Hassan pulled off the main road and slowed as they entered a quiet residential street. There was no street lighting and no moving traffic. Parked cars were drawn up on both sides of the road. Most of the houses were in darkness, indicating a power cut in the neighbourhood which was normal for this time of night. Those that had lights obviously had their own generators or benzene lamps but with the current fuel shortage only those who could afford the black-market prices enjoyed the luxury of power at night.
Hassan turned his vehicle along another narrow street, pulled over and parked against the kerb. Ali tucked in behind him and both cars fell silent as their engines and lights went off.
Abdul was expecting everyone to climb out right away but they sat still in the darkness without even communicating. This seemed like further evidence of a pre-raid plan to which he was not privy.
After a couple of minutes, Hassan climbed out of his car and, leaving Karrar in the passenger seat, walked down the road looking at the houses on both sides as if searching for a particular one.
Hassan walked out of sight into the darkness and was gone for several minutes before Abdul saw his silhouette walking back on the other side of the street. He crossed back to his car, leaned in through the open window to say something to Karrar, then headed for his brother’s car as Karrar climbed out.
Ali opened the door and Hassan looked in at the men. ‘Everyone out and follow me,’ Hassan said.
Ali and Arras obeyed.Abdul followed, but the sudden palpable rise in tension infected him and he began to feel uneasy.
Hassan walked down the pavement a short distance before stepping sideways into a large doorway and out of what little light there was.The others followed him, Abdul bringing up the rear. He stayed just outside the small recess.
‘Get in here,’ Hassan hissed.
Abdul moved in closer, aware of a distinct rise in Hassan’s anxiety as his stare flicked in all directions.
Hassan removed his balaclava from his jacket pocket, put it on his head and pulled it fully down over his face, adjusting it so that his eyes were centred in the oval slits. The others followed his example.
Abdul took his balaclava out of his pocket and paused before putting it on.‘What is my part in this?’ he asked in a low voice.
‘Just put on your balaclava,’ Hassan growled.
‘When will you tell me?’ Abdul asked.
Hassan gritted his teeth and clenched his fists as if he was about to thump Abdul.
‘Do what you are told, you prick,’ Arras snarled.
Abdul stepped back from the men in their black balaclavas, their white eyes glaring at him.They looked like a pack of satanic beasts. There was something unholy about whatever they were up to, Abdul was certain of it. The mistake he had made with this evil partnership was getting involved in the first place. Whatever these men were about to do was worse than taking petty bribes from drivers, he was sure of it. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ Abdul suddenly blurted out.
The others looked between Hassan and Abdul, wondering what the boss was going to do about this untimely and wholly inconvenient outburst.
‘I don’t want to be in this team any more. I wanted to tell you earlier but you never gave me the chance,’ Abdul added quickly. ‘You don’t like me.You treat me like a leper. Why don’t you just let me go?’ he demanded.
Hassan was staring at him, weighing his response, barely controlling a gut instinct to pound Abdul into the ground.
Arras had no doubts about what he wanted to do with Abdul but he would have to wait for Hassan to give the word.
‘I’ve made my mind up,’ Abdul said. ‘I’m going to go back to the car and wait for you there.’
But as Abdul started to turn away Hassan grabbed his arm with one hand and gave him such a brutal swipe around the side of his face with the other that Abdul would have fallen to the ground had Hassan released his grip. Abdul raised his hands to protect himself against another blow which Hassan was about to deliver when Ali caught his hand.
‘Hassan,’ Ali said in a loud whisper. ‘This is not the place for this.’
Hassan glared like a maniac at his brother for a few seconds before the words filtered through his rage. He lowered his hand and faced Abdul, pulling him close and holding him firmly so that their noses were inches apart.
‘Listen to me, you little turd,’ Hassan said with intense malice. ‘You will do as you are ordered. One more word out of you and I’ll break your neck. Do you understand me?’
Abdul had seen Hassan this angry once before. On that occasion the recipient of his ire, an errant driver who had made the mistake of telling Hassan to go screw his mother, apparently did not regain consciousness for several days. Abdul nodded.
‘Tell me,’ Hassan hissed, tightening his grip around Abdul’s neck until his windpipe started to hurt.
‘I understand,’ Abdul croaked.
‘Put on your balaclava,’ Hassan said again, releasing Abdul but staying threateningly close.
Abdul took a few seconds to regain his breath before pulling his balaclava onto his head and over his face.
Hassan pulled his weapon out of its holster and moved out of the doorway. ‘You,’ he said, looking back at Abdul. ‘With me.’
Abdul moved alongside Hassan who grabbed his arm and pushed him ahead.‘Take the lead,’ Hassan said.
Abdul walked slowly up the pavement for a short distance before looking back to see the others following in a line. Fear and anxiety began to course through his body as he wondered what Hassan was going to do with him - and what was going to happen on this raid that he was now leading.
Abdul walked on a little further and when he slowed to look behind him again Hassan urged him on with a stiff shove.
Halfway down the street Hassan grabbed the back of Abdul’s jacket to halt him. When Abdul turned to see why, Hassan was looking at a car parked against the pavement beside him. It was an old dark-blue BMW and Hassan looked back at his brother who nodded in confirmation.
Hassan pushed Abdul forward again. ‘Keep going,’ he whispered.
They reached a house where a light glowed dimly on the second floor. Hassan moved nimbly past Abdul and went to the front door. He paused to look around before moving closer and pressing his ear against it.
A moment later he beckoned Abdul to join him. Abdul stepped beside Hassan who suddenly grabbed him roughly. ‘Keep your ear to the door and listen,’ Hassan whispered.‘You hear a sound, you let me know.’ Hassan did not wait for a response from Abdul and moved to join his men who had gathered in a tight group in the shadows of the building.
Abdul watched the devilish quartet whispering together and kept his ear to the door as he’d been ordered. He thought he heard a sound from inside and as he focused his attention on it he was suddenly yanked unceremoniously back. Arras moved to take his place, opened his jacket and removed a hefty crowbar as he pressed his ear to the door.
The others stood close by, Abdul a head shorter than any of them and hemmed in tightly, unable to escape even if he had dared to try.
Arras stepped back from the door and worked the crowbar into the frame. As he slowly levered it to one side the wood began to split but the lock held. He wiggled the bar further in and then levered it back once again. There was a loud crack and the door popped open.
Hassan did not waste a second and pushed past Arras and into the house with anxious haste. Ali and Arras followed quickly while Abdul was shoved inside by Karrar who brought up the rear.
Karrar closed the door behind him and the five men stood like black sentinels in the hallway as if waiting for a signal to move. Halfway along the dark narrow hallway a flight of stairs led to the floor above and Hassan moved to the foot, his pistol in his hand. Without looking back he signalled for the others to move and they obeyed stealthily.
Arras and Ali passed Hassan and continued along the hall to the first door, which was partly open. The room was dark inside. The two men went inside and a few seconds later reap
peared and moved further down the dark passageway to the next door.
A few seconds later they came out and went further back into the house, disappearing into the darkness.
Abdul hardly moved, watching Hassan who kept his pistol aimed up the stairs. Karrar breathed deeply behind him. Judging by Hassan’s air of intensity and his cautious stance, the man was expecting resistance. Abdul hoped it would end soon but then he realised that he would still be left to deal with Hassan and the matter of his resignation. Abdul was no longer confident that the issue was going to be resolved quite as easily as he had hoped.
Ali and Arras returned from the dark hallway and Ali shook his head at his brother.
Hassan directed his full attention to the top of the stairs. As he placed his foot on the first step it creaked. He paused before applying his full weight but the step creaked again as he raised his other foot and placed it on the next one. That creaked too but the third did not and Hassan continued slowly towards the top, the business end of his pistol leading the way.
The others mounted the stairs behind him. Ali and Arras avoided the first two steps. Karrar nudged Abdul forward: he placed his foot on the first step that once again creaked loudly. Arras stopped to look back with a scowl and Karrar jabbed Abdul viciously in his side.
Abdul winced at the blow and placed his other foot higher up. Arras maintained his warning glare for a moment longer before looking back towards the top of the stairs and taking another step up.
Hassan reached the final step where a closed door blocked access to the floor.The others closed in behind him.
Hassan looked back at his pack to ensure that they were ready. Every white eye, encircled by its black woollen slit, was wide and alert - except Abdul’s. His eyes flickered with frightened uncertainty. He was jammed tightly between Arras and Karrar, both of them holding their pistols at the ready.
Hassan faced the door which was painted dull brown, leaned forward and pressed his ear to it. His free hand reached for the doorknob and slowly turned it. He gave it a slight push but the door did not move. Hassan exhaled through his nose - the sound was quite loud in the still air - and stepped back until his arm holding the doorknob was at full stretch. The others leaned back to give him room. With a sudden sharp intake of breath, Hassan shoved his full weight forward. His shoulder struck the wooden door, the bolt inside sprang free and it flew open.
Hassan moved forward with his own momentum and his men followed. Abdul was caught up in the press of bodies as Karrar shoved him hard and they spilled into a room that was bathed in a dull golden glow from a benzene lamp.
The room was not very big and was sparsely furnished with a couch and a dining table. A kitchenette took up one corner. Abdul saw two people lying on mattresses, one a man in his fifties, his eyes wide in shock and holding a book next to the lamp. Ali and Arras were upon the two figures like hyenas, Ali grabbing the man by his neck and jamming a gun into his face.The other figure, a woman as old as the man, awoke and sat up as her eyes tried to focus, her mouth opening in fear. Arras threw his weight onto her while shoving his hand over her face, brutally pushing her head back onto the mattress.
Meanwhile, Hassan continued through the room to its only other door. He raised his leg and kicked open this latest obstruction. Karrar shoved Abdul across the room to the doorway where he left him. In the second room a man and woman were in bed under a sheet. Karrar joined Hassan as they sat up. Hassan pulled back the sheet to reveal that they were both naked and, grabbing the woman by her hair, dragged her off the bed as she screamed. Karrar took hold of the man by his throat and shoved his pistol in his face.
Abdul watched in confused horror. These pathetic-looking people were not the hardened desperados he had been expecting.
‘Bring him,’ Hassan shouted. Karrar obeyed, brusquely turning the frightened man over, twisting his arm halfway up his back and pulling him off the bed. The man yelped at the pain while complying as best he could with Karrar’s efforts to get him to his feet, around the bed and to the door.
The slender woman was in her early thirties and Hassan kept a firm hold of her thick long dark hair as he pulled her past Abdul and into the main room. The naked man followed, grimacing while balancing on tiptoe as he struggled to reduce the pressure on his arm. The man’s skin was white and his hair was light, neither feature uncommon in the western reaches of Iraq, but his overall look was distinctly Anglo-Saxon.
The naked woman yelped at every tug on her hair while the Anglo-looking man groaned in response to Karrar’s brutal grip. Abdul was conscious of the balaclava over his face and felt distinctly weird as he looked through the narrow eyelets at the unfolding scene.
The older couple were forced to their feet by Ali and Arras who shoved them against the wall. Hassan pushed the naked woman beside them and released her. She held her hands over her breasts and genital area as she cried out. ‘Please, please don’t hurt us,’ she kept begging.
‘Shut up!’ Hassan shouted as he aimed his gun at her face, his eyes intense. She immediately stopped speaking, although she could not control her whimpering. Karrar kept hold of the male westerner as Ali and Arras stepped back, their pistols levelled at the terrified older couple.
Then Hassan seemed to calm down a little as everyone in the room came under his control. He turned his attention to the naked man. Karrar pulled the man’s head back by his hair so that he was forced to face the boss.
‘What’s your name?’ Hassan demanded.The man did not answer as he looked fearfully at Hassan and then at the naked woman.‘Abdul,’ Hassan growled.‘Ask him his name.’
Abdul was almost as frightened as the man and did not understand what Hassan had asked him.‘W-what?’ he stammered.
‘I said ask him his name,’ Hassan repeated.
Abdul looked at the frightened man who was only slightly bigger than himself. ‘What is your name?’ he said.
‘In English, you idiot!’ Hassan shouted. ‘He is not Arab.’
Abdul made an extreme effort to compose himself as his mouth suddenly went dry. ‘What your name?’ he asked in broken English.
The naked man glanced at Abdul with pleading eyes when he recognised his language, perhaps sensing in the tone of his voice that this Arab might have some sympathy in his heart.‘J-Jeffrey Lamont,’ the man stammered, his face a picture of utter fear. ‘You will be paid a lot of money if you—’
‘Who does he work for?’ Hassan snapped.
‘What you company work for?’ Abdul asked in heavily accented English as he struggled to get his lips and tongue around the language that he had learned in school. He had only spoken it very occasionally with his sister in the last few years.
‘Detron Communications,’ the man said.
‘A communications company,’ Abdul relayed to Hassan.
‘What kind of communications?’ Hassan asked.
‘I don’t know,’ Abdul said.
‘Ask him, you idiot!’ Hassan shouted, his temper going up and down with his blood pressure.
Abdul took a moment to form the words but he was not quick enough for Hassan. ‘You said you could speak English,’ Hassan said accusingly.
‘It’s been a while,’ Abdul said nervously.
‘Ask him!’ Hassan shouted again.
Abdul swallowed hard and made an effort to concentrate. ‘What you communications?’ he asked.
‘I . . . I don’t know what you mean,’ the man said, desperately wanting to comply but too confused.
‘What . . . kind . . . of communication you work for? What communications?’ Abdul asked.
‘Phones. We put up mobile phone masts. We’re bringing communications to your country,’ Lamont said, pleading. ‘Please don’t hurt us.’
Abdul felt desperately sorry for the man but tried not to let it show as he spoke to Hassan. ‘He builds mobile phone masts.’
The man’s stare dropped to Abdul’s jacket that had opened and he caught a glimpse of his chest badge on his blue shirt. ‘You’re p
olice,’ the man said.
Hassan looked at Abdul’s open jacket, then at the naked woman and the old couple who were staring at the badge.
‘I have a DoD pass,’ the man said. ‘In my pocket,’ he added, suddenly hopeful that this could be resolved. ‘In my trousers. In the room,’ he went on.
Hassan looked at the man. He knew what a DoD pass was. It was an identification badge that all foreign reconstruction contractors carried. Issued by the US Army, it allowed them into the Green Zone as well as into coalition camps anywhere in the country. As a police officer, often running checkpoints, Hassan had seen hundreds of them. ‘Where’s his DoD?’ he asked Abdul.
‘In his trouser pocket in the bedroom,’ Abdul answered.
Hassan went into the bedroom.
‘And my passport,’ Lamont said. ‘I’m an American citizen,’ he added, clarifying his legitimacy.
Hassan returned with the man’s DoD, passport and wallet. He checked the documents and then the wallet: it contained a few hundred dollars which he pocketed. Then he turned his attention to the woman.
She had calmed down a little on realising that the intruders were police but she was still frightened.
‘Are you a whore?’ Hassan asked her coldly.
‘No. I am not a whore,’ the woman said in a defiant tone.
‘Are you Muslim?’ Hassan asked her.
‘Yes,’ she replied.
‘Then why are you sleeping with this infidel?’ Hassan asked as he looked down at her naked body, his gaze resting for a moment on her hand cupped protectively over her vagina.
‘Because I love him,’ she declared.
Hassan removed his balaclava and looked at her, a grimace of disgust on his face. He raised his gun, aimed it at her eyes, and squeezed the trigger.The pistol fired. Blood shot from the back of the woman’s head and splashed the wall behind her as she dropped to the floor, the life instantly gone from her.
‘NO!’ the naked man yelled, struggling in Karrar’s grip. The other woman screamed. Hassan gave Ali and Arras a cold look and the men fired their guns into the heads of the older couple who dropped instantly to the floor, their corpses sprawling next to each other.
The Protector Page 8