, or maybe even Crook Killer? Look at the bugger go!’ Ross said, admiring the speeding dog that had begun to cast left to right, searching for the scent of her quarry. She suddenly eased her pace, her ears pricked up, and she then changed direction, directly towards the copse, with a bark of excitement before she disappeared into the treeline.
‘She’s got something,’ said the handler, beginning to jog towards the woods, Max and Janie in hot pursuit, Ross just picking his pace up as much as his hefty frame would allow.
A torrent of barks came from the trees, and they rushed as quickly as they could until everyone apart from Ross entered thewood line, where the dog was circling behind a small hump in the ground covered by an elder shrub. The dog’s body language was one of pure excitement, as she circled around the shrub, nose to the ground, tail wagging.
‘Right, he was here, I’m sure of it. It’s a real strong signal. Wendy, come,’ the handler commanded. Immediately the dog returned to his side and sat, panting with her tongue lolling. The handler reached down and touched the dog’s ears reassuringly. ‘Shh, good girl,’ he whispered.
‘I agree with Wendy,’ said Max, pointing at the scrubby grass behind the shrub. ‘The fronds are all flattened in the same direction, and look.’ He stooped and picked up a few thin twigs that were next to the flattened grass. He held up the ends of the elder twigs, and pointed. ‘See how these have been cut? That was done by our sniper to clear his view, probably with a multitool or similar, which is really shoddy tradecraft. Leave no trace is the mantra, so whilst I’d say that our man can shoot reasonably straight, I don’t think he was a properly trained sniper. Well, not British military trained, anyway.’
‘How can you be sure?’ said Ross, puffing as he entered the woods.
‘Too many mistakes that are drilled into you. Shite location and he’s left signs all over the place. He may have slipped up. Mate, can you track his egress route out of here?’ Max said, looking at the handler.
‘Aye, she’s already looking in the right direction, let’s go.’
‘I’m calling PolSA up here now, so I’ll stay and brief them. If he’s as much of an incompetent as you think, Max, then there may be something relevant here,’ said Ross.
‘Okay, don’t talk to any strangers. Let’s go,’ said Max, nodding at the dog handler.
‘Where, where, Wend?’ said the handler, and the dog took off, her nose to the ground, as the lead was extended. They were off again, trailing in the wake of the excited Malinois as they were ledthrough the woods and out the other side onto some more grassland that sloped down towards a deserted loch.
‘He definitely came this way, and not that long ago, either. She’s really indicating to the loch edge; I’m letting her go. Go on, girl,’ he said, slipping the dog’s lead once more. She took off again, but at a more considered pace, her nose down until she reached the edge of the loch, where she circled, sniffing, her tail fanning side to side until she just sat, stock still and looked at her handler, mouth agape, panting with her tongue lolling.
‘Massive indication there, I’d say he spent a whole load of time at that point.’
They caught up with the dog, and Max dropped to his haunches and looked at the ground. He noted the depression in the middle of the scrappy ground, which was littered with stones, apart from a patch in the middle. He looked left and right, noting the small holes around the edge of the cleared area.
‘Evidence of a tent here. Look, he’s cleared the stones away, and the holes are where the pegs went in.’ Max lowered his head and sniffed at the earth, wrinkling his nose. ‘I can smell a trace of smoke as well. He may have had a small fire, or a cooking stove.’
‘Jesus, he’s a brazen bastard. Are we saying he stayed the night?’ said the armed officer as he scanned all round, his carbine butted into his shoulder.
‘It’s actually quite sensible, especially if he stashed the weapon first. A fisherman camped by the loch, what could be more natural?’ said Max.
‘How do you know he was fishing?’ said Janie.
‘A hole close to the water’s edge, and a depression just behind it. I’d say that was his rod rest. Makes perfect sense to me.’
‘Jesus, Max. Were you a hunter-gatherer in a former life?’ said Janie.
‘Just a bit of tracking training in the Army,’ said Max, sniffing again, closer to the water’s edge. ‘I can smell cigarette smoke, it’sfaint, but it’s definitely there. We need PolSA up here, there could be cigarette ends about. I don’t think he’s smart enough to take them with him. Can you call it in, Janie?’ said Max, looking towards another copse of trees a few hundred metres away.
