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1984. EAST OF BERLIN, EAST GERMANY.
    THE BLACK EFFECT −2 DAYS.
     
    “Jacko,” Bradley hissed into Jacko’s ear, his hand close to the sleeping soldier’s mouth, ready to clamp it shut should he shout out or make the slightest noise. Jacko’s eyes opened and he was immediately alert, sensing the urgency in Bradley’s voice.
    “What is it?”
    “Listen.”
    They both kept silent and still, the sudden sound of a dog barking in the distance.
    “It’s just a dog,” Jacko hissed back.
    Then there was a second bark, deeper, followed by a third.
    “Shit.”
    “We need to bug out, and quickly. Pack your stuff and I’ll sort mine and the radio.”
    “What about this?” asked Jacko, indicating the camouflaged mesh frame that spanned the space above them, keeping the foliage above at bay.
    “Leave it, we don’t have time.”
    Two dogs barked again, sounding closer, and Jacko quickly exited his sleeping bag, immediately flattened it and rolled it up, squeezing it into the haversack. Although cramped, they worked speedily side by side. Speed was of the essence, the barking dogs the only motivation they needed.
    “How far?”
    “Less than a K, I would say. Here in ten,” responded Bradley. “Finish up here; then bring your stuff out. I’m going to take a look around.”
    Bradley poked his head outside and looked to the right as the headlights of a truck flickered by on the autobahn, causing him to flinch. He blinked. He had lost a portion of his night vision, but could see enough until it improved again. The Browning pistol dug into his side as he got up, a comfortable feeling, one of security. He pulled it out of the holster clipped to his belt on the left-hand side of his barrack trousers. It was loaded, with a round up the spout and the safety applied. He dragged his Bergen out of the hide, leaving it at the entrance, and then crept along the upper edge of the railway embankment, making his way west until he came to the edge of the Berlin ring road. It was four ten and there was very little traffic on the road. When it was busy, it was usually long convoys of supplies and troops heading west to join their comrades doing battle against NATO. Civilians were rarely seen on the road, confined to their homes no doubt while the East German military machine went about its business.
    Bradley peered across the motorway, turning his head slightly so that his right ear could catch any sound that would be a threat to them. Lights flickered through the trees as the enemy played their torches around the area, making sure they didn’t step onto any hazards. They were looking for them; he had no doubts. The noise from the dogs was getting steadily louder. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say there were three tracker dogs on their scent, and he estimated they would be here in less than ten minutes. And to make matters worse, they were on his side of the embankment. They were obviously doing a sweep along the railway line. But why? Were they looking for saboteurs? Or were they looking for him and Jacko? Or were they just plain old Transport Politzei?
    His head snapped round as he heard the bark of another dog off to the left. He looked to the front again. It was clear. He raised his body up higher so he could look back along the road to the other side of the bridge that crossed the railway line. He was startled, seeing more lights. Another collection of torch beams stabbed the darkness as a group, probably soldiers along with a couple of dogs, were moving along the edge of the autobahn. Fuck , he thought and immediately dropped back down. They were searching both railway embankments. It was the two of them they were after. They must have found the Range Rover.
    He duckwalked back to the hide and pushed his head inside. “We need to go now, Jacko. They’ll be here in minutes. There’s a group practically opposite us.”
    “How close?”
    “Bloody close. Shift.”
    “I’m done.”
    Jacko joined him outside, and they