Appetite for Risk

by Jack Leavers

As I fumbled for the Nokia to call Nabil, the sudden sound of helicopters in the air overhead added a new, welcome dimension to the proceedings. I couldn’t hear Greg over all the noise, but I hoped he was talking directly to the pilots. A dark shape swooped overhead, and a light show of liquid death rained down into the area behind us, indicating the right guys knew where the bad guys were.

  ‘Nabil? Nabil?’ The phone showed we were connected, but nothing from the other end.

  ‘If you can hear me, four of us are coming in from your right-hand side. From the river.’ Silence. I caught my breath and yelled over to Greg on my right. ‘Can’t get through.’

  Greg’s mouth was moving but I couldn’t make out his words, so I ran closer. Ricky and Neil had been doing well, until they both suddenly disappeared from my view with painful shouts. I dropped down next to them.

  ‘Ricky’s leg gave way. We’ll have to carry him,’ panted Neil.

  Greg slid in next to us. ‘They’re almost on top of us. We’ve gotta hold ’em here. Wolfman’s taxi turned back and is up there with the Kurds now, so I’ve got comms and they know we’re here. The chopper will keep us covered.’

  I peered into the darkness behind us but could only see the occasional muzzle flash. Excited shouts drew closer. I brought the M4 up on aim and fired into the vicinity of the nearest flash twenty metres away. Greg and Neil also opened up and an anguished cry rang out from one of our targets. A heavier machine gun, probably a PKM, unleashed a barrage with a mix of tracer rounds in our direction from the road 200 metres away. The fire unerringly accurate, I pressed myself into the dirt as the 7.62mm bullets whacked into the ground close by.

  It wasn’t all bad news though; cannon fire from the helicopter above slammed into one of the insurgent pickups, causing it to jerk to a stop at an awkward angle. Then the PKM blasted another salvo, forcing us to keep our heads down. We needed that gun silenced or at least one of us would get hit. Greg was calling the helicopter to hit the machine gun, but they were receiving incoming fire themselves and had been forced to pull away.

  With the PKM pinning us down, the insurgents were moving closer and engaging us with accurate fire. The crack and whine of bullets filled the air. More lights from vehicles up on the road indicated the situation was only getting worse.

  A second helicopter came in for a strafing run on the insurgents behind us, while staying noticeably higher than the first. ‘Helo says we have a dozen armed men approaching our position,’ shouted Greg, just as a loud explosion sounded a few metres ahead of me.

  ‘Grenade,’ I shouted, although too late for anyone to do anything about it. I fired two quick shots at a blurry figure ten metres out to my right and then changed mag: ‘MAGAZINE.’

  To my left, Neil was firing regular aimed shots. ‘Keep your eyes on the right,’ he said as he squeezed off another round.

  I crawled further to the right and noticed movement from the direction of the river. Insurgents trying to circle round behind us.

  ‘Enemy right,’ I yelled, and fired three bursts on automatic in their direction.

  Another fusillade from the PKM, spitting its fury into the ground all round us.

  A shout from my left. ‘RPG!’

  The earth exploded, and I was temporarily airborne, although strangely without pain. After landing in a tangled heap, I could make out vague nearby figures amid the crescendo of gunfire, shouting, and explosions. Underneath the external clamour, my ears vibrated and rang as though cymbals crashed inside my head. I opened my mouth to shout a warning about the insurgents behind us but nothing came out. When I tried to lift my M4, it felt as though my arms were on back to front. I stopped, closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, and then reopened them.

  ‘John, it’s Russ. Where are you hurt?’

  Russ. The other half of the team must have reached us.

  ‘I think I’m okay. Just a bit fucked up,’ I replied slowly.

  He nodded. ‘Okay good. We’ve got to get out of here now. Can you walk?’

  ‘I’ll try,’ I said as I nodded back to him.

  Russ hauled me to my feet as volleys of small arms fire swept out from our now enlarged perimeter and overhead a helicopter poured a devastating bombardment towards the river.

  A familiar bald head appeared in front of me. Dara. ‘Mr John, Yella (Come on).’

  Dara and Hamza pushed and dragged me the 100 metres or so up to the Kurdish armoured SUVs and bundled me inside. I saw Dexter in the taxi alongside and raised a hand in his direction before collapsing into a seat. A bottle of water nuzzled my lips, Hamza encouraging me to drink. From the concern on his face, I assumed I looked in bad shape.

  I felt banged up but relieved all my limbs seemed to be in working order. My hand dipped into my pocket for a boiled sweet to give me some energy and pulled out my ever-present lucky eyeball instead. This odd little link back to my girls in Epsom overwhelmed me for a moment. I wasn’t sure how much of the right kind of luck we’d had today.

  I raised my head at the sound of yelling near the vehicle and saw Greg pointing at the other SUV as he and Neil supported Ricky by his shoulders and half dragged him towards it. Ricky looked barely conscious and blood soaked his jacket and shirt. The doors slammed, and we drove off fast with a helicopter escort hovering above us, shooting sporadically at nearby threats as we evaded the insurgents’ grasp.

  Back at FOB Marez we were all taken straight to the infirmary. I’d stiffened up all over but had got away without any serious injury; it looked a lot worse because my face had taken a battering. Without doubt the Kevlar vest had saved me from the shots to my back and most of the shrapnel from the RPG explosion. My right leg had a small chunk of metal sticking out of the thigh which looked bad. However, the medics reassured me it was only superficial and quickly removed it.

  A couple of the Kurds had minor wounds and both Neil and Greg were being treated for lacerations, but it was Ricky who had sustained by far the worst of it. At some point he’d been badly hit by a couple of 7.62mm rounds and a large slice of shrapnel. Hard as they tried, the doctors couldn’t save him. Ricky was dead.

  Chapter 43

  BRIZE NORTON, UK — LATE FEBRUARY 2005

  I woke and lifted my head as Roper gently shook my shoulder and said, ‘We’re starting the descent into Brize.’

  My neck hurt, but then so did everything else. I’d been patched up and given a party pack of painkillers, which might have explained the lucid dreams already sliding out of my memory as I glanced gingerly around the sparsely occupied cabin. During a ‘rip’ changeover between units in Iraq, the RAF VC10s would be chock-a-block, but this plane only had a smattering of British soldiers on board.

  We’d boarded at Ali Al Salem Air Base in Kuwait after a bumpy flight on a packed American C130 Hercules from Mosul via Baghdad. The mood on the Herc had been sombre following the death of Ricky and the failure of the mission to capture any insurgent targets.

  Joe Holmes had shaken my hand before we’d left Mosul and Katie had popped into the infirmary to wish me well, but the sense of loss and frustration hung heavily in the air and stilted the conversations. At least the chit-chat on this flight sounded breezy with occasional laughter amongst the small groups. Most, if not all, of those on board were heading home from deployment, which always lifted the spirits.

  ‘When we land, there’ll be a debriefing at the base,’ said Roper.

  Great, just what I needed. Seeing the expression on my face, Roper tried to soften the blow. ‘You did everything that was asked. Sometimes these things just don’t go the way we want them to. Plenty of times in fact. The debriefing won’t take long. It’s more of a formality.’

  I buckled up my seat belt and tried to muster some enthusiasm, but all I wanted was to get home to Claire and the girls.

  *

  After being disembarked first, Roper and I were escorted through arrivals by RAF Milit
ary Police and driven in a Land Rover to the officers’ mess. Once inside we were led up to a room where I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Chapman sat with another of his suited henchmen. He made no acknowledgement of the butterfly stitches on my cheek and above my brow or the angry-looking black eye I sported.

  ‘Mr Pierce, welcome back to the UK. I don’t intend to take up too much of your time, but it’s important we understand exactly what transpired in Mosul. We have been briefed by our military colleagues of course. However, it will take a little while yet before they can provide us with a full understanding of events. In the meantime, your assistance is gratefully received.’

  He made it sound as though I had a choice about all this.

  ‘I don’t know how much help I can be. I only know a small part of what happened and at no time did I identify anyone even remotely similar to Abu Saif. You’ll be aware that one of the Americans from my team was killed during the mission. I’m really not feeling up to this right now. Can we do it some other time?’

  Chapman eyed me over the cup of tea he was drinking. ‘I’m afraid that will not be possible. But we will complete the debrief today and then you’ll be free to go.’

  I’d thought it would be a rigmarole and I was right. For over two hours they fired questions at me about the initial aborted Hawija mission and then the operation in Mosul. Roper joined in at times to steer the timeline and add observations and inside knowledge from his viewpoint. It wasn’t an interrogation, but the way I was feeling it might as well have been.

  ‘Let’s break for some sandwiches,’ announced Chapman, just as I was about to declare I was finished.

  As we waited for the sandwiches to arrive, Chapman began to reveal some new information.

  ‘You might be interested to learn the meeting that took place in Mosul on Friday involved the entire AQI command including Zarqawi and Abu Saif. There’s even unconfirmed reports Zarqawi was injured during the various skirmishes. We were very close to dealing these people a serious blow. Unfortunately, they implement a strict ‘need to know’ policy regarding these meetings, which is why it is so hard for us to interdict them. Our inside source was clearly only privy to a decoy location and not the actual meeting place. He hasn’t been heard from since and we therefore currently assume he is blown, which probably means dead given the organisation he works for.’

  ‘You don’t think we were lured into a trap?’ I asked, before casting my eyes towards Roper to gauge his reaction.

  ‘There is no indication the TF145 presence was detected, apart from some low-level warnings from the Kurds. If the whole mission had been compromised the loss of life would likely have been far worse. Instead, it appears your team were simply unlucky to run into an insurgent patrol, and you actually managed to extricate yourselves quickly and effectively from what could have been a very sticky situation.’

  I interrupted and said flatly, ‘Apart from Ricky getting killed.’

  Chapman paused. ‘Very unfortunate, but these occurrences go with the territory for special forces.’

  The anger flared up in me at this pompous git, but as I searched for a reply, the fight left me just as quickly to be replaced by a surge of sadness mixed with frustration.

  Chapman continued, clearly sensing my irritation. ‘That’s not to demean the death of a brave soldier. Simply a realistic appraisal of the difficult environment in which we operate.’

  I looked at Roper. I didn’t imagine Chapman operated anywhere more dangerous than late-night London on his way back from the opera, although I had no way of knowing his background. For all I knew he could be a war hero and spy legend. Roper’s face wasn’t giving anything away. I turned back to Chapman and asked more in hope than expectation, ‘I know. Are we finished here?’

  ‘Let’s have some sandwiches and then we can finish off. Shouldn’t be long now.’

  As he spoke there was a knock at the door and three tray loads of food and fresh drinks were deposited amongst us.

  An hour later we were all done. It was dark outside as I considered the long journey home. First, I needed to get to Oxford by taxi or the interminable bus ride, then a train to London, a Tube across the city, and finally another train to Epsom. I seemed to have been travelling forever and really couldn’t face it.

  Chapman shook my hand at last and thanked me. ‘Your help in this matter won’t go unnoted.’

  I lifted my head. ‘Does that mean customs are completely dropping the investigation?’

  ‘As I explained before, this isn’t a deal. However, your cooperation has been acknowledged and relevant parties will be made aware of it.’

  It was about as good as I was going to get. I grabbed my dusty daysack and turned to shake hands with Roper. Then I addressed them both. ‘Can I get a lift? Honestly, I’m shattered, and I don’t even know if I’ve got enough cash for a taxi. If you’re going back to London, then you can drop me off anywhere in the centre.’

  Chapman’s look was priceless, but before he replied, Roper stepped across and they moved to the side of the room to confer.

  Chapman looked at me and sounded uncharacteristically like a kindly uncle as he said, ‘It’s late, so how about we arrange for you and Roper to stay here at the officers’ mess tonight and a car will take you home in the morning?’

  I expect it sounded ungrateful, but I could only give a begrudging: ‘I suppose that’s okay, thanks.’

  But Chapman wasn’t finished yet and steel returned to his voice. ‘Mr Pierce, before I go, although you have demonstrated your commitment admirably over these recent days, we may still need to call on you in the future. You remain the only person we have who can identify Abu Saif. If we need you, we will call on you again and you will have to comply. Everything I told you at our last meeting remains relevant and your potential prosecution for terrorism offences remains on the table. Is that understood?’

  I stared at him, taking in what he’d said and trying not to show my growing fury. Did this idiot not understand what I’d been through just a couple of days before? I forced myself to remain calm and polite.

  ‘Yes. Understood.’ What else could I say?

  Chapter 44

  The following morning, I was glad for the night in the officers’ mess and the hearty breakfast which accompanied it. Most of my clothes were still in Sulaimaniyah with Ali, so my casual attire caused some raised eyebrows. However, I think my patched-up face was enough to stop any direct admonishment.

  The spooks had sent a black Jaguar up from London to collect us. On the journey down, Roper and I chatted about odds and sods and avoided talk about the mission. The driver probably had higher clearance than me, but the debriefing the previous day had covered everything there was to say.

  Roper wished me luck as we shook hands outside my house in Epsom. As I turned away from the car, the front door was already opening, and Claire walked out with a smile on her face which was quickly replaced with a look of concern. She looked past me at the Jaguar pulling away and then turned back and kissed me.

  ‘Ow,’ I said and smiled.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Claire stepped back and looked at my face closely. ‘What have you done? What have you been doing? And who was that in the black car?’

  ‘Whoa steady. Can we go inside? It’s been a long trip.’

  As we made our way to the door, Taz suddenly appeared and ran straight at me, half jumping as we collided. She started whining and dancing in circles, demented with joy that I’d returned. That was probably more to do with food, walks, and runs, but I couldn’t help laughing as my mood lifted after the black clouds of recent days.

  I told Claire my injuries had been caused by a car crash; not too far from the truth. There didn’t seem much point trying to explain further, and the Official Secrets Act meant I couldn’t anyway. But I did open up about the business in Iraq.

  ‘The business in Baghdad is finished. I d
on’t have anything firm up in the north yet, but I think it could work up there. The Kurds were really good to me. I just don’t know if we can afford to take another chance.’

  Even as I said it, I think we both knew I’d be going back to Kurdistan. I’d invested too much time and effort trying to get the business off the ground to stop now, even though there was nothing concrete to show for it. Despite only just arriving home, and with no idea how we would afford it, I could already sense the lure of adventure enticing me back to Iraq again.

  Being home with my girls was therapeutic. Natalie’s concern on seeing my injuries pierced through her teenage exterior and we joked together like the old days. Becky remained her funny, innocent self and accepted my return and injured face with hugs and initial questions. Her look of concern vanished after I said, ‘Daddy had a silly accident,’ and was replaced instead by her pointing at my face and saying, ‘Silly daddy.’

  It had always concerned me that I missed so much of my girls growing up, but that came with the life I’d chosen. Even so, although I might be away for weeks at a time, which shocked many of Claire’s friends in a town without any nearby military community, on my return I tried to make up for it. It might be uneven, but over the years I’d probably spent more quality time with the family than if I’d been stuck in a City job working sixty to eighty hours a week.

  Claire accepted my explanations about the lap dancing and the escort agency being work-related without wanting to know the details. But she made it clear I needed to tell her if I became involved in that sort of project again. The facts wouldn’t necessarily break us but hiding them just might. We’d gone from an icy distance before my absence to passionate partners now I’d returned. Time apart achieving what the friction of daily coexistence would never have allowed to the same degree.

  *

  In late March I travelled the lengthy route back to Sulaimaniyah via Diyarbakir and was reunited with both Ali and my luggage. My superficial wounds had fully healed, and we dived into completing the business meetings that had been under way when Roper had showed up the previous month.