by Angus McLean
‘Whatever. Anyway, I need some info.’ He paused until Pat looked up. ‘On one of our staff in Turkey.’
It was nearly dinner time when Katie appeared in the doorway to the chow hall.
She spotted Moore at a table with Todd and Knees, gave a quick wave and paused at the serving counter to grab herself a bottle of water before heading over.
Moore ran an appraising eye over her as she took the chair beside him. Her boots were dusty and her grey T-shirt was stained with sweat. He couldn’t help but notice that the T-shirt was tight across her breasts. She had sunglasses pushed up on her head and a smudge of gun oil on her cheek. She was grinning and seemed on a high.
‘Have fun out there?’ he asked as she popped the cap on her bottle.
‘That was awesome,’ she enthused, ‘the Police need to get some of this training going back home.’
Moore and Todd exchanged knowing looks, both recognising the intoxicating buzz of weapons training.
Duke and Jerry came in and headed over, both also dusty and sweat stained. Jerry took the seat beside Todd so that he was directly opposite Katie, leaving Duke to take the end of the table.
‘Go alright, pal?’ Todd asked.
The Texan nodded his approval and removed his ball cap to run a hand through his curly hair. It was damp with sweat.
‘Pretty decent,’ he drawled. ‘We just did some basic room clearing and tactical approaches and movement. Got ol’ Jer to partner up for the team parts.’
‘She did real good,’ Jerry agreed, giving Katie a bright white grin across the table. ‘Real good. Gave me a run for my money, that’s for sure.’
Katie reddened slightly and took a draught of water. She shifted her body round to face Moore, tucking a foot up and resting her knee on his leg. He wondered what the other operators thought of the show of intimacy, but he didn’t protest.
‘Thanks heaps for doing that,’ she said to Duke, ‘it was really good. I haven’t had a shoot up for ages.’
‘M’ pleasure,’ he drawled, glancing to Jerry.
There was a pregnant pause and Moore glanced at him too, noticing him staring at Katie’s knee on Moore’s leg. The other man became aware and looked away self-consciously.
‘We got a briefing at nineteen hundred,’ Todd said, breaking the moment. ‘We’ll go the briefing room straight from here, okay?’
Moore gave him a tilt of the chin in acknowledgement, and Katie drained her bottle, setting it down on the table.
‘Right,’ Todd said, pushing up from his seat and looking to his two men. ‘Let’s go get some shit sorted out before then.’
Katie also moved as the three operators walked out, standing up and grabbing her empty bottle.
‘Come on,’ she said with a cheeky grin, ‘come with me.’
Moore watched her walk to the bin and drop the empty bottle in. The fatigue pants she wore were firm across her buttocks. Fatigues were notoriously unflattering for women, but somehow she managed to make then look good.
He shook his head and stood, following her out of the chow hall, through the unoccupied operators’ room to their own quarters.
The door banged shut behind them and Katie turned, grabbing Moore by the front of his T-shirt and pulling him in closer. She leaned up and kissed him hard on the mouth and he responded, their tongues seeking each other out as they pulled hard against each other.
He was surprised at the sudden turn of events, but not enough to stop. She was a desirable girl, no doubt about that. The hell with it.
Moore grabbed her sculpted buttocks with both hands and lifted her onto her tip-toes as they wrestled in a passionate embrace.
Katie broke the lock and ran her hand down his chest to the waistband of his pants, tugging at the button there.
‘This better be good,’ she panted as she won the battle with the button and started to pull his pants off his hips.
Moore grabbed her T-shirt and yanked it up over her arms, tossing it aside. He cupped his hands over her plain black bra and squeezed her breasts, feeling her nipples hard against his palms through the fabric.
Katie let out a moan as he tweaked her peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.
‘I want it hard,’ she gasped, ‘and fast.’
Moore didn’t reply; words were superfluous. He knew what she wanted and he was going to give it to her, no mistake about that. He reached behind her and unclipped the bra, letting it fall away as he moved to her fatigue pants. Her hands were doing likewise, skinning off his pants and briefs and freeing him to her hands. He gave a guttural groan as she went to work, and he jerked her pants down.
He realised they both still had their boots on, and broke the moment to bend down, his head at her thighs.
Katie ran her hands across his head.
‘Easy, tiger,’ she breathed, ‘I don’t know you well enough for that just yet.’
‘Boots,’ he grunted, ripping the laces open on her footwear and tugging them off.
‘Oh,’ she chuckled, still running her hands through his hair.
He quickly did the same to his boots and kicked them aside then straightened up again, dropping his hands to her hips as he kissed her passionately. Her black cotton knickers were still there and he hooked his thumbs into the waistband, yanking them down then using his foot to push them clear of her feet.
He pressed her back against the wall and lifted her right leg, locking his mouth against hers again as he found her wetness. Their tongues lashed at each other and Katie let out a sudden gasp as he entered her, easing his way in at first then thrusting hard, holding her weight as he did so. Her nails raked at his shoulders and back and his legs trembled, their breathing laboured, their sweaty bodies rubbing against each other as they ground together.
Moore found Katie’s neck with his free hand and laced his fingers into her hair, breathing the air from her lungs as he drove into her, the friction building rapidly until she began to quiver and clung to him helplessly, clenching tightly and tipping him over the edge seconds later.
When the last waves subsided they eased apart slightly, catching their breath and feeling the sweat running down their bodies.
Katie looked up at him with those vivid blue eyes, damp hair framing her face, her cheeks flushed.
‘Good to see you can follow instructions,’ she panted with a smile.
Moore grinned and kissed her lips, softer now, tenderly. He straightened up, letting her leg down as they separated.
‘I do what I can,’ he said modestly.
He ran a finger down her nose, her chin and throat, and down her chest between her pert breasts. He rested his hand there, feeling her heart thumping against his palm. She leaned against the wall, unabashedly naked, watching him. She reached out and twirled her fingers in his thick chest hair.
‘I bags first shower,’ she said, pushing away from the wall.
Moore held her slim hips, pulling her against him. He bent and kissed her again. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, kissing him back. She hooked an ankle behind his leg, pressing against him. He could feel her willingness and his own body responded in kind.
‘Be a shame to waste water,’ he murmured as she guided him towards the bathroom.
Chapter Thirty Eight
A pair of giant Chinooks dropped them ten klicks from Qahira just before dawn.
The unit rolled out of the aircraft in their vehicles, establishing an all-round defence while the big birds lifted off again. Dust and crap blew everywhere, limiting their vision even further.
The unit was saddled up in four Desert Patrol Vehicles and a Polaris MV850 All Terrain Vehicle, packing an awesome amount of firepower between them.
The DPVs could each take a driver, a vehicle commander and a gunner. Each of them had a classic Browning M2 .50 calibre machine gun mounted to the roof’s, manned by the gunner who was encased in the roll cage, and two of them bore dash-mounted Mark 19 40mm automatic grenade launchers. The other two each had a venerable M60 7.62mm
machine gun affixed to the dash.
Each DPV also had an AT-4 84mm light anti-tank weapon strapped to each side of the roof. Two of the DPVs were a man short, enabling them to uplift the two-man sniper team on the way in to the village.
Moore and Katie were on the ATV. Like the others they wore light helmets and goggles, with gloves and body armour over their fatigues. The quad bike had a 7.62mm M240 light machine gun mounted to the front rack in front of Moore, with a box of ammo attached to the side of the receiver.
Along with the rest of the unit each of them was armed with a 5.56mm M4, Moore’s with an M203 40mm grenade launcher clipped beneath the barrel for extra versatility. He carried several bombs for it in his webbing, and like Katie he had an HK .45 strapped to his thigh in a low slung holster.
They carried a small amount of water, rations and emergency kit in grab bags attached to the rear of the ATV by bungees. The plan was to be back at base for lunch, so there shouldn’t be any need for more gear.
Moore had to admit that despite his change in career from the frontline of combat to the world of espionage, it felt good to be back in camo’s, tooled up and heading out on a mission with a team of warriors.
Once they could see, one of the DPVs led them out, Moore dropping the ATV into the middle of the group. They got clear of the drop zone and headed towards their RV with the sniper team, who had left their OP under the cover of darkness. Within minutes the column of vehicles pulled up short of a wadi and two figures emerged from the lip of the gully. They joined the unit, speaking briefly to Todd in the second DPV before climbing aboard two of the vehicles.
They moved off again, one of the DPVs up front as a scout. Dawn’s grey light was up now and the sun was starting to rise. The night time desert chill was easing and Moore felt more comfortable now, settled into the vehicle and their role in the unit.
Within minutes the scout vehicle called a halt through the earpieces they all wore. Moore braked, feeling Katie press into him from behind. She was perched on the back of the Polaris, her legs either side of his hips, hanging onto the rear rack for dear life as they bounced across the rough country.
Just as Pat had described it at the briefing earlier in the day, it was sandy, scrubby desert country, full of holes and dips that the drivers couldn’t see until they were practically on top of them. Moore made sure that he mimicked the movements of the DPV in front of them, and before he knew it they pulled up short again, going into an all-round defensive position.
Once the dust had settled and all they could hear was the ticking of the cooling engines, Todd gave the last briefing over the net, just a few words to make sure everyone was focussed and knew what they were doing.
With that they headed out again, the last leg of the short journey taking them past another wadi and across an expanse of open ground straight to the village. Not until they were nearly on top of the village could Moore actually make it out, it was so small. Just a handful of basic mud and stone huts, a fire pit smouldering in the centre of the assembly, with an animal enclosure of some sort on the far side.
Two of the DPVs skirted round the village to cover the other side and the other two broke away to cover each flank on the near side. Moore brought the ATV to a stop and waited, watching as Todd and Jerry dismounted and moved quickly to the closest hut, the biggest of the handful, which they had identified as the head man’s hooch.
People were emerging from the huts in the grey dawn, curious to see the soldiers who had disturbed them. Curious, but not afraid. Moore watched carefully, eyes flitting everywhere, assessing each new face as they appeared, checking for weapons or signs of hostility.
Nothing.
Todd and his sidekick spoke to the head man, a stooped old boy with skin like a worn boot and maybe a couple of teeth. A younger man stood with him, maybe a son or nephew, somewhere in his forties and fully bearded. To Moore he had the tough, watchful look of a fighter. Then again, most males in this part of the world did.
A third guy hung in the background, young enough to be a grandson by the looks of him.
The two soldiers spoke to them for a few minutes, firmly but not aggressively.
By now it seemed that the whole village had risen, gathering around the centre while someone stoked up the fire pit. Goats bleated in the background and a skinny dog wandered about aimlessly. It wandered over to the ATV and stared at Moore for a moment before it came closer and paused to piss on the closest wheel.
The skinny young man was hanging round the fringes of the head group, not part of the conversation but close enough to listen. Every time somebody looked at him he looked away or nodded and smiled a big toothy smile, as if he didn't understand what was being said.
The longer that Moore watched him, slipping glances across without trying to be too obvious about it, the more obvious it seemed that the guy was paying full attention. Given his age and related lack of standing in the tribal hierarchy, it made Moore wonder why.
Knees was moving around between the unit’s positions, having a quiet word and checking arcs as he did so. When he got to Moore he stood beside him, looking out at the open ground around the tiny village.
‘Tough country,’ he commented. ‘Hard people, homes.’
‘You got that right.’ Moore lowered his voice. ‘Who’s the young fella hanging round the head honcho?’
‘Mustafa, the old boy’s grandson. The other guy’s the son.’ Knees glanced at him curiously. ‘Why’s that? You recognise him?’
‘No. Just curious.’
Todd’s voice came over the net.
‘We’re gettin’ nothin’ from these guys,’ he said. ‘Says they don’t know what we’re talkin’ about. Start on the east corner and check the huts. Kiwi and Katie, cover us from the flanks.’
There were clicks of acknowledgement and the team dismounted, moving quickly to their pre-designated positions.
Moore readied his M4 and took a post that gave him a good visual on one side of the village, glancing over to make sure Katie was in position. She was, weapon in hand and looking alert.
He turned to check his arcs, and saw that the two Delta men had stepped away from the head honcho’s group and had their heads together. Likewise, the old boy and his son were conversing in low voices. The young guy Mustafa was shuffling about, kicking at the dust beneath his feet as if he was just killing time.
Moore wasn’t buying it. The guy seemed off, too alert and too eager to play dumb. He pushed his talk button.
‘Todd, keep an eye on that young guy,’ he said. ‘I think he’s listening to you guys.’
He got a double click in acknowledgement.
Casting an eye back over his arcs and shifting the M4 in his grasp, Moore couldn’t shake the bad feeling in his gut. Maybe he’d been out of the field for too long, but this whole situation was giving him the shits. He spied movement from the corner of his eye, and looked just in time to see Mustafa disappear behind a hut near the head honcho.
‘Todd, the young guy,’ he radioed over the net. ‘He’s gone behind that hut, he’s up to something.’
‘Find him,’ Todd came back immediately. ‘We’ll distract the head man.’
Moore waited a moment before moving in that direction, keeping his eyes outwards to cover the flank, moving as if he was patrolling his patch. In his peripheral vision he spied the two Delta men showing a map to the two Iraqis and getting their full attention.
He got past the closest hut, out of their sight, and dropped any pretence of patrolling. He moved fast and silent, his M4 at the ready. He reached the hut where he’d last seen the young man and tucked up close to the side as he moved.
He could rushed Arabic in a low tone, urgent sounding. He ducked round the side of the hut and Mustafa appeared from his left, head down as he spoke quietly into a cell phone.
Moore wasted no time, ramming the barrel of his rifle into the young man's gut and causing him to double over with a whoof of air. He snatched the cell phone from the man's hand and put
it to his own ear, but the connection had been cut already.
He shoved the phone in his pocket and grabbed Mustafa by the scruff of his neck, dragging him back around the hut into the communal area and throwing him to the ground. Mustafa curled into a ball, groaning, clearly expecting to be filled in.
Todd trotted over with Jerry at his side, both with questioning expressions. Moore produced the cell phone, waggling it in the air for all to see.
'Caught him making a sneaky call behind the hut,' Moore explained.
Todd pressed the talk switch on his radio, alerting the team. 'Heads up, got a spotter here. Eyes on.'
While the team immediately stood to and watched for threats, the three men stood over the fallen Mustafa.
'Who did you call?' Todd demanded.
The village headman scurried over, reaching out to the fallen man who was now clutching at his gut and milking it for all it was worth.
'No English,' the headman jabbered, 'no English.'
'Bullshit,' Moore snapped, 'he was listening to everything you said before. He knows damn well.'
'No English!'
Mustafa groaned loudly and tried to sit up before collapsing back pathetically. His eyes were screwed shut and his face was a mask of pain. The head man looked up at them, distinctly aggrieved, and in the background a woman began to wail.
'Get up,' Todd said, reaching out a hand to help Mustafa to his feet.
The wailing got louder and there was a crackle over the net.
'Incoming, Top, half a klick out from the west,' came the voice of one of the operators, 'two technicals, both loaded up.'
Moore looked that way and could see a faint trail of dust being kicked up by vehicles. The next instant came another transmission from a different soldier.
'Got the same from the north, Top. Got fifty cal's on the back.'
'Fuck it,' Jerry drawled, 'better get ready huh?'
Todd pressed his talk button.
'Remember the rules, boys,' he said calmly. 'Show the flag and let's find out if these guys are friendly or not.' He released the button and slapped Jerry on the shoulder. 'Go mount up.'