Appetite for Risk

by Jack Leavers

  Whether he really felt it or not, Dexter was full of the positives.

  ‘It may not seem like it to you, but it’s a good result. We’ve now identified the suspected number two to Zarqawi, and he’s already a US intelligence asset. Don’t underestimate how vital a development this could be. If he’s trying to play us, them, or both sides, then it will catch up with him and soon. You’ve done well here today, and it will help the fight against the insurgency.’

  Begrudgingly, I could see this was a compelling argument, even if it still tasted like failure right now. So unsatisfying. I shook my head and sighed.

  ‘Fuck it. So, what happens now?’

  Greg took over. ‘We remain in situ until nightfall, before moving back about a klick to the forested area to our north-east and going firm. In the quiet hours tonight, we’ll make our way north to the ERV with the Kurds across the Diyala River, in coordination with the two GOLF teams. We need to keep our discipline and not switch off. It’s vital we don’t get compromised on our way out of here. Now the raid’s cancelled, let’s hope the storm blows up some more.’

  Great. At least five hours sat in the dirt before we’d be moving and the urge to take a shit had crept up on me out of nowhere. I hadn’t had to Ziploc my shit and carry it with me in a long, long time, but at least I supposed this would be the last time ever.

  That afternoon we watched as the insurgents left in the same three groups of vehicles in which they’d arrived. The only difference was the orange dust now coating them from the storm that had diminished to a windy day with occasional gusts of sand and grit. Abu Saif and his three cars left first, just before 15:30, with the other two groups leaving soon afterwards.

  By 16:30 the AQI security team appeared to have left, although we couldn’t be sure if there might be a small residual presence.

  There was no discernible change in the attitude or vigilance of our team. Like me, I’m sure all the others were very much aware the compromise in Mosul had occurred during the extraction phase. It was vital we remained switched on and didn’t let complacency set in.

  We packed up all the equipment before last light and stood-to as the daylight merged into twilight and then darkness. Soon after 19:00, Greg led the team out of the OP and towards our new harbour position in the forest. Thirty minutes later, we were stood-to again in a hasty ambush position at the new harbour location, watching and listening for any signs of compromise and enemy attack.

  Once we’d been stood down, the team began a sentry routine that would last until our planned departure at 23:00. Dexter and I weren’t included in the roster, so it was a welcome chance to catch some sleep.

  This time I didn’t bother with my fleece; too much admin to get it on and off. As I tried to nestle into a comfortable position, I already regretted my decision. When I turned over, something dug into my chest. I reached into a pocket under the body armour and there was the recognisable shape and feel of my taped-up lucky eyeball. An image of Becky’s smiling face popped into my head, followed by my other girls, Claire and Natalie. But rather than sadness and longing, it inspired determination. Determination to stay switched on and get home in one piece.

  The route to the ERV was longer than our insertion – about twelve kilometres in total. We were heading for a different crossing point over the Diyala River and the ERV itself was at a different location to our drop-off. Whilst the two GOLF teams were also moving north in our vicinity, their pickup locations were a few kilometres further on than ours. The plan called for all the teams to be extracted before first light.

  It was after 02:00 when, having given a wide berth to a compound with a generator running and lights blazing, I almost jumped out of my skin as a dog barked viciously nearby to my front left. I couldn’t see it in the darkness, but I tensed, expecting a sudden flash of teeth and saliva at any minute. The signal to go firm came from the man ahead. I dropped to one knee and motioned for Dexter behind me to do the same.

  The barking escalated as an ominous blur closed on the point man, Greg, before it stopped and issued a low, menacing growl. Sudden movement from Greg, a sickening crunch of bone accompanied by a yelp, then silence. I squinted towards the unclear shapes, Glock in hand in case the dog, its friends, or its owner approached. I looked slightly off-centre for better visibility and saw Greg sheathing a large knife. I assumed the dog had come off second best because it lay unmoving in front of him.

  Greg dropped into a kneeling position with the butt of his weapon back in his shoulder. He signalled Neil and Morgan in front of me to grab the dog’s body and hide it in the tangle of vegetation to our right. After lifting the body and throwing it into the bushes, they rejoined the team and we prepared to move. Sorry Taz.

  A faint glow of light flicked on in the direction the dog had approached from. A door closed, and the low murmur of a man’s voice carried on the wind. The signal came down the line to go prone and I slunk down into the grass.

  I held my breath at the sound of a bolt being slid back and the clank of a metal gate opening. This guy was in for a bad night if he didn’t fuck off back to bed sharpish. The muttering came closer and a man wearing a dishdasha came into view.

  He stopped and called out sharply in Arabic. When he shuffled forward again, it was impossible he wouldn’t see one or more of the eight men spread in a line in front of him. But as I prepared for the violence that appeared unavoidable, he turned and made his way back out of sight. The gate was closed and the light extinguished. If he saw us, I didn’t blame him for pretending he hadn’t seen a thing and getting back under the covers. In the following silence, the signal to move was issued and we continued into the night.

  After we forded the river, the level of threat diminished as we neared friendly forces poised to embrace us and ready to provide support if required. The call to prayer summoned the faithful in the distance, but it was behind us as we patrolled on towards the ERV. The wind had dropped to a pleasant, cooling breeze.

  As one of three special forces teams acting in concert, the idea we could be vulnerable felt absurd. However, it’s the time at the end of the mission when men are tired, hungry, and tempted to switch off that can be the most dangerous. I forced myself to concentrate and hoped no-one made the mistake of getting in our way.

  The night was lifting as we clambered into the Peshmerga vehicles and set off. Roper shook my hand before indicating I would be in Dara’s vehicle again. In the gloom I thought he had a disappointed look on his face. He’d probably been up all night as well so I knew I shouldn’t read much into it.

  After passing through a Peshmerga checkpoint marking the start of friendly-controlled territory, we stopped at a large, unmarked compound. Inside the gates we were met with plates of breakfast and teapots full of chai. It felt an age since I’d eaten hot food and I stuffed down eggs, bread, and cheese and drank sweet tea, which was becoming a habit again. Roper and Greg were in deep conversation with the General and Nabil; the General looked perplexed and Nabil confused. They couldn’t be told what had happened and why. I expect it was explained away as duff intel and another no-show from the bad guys.

  There was still a hint of the previous day’s dust storm in the air as the Black Hawk’s landed at the Kurd’s makeshift LZ. I’d hoped to drive back up to Suli with the General and his men, but along with Roper and the team I had to return to Balad for a debriefing. I shook hands with my Kurdish friends and thanked them for their efforts. Despite the juddering and the noise inside the helicopter, I drifted into a welcome sleep as we flew west.

  *

  The Factory in Balad was a hive of activity; perhaps busier now than before the mission. Katie grabbed Dexter as soon as we arrived and took him into a huddle with people I hadn’t met before.

  Once Katie and Dexter reappeared twenty minutes later, Roper and I joined them, Joe Holmes, and two American colonels for a debriefing. The vibe from the two officers was one of: Well done. I
t didn’t go quite as planned, but we had a good result. The knowledge of what had transpired was limited to some of us from EAGLE 6, elements of the TOC, and the great and the good within intelligence, political, and military circles. With my role here finished, I’d become an interloper. I sensed misgivings that I knew the details of the ‘big secret’.

  Not from Joe though. When we’d finished, he shook my hand and said, ‘You did a great job, John. We couldn’t have asked for any more, really. Thanks.’

  ‘I’m glad it worked out. It’s not what I expected, but I understand why you guys are pleased about it. That’s my bit over and done with anyway.’

  Our handshake had morphed into a static grip and Joe squeezed my hand. ‘You got that right. It wasn’t how any of us expected it to go,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But believe me when I say this outcome will lead to many more successes in the future. You can count on it.’

  I gripped his hand in return. ‘Pass on my thanks to all your people. Everyone’s made me feel welcome, and that’s come down from the top, from you. All the best for the rest of your tour.’ I glanced around the TOC and the determined personnel dealing with the non-stop operations: planning, briefing, missions, debriefing. The cycle never stopped.

  ‘Reckon I’ll be touring this place until I retire,’ Joe said with a grimace as he followed my glance.

  ‘Well, good luck with everything and thanks.’

  As Roper had his own last words with Joe, one of the American full-bird colonels closed on me and leaned in. ‘I need to check it has been fully explained to you that any information you now possess as a result of Task Force operations is bound by the highest confidentiality classification.’

  He’d fixed me with a flinty stare as he spoke. He reminded me of that twat in Amman and his ‘do we have a problem’ bollocks.

  ‘Yes colonel, I’m well aware. I’m also vetted and signed up with Official Secrets and the rest. I just want to get out of here and get back on with my business you people dragged me away from.’

  Roper cut in and pulled the colonel off to one side. They spoke briefly before he returned and said, ‘Right, let’s get going before we outstay our welcome.’

  Despite the uncomfortable atmosphere emanating from some, as Katie and Dexter walked us out of the TOC, several people came over to shake hands and say goodbye.

  ‘We should definitely meet up for a beer sometime soon,’ said Dexter once we’d stepped outside.

  ‘Yeah, I’d be up for that,’ I replied. ‘Any time you’re in London give me a shout. Or up in Kurdistan come to think of it. I’ll be back up there soon, probably in Suli again. Even Tom here hangs out there sometimes.’

  Katie lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun and flashed that heart-melting smile. ‘Try to keep yourself out of trouble. I hope we do see you again.’

  ‘Me too,’ I said, but we all knew it was unlikely.

  After Dexter shook our hands, Katie gave Roper and then me a hug. A hint of delicious perfume and feminine curves reached through my weariness to stir thoughts I shouldn’t be having.

  ‘It must be the British accent,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Put him down, Katherine.’

  Greg and the team strolled into view.

  Katie fired a scornful look at the newcomers. ‘Jealous are we, Gregory?’

  ‘Hell yeah,’ Greg fired back with a smirk as he reached out a big hand and grasped my shoulder. ‘Now if you’ve quite finished, you didn’t think we’d let you go without saying adios?’

  ‘Thanks mate. You all take care, yeah.’ They still had all their kit with them, so I asked, ‘Out again soon?’

  ‘We wanted to make sure we caught up with you before you left. We’ll get to stand down now, but there’s always another one coming up. Good luck, buddy. Stay low and watch your six.’

  Roper and I mostly made a mess of bumping fists and exchanging gangland handshakes with Greg, Neil, Russ, Moose, Morgan, and Tex. Morgan said something hilarious I can’t recall, but it had everyone in stitches as we parted and went our separate ways.

  That afternoon we were back on a helicopter bound for Baghdad’s Green Zone. Waiting transport took us from LZ Washington to overnight accommodation in a large villa inside FOB Fernandez, home to elements of US Special Operations Forces and various three-letter agencies.

  After a substantial breakfast the following morning, we drove in armoured vehicles to BIAP for an onward flight to Amman. The IDP Summit had finished, after which Ali had flown to Sulaimaniyah. Although I made noises about maybe travelling up to Kurdistan to join him, Roper’s insistence I return with him on the British Airways flight to London for a debrief wasn’t unappealing. I didn’t fancy the debrief one bit but once the thought of seeing my girls again took hold, I was sold on the idea of going home. Especially as Roper was paying for business class.

  Chapter 50

  UK — JULY 2005

  For someone unused to travelling business class, the novelty put a spring in my step before, during, and after the flight from Amman to London. On arrival at Heathrow, the experience wasn’t diminished as we were taken from the plane to the Hounslow Suite, one of Heathrow’s hidden resources used by VIPs for relaxed and speedy arrival and departure. Once our luggage arrived and passports had been checked, a colleague of Roper’s directed us to a black Jaguar before whisking us towards Central London.

  For some reason I imagined we’d be going to the ostentatious MI6 headquarters next to Vauxhall Bridge. As I’d tried to doze off on the flight, ridiculous images of a champagne reception on the upper floors overlooking the Thames and the nearby Houses of Parliament had sneaked into my head.

  After twenty-four hours of reflection since the drama at the farm and subsequent debriefings, I had converted to the view it had all been a roaring success, with all thoughts of failure discarded. If Joe Holmes and the rest of TF145 believed a great result had been achieved, then who was I to argue? I was brought back down to earth a little when we pulled up outside a nondescript building in London’s Mayfair.

  Chapman was all smiles and excited energy; a man clearly pleased with himself.

  ‘Well done, Pierce. We knew you wouldn’t let us down. The Americans are thankful for our help, if a little embarrassed it was due to us that their new star was revealed to be moonlighting as the Shadow Emir.’

  There was an uncharacteristic twinkle in his eye and a cold smile at the edge of his lips.

  I was a bit nonplussed. ‘Of course. I was happy to help.’

  ‘We still need to go through a debriefing, so we have the full picture of course. We may be allies with the Americans, but there’s nothing like the words of a man who was there, at the centre of things.’ He must have noticed the look on my face because he added, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get this wrapped up quickly and you can get home to your family.’

  It was already late afternoon, so I doubted I’d be home until deep into the evening, but I felt an unexpected reluctance for this adventure to be over. Although I wanted to get back to concentrating on my business efforts, now my involvement in this clandestine world was drawing to a close I realised I’d miss it.

  ‘We also need to bottom off a couple of legal points. Charles here will fill you in with the details. Suffice to say you are now in possession of information that is classified at the highest tier of Top Secret. I don’t mean to dampen the mood, but any revealing of this information now or in the future will result in your prosecution. I’m sure I don’t need to stress how badly any unfortunate revelations of that type could go for you. Anyway, enough of that. Tea? Coffee?’

  I didn’t rate it as much of a pep talk. Still, it was almost reassuring that underneath his unnatural bonhomie, there still lurked a ruthless agent of the establishment. It snapped me out of my temporary sense of security and reminded me these people gave no real thought to my personal welfare or wellbeing. I needed to forget any romanti
c notion of helping Queen and country and make sure they didn’t screw me somehow at the last knockings.

  It was eight-thirty by the time I signed yet another set of confidentiality papers. The straightforward debriefing about the events in Iraq had been completed twenty minutes earlier and folders were being shut, pens capped, and laptops returned to their bags.

  Chapman stood and offered his hand.

  ‘One last thing. Although this concludes your involvement with us, you do appear to operate in countries and regions where information about various situational aspects is valued. This might be goodbye today, but we expect a cordial welcome should we ever need to approach you again.’

  I met his gaze. The question that had been on my mind all evening popped out.

  ‘The customs case, the Basra letter, these things are all finished with now, yes? What you’re asking is for me to keep an open mind about something that might happen in the future, not a…’ – I was cautious to use the word – ‘…threat hanging over me?’

  He answered evenly, as though the question had been expected. ‘As I’ve made clear in previous conversations, there have never been any threats. There are simply actions that you have taken, and which can have consequences. I can’t undo those actions you’ve taken, but I can tell you my understanding is both of those issues have been laid to rest.’

  I smiled and shook his hand. It really was all over.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Chapman. If my help is required in the future, then of course I’ll be happy to talk to you.’ I wasn’t sure if I meant it, but I couldn’t really tell him to stick his cordial welcome up his arse.

  *

  Becky was asleep in bed when I got home just after 10.00pm, but Claire and Natalie were awake and watching TV in the living room. Taz whined with joy trying to get my attention as I hugged the girls after setting my bags down. The dog’s wet nose on my hand prompted a twinge of guilt. I banished it and concentrated on the moment. I hadn’t picked up any wounds this time, so as far as Claire knew I’d simply returned from the Amman conference as planned.