Shepherd and Martin nodded. Martin slung the AK-47 over his shoulder. Jacko gestured with his chin.
‘On the four by four, you hold your weapon,’ he said.
‘Understood,’ said Martin.
‘Steve Garrett will be driving, and he’ll be sticking with us during the rough and tumble. Any questions?’
Shepherd and Martin shook their heads.
Jacko looked over at the Loggys. ‘They’ll need night-vision goggles. And body armour.’
‘I move better without armour,’ said Martin.
‘I don’t care if you can run like Usain fucking Bolt,’ said Jacko. ‘My priority is to keep you alive so you will wear whatever I tell you to fucking wear.’ His voice was still a whisper but there was no doubting how serious he was.
‘Hoo-ya,’ said Martin, and he grinned.
The two Loggys handed them body armour, which they strapped on, then the Loggys produced helmets with night-vision goggles and adjusted them to fit their heads. They were simple enough to operate – they were flicked down over the eyes when needed and there was a simple on–off button. Shepherd wasn’t a fan of night-vision equipment – they did the job but they made moving difficult. They concentrated the vision directly ahead, which meant it was hard to see where your feet were. Looking up and down was awkward and tiring so the best technique was to simply remember where obstacles were and to tread carefully. Shepherd found them a nuisance but they were going into caves and the equipment would give them an edge over the enemy.
Once the Loggys were satisfied that the goggles were fully charged and working, they flipped them up and nodded at Jacko.
‘Right, we’ve a briefing to go to,’ said Jacko. He turned and walked out of the tent and Shepherd and Martin hurried after him.
Captain Gearie had commandeered a tent close by and had a laptop linked up to a projector that was flashing an image on to a whiteboard behind him. It was showing a satellite view of a rocky hill and from the time and date stamps it appeared to be a live feed. There was a map and several photographs stuck to the board.
All the men were gathered around, their night-vision goggles up and their weapons slung over their shoulders. The tent was lit with overhead fluorescent lights and in the distance was the hum of a generator.
‘Right guys, listen up!’ shouted Gearie to get everyone’s attention. All conversation immediately stopped. ‘I’m sure you all know I’m Captain Gearie and I’m running this show with the able assistance of Captain Frank Harrison, hiding over there at the back.’
A beefy man with a neatly trimmed beard raised his hand and there were several catcalls from the assembled men.
‘So, we’re attacking a cave complex, the entrance to which is on a slope at the base of mountains forming the border between Afghanistan, where we are, and Pakistan, where we’re not. The main attack force will be troops six and seven from B squadron because, unfortunately, they were the only ones we could get at short notice.’
There were groans from the troopers and several muffled curses and Gearie grinned – troopers were always running down their officers but it could be a two-way street.
‘Right, gratuitous insults out of the way, let’s get down to business,’ said Gearie. ‘Two troops, Captain Harrison and myself, and two sergeants, Jacko Jackson and Phillip Smeed, both of whom have had experience in the area we’re going to. Make yourself known, guys.’
Jacko raised a languid hand and at the back of the tent a short, stocky man wearing a webbed vest over his fatigues put his arm in the air.
‘We’ll be dropped by Chinooks about fifty miles from the target. A temporary landing zone has already been secured for us. All the vehicles have been muffled so we should be able to get to within two miles of the target without being heard. The terrain is rough but passable. I’ve allocated two hours for the drive but I’ll be surprised if it takes us more than ninety minutes. We walk the rest of the way. There’ll be four Chinooks and they’ll wait for us at the TLZ but if by any chance the shit hits the fan they can be at the caves within minutes. We’ll be using ten Desert Patrol Vehicles – we brought three with us and we’ll be picking up seven more here. We’ll take a Land Rover with us that’s been fitted with a general purpose machine gun but that will stay behind at the TLZ. We’ll also have six trail bikes. I’ll be in the leading DPV, with a 2–3–4 formation behind me. The bikes will be three each side at the front. Now, you might have spotted the two strangers in our midst, though some of you might have recognised Spider Shepherd, who used to be one of us but who has now – he tells me – moved on to better things.’
Spider held up his hand.
‘With him is Dean. He’s a former Navy SEAL but don’t hold that against him.’
Dean made himself known and there were assorted catcalls and jeers, though it was clearly good-natured. While there was a long-standing rivalry between the two Special Forces groups, they respected each other’s skills and professionalism.
‘Spider and Dean will be in the centre DPV in the third row, basically slap bang in the middle of the formation. Steve Garrett will be driving and Jacko will be in the front seat. Steve and Jacko will, if you forgive the pun, be shepherding our two guests. “Why”, I hear you ask. Basically, we are going in to liquidate a nest of jihadist fighters who are being trained to cause mayhem back in the UK, so anyone in those caves is fair game. But we are especially interested in one particular high-value target, one Hakeem Khaled, who is believed to have organised a number of atrocities including the recent stadium bombing in London. The problem is, we have no usable photographs of Khaled. These are the best we have.’ He pointed at three photographs on the whiteboard behind him. One was the head-and-shoulders picture from Khaled’s asylum application. The two others were from the drone that had filmed Khaled demonstrating his suicide vest. ‘The picture of his face is more than fifteen years old and isn’t much help, and the detail on the two surveillance shots isn’t great either. But Dean here has seen this Khaled up close and personal so we’ll be using him to make a positive ID. Khaled does not leave that cave alive, gentlemen. Let’s be absolutely clear about that. No matter what happens in there, he goes down.’
There were murmurings of agreement and nods from the troopers.
‘We also have intel that says there are a number of British-born jihadists at the training camp, perhaps as many as ten. They’re being trained, by this Khaled among others, to go back to the UK and carry out terrorist atrocities. Again, we’re not looking to put them on trial and give them their day in court – they are enemy combatants in a war situation and will be treated as such. No one is going to be worrying about whether or not they were holding a weapon or if their hands were in the air. We’re not looking to be taking any prisoners and I think it’s fair to say that what happens in the cave, stays in the cave. There’s no CCTV in there and no drones peering down on you so no Head Shed or politician back in the UK is going to be second-guessing you from the safety of his desk.’
He looked around, making eye contact with as many of the men as possible. ‘Right, who’ll be using the LiveScan equipment and the digital cameras?’
Three of the troopers raised their hands. LiveScan machines were small portable fingerprint readers used by most police forces in the UK. They allowed for fingerprints to be instantly compared with the national IDENT1 database, which held the fingerprints of more than seven million people. While the devices needed an Internet connection to access the database, they could store any fingerprints until they were back in the UK.
‘Right, this is very much a seek-and-destroy mission, but once we have secured the area we need every body fingerprinted and photographed. These caves could be an intel goldmine so we’ll be going through it looking for paperwork, computers, phones and ID carried by the hostiles. Anything that isn’t nailed down, we take with us. Understood?’
He was faced with ranks of nodding heads.
‘Now those of you who know Spider will know that among his many ski
lls is a near-photographic memory. Spider’s up to date on all the home-grown jihadists we believe are out of the UK so he’s going to be taking a look at each and every casualty. He’s also been inside a cave complex not too dissimilar to this one so it might be helpful if he says a few words. Spider?’ He waved over at Shepherd.
Shepherd nodded and looked around the tent at several dozen attentive faces. ‘We were tasked with taking out an al-Qaeda base and major opium storage facility in the Registan Desert in Helmand Province, mainly because someone thought that Bin Laden might be there,’ he said. ‘Needless to say, he wasn’t. Our attack was a full-front assault in daylight, so again not much in common with what we’ll be doing tonight. About the only thing the two operations have in common is that they were both launched from Bagram. We were using torches in the caves …’ He grinned when he heard the laughter from several of the troopers. ‘I know, what can I say, it was almost twenty years ago.’
He waited for the laughter and catcalls to die down before continuing. ‘They live in these caves so there’s lots of stuff in there. We saw rugs and carpets on the floors and walls, furniture, desks, tables, lots of clutter, so watch where you’re going. The caves we’d been in had been occupied for years and had been modified. Most of the big rooms were natural but they had carved out passages in the rock, usually quite narrow, perfect bottlenecks for an ambush. Back then they had electric lighting run from generators and there were wires everywhere. Because the caves are a natural formation there’s no obvious logic to the layout, you have to take it as it is. The big danger is ricochets, and not being sure where your patrol mates are. Stray shots can be lethal; there are no rubber mats on the wall and no way of predicting where a ricochet is going to go. The caves twist and turn so at any one point you might not have your patrol mates in sight. You have to stay very aware of where everyone is.’ He shrugged. ‘That’s all I can offer, I’m afraid. It was a long time ago.’
‘Thanks, Spider,’ said the captain. ‘We’ll be going in three waves. I’ll be leading the first attack wave and Captain Harrison will lead the second. Bear in mind what Spider said – it could turn out to be a labyrinth in there and I don’t want any friendly fire. Once we have the area locked down, Jacko will bring Dean and Spider in to make the IDs. While they’re doing that, we’ll spread out and liberate any intel we can, especially any electronics and paperwork. Right – on to the operation itself.’ Gearie turned and pointed at the projected view on the whiteboard. There were six smudges of green, infrared images of figures on the ground. ‘This is a live feed from a satellite that the Americans have kindly agreed to point at our target for the next hour or so,’ said the captain. ‘In a few hours we’ll have two drones up with night-vision cameras and we’ll be taking live feeds from them. At the moment all we have is the satellite view but it’s proving very informative. What we have here are six guards in three groups of two. As you can see, they don’t appear to be moving but that doesn’t mean they’re asleep. Our intel doesn’t suggest that they have access to night-vision equipment but a lot of the fighters were born in the area and they’re used to moving around the desert at night. Sniper teams Alpha, Bravo and Delta are to take out the sentries. They have been helicoptered into the area and will be making their way on foot. It’s dark so they’re going to have to get in relatively close but they’ll be in position before we land. Once we’ve neutralised the sentries we move into the caves.’ He pressed a button on the laptop and the satellite feed was replaced with a daytime view of the side of the hill. From the angle it appeared to have been taken from a drone.
‘We don’t have much in the way of intel about the interior of the caves, unfortunately. We do know that at any one time there are up to a hundred men in there. They come out for training when there are no drones around, but we also believe that the caves are large enough for them to train inside. They have generators for supplying electricity, and there’s no evidence of water being taken in so it’s assumed they have a well or an underground lake as a source of drinking water. We’re going in about an hour before dawn so we’re assuming that most of them will be asleep and we’ll have the advantage of surprise.’
He tapped a large cave opening. ‘This is the main way in,’ he said. ‘I’ll be taking the main group in here.’ He looked over at Jacko. ‘This is where we’ll bring in Spider and Dean, but only when the area is secure.’
Jacko nodded and grunted.
The captain then tapped a smaller entrance to the left of the picture. ‘There’s a secondary entrance here and jihadists are seen going in and out. The problem is, we have no way of knowing if it is connected to the main cave.’ He looked over at Sergeant Smeed. ‘Smeedy, you take your patrol in through here. If it’s a separate cave, clear it and then move back to the main entrance. If it does connect to the main cave, we all need to be on full alert – I don’t want any unpleasant surprises.’
The sergeant nodded.
‘We’ll stop the vehicles two miles from the cave and move in on foot. The terrain is rocky but fairly flat so if we don’t hang around it should take us less than an hour. Any questions?’ He was faced with a wall of shaking heads. ‘Let’s roll, then,’ he said.
The SAS troopers filed out. Jacko appeared in front of Shepherd and Martin. ‘Right, lads, grab your balls and let’s be having you. Stay close – the captain’ll have my guts for garters if I leave you behind.’
He headed out of the tent and Shepherd fell in step with him as Martin followed behind. ‘So how many tours have you done here, Jacko?’ asked Shepherd.
‘Afghanistan? This is my sixth time here but I spend most of my time in Syria these days.’
‘Syria’s messy,’ said Shepherd.
‘It’s all bloody messy,’ said Jacko. ‘Initially we were sent over to take out high-value ISIS targets but the last few times it’s to track down the home-grown ones, the guys who were born in Birmingham and West London and think it’s cool to sign up to fight with ISIS. They’re the real dangerous ones and the government has only just woken up to it. They go over to Syria, get trained and bloodied, then they go back to the UK and set up their own terrorist cells.’
‘So the plan is to take them out over there?’
‘It’s a war zone. If they get killed out there no one really cares. But if we started killing them in the UK all hell would break loose. But it’s the same principle, right? Just a matter of geography.’
‘I guess it is.’
‘It’s the same guys. The same end result. The difference is I have to fly three thousand miles to slot them. It’d be so much easier just to post me at Heathrow Airport. Give me ten minutes in a room with any young Asian male coming back from that part of the world and I’d know if they were naughty or nice.’ He mimed firing a pistol. ‘Job done.’
‘There is something ridiculous about the way we allow them back into the UK without any repercussions,’ said Shepherd.
‘It’s more than ridiculous,’ said Jacko. ‘They’re putting our lives at risk. Here we are, on the other side of the world, about to storm a fortified cave with guns blazing to kill guys who not that long ago were on the streets of Bradford or London or wherever.’ He grinned. ‘Anyway, don’t get me started on politics. If it was up to me I’d bring in the guillotine and chop the heads off every politician in the country.’
‘To be fair, the French revolution was about killing the aristocracy, not the government.’
Jacko flashed him a sideways look. ‘Aye, they said you were a smart arse, Spider.’ He laughed and clapped him on the back.
Ahead of them troopers were heading over to a collection of hangars in front of which were four Chinook helicopters, their twin rotors still and drooping. Mechanics fussed around the helicopters carrying out last-minute checks, while Loggys were driving the DPVs up the loading ramps into the bellies of the massive machines.
The Chinook was a true military war horse – it could be used to insert troops, as an air-assault platform, as a supply vehicle
and for casualty evacuation. It could be fitted with two M134 six-barrelled miniguns, one in each front side window, and an M60D machine gun. In the high altitudes of Afghanistan, the Chinook was far more effective on combat assault missions than any other helicopter as it could carry up to ten tons of cargo, or up to fifty-five troops, with a maximum range of just over two hundred and fifty miles. Extra fuel tanks had been fitted to the four Chinooks for this mission as there were no facilities for refuelling en route.
When it was in a combat role, the Chinooks were usually escorted by attack helicopters but no one was expecting any resistance that night so they were going in on their own. The Chinook carried a whole range of defensive measures, including infrared jammers, chaff and flare dispensers, a radar warning receiver and a doppler missile approach warning system. It had full night-time flying capabilities, with the crew of four wearing night-vision goggles. During his SAS years Shepherd had been on innumerable night-time missions using the Chinook. Each Boeing-manufactured helicopter cost almost forty million dollars and the RAF had acquired sixty of them over the years.
Jacko took Shepherd and Martin over to the Chinook on the far right and they followed him up the ramp. The Land Rover had been moved from the Hercules and had been tied down. Two DPVs were also lashed into place in the middle of the helicopter and half a dozen troopers were already sitting down, their weapons stashed next to them. A general purpose machine gun had been fitted to the Land Rover along with two grenade launchers. Shepherd figured the captain was leaving the Land Rover at the landing zone to provide some protection in case the helicopters were attacked while they were on the ground.
He fixed his carbine to the fuselage, sat down and strapped himself in. Jacko handed him a pair of ear defenders and he put them on. The helicopter’s two Lycoming T55 turboshaft engines burst into life. The engines produced almost 5,000 horsepower. The rotors spun in different directions – one clockwise, the other anti-clockwise – which meant that a vertical rotor wasn’t needed to counter torque and that allowed all the power to be used for lift and thrust and power, giving the Chinook a maximum speed of close to two hundred miles per hour.
Tall Order: The 15th Spider Shepherd Thriller Page 34