Dry desert sands and infernal heat left a taste in the mouth that took an awful lot of booze to eradicate. At times, it had felt to me as if there could never be enough to wash it away completely. And I had tried. Not that it was only the baked sand and heat. At times, there was enough blood in the air that you were simply tainted by it in every conceivable way.
As for smells, that was a toss-up between burning human flesh and the foul stench of decomposing bodies. Every member of the armed forces knew that these two conditions caused particles to become wedged inside the nose, and no matter how many times you tried to clear it out afterwards, it felt permanently lodged up each nostril somehow. I had always found the decomp to be the worst, the one that lingered most of all.
I had felt the heat of the sand right through to the soles of my feet, mountainside rocks sharp and angry, baked dirt and sweat like cement coating my exposed flesh, skin tightening beneath the inflamed sun, eyes stung by grit from harsh winds, flares of intense heat from explosive devices going off. And then the bone-penetrating pain of the bullet that ended my career.
Yet, as a Marine, I had lived for those moments. That ten percent.
Today was different, I decided. Today I would rather have avoided the action altogether. The short burst in the early hours of the morning, during which four men had lost their lives, was enough for one day. Enough for the remainder of my lifetime. Yet what lay ahead was unavoidable; my friend had seen to that by not destroying Melissa’s mobile phone. I hoped we all survived to remind Terry of that when it was all over. Whatever “over” entailed.
33
With Terry still busy, I wandered into the living room, where Melissa was keeping Charlie entertained.
“Hi, Mike,” Charlie said. She smiled and waggled her fingers at me.
I returned the gesture. Matched it with a smile of my own. “Hey, kiddo. How are you doing?”
Charlie rolled her eyes. “Ugh. I’m so bo-ored.”
Mel flashed her a look of mock disgust. “Hey, I’m doing my best here. It’s not easy with you, you little horror.” She reached out and tickled Charlie under her arms and down her sides. The little girl’s laughter rang out around the room. An infectious sound.
Once again, I was struck by the bond between the two. At first, I had considered it respectful and protective, somewhat sisterly. Now I saw that I was wrong. Melissa’s relationship with the girl was closer to maternal. And Charlie seemed to respond in kind. After all, any instinctive tie she might have had with her mother would be long forgotten. Melissa was the only woman in her life.
As I watched them together, I gave that some real thought. With her father dead, Charlie would almost certainly be raised by Chris Dawson. The very idea left a bad taste in my mouth. Where Ray had remained in the shadows to a large degree, his brother celebrated their infamy. He considered himself some sort of wise-guy of old, had been known to liken himself to Tony Soprano, from the TV show. He wore his criminal enterprise with as much pride as his ugly gold jewellery.
Is that what you have in store for you now, Charlie? I wondered. You poor kid.
“Hey, Charlie,” I called out. “Do you have any money on you?”
She turned her head and shook it.
“Are you sure?”
A nod this time.
“You know what, I think you have. Just behind your left ear.”
Charlie raised a hand to feel behind her ear.
“No, your left ear,” I prompted, chuckling.
This time she felt behind the correct ear. “Nothing,” she said. “I told you, silly.”
“Come over here, let me see.”
Charlie scrambled over to me, squatted by my legs. I leaned forward, reached a hand behind her left ear, and when I moved it back in front of her face, her eyes widened. Between my thumb and forefinger I held a shiny pound coin. “See, I told you,” I said.
The girl squealed in delight. Her mouth formed a wide O. “More!” she cried. “More.”
I laughed. “You think your ears are made of money?” I handed her the coin. “Here you go. Spend it wisely.” She thanked me and ran back to Melissa, who sat there smiling at us both.
I wondered when Charlie would get to buy anything again. The simplest of pleasures such as purchasing an ice-cream was no longer an option for her. I had to change that. Myself and Terry. Anything else was unthinkable.
When Terry reappeared, he took Mel and me aside and made it apparent to us that we were all now to steer clear of any windows. “I don’t think they would try to pick us off one by one at long range, but I’ve learned to rule nothing out.”
“I’ll have a job on my hands with Charlie,” Melissa said. “She keeps begging to go outside as it is.”
“We can’t take any chances,” Terry insisted. “Just do your best. I’ve pulled the curtains and blinds in many of the rooms, so you can move around a little. Right now, we need to eat and stock up on fuel. It could be a long night.”
“I’m a dab hand at a fry-up,” I said. “Well, grill-up more like.”
“I have stuff in the freezer,” Terry said. “Use the microwave to thaw things out if you need to.”
Terry and I prepared it together. Thirty minutes later the four of us sat at the dining room table and devoured the lot. It was only then that I realised how hungry I had been, nerves and stress having taken my mind off food for so long. As a group we chatted amiably enough, although judging by the strain in their eyes, neither Terry nor Melissa were in the mood for social pleasantries. Charlie was engaging and funny, in complete contrast to her more sullen moods.
The remainder of the afternoon and early evening passed uneventfully. We all watched a little TV, Terry and I played several hands of friendly poker, and Melissa managed to persuade Charlie to take a nap for an hour. During that time, Terry made it clear to her the challenge we were about to face.
“This has all gone too far now,” Melissa said at one point, shaking her head. “Why don’t we call the police and take what’s coming. It has to be better than risking our lives further.”
“I wish we had that option, Mel,” I said. “Believe me. But you’re right, it has gone too far; too far to retreat. Those men out there cannot allow us to be taken in by the police. Terry and I checked the mobiles a short while ago, and we have no signal. Which means we’re being jammed.”
“These chaps are taking no chances,” Terry said. “By cutting our mobile access they leave only the landline. Now they will be screening the number. At the moment, they are waiting for the tactical advantage of dusk. All of which provides us with the actual advantage of pre-empting their first move. But if we press that alarm bell, they will move in and damage us. We can fend them off for a while, but I doubt it will be long enough.”
Nodding, I continued, “They could do it now if they chose to, but they won’t want to announce themselves to local villages by staging a massive gun battle here. A clean strike by dusk, not quiet but not exactly loud, that’s their aim. At least, it would be mine in their shoes.”
“There speaks the real Mike Lynch,” Terry said.
I flashed a grin, though my stomach complained. I understood how Melissa felt. If it were possible, I too would now happily give myself up to the police rather than take on the forces assembling outside. The time to do so had come and gone, however. There was no longer an easy way out of this mess.
I sat there for a while, reflecting on the past forty hours or so. From the first sight of what was then an unknown gunman, to the chase, discovering Mel and Charlie in the car, the claustrophobic fear of exposure in Chippenham, Sue’s terrible murder, the relief at being delivered to a safe house by Terry, only to see that relative safety shattered, shooting and killing armed intruders, escape to another place of safety, and now the knowledge that myself and my friend were going to war again. Not a bit of it felt real. And yet, conversely, it also felt as real as it gets.
When I looked up, I noticed Terry peering across the room at me. The two of us
nodded, and something passed between us. An understanding. I felt it bite deep into my chest. There was a recognition that this could all have been avoided, that mistakes had been made. But also that, now we were here, neither of us would back down. We were in this together, and only death would decide otherwise.
I was just about done with a final check of our weapons when Terry called me into a long and narrow galley-style office. This was another surveillance room, even better equipped than the last. “Take a look,” he said.
On the screens were feeds from eight cameras. He explained that the system was wireless, and that the control panel allowed us to rotate each of the cameras pretty much as we liked. Terry had spent the previous twenty minutes looking at every nook and cranny surrounding us. In that time, he had spotted two snipers, one to the front, one to the rear on the other side of the river.
“Not a great deal of cover for them out there, but an unobstructed view of the house makes up for that,” I commented.
“Precisely. Both are at around the limit of their range I suspect. In all, I think I picked up the locations of ten operatives, split into five pairs. That includes the snipers, who have range-finders with them. They will move in once the word is given. We have to assume there are more. Once I go, Mike, your job is to watch these screens like a hawk. They will give you ample warning of where the attack points are coming from. If they break through me, or if they spring a surprise attack, you head up to the roof space and start hammering them.”
I nodded. “I’ll keep them busy until you get back.”
Terry’s eyes met mine. “We need to talk about that. The lives of Melissa and Charlie can’t hang on a wing and a prayer. I have no doubt that you will fight these men until your last breath, but if I get removed from the picture, they can regroup and wait you out. So, we need to establish a time limit. You give me thirty minutes. After that point, if you’re coming under fire or are being surrounded and squeezed, then you have to get your baggage out of here.”
“Through another tunnel?”
“Yes. This one is hidden at both ends. It starts off east, then dog-legs right, taking it alongside and parallel to the river. It opens up inside an old shed by a small bridge on the edge of the woods. On the other side of the bridge is a Land Rover. It doesn’t look much, but it’s deceptive. Keys are underneath the driver’s seat.”
I clicked my teeth. Looked down at my feet. “I don’t know how much I can be trusted to walk away from you, Terry.”
“You won’t be walking away. If I’m not back, there’s a good reason.”
“And what about the whole never leave a man behind thing?”
“Different situations call for different measures. Better to leave one person than three.”
I regarded my friend warmly. Nodded. “I guess that’s how it has to be,” I said.”
Terry patted me on the shoulder. “You got it. Now, let’s take a look at your escape route.”
We needed Melissa to be part of it, should neither of us be around when the time came. Terry was calm but firm as he went over the instructions, speaking in clipped, precise terms as we made our way through the house. In what had once been a scullery, but had long since been converted into a utility room containing a washer, dryer and sink, he moved across to the far wall which was shelved from top to bottom. Terry made sure both myself and Melissa could see what he was doing, then hooked a finger underneath the third shelf from the top and pulled back. There was a loud click, and the entire shelf moved a couple of inches back, hinged along the left-hand side. He pushed it further open to reveal a small recess leading to some stone steps going downwards.
Terry looked at Melissa. “Repeat it back to me,” he said.
“It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Melissa’s voice was tight.
“Humour me. Repeat it back one more time.”
She took a deep breath. “Okay. First thing, I remember to move the shelf unit back into place one we’re through. The tunnel will take us beneath the back garden, opening up inside an old wooden shed the flap we open can then be bolted from the top should anyone find the route afterwards.”
“Good. And when you exit the shed?”
“We move right. Fifty paces or so along a dirt path we come to a bridge across the river. Once over the bridge we get the Land Rover running, take the left fork in the road. We follow that road for seven miles, and then come to a T-junction. We go right. The first field we come to on our right again has a red barn.”
“Excellent.” Terry nodded quickly. “And the combination to the padlock is?”
“9182.”
“Good. You’re a quick study, Mel. So once there you sit and you wait. Give it two hours. You’ll be perfectly safe. But you can’t stay there forever, so if neither of us shows, you get out of there. At that point, you will be on your own, though my advice is to go to the police and tell them everything.”
He slipped a mobile phone out of his pocket. “This is a burner. Your phone and the one given to Mike by Susan will remain here. This new phone can’t be traced back to anyone. If we make it out but are later than expected, I will call you. And that’s it.”
Terry looked at Melissa. “Any questions?”
She shook her head.
He looked at me. “How about you?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
“I’m scared,” Melissa said.
I reached out a hand and touched her arm. “It’s okay, Mel. You won’t need to go down that tunnel. We won’t let it get that far.”
Terry agreed. “You’ll do fine. Both of you, keep your wits about you at all times, and expect almost anything to happen.”
Melissa smiled. Nodded. “I don’t know what to say.”
“So, say nothing.”
“Not even thank you? You don’t know me or Charlie. What are we to you?”
“You’re important to Mike. You and Charlie both. I can see that. Anyone could if they looked hard enough. And if you’re important to him, you’re equally as important to me.”
“I’ll never forget this.” She turned her gaze from him to me. “Never.”
No one said a word for a second or two. Then Terry glanced down at his watch. “It’s just about time,” he said. “Mel, you go get Charlie and you bring her here. Mike, back to the surveillance room. The attic is ready for you, weapons on each side. Be lucky.”
With the slightest of nods, my friend stepped silently out of the scullery and was gone.
I turned to Melissa. “You’ll do fine,” I told her. “Whatever the outcome for me and Terry.”
Melissa slipped an arm around me and pulled me into a hug. We stood that way for a few seconds. Then she pecked me on the cheek and pulled her head back, gazing into my eyes. “Come back,” she said. “Just come back to us.”
I had no idea what to tell her. Now wasn’t the time for brutal honesty, however, so I simply gave her one final hug and said, “Yes, boss.”
I was all set to turn away when the power went off.
34
Parts of the tunnel network forced Terry Cochran to crawl on his stomach, using knees and elbows to propel himself forward. As he moved, fear lay on his chest like a lead weight. Not just because of likely encounters with the enemy, who might easily be lying in wait in the thick, black darkness ahead. But being underground also brought back memories he would rather forget.
The Afghani Taliban fighters were a mixture of talents, yet even the worst of them were warriors. Only they didn’t send the worst of them down tunnels to fight. Even so, Terry could handle them; he was trained to, experienced in doing so. There were other tunnel rats down there, though. Real rats, some as big as small dogs. Then there were the real nightmares, the camel spiders, scorpions and snakes, many of which were venomous. Those fuckers came out of nowhere and could be truly silent and deadly.
The humidity was so intense that sweat fell from him like rain. At points it blinded him. Every few yards he followed the same routine: pause, listen, reassess. He cou
ld use no light, as it would make him an easy target for the Talibs. The very act of movement would give them warning of his approach, because they were waiting in absolute silence. These narrow tunnels were uniquely difficult places in which to stage combat. The main routes supplying cave systems were huge, and certain sections could be driven through. These minor shafts were created in order to provide drainage, but despite the danger they posed it was imperative for them to be cleared. It was a lesson learned the hard way, when a large unit of US troops were trapped in a major channel by Talibs emerging from the almost insignificant passageways behind them. Not a single US soldier emerged from the ensuing slaughter.
Terry’s team had gained a reputation for the way in which they maintained safe passage for others. It was a hellish task, but also critical to specific outcomes. As he made his way forward, he reminded himself constantly of this. Ultimately, even his dead body would plug the hole long enough for others to make successful raids. Not that he intended to lose any fight.
Whether it was the inky blackness, the intensified senses, squirts of adrenaline, or simply the primal will to live, Terry relied on his instincts to tell him when the time was right to act. He did not believe in a sixth sense, so he told himself that this was merely experience and using one specific sense hearing so well that he could pick up the merest exhalation of an enemy combatant. This was, he had discovered an hour before entering the tunnel, his final such mission. It was no time to die, so he listened harder than ever before.
Nothing.
Not even the soft scuttle of a sand spider.
As he raised his shoulder to begin the next crawl, he heard it. A single breath.
It was all he needed.
In his hands he clasped an M4A1 assault rifle. It was suppressed, not because the operation especially required silence, but in order to spare his ears. It was not easy to shift the weapon in order to fire it, given he’d had to grip it in a certain way as he crawled. But Terry was well-practised in the tight conditions, and the movement was slick and silent. Don’t doubt your instincts, he told himself. You heard it. He’s out there.
Scream Blue Murder: an action-packed thriller Page 22