Chapter 49

The cough had been exaggerated and echoing due to the stillness of the air in the remote Alpine valley. The Woodcutter immediately remained put. What were humans doing out in this wilderness? Had his departure been compromised? He could only fear the worst.

Sinking to his knees in the snow he gently moved his ski boots out of the front ski bindings, lay spread-eagled on his outer jacket and salopettes, and put his ear to the ground and waited.

It was not long before he was rewarded.

The cough continued and, whilst there were attempts to muffle the sound, the reverberations allowed the Woodcutter to pinpoint the stranger’s location. Up on the ridge above the Woodcutter’s retreat, the interloper would have a view of all the comings and goings across the whole valley. Was there just the one individual or did he have friends?

Hiding in the trees, the Woodcutter considered that he was currently in the best location to remain undiscovered. He had completed the removal of all sensitive information from the chalet and now needed to cover as much distance away from his beautiful valley. He sighed; fate would play a part, for his means of escape was tucked up in the basement area of his retreat.

Speed and stealth were of the essence as the light was starting to go. He would climb far up the valley within the trees and then make a mad dash for his discreetly located property. If he was spotted and the contact was unfriendly, then he was well aware he would just have to fight it out.

There appeared to be no further movement. He took a good gulp of hot liquid from his flask, ate the last of his chocolate, and resigned himself to an interesting couple of hours.

The sun disappeared below the mountain ridge and the pink tinge swept across to the tops of the valley sides. He squinted and could not believe his luck. The strangers had remained on the ridge top and their tiny silhouettes were visible. They were lying on the ground and staring intently down the valley towards him but had not counted on his view, with the sun outlining their position so clearly.

He gulped as he was attempting to remove the bad taste from his throat. It had not been caused from the effort of having to cross-country ski upwards through the trees as quietly as possible, with minimum disturbance. He had counted six head shapes. It was at least five too many. He was trying not to let his dismay compromise his ability to think clearly.

He was certain that it had to be a military team. Friends just do not hang about on Alpine ridges after the sun has set in remote wilderness valleys that are tucked away from any towns, communication or habitation. His only chance would be the element of surprise. Certain that the team was not aware of him, but that he was aware of them, he had to use this knowledge to his advantage.