Off Reservation

by Bram Connolly

  Rachel interjected, ‘Glyn, we know where the Afghan is who took the case – Matt has been tracking him. If we get set up now we might be able to trap him in that location.’

  Glyn leaned back against the Land Cruiser and shook his head.

  ‘The bird’s already flown the coop, I’m afraid. He’s on the move now and so are we.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Rachel. ‘What do you mean he’s on the move?’

  ‘The intel guys came back to me while you were out. Just as we’d discussed, Rachel, we picked up all the handsets, matched their caller profiles over the past few days and identified the handset that fled the scene – as well as yours, Matt, of course.’ Glyn smiled.

  Matt narrowed his eyes at the sly dig, knowing full well that a state-sponsored force would have that capability. He had reasoned that watching Faisal Khan, and even being in vicinity of the Russians, would not require him to ditch technology to fly under the radar; however, he hadn’t counted on the British being there.

  Glyn zipped up his flight suit.‘About ten minutes ago, the Afghan left his hotel in Istanbul. He’s in a vehicle now. We haven’t got any eyes on yet, but based on the direction we think he’s heading to Sabiha Gökçen airport. It’s slow going in the city traffic, but once he gets on the freeway it will clear up.’

  ‘So you think Khan’s fleeing the country by air?’ Matt shook his head at the thought.

  ‘Oh, is that his name? Yes, well either that or the airport is most probably the target.’

  ‘What? Don’t be daft, mate – there’s no way Khan is going to detonate a nuclear bomb in Istanbul. Why on earth would he? What has he got to gain? That’s not the type of guy he is.’ Matt looked to Rachel for support.

  Glyn turned to address Rachel. ‘Major Faruk has gone to organise some helicopters for us – Bell 412s from the Gendarmerie. They should be here soon. We can get a fix on the vehicle this Khan character is in with the support of the Turkish intelligence service.’ He turned back to Matt. ‘I can’t go into how they do that – it’s top secret – but we can vector on to the exact vehicle.’

  Matt glanced across at Todd, who simply rolled his eyes. ‘Top secret, no worries, Glyn,’ Matt said. ‘Understood.’

  ‘Right, so can we grab some kit, get suited up?’ said JJ, moving towards the weapons table.

  Glyn held his arm out. ‘Not so fast. How about we let the big boys sort this mess out. I think you three have done enough already, don’t you?’

  JJ pushed Glyn’s arm away. ‘You know what, Glyn, I’m jealous of all the people who haven’t met you yet.’

  He looked at Matt, who turned to Rachel. ‘Tell this guy to back off, will you, Rachel?’ said Matt.

  ‘I think he’s right, Matt. The duly authorised sovereign forces need to take care of this. I have no authority to allow…what are you now, anyway? Vigilantes, I guess. Well, I can’t allow you to take part, I’m sorry.’

  Glyn winked at Matt and then smiled at Rachel. They held each other’s gaze for a little longer than was necessary, Matt thought, surprised by a surge of jealousy.

  ‘Oh, right, I get it,’ Matt said. ‘You fancy her, don’t you?’

  ‘What’s not to fancy?’ said Glyn, standing straighter and taking a step forward.

  Matt stood taller too, flexing his shoulders. ‘Why don’t you ask her how she knows me, see if she fancies you nearly as much?’

  ‘Matthew!’ Rachel struck out at him with both palms hitting him in the chest.

  Matt took a single step back to steady himself, pivoting towards Glyn slightly, hoping to provoke a reaction from the English dickhead, so that he would be justified in teaching him a lesson in front of his men.

  ‘Seriously, how dare you say that?’ Rachel demanded. ‘Who do you think you are? Go, leave – just go and sit in the other room with your mates and keep out of our way.’

  Glyn put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘If you don’t go and sit down, Matt,’ she continued, ‘I will have no option but to have you arrested.’

  ‘I see, so I guess loyalty is a one-way street then, is it?’

  ‘Just go, Matt. You’re hardly in a position to be talking about loyalty, are you?’

  Matt looked around at Glyn’s men, all standing now and all armed. ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it then.’ He gestured to JJ and Todd. ‘C’mon, lads, looks like we’re sitting this one out.’

  Matt walked away fuming, closely followed by Todd and JJ. The warehouse remained deathly silent save for the footsteps of the three men.

  Outside, a gentle humming slowly morphed into the screaming of whirring rotor blades as three Bell 412 helicopters came to rest in the field adjacent to the industrial complex.

  Matt closed the door of the small lunchroom behind the three of them. He could hear the troops, who had just finished dressing in their combat equipment, shouting orders and running from their vehicles to the waiting aircraft. No matter what impression he had gained of Glyn, there was no doubting these were among the best special forces operators in the world and Faisal Khan was doomed; no prisoners would be taken in an operation as important as this. Matt felt strangely saddened; he had never truly understood Khan, and while he had been a hell of a thorn in Matt’s side when he was hunting Objective Rapier in Afghanistan in 2010, he couldn’t help but feel there was more to Faisal Khan than met the eye. After all, Steph had her claws in him as well.

  The drone of the loitering aircraft increased as Glyn’s men lifted off then faded into a gentle humming again as they disappeared.

  The door opened a crack and Rachel peered in. Matt looked up from the small table where he and the other two had pulled up chairs.

  ‘I’m sorry, Matt. You know I can’t authorise you to be a part of this – you do understand, right?’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with that. It’s the way you look at him.’ Matt stood up and moved over to the sink, where he switched on the kettle and started to search for tea bags. ‘Jesus, you would think there would be tea bags in here, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Try the door above the fridge,’ Rachel suggested.

  Matt did as she advised. ‘Here they are – thanks.’

  ‘God, you guys are like an old married couple,’ JJ exclaimed. ‘Explain to me again why you’re not hooked up already?’ He looked across at Todd and the two of them laughed.

  ‘Shut up, JJ,’ said Matt. He looked over at Rachel, who was smiling at him, and he felt himself grow calm again. ‘Who wants a brew?’

  ‘Go on then, skipper,’ said JJ.

  ‘Strong black coffee for me if it’s on offer, Matt,’ said Todd.

  ‘Sure.’ Matt smiled at the big American.

  ‘I’m going upstairs to monitor the situation; this should be sorted fairly quickly now,’ said Rachel. ‘Once the debrief is over I’ll have my staff organise your flights home – or maybe you want to come to London, Matt? If you still have a few days off, that is…’ She trailed off, looking down at her feet.

  Matt leaned back against the sink and smiled at her. ‘Yeah, that would be nice. Didn’t you promise something about big fires and even bigger glasses of red?’

  Rachel closed the door and left the three men alone. Matt handed the hot drinks to the other two and plonked himself down again. They sat for a moment in silence.

  ‘I just don’t get it. All those listening devices went dead and the tracking device showed that he hadn’t moved, but now they say they’re tracking him going to the airport?’ said JJ.

  ‘I had to laugh when Glyn kept saying they were tracking him and not that they were tracking his handset,’ said Todd, taking a slug of black coffee. ‘There’s a big difference.’

  ‘You think it’s a come-on?’ said Matt.

  ‘Of course it is; experience in Afghanistan tells me that. And in any case, he wouldn’t get the nuke through the airport – that’s just stupid.’

  ‘We can’t discount his hotel room, boss,’ said JJ.

  ‘I agree, mate.’
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  ‘Plenty of hire cars out there; no doubt the keys are in the ignition ready for a quick response. I don’t think they’ll miss one for a few hours. Actually, they’d probably prefer it if we were out of their hair when they get back.’ JJ smiled.

  Matt jumped up and slammed down the rest of his warm tea. ‘It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve operated off reservation – let’s do this.’

  26

  ISTANBUL

  The Bell 412s rose high above the Istanbul traffic. First heading to the south and then adjusting their direction around to the north-east, the three dark grey aircraft flew two up and one back with about twenty metres separating them. Their rotors thumped through the low-hanging clouds and the small wipers on the front windscreens swiped back and forth, seemingly useless against the ever-present drizzle.

  Glyn’s aircraft was in the rear. He looked across at his signaller, sitting in a seat on the back wall of the aircraft, busy punching frequencies into his radio in an effort to ensure that the teams could all communicate. Stuart Ganley, his team sniper, sat in front of Glyn in the open door, while Major Faruk and an intelligence analyst with the locating equipment sat in the aircraft’s newly configured centre seating. The other two aircraft carried the remaining men separated into two teams.

  Stu adjusted his position. The heavy SR-25 sniper rifle lay across his lap and was tethered to the ceiling by a long green retractable cord. When conducting these types of operations back in the UK, with aircraft devoted to the CT squadron, he would have a thick padded bar across the door cavity; then he could rest the weapon on the bar and take some of the weight from his shoulders.

  The two front aircraft started to track to the north, leaving Glyn’s aircraft continuing on, heading towards the freeway and then out over the sea. The aircraft gained another hundred metres of altitude. Glyn watched as his assault force moved away in the other two aircraft to follow the line of hills in the distance. From this point his aircraft would seek out the target vehicle and then they would call the assault force forward.

  Glyn tapped Major Faruk on the shoulder and indicated for him to put on the headset that was hanging on a hook behind the seat in front of him. ‘Can you hear me?’ He cupped his hand around the microphone on his own headset to shield it from the wind.

  ‘Yes. I can hear you.’

  ‘That’s the main freeway to the airport, right?’ Glyn pointed to the busy road below and adjusted the folds in his city map. He spun the map around and orientated it so that the freeway was on the aircraft’s left side.

  ‘That’s it, yes.’ Major Faruk leaned forward and had a good look at the roads below. He moved his head back into the aircraft out of the wind. ‘How will we find the vehicle in among all the others?’

  Glyn smiled at his signaller, Simon Reid. Simon was listening to a handset while watching a small screen on the front of a militarised olive drab box. He looked across to Glyn and gave him a thumbs-up.

  ‘It’s all taken care of,’ said Glyn turning to the Turkish liaison officer.

  Major Faruk nodded noncommittally then looked back out the open doors of the aircraft.

  Simon was busy talking back to the warehouse, checking and crosschecking the information being provided to him by Rachel’s staff. Rachel’s staff had access to the whole suite of tools available to MI6. Satellite images, triangulation of data packets being sent and received from Faisal Khan’s handset, traffic flow and congestion information – all this was being fielded by them and sent on to Simon. It wouldn’t be long before the vehicle was identified; then it would be up to the pilots to find the best place to interdict it. They would need an opening of about thirty metres in front of the vehicle and a smaller opening behind it to lock it in place. The manoeuvre would be made trickier by the overhead wires and billboards dotted along the freeway.

  Simon placed the handset to his radio pack between his knees and gestured to Glyn, who removed one of the earphones and leaned down slightly so that he could hear the update.

  ‘We have a lock on the target vehicle; it’s a van of some type.’ Simon looked back at the screen, adjusting the resolution as the aircraft went through a darker bank of clouds.

  ‘Sir!’ Glyn tapped Major Faruk on the shoulder and moved closer to the Turkish officer’s ear to be heard over the engines. ‘Ask the pilots what speed we’re travelling.’

  Faruk undid his seatbelt and moved forward to talk to the pilots. ‘Ninety knots,’ came the reply.

  Glyn referred to his map again. At ninety knots, they were moving at around 2.8 kilometres a minute, meaning they would intercept the vehicle in fourteen minutes or thereabouts. He calculated the vehicle’s speed and how far ahead it would be in fourteen minutes and then selected an area for the intercept. It was only estimation, but it would have to do.

  ‘At that point it’s a two-lane highway in each direction,’ he observed. ‘It looks like the traffic is spread out around there.’ Glyn pointed to an area of the map just past an interchange. ‘Finding an opening might be tough though.’

  Major Faruk nodded and shrugged his shoulders. ‘We will just have to make it work.’

  Glyn thought about it for a moment. The trained pilots of the Naval Air Squadron, especially the dedicated 815 flight, would be able to jam their aircraft into the smallest of spaces and force the vehicle to a stop; it would be over in seconds. Glyn didn’t have the same faith in the Turkish police pilots, though – especially given that he would need to communicate through Major Faruk.

  Glyn grabbed the small bone microphone from inside his flight suit and placed it into his right ear, and then he readjusted the large inboard earphones over the top. Turning the volume down on the earphones, so that the pilots talking in Turkish didn’t distract him, Glyn looked down at his body armour, located his patrol radio and switched the channels to the all-informed network. He immediately heard his team commanders in the other two aircraft talking to each other, discussing their tactics once on the ground. ‘This is Alpha Actual, prepare for update and quick radio orders, over.’

  Glyn studied his map further while his men acknowledged his communication. Removing a pen from his flight suit pocket, he circled an area about three kilometres short of the airport between two fuel stations. He put the pen between his teeth and lifted the map up close to his face to study it further. The wind battered the map around and he placed it on his thighs, locking it in place with his knees. He then drew a line about a further kilometre forward and the military symbol for a blocking position; this would be set as his limit of exploitation. If they hadn’t interdicted the vehicle before this point he would have the pilots move here and they would stop all the traffic with two of the aircraft and have the third aircraft chase Khan if he tried to escape on foot in the resulting traffic jam.

  Glyn passed the map to Major Faruk and tapped the two locations; Faruk nodded his understanding and moved forward to brief the pilots.

  Glyn keyed the presser switch on his fist microphone. ‘Fairly standard interdiction, lads. My aircraft will conduct a positive ID of the target and we’ll be the initial roadblock. If Stuart can make a positive ID of the individual, he will engage as per the rules of engagement for Global Pursuit. Bluey, yours and the remainder of my team under the command of Simon will land as close as you can to the rear of the target vehicle. I want a solid cordon to the rear and sides. Approach with caution in pairs. Have the pilots try to synchronise with us if you can, Bluey.’

  ‘Acknowledged, sir.’

  ‘Good, and one more thing: we need to be careful if he wants to fight back. Head shots only and make them count; there are going to be people everywhere – not to mention the fact that he has a nuclear weapon in his possession.’

  Glyn looked off to his left and could just make out the other two aircraft flying side by side above the hills. Glyn’s own aircraft moved from over the sea and back inland to intercept the freeway. Glyn gave Stuart the thumbs-up. Stuart checked the restraining bungy and adjusted his sit harness, testi
ng the resistance. He opened the sight covers and positioned the rifle on his shoulder, moving his head to get a good eye relief. The weapon and firer were ready to engage.

  ‘That’s it, that’s the vehicle!’ Simon yelled to Glyn. He looked down again at the softly illuminated screen and confirmed it with the tracking system, then pointed at the black van up ahead.

  Major Faruk moved forward once again to talk to the pilots and they adjusted their speed to match the vehicle’s speed, giving Glyn time to weigh up the situation and come up with the final interdiction plan.

  Glyn looked up ahead and saw the open area between the fuel stations approaching in the distance. ‘That’s the spot – tell them to get in front and land at that spot there!’ Glyn yelled.

  Faruk relayed this to the pilots. The aircraft picked up speed and started to descend. Looking out the side of the Bell 412, Glyn saw that the other two aircraft were now approaching behind them, fast.

  Stuart skidded on his side against the movement of the aircraft, the SR-25 trained on the vehicle as the helicopter raced up beside it. ‘I can’t see anything through the windows.’

  ‘What? What did you say?!’ Glyn couldn’t hear Stuart over the thumping wind coming in the side of the aircraft.

  Stuart turned his head to face Glyn, to ensure his message got through. ‘The windows of the van are too dark, I can’t see who’s in the back,’ he yelled.

  ‘Tell the pilots to drop in on him, Faruk. Now!’

  Major Faruk leaned into the cockpit and pointed out the clear area ahead. The Bell 412 lurched as the pilot followed the instructions, and for a moment the aircraft seemed weightless as the blades changed pitch. Then it was turning and flaring at the same time. Glyn gripped either side of his seat to hold himself in place, quietly impressed at the pilots’ commitment to getting the aircraft down onto the ground.

  Stuart grabbed the top of the harness and adjusted the buckle, releasing himself from its grip. He struggled against the g-force and switched sides, then tensioned the harness again, repositioning himself and his SR-25 should he need to get a shot away from the other side of the aircraft.