by Angus McLean
He thought he saw a flicker in Pat’s otherwise impassive face at that point, but nothing was said. He hoped that Katie had kept to the brief-too bad right now if she hadn’t, he had to stick to his story.
When he was finished, Moore sat back.
‘And here we are,’ he said, gesturing around them. ‘Somewhere in Northern Iraq, I’m guessing.’
Pat gave a small smile but didn’t bite.
‘So just to clarify,’ he said, ‘you managed to free yourself except for your hands, and you attacked the two guards when they entered the cell with your colleague? You disarmed and incapacitated them both with your hands bound behind your back?’
‘That’s right,’ Moore said.
‘Are you serious? You had your hands tied behind your back, and you took out two guys armed with AK47s and pistols?’
‘Yep.’ Moore looked him in the eye. ‘That’s what happened.’
Pat shook his head, either in disbelief or amazement-he was too professional to give much away. Either way, it annoyed Moore, but he bit his tongue.
‘Then as you attempt to escape from the cell you are surprised by a guy in the outer room, and you both shoot him.’
‘Correct.’
‘And during this your prisoner is shot in the back of the head.’
Pat met Moore’s gaze. He had expressionless brown eyes.
‘Correct.’
There was silence for a long moment. Moore knew that Pat was using the silence, wanting him to fill it with a further explanation. He stayed silent.
‘It could almost sound…I don’t know…a bit like an execution,’ Pat said.
His tone was neutral. Moore shrugged.
‘It could. But it wasn’t. He moved the wrong way in a dynamic situation and was accidentally shot.’ He shrugged again. ‘Regrettable perhaps, but it happens.’
Pat nodded.
‘Uh-huh. Then outside you’re about to leave on foot when the vehicle arrives and you engage the three occupants, killing all three.’
‘They got spooked by something and we had our hand forced,’ Moore said. ‘The plan was to stay out of sight and try and take their vehicle. It didn’t work out and things went noisy.’
Pat gave another slight nod.
‘So you shot all of them?’
‘I did.’
‘All three of them, without either of you being wounded, even though they were armed?’
‘That’s right.’
‘That’s some pretty serious shooting,’ Pat commented.
Moore nodded, said nothing. It wasn’t his place to praise his own work.
‘So the driver and the bodyguard die instantly and The Doctor survives a short time.’ Pat made eye contact again. ‘Correct?’
‘Yes.’
‘You send your colleague inside to check for any intel, and you interrogate him using, aghh…pain compliance techniques?’
Here it comes, Moore thought. She’s dropped me in it.
‘Yep,’ he said confidently.
Pat nodded thoughtfully.
‘Where did you learn pain compliance techniques, Rob? It’s not something you can study at university.’
Moore held his gaze.
‘I was in the Special Air Service for a long time.’
He left it at that, letting Pat draw his own conclusions.
‘I see.’ Pat leaned forward and picked up a remote off the floor. He used it to stop the recorder, and unclipped his mic.
Moore did likewise, passing the device over.
‘Thanks for that Rob,’ the spook said.
They stood and shook hands. Pat guided him to the door, not speaking further until they stepped outside into the bright sunshine.
‘Just FYI, buddy,’ he said, slipping on a pair of Oakley blades, ‘it seemed pretty obvious that some, agghh, non-pain-compliance techniques were also utilised back there. Nothing documented, of course,’ he added hastily, seeing Moore’s expression, ‘it was just an observation from one of the guys who went to the farm.’
He smiled, his eyes hidden behind the coloured lenses.
‘I got no issues myself, okay…just be careful is what I’m saying.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the Portakabin they had just left. ‘And that’s why I’m saying it out here, okay?’
Moore nodded, getting the message-the official recording device was off but the room was wired up nonetheless. He heard a volley of shots somewhere over the other side of the hangar, a pause then another volley. Pat didn’t bat an eyelid.
‘Kudos to you guys, buddy,’ Pat said, extending his hand again. ‘You did just great back there.’
Moore shook his hand firmly.
‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘You got a range here?’
‘Sure, over yonder. The boys’re probably putting down some rounds.’
Moore smiled inwardly at the spooks terminology-spoken like a true non-combatant.
‘And your colleague?’ Pat let out a low whistle and crooked a grin. ‘She’s a real pistol, ain’t she?’
Moore shrugged.
‘She’s pretty typical for how we breed ‘em down under,’ he said with a poker face.
Chapter Thirty Four
He left Pat and followed his nose round the far side of the hangar, realising the camp was much bigger than he had originally thought.
The sound of pistol shots led him to a steel pedestrian gate in the boundary wall, manned by a guy in shades, body armour and a helmet over his civvies. A HK G3 was in his hands.
He opened the gate for Moore without being asked and called him ‘Sir’ when Moore thanked him. He stopped short of wishing him a nice day.
A firing range had been set up beyond the boundary with a large earth berm as its backstop. Alleys were marked out with targets at the end.
Todd, Jerry and a couple of the others were there, all wearing protective glasses and ear defenders. Katie was the only shooter, also decked out in protective gear, with a sidearm holstered on her hip.
As Moore approached he saw Todd hit a switch on a remote control he held. A target at the end of Katie’s alley flicked around, thirty metres or so away, presenting her with the upper half of a paper soldier carrying a rifle.
She reacted quickly, snatching the pistol from her hip and bringing it up smoothly as she took a step offline to the right.
Moore stuck his fingers in his ears as she pumped a double tap into the target, stepped back left and gave it another two. It sounded like a .45.
Even from this distance Moore could see she was hitting the target in the centre mass with all her shots. He joined the operators at the table they had set up as she covered down the target. Jerry gave him a thumbs up as a welcome.
‘Threat!’ Todd barked.
Katie reacted instantly, bringing the pistol back up and putting another round through the target’s chest. She stepped offline and moved, squeezing off shots as she moved tactically forward.
Suddenly the target in the alley to her left flicked around, presenting a woman holding a baby. Katie swung to face it, her gun coming up, then the target in the alley on her right snapped around.
Katie swung back to face another soldier and squeezed of a fast shot, going wide. Her second shot took him in the chest and her slide locked open.
‘Stoppage!’ she shouted, stepping away and dropping to a knee as she ejected the magazine, jerked a spare from the magazine pouch on her belt and slammed it into place, sweeping off the slide release with her thumb and pumping a double tap into the second target’s gut.
‘Stop!’ Todd called, switching the targets back side on.
Katie holstered her weapon and turned around, removing her ear defenders. She had a satisfied grin on her face.
‘Nice shooting,’ Todd said, also removing his protective gear.
Jerry moved forward with her and went to check the targets.
Moore looked questioningly at Todd.
‘She asked about our weapons,’ the Delta operator explained. ‘Thought it might be good
to get her back in the saddle.’
Down range Jerry said something and gave Katie a loud high-five. They both laughed. Moore felt a stab of annoyance and wondered exactly what saddle they planned to get her into.
‘You’ve been there,’ Todd continued, ‘sometimes guys get gun-shy after an incident. Me and my guys make a habit of getting straight back on the range after an op, get back in the game.’ He chucked his chin approvingly towards the targets as they were swapped over for fresh ones. ‘She’s pretty damn good too, pal.’
Moore had to agree. Aside from a couple of wide shots she had consistently hit centre mass. More importantly, she had held her fire when confronted by the innocent civilian.
‘That’s a pretty sweet gun,’ Katie grinned as she and Jerry re-joined the group at the table. ‘I’ve never fired a forty five before-it definitely kicks more than our Glocks.’
‘You did real well,’ Jerry drawled, ‘we’ll have to get you on the team, huh?’
She grinned girlishly and Moore felt his irritation kick up a notch. He noticed one of the other guys roll his eyes in the background as Jerry kidded with Katie.
‘That the HK?’ Moore asked, wanting to break the moment.
‘Sure is,’ Jerry replied, turning away from Katie to look at him. ‘Want a try, show us how the Papakura boys do it?’
Moore sensed more than a hint of a challenge in his words and gritted his teeth. He was starting to dislike the surfer dude and his attitude, which seemed more cocky than laid back.
‘Sure,’ he said, knowing he had no real choice.
He accepted the ear defenders and glasses he was offered, then the holstered pistol and magazine holder from Katie. He threaded the pouch onto his left front side and the low profile tactical holster onto his right hip.
Todd passed him two fresh magazines and he loaded the pistol, racking a round into the chamber. It was the Special Operations Command version of a standard civilian Heckler and Koch Mark 23, with a 12-round magazine. He knew it was a favourite of the American SF guys, and had used it before-albeit a long time ago, he thought.
‘Listen to my commands,’ Todd told him, ‘reload if you have to, shoot it as you see it. Range is live,’ he called out, indicating for everyone to don their protective gear.
Moore moved up to the forty metre mark, flexing his fingers and mentally engaging the gears. He knew this was a test from the Delta boys, soldiers always being keen to see what their compadres from other units could do, but he felt it was more so from the cocky Jerry. The guy obviously had designs on Katie and saw him as some kind of threat. Embarrassing Moore on the range would only serve to help his cause.
Moore set his stance and waited, eyeing the target down range.
There was no command from Todd, just an electronic whir and the target flicked around, presenting him with an armed soldier.
The HK came out smoothly, the safety swiping off as it came up, and Moore drilled an instinctive double tap into the soldier’s chest, stepping off and scanning for threats.
The target switched back and the one in the right hand lane swung round. Moore turned and gave the soldier two in the chest, heard the left hand target switch back behind him and spun, seeing another soldier and pumping a shot into his face then two more into the chest.
Both targets snapped back and the original figure in front of him turned again.
Moore squeezed a shot off, nailing him through the nose, and began to move forward, the pistol at the high ready. By now it was just an extension of his arm.
With a whir both the neighbouring targets flicked back around, confronting him with a dual threat.
Moore dropped to a half crouch and put a single round into the chest of the left hand target, swivelled with the pistol still up, squeezed a double tap into the right hand chest and swung left again, putting his last round into the left eye of the left hand target before the slide locked open.
He dropped the mag and slammed the replacement home, the three targets switching back side on, his thumb releasing the slide and chambering a fresh round as a new target spun to face him. This was in the next lane over on the right, the distance giving a sharper angle.
He stepped that way, crabbing a couple of steps sideways, recognising the figure of a woman with a baby. He held his fire, scanned left behind him, and saw the target in the corresponding lane to his left spin around. He was at a narrow angle now and maybe thirty five metres away.
The HK came round fluidly and Moore took an aimed shot, his index finger squeezing through to trip the trigger. The round drilled through the face of the target and suddenly all four of the targets he’d already engaged flicked around.
Moore shifted his aim to the next target along, drilling a double tap into the chest, moving to the one directly in front of him and giving it two in the face, two more in the face for the next one then ignored the woman with the baby in the last frame.
He moved backwards, the HK barking as it spat a final round into each of the four threats. All four targets took a bullet in the forehead.
He swung back to the target directly in front of him and gave it a last bullet to the head.
The slide locked back and Moore stopped, lowering his weapon. Blue smoke curled from the barrel and ejection port.
He popped out the empty mag, released the slide and holstered the weapon.
He sensed the others joining him.
‘Pretty good,’ Todd observed, stripping off his shades as he approached.
One of the others checked all the targets and gave them a thumbs up.
‘Nailed it,’ Todd said with a grin. ‘Nice work, pal.’
Moore shrugged.
‘Bit rusty,’ he said, ‘it’s been a while.’
Jerry squinted at the target straight ahead then turned to Moore.
‘Two in the mouth,’ he commented.
Moore looked at him, cocking an eyebrow.
‘Must’ve had a big mouth,’ he said drily.
Chapter Thirty Five
He and Katie ate lunch with Todd’s team, and near the end they were joined by the older man who had been with Pat the spook when they had first arrived that morning.
He was still in unmarked desert fatigues. His skin was deeply tanned, which only enhanced the blue of his eyes. He was in his mid-forties, Moore estimated.
‘Boss,’ Todd greeted him as the man arrived. ‘This is Rob and Katie. Guys, this is the boss, Major- ‘
‘Mike,’ the newcomer said, extending his hand. ‘Call me Mike.’
They both stood to shake hands before he sat, one of the boys giving up his chair and fetching him a coffee unbidden. It was obvious that the boss was held in high regard by the men. Mike nodded his thanks and took a sip.
‘You were always the best barista on this team, Joel,’ he said. He turned his attention to the two Kiwis across from him. ‘I hear you did okay out there on the range.’
Moore hiked his shoulders.
‘We appreciate the opportunity to have a run,’ he said, ‘your guys know their stuff.’
‘I’ve just been speaking to your boss, Jed,’ Mike told him. ‘He’s a good man. I’ve met him a few times over the years. Shame what happened to him.’
‘It was,’ Moore agreed. ‘Best RSM we had in my time.’
‘I understand he’s given you the authority to saddle up with us,’ Mike said. ‘Pat’s got an update for us, so I need you all’ -he glanced around the team- ‘in the briefing room at 1315 hours.’
There was a flurry of nods and checking of watches.
‘In the meantime Toddy, get these guys decked out will ya? We should have enough kit to spare.’
Enough kit to spare was an understatement.
One thing Moore had always admired about the American military was their supplies. Unlike what he’d been used to, there was plenty of everything.
The store room was in the hangar, rows of gear of every description stashed behind a counter manned by a soldier in his late twenties. He had a viciou
s-looking scar running through his crewcut from the top of his left eyebrow back to the crown of his head. His left eye was glass. He didn’t say much as he sized up the two guests.
‘Morning Streak,’ Todd said to the younger man. ‘I need you to kit these folk out for me. Same as I got this morning, pal.’
Streak nodded wordlessly and headed back into one of the aisles of shelving.
Katie looked at Moore questioningly but said nothing. A few moments later Streak reappeared with an armful of neatly folded desert fatigues. He plonked them on the counter in front of Katie and leaned over the top to peer at her feet.
‘Eight,’ he said quietly and headed to another rack for a pair of desert boots.
He passed them over and repeated the process for Moore, then added a kit bag to each pile and looked to Todd again.
‘Weapons, Top?’ he asked.
The Delta team leader shook his head while Moore and Katie crammed their new gear into the bags.
‘Not just yet,’ he replied. ‘Thanks Streak.’
He winked at the storeman and led his guests back towards their quarters.
‘Training accident,’ he explained before they asked, ‘he got hurt during Selection and Assessment. We kept him on in a support role rather than throw him on the scrap heap. He’s a good kid.’
‘Good call,’ Moore said.
It was typical of a Special Forces unit to look after their own if they could, even those who hadn’t been badged. He hefted the bag in his hand.
‘What’s with all this?’ he asked. ‘Something you’re not telling us, mate?’
Todd crooked a grin and paused outside the dorms.
‘I guess we’ll find out in about,’ -he checked his watch- ‘twelve minutes. I’ll come get you in ten. Just come as you are for now.’
With that he left them. Katie looked at Moore questioningly again. He waved her inside and they dumped their gear in their quarters before sitting on the cots to face each other.