Decisive Measures

by Decisive Measures (retail) (epub)

  ‘Faster,’ I said. ‘Now open the gates.’

  He opened his mouth to argue, but I pushed the rifle forward and the barrel dug into his ribs. He stepped to the side of the gates and pushed a button. There was the whine of an electric motor and a rumble as the massive steel gates began to slide slowly apart.

  As soon as the gap was wide enough, we squeezed through. ‘Now shut them.’

  He pressed the button again. As the gates began to close again, the vehicle I had heard cleared the top of the hill behind us.

  It skidded to a halt. There were shouts and then a ragged volley of shots as we dived for the cover of the guardhouse. Rounds pinged off the steel gates and one smacked into the bulletproof glass of the window. After another volley of shots I heard the pickup drive on.

  I jabbed the barrel of my rifle into the guard again. ‘Now get your superior,’ I said.

  We followed him into the guardhouse. He picked up the phone and dialled a number, his eyes fixed on the muzzle of my rifle. I heard a distorted voice giving a sleepy reply, and the guard gabbled an explanation. ‘I’m being held at the gate by armed gunmen,’ he said.

  ‘British armed gunmen,’ I shouted.

  A moment later a siren began to sound. The seconds ticked by with no sign of movement from the building. Then suddenly the door of the High Commission swung open. As it did so, I saw a flurry of movement to either side of the building, and armed soldiers sprinted out and dived for cover.

  I had no wish to be shot by British soldiers so I kept myself clearly visible through the armoured windows of the guardhouse as I held the rifle away from my body and dropped it to the ground. Then I raised my hands over my head and Layla did the same.

  A voice barked at us from the darkness. ‘Step forward, five paces. Now down! Down!’

  I spreadeagled myself in the dirt and heard Layla drop alongside me. There was the sound of running feet, and my arms were grabbed and jerked up behind my back. I winced as the flexicuffs bit into my wrists. Then I was hauled to my feet.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Jack Griffiths. Helicopter pilot with Decisive Measures.’

  ‘Who’s she?’

  Layla replied for herself. ‘Layla Edwards, a paramedic with Medicaid International.’

  ‘We were shot down upcountry a few days ago,’ I said. ‘We made it back to Freetown just in time to be caught up in the coup.’

  ‘It’s not been your lucky week, has it? Where’s your ID?’ Already the voice was friendlier.

  I jerked my head towards my pocket. One of the soldiers took our documents and passed them to his boss. He checked them.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Bring them inside.’ We were hustled in through the main door of the building. ‘And you can lose the cuffs,’ he said. As they were removed, I rubbed the feeling back into my wrists.

  We were shown into a room. A moment later an attaché strode in. I took his outstretched hand. ‘Glad you made it,’ he said. ‘We were worried about you.’

  I outlined our experiences. When I fell silent, he wrinkled his nose. ‘Now, from the state of you, I’d say you need a shower, fresh clothes, something to eat and a stiff drink. Get yourselves cleaned up and then I’ll have someone show you to the dining room. You’ll find someone else there who will be even more pleased to see you.’ He had walked out before I could ask him who he was talking about.

  I spent a long time in the shower, soaping the filth and sweat from my body. I was covered in cuts, bruises and mosquito bites, some already turning septic, but it could have been a lot worse. When I was ready I dressed in clean clothes – not my own, but approximately the right size – and followed a soldier to the dining room.

  As I entered, Grizz leapt up from a table and clasped me in a bear hug, nearly crushing my ribs. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again,’ he said. ‘You’re either a military genius or the luckiest bastard alive.’

  ‘You must be a bit of a lucky sod yourself,’ I said.

  He shrugged. ‘Those rebels are brave but they’re not soldiers. I just kept firing and moving. Their leader called them off in the end. I probably had the same idea as you – head for Freetown, not Bohara. Luckily, when I hit the road I was able to’ – he paused and smiled – ‘to borrow a pickup from a group of rebels I came across. They didn’t look like they had any further use for it by then. I was parked up here waiting for orders from HQ when the coup started.’

  He broke off as Layla came in, and hugged her. ‘Great to see you,’ he said. ‘Now, you two eat and I’ll talk. Here’s the situation.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘As you’ve probably already noticed, the city’s disintegrated – no police, no army, no one in control. The Nigerians are holding the airport and have apparently started a push out towards the city, but I’m not too optimistic about their enthusiasm for a fight if the rebels make a stand.’

  ‘Do you think they will?’

  ‘Hard to know. Their usual practice is to loot everything they can carry and then take off for the hills. The Nigerians won’t pursue them there. The rebels might let them have Freetown for now; what they really want are the diamond mines.

  ‘Anyway, we’ve been given three objectives: to help secure the existing government in power if possible, to evacuate European workers if necessary – but only if necessary – and to hold the diamond mines at all costs.’ He gave a sour smile. ‘Not necessarily in that order. Our first job is to get as much ammunition as we can carry up to Bohara. The garrison’s still holding off the attacks at the moment, but once the rebels have finished looting the capital, the odds are they’ll begin an all-out assault on the mines. We need to be there to help fight them off, or get our guys out before they’re wiped out.’

  I glanced towards Layla. ‘What about the Medicaid people?’

  Grizz shrugged. ‘No sign of them and no ransom demands yet.’

  Layla said nothing, but I saw her expression as she turned away.

  ‘Try not to worry,’ I said to her. ‘Like I told you, they won’t be harmed. They’re too valuable to the rebels.’

  ‘Anyway,’ Grizz said, ‘the boys at Bohara are in shit street. They’re low on supplies and ammunition and hard-pressed by the rebels. Now we’ve got you back, though, we’re in with a shout, apart from one big problem. Her Majesty’s Government are running scared about being seen to support our activities. Which means that despite our friendly welcome here, the supply of helis or heavy weapons is not going to be permitted. They won’t even look the other way this time while we bring them in from elsewhere.’

  ‘So what can we do?’ I said. ‘The heli’s in pieces in the jungle.’

  He shook his head. ‘There is one more.’

  I stared at him for a moment, then I shook my head. ‘Oh no. You’re not thinking of that wreck at Camp Seventeen, are you?’

  He nodded. ‘Exactly.’

  ‘We’d never get it off the ground.’

  ‘We’ll have a bloody good try. What else can we do? The rebels are pounding Bohara. We need to give our guys some fire support.’

  I looked around. Layla was sitting at the other end of the table, sipping a cup of coffee as if it were the most beautiful thing she had ever tasted. I lowered my voice. ‘What about Layla?’ I said.

  ‘She comes with us, of course. There are wounded at Bohara.’

  ‘No!’ I almost shouted it.

  ‘You were happy enough to have her along before,’ Grizz said.

  ‘That was different.’

  ‘I think I’m entitled to a voice in this,’ Layla said. She had walked the length of the table and now stood directly behind me. ‘I’m going back to Bohara with you.’

  ‘It’s too risky, Layla, too dangerous,’ I said.

  She smiled. ‘More dangerous than what we’ve been through already?’

  ‘But we had to do that; you don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I’m a medic, Jack. Of course I have to.’

  ‘But you can’t.’ I began.

  Her eyes flashed. �
�Don’t presume to tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m doing my work, just as you’re doing yours. I’m going to Bohara with you. End of story.’

  I was ready to go on with the argument, but her expression showed me I’d be wasting my time.

  ‘Anyway,’ I said, turning back to Grizz, ‘how do we get to Camp Seventeen without a vehicle?’

  ‘We’ve got the one I borrowed.’

  ‘And what do we do for weapons?’

  He winked and tapped his nose. ‘The High Commissioner is not unsympathetic. Officially he can’t do anything, of course, but unofficially he’s been looking the other way while I’ve called in a couple of favours from the garrison here.’

  ‘But what about spare parts for the heli?’

  ‘What we have, we’ll use. What we don’t, we’ll improvise.’

  ‘So when do we leave?’

  ‘As soon as we’re ready,’ he said. ‘I’ll just get the latest situation report here and call HQ for an update, then we’re on our way.’

  He returned to the room a few minutes later. ‘The Nigerians’ push out along the airport road ended after a couple of miles,’ he said. ‘They pulled back at the first sign of resistance. No surprises there. HQ reckons they’ll just hold the airport and await developments.’

  He led the way to the compound at the back of the High Commission. A battered utility truck was parked there. Two general-purpose machine guns had been lashed onto it, on either side of the roll bar. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Layla will drive. You and I’ll take charge of the guns. Have you fired one before?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘With luck, the threat should be enough anyway. But if we meet any roadblocks and the usual cigarettes and bribes don’t do the trick, use very short bursts. It’ll save ammunition and it’ll stop you from shooting up the treetops instead of the rebels.’

  I helped him to load fuel, water and rations, and we shoved a few cartons of cigarettes under the dashboard. Then we climbed in the back and Layla gunned the engine.

  Chapter Ten

  We bucketed out of the gate in a cloud of dust and I hung on to the roll bar for support as we bounced down the road. It was early in the morning and most of the rebel soldiers were no doubt sleeping off the previous night’s looting and drinking.

  We tore through the outskirts of the city with Layla at the wheel, swerving expertly around piles of rubble, abandoned vehicles and the remains of barricades. As we turned on to the road towards the mountains, however, we hit a roadblock guarded by eight soldiers.

  Grizz swung the barrel of his GPMG to cover them. I followed suit, keeping a particularly wary eye on a man with an RPG. ‘Government soldiers or rebels?’ I asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ Grizz said. ‘They look more like government men, but it doesn’t necessarily make any difference anyway.’ With the forefinger of his right hand curled round the trigger of his weapon, he raised the other hand, palm outwards in a gesture of friendship.

  Layla pulled out a carton of cigarettes and held it out of the window. One of the soldiers took it from her. They shared the cigarettes out, but still made no move to raise the barrier.

  ‘Where are you going to?’ their leader said.

  ‘Just to the hills to try to buy food.’

  ‘Not to Bohara?’

  ‘See for yourself, we have nothing here, just water and a little fuel.’

  The soldiers debated among themselves, staring at the GPMGs. Finally the leader shrugged. ‘Twenty dollars and you can pass.’

  ‘We have only leones,’ Grizz lied.

  The leader motioned one of his soldiers forward and Grizz handed him a bundle of crumpled notes. The leader counted them, then jerked his head to his men, who began dismantling the barricade.

  We ground on up the hill, turned off the main road and followed the winding track through the forest. We were on maximum alert as we approached the base, but the familiar listless soldiers still sprawled in the dust by the fire-blackened buildings inside the fence. They jumped to their feet and shouldered their weapons when they heard our approach, but at the sight of Grizz and yet another carton of cigarettes they dragged the gates open.

  We drove into the compound and across to the rusting helicopter. Layla and I stripped the dust-laden camouflage net from it as Grizz disappeared into the Nissen hut and began dragging out spare parts, tools and a pile of what looked like scrap metal.

  I looked the heli over and shook my head. ‘We’ll never fix this.’

  Grizz brandished a roll of metallic tape. ‘There’s nothing that can’t be fixed with speed tape.’

  I began checking the heli externally, while Grizz worked on the engine. Then I began bolting lengths of aluminium section across the worst of the holes in the cab walls.

  It was four hours before Grizz was satisfied with the engines. We paused for a brew and a bite to eat, then I ran through the cockpit checks while Grizz removed the GPMGs from the pickup, fixed brackets improvised from scrap metal to the door frame of the heli and bound the guns to them with swaths of speed tape.

  Next he beckoned to me and I followed him into the Nissen hut. Together we dragged a rocket pod from the hut and levered it into position on the underside of the nose of the cockpit. I tried to blank off the memory of what had happened the last time I had fired a rocket pod in action, but the thought kept returning to me.

  When it was securely attached, Grizz connected a firing cable to the trigger on the stem of the collective, holding it in place with speed tape.

  I helped Grizz to load the rocket pods and we took on maximum fuel and maximum ammunition for the mini-guns. When we had finished, the helicopter looked as if it had been assembled from scrap metal and Meccano, and bound together with speed tape.

  I did the preflight checks and then pressed the starter. The turbine stuttered and whined like an old banger on a frosty morning. Then the engine coughed and died as a cloud of black smoke belched out. I exchanged a glance with Grizz, then tried again. Once more it faltered, spluttered and then caught. I tried the other engine and the whine of the turbines swelled to a roar as it also caught and fired. Grizz gave a thumbs-up and ran for the cab. The heli seemed in surprisingly good mechanical nick. I let the engines idle for five minutes as I checked the gauges, watching for any warning signs.

  I glanced across at Layla in the co-pilot’s seat. Her expression was relaxed, but the whiteness of her knuckles and the way she caught her lip between her teeth showed how nervous she was.

  I reached across to squeeze her arm with my gloved hand, then I pushed the lever into flight idle. I raised the collective and eased the cyclic forward as we rose from the ground, and I paddled the rudder pedals, banking us to the east.

  The Huey’s response to the controls was sluggish, but that was hardly surprising. Even through my helmet I was deafened by the noise as the slipstream howled through the bullet holes in the body, setting metal vibrating against metal in a cacophony of noise.

  There was only sporadic ground fire as we flew over the outskirts of the capital. Looking down, I could see smoke still rising from scores of fires. Ragged lines of vehicles were moving in both directions, empty trucks and pickups heading into the city, and heavily laden ones making for the mountains to the east.

  The airport road was scarred with the marks of recent fighting, the road surface blackened, burned and part-blocked by the wrecks of vehicles. Bodies still lay sprawled in the dirt around them.

  The two Hawk jets I had seen flying sorties the previous night were drawn up on the hardstanding at the far side of the airfield, near a couple of Nigerian military transport planes that were unloading supplies. Groups of soldiers were dug in around the perimeter and a large force of men was milling about near the arrivals hall.

  I kept the heli high until the last possible moment, then made a steep descent over the heart of the airfield to touch down safely.

  We climbed down from the Huey and followed Grizz over to the main airport building. A group of Nigerian off
icers had commandeered the airport administration offices for their own use.

  Grizz introduced himself to the senior officer, a bulky figure in combat fatigues and the inevitable mirrored sunglasses.

  ‘What’s the situation here, Major?’ Grizz asked.

  ‘We have secured the airfield,’ he said. ‘When we are ready, we shall advance on Freetown and drive the rebels back into the hills.’

  We walked over to the small barbed-wire compound that Decisive Measures maintained at the airport. Some of the Sierra Leonean soldiers detailed to guard it were still there, but they seemed cowed by the presence of the Nigerians.

  There was no sign that there had been any fighting in the immediate area, but there had been a serious attempt to force the locks on the heavy steel doors of the store bunkers. In one case it had been successful. The doors hung off their hinges and the interior of the bunker had been stripped bare.

  ‘The rebels?’ I said.

  Grizz shook his head. ‘They never breached the airport perimeter. More likely our saviours here.’

  He walked over and spoke to the Nigerians. All shook their heads or shrugged their shoulders.

  Grizz led the Sierra Leonean soldiers off to one side and began talking to them. I couldn’t hear what they said, but their body language showed their uneasiness. They kept their faces averted from Grizz’s probing stare and raised their eyes only to dart nervous glances at the Nigerians.

  Grizz pointed a finger towards the city. ‘You want to keep working for us? Or do you want to take your chances out there?’

  A couple of the men hesitated, then muttered something in reply. He walked back to us. ‘Come on.’

  We made our way back to the administration building. The Nigerian officer made no attempt to conceal his impatience as Grizz stated his grievance. ‘One of our store bunkers has been looted of grenades, rifles and ammunition.’

  ‘Of what concern is this to me?’

  ‘Your men are the culprits.’

  ‘You dare to accuse my men of this? Where is your proof?’