Wasim ignored the TV and called up a map of Iraq he had saved in a file on his laptop.
“If we go north, we enter Kurdish territory.” Henry nodded. He sat down next to Wasim. Mattie and Ali were still focusing on the TV.
“But we need a contact. The Kurds are not going to listen to four people dressed in the IS uniform and they certainly are not going to believe two of them are MI6 operatives.”
“That’s true…” The phone beeped. The battery was full. Wasim picked it up… time to let MOTHER know they had reached Mosul.
* * *
The DATA OPS team that covered Iraq and Kurdistan was working an emergency 24/7 schedule. The shock of the Mosul battle and the unstoppable IS advance had put the department on high alert and shocked everyone. Except perhaps their Kurdish contacts who had thought the Iraqi army was grossly underestimating IS.
“Do you have a moment?” Harris approached the desk of one of the analysts. He made time for Dan whenever he needed it and Dan was happy to reciprocate. They went to one of the small secure meeting rooms.
“What’s up?”
“I need to know whether any of our Kurdish contacts can extract people from Mosul?”
Dan whistled. “That’s a big ask. IS is trying to push past Mosul at the moment.”
“I’m sure they are, but still. There’s a large Kurdish community in Mosul or perhaps was. I’m sure people are desperate to leave.”
“And the Kurds are likely to help…” Dan looked up to find the clock on the wall. “I’m due to have a catch-up call in ten minutes with one of my contacts. You can join in if you’d like. He’ll give you a realistic update on the Kurdish army resources near Mosul.”
A few people he knew had gathered for the call. It was all about IS’s new caliphate. The Kurdish forces were as ever keen to tackle them, but they needed help and their relationship with the Iraqi government was always strained.
The Kurdish agent who came on the line was late. He had been assembling the latest data for the call and it was not good. “IS is pushing and succeeding on several points. We have no support from the Iraqi army. IS knows the terrain well. Some of them are either ex-Iraqi army who have deserted or former members of Saddam Hussein’s Ba’ath party.”
“How well connected are they locally?” Dan asked.
“Very well… and they can exploit the weaknesses of the Iraqis. We need better weapons and more equipment. IS has seized a whole arsenal of guns, RPGs… helicopters and armoured vehicles in Mosul.”
Harris introduced himself. “What is the situation in Mosul? Are you able to extract people?”
“Very difficult. We are trying to help those who are now stuck there but IS is closing its fist over the city. In a couple of days, it will be almost impossible, and our commander won’t take a chance. He needs his men on other fronts.”
“What about today or tomorrow?” Harris persevered.
“We can attempt to extract people tonight, just after nightfall.”
Harris nodded. “As people prepare to eat after the day’s fasting?”
“Correct. It’s usually a good time. If your people can be at the rendezvous point, I’ll speak to Commander Sanjabi and come back to you in an hour.”
“Much appreciated.” Harris had moved close to the loudspeaker to make himself heard. He withdrew and sat down. He might as well listen to the rest of the conversation – important information might come his way.
His mobile vibrated, a little buzz that usually irritated him. But today Harris could not take the phone out of his pocket quickly enough.
“Made contact, need you back in Control Room asap.”
* * *
Amina and James stood in front of the large map of the Middle East. They had meticulously reviewed the latest intel from OMA on the progress of all the protagonists in Syria and Iraq. A phone rang and it seemed unimportant against mapping the terrain and the area around Mosul. James turned around. “It’s your phone, right?”
Amina nodded, froze for a second: MOTHER’s phone was ringing.
She almost tripped over to reach it and lunged to press the answer button.
“Hello,” was all she managed to say. The aged voice using a voice transformation program sounded comforting.
“Mother. Your son Wasim is here.” She could hear the strain mixed with relief in his voice.
Amina forced her voice to remain calm. “It is good to talk to you, Wasim. It has been a long time, my son.”
“I have been busy. We are no longer in Raqqa.”
Amina exhaled. The line was secure and Wasim was free to speak openly.
“We’re in Mosul.”
“You are?” Amina was not sure whether she was relieved or worried.
“We are, in the Al-Jaza’r district, the Kurdish quarter. We have found a place that has been raided and is empty.”
“Is Henry with you?”
“Yes, and we also have Mattie Colmore with us.”
Amina blinked a couple of times. “But the hostage negotiation is still going ahead… it’s been agreed.”
“If it is, Mattie is no longer the hostage.”
“Harris is getting in touch with the Kurdish army to seek an extraction.” This was a more pressing issue and they needed to know. The door opened, and a startled Harris dashed into the Control Room.
“Speak of the devil.” Amina pressed the loudspeaker button and Wasim’s voice filled the room.
“We’re in Mosul.”
“Don’t repeat what you said to Amina, she’ll brief me. I’ve had the Kurds on the phone. There will be an extraction tonight. They’re giving us the rendezvous point in a couple of hours’ time.”
“I think we’re safe till nightfall… But IS is all over Mosul. Al-Baghdadi has moved there after his caliphate address…”
“No longer your problem. Is Crowne OK?”
“He is. When you speak to the Kurds tell them we have four people to extract.” Harris frowned. Amina mouthed Mattie Colmore and Harris broke into a grin.
“Mattie Colmore is with us and also a young fighter who has helped us escape.”
Harris’s grin disappeared. “An IS fighter?”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t know whether the Kurds are going to allow that.”
Wasim remained silent for a short moment. They could hear a muffled conversation at the other end of the phone.
“It’s four or nothing.” Henry had just come on the line.
“I’m not sure you’re in a position to make that decision.”
“I’m not sure you can afford to lose the intel I’m bringing back.” Henry’s bargaining voice had the right edge to make Harris think before he replied.
“Look, he’s a young guy who is not a threat. We couldn’t have made it here without him. Besides, he might become a good asset.” Wasim had taken over from Henry.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harris grumbled, but everybody knew he would do more than that and do all he could to get everyone out of Mosul.
* * *
The TV was working well enough and Ali had tuned into Bein HD4, the IS channel… video after video of propaganda, punishments for those who did not comply with IS rules followed by short lectures on its interpretation of Islam. Then came professionally slick short films of fighters, guns at the ready, throwing themselves into combat against the infidels and always defeating them. The news bulletin topped the hour, broadcasting reports of IS advances into new territory and more propaganda.
Henry and Wasim had decided to take it in turns to rest. Ali and Mattie had already disappeared and got much needed shut-eye too.
“I’m not surprised that some of the kids buy into all that crap.” Henry could not help but comment.
“I know, it’s well presented, polished. Not the amateurish rubbish every
one thought they would produce.” Wasim yawned. Henry stood up from his cross-legged position, stretched. “You go first. I’ll make some coffee and wait for the call, unless you’d rather talk to Harris?”
“Nah. I rather like the way you handled him. He sometimes needs to be told it the way it is.” Wasim disappeared as well.
Henry didn’t switch off the TV for fear he may lose the connection; still, the drivel annoyed him and he turned down the volume to a minimum. He walked to the kitchen, found an old dallah. He spooned coffee into it, poured some water and waited for the coffee to come to the boil. The blub blub of the pot and the aroma of the fresh brew somehow relaxed him.
He poured some into a thick glass cup, added some sugar and drank it slowly, in small sips. The liquid was burning hot. He had always liked drinking his tea as soon as it was made, a small habit he had taken from his mother.
It was now about 11am. He glanced again at the TV. More of the same. A woman was being punished by applying a jaw-like instrument that dug into her flesh. She had forgotten her gloves and shown her hand in public. Henry turned away from the screen. He had seen enough horrors in Raqqa and Mosul in only six days to know he had to deliver the USB keys to MI6.
* * *
We know where Mattie Colmore is had been Harris’s message to Sir John. The first phase of the hostage-for-prisoner switch was only a few hours away, with Maeraka leaving HSU Belmarsh for one of the military air bases in the UK. He would be flown to Cyprus and then dropped by helicopter into Aleppo for the exchange.
“She’s in Mosul with your team?” Sir John also seemed to be living off coffee judging by the impressive stack of empty cups piled on his desk.
“That’s right, sir. I’m in touch with the Kurdish army. One of their commanders is ready to help with a possible extraction as early as today.”
“Then what?”
“It depends whether the Kurds can deliver them close enough to the final rendezvous point we discussed near the border with Turkey.”
“Why not pick them up from Iraq?”
“Because IS now has command of the helicopters left in Mosul by the Iraqi army and their weaponry has become much more sophisticated.”
“You’re telling me that flying an SAS team into the area is too risky?”
“Al-Hasakah is in Syrian Kurdistan and only five hours away from Mosul even if they take the side roads or dirt tracks. If the Kurds can escort them to the border with Syria… It will work.”
“You’ve got a contact there, I presume?”
“I do.”
Sir John drank some coffee; his eyes were focusing on something Harris could not see.
“IS is still talking exchange. I presume they have decided on a switch of hostage and not told us.”
Harris nodded. “They can’t afford to admit they’ve lost Mattie Colmore.”
“Who knows about this?”
“My team and yourself.”
“No one at the Home Office?”
“No…” Harris bit his lip a few times. “And if we leave it that way a second woman can be freed.”
Sir John tapped his fingers on his desk a few times. “So, we say nothing. Get the exchange done, then what? If the Home Office realise we have not said anything it will be your head and mine on the block.”
“And we will have freed Maeraka.” Harris couldn’t quite argue against that. “Unless we can guarantee a hit on him after his release.”
“IS are not stupid. That’s what they will expect. This is being done in Aleppo for a good reason.”
“We could try to renegotiate, now that Mattie is not in Raqqa,” Harris suggested. “But she’s not out of IS territory, yet.”
Sir John shook his head. “If we tell them we know they’ve lost her before they are safe, IS will send everyone looking for them.”
“Colmore will do anything to avoid having his daughter’s name linked to the exchange though,” Harris fretted.
“I presume so too. His daughter for a much-wanted terrorist. Not good for someone who is so much against negotiating with terrorists.”
Harris followed his idea through. “If we don’t disclose what we know about Mattie to the Home Office, this would save him the embarrassment. He won’t have any reason to complain.”
“I know where you are going with this.” Sir John kept stirring his coffee without drinking any of it. “You’ve got until the end of today. Then we disclose Mattie’s situation.”
* * *
Henry had nearly succumbed to sleep when Wasim appeared in the main room to take his turn.
“No update.” Henry rubbed his eyes. “Not sure what to make of it.”
“Probably a good thing.” Wasim stretched. “You’ve turned the TV sound down?”
“May not be a good idea for sounds to come out of an empty apartment.”
Wasim nodded. There was nothing wrong with being a little paranoid.
Henry walked to one of the bedrooms and lay down on the mattress that had been stripped of its bedding. He went straight to sleep.
A knife is at his throat. He does not want to open his eyes. He feels the sharpness of the blade that is about to cut his skin.
“Don’t say a word.” Someone is whispering and yet the words are spoken with such hatred. “You betrayed us.” The voice’s sharpness drills into him. “You’ve betrayed all of us.”
Henry cannot move. He cannot defend himself for it is time. He betrayed the people whom he had called friends in London. He betrayed The Treasurer but of that he is glad. And yet there is Ireland, the O’Connors, for whom he has sacrificed his career and who have sold him to the British. Henry’s chest burns. He wants to cry out that he had believed and that he can be redeemed. The knife moves slowly. The pain is immeasurable. He opens his eyes wide. He yells a silent scream that will never be heard.
Henry sat up on the bed, his hand around his throat, panting, his body covered in sweat. He looked for the water bottle he had brought with him into the bedroom and finished it off in a few long pulls. He looked at his watch; he had slept for an hour. Henry shuddered and ran a hand over his face. He had not had one of those nightmares since he had left Belmarsh.
Why now?
Henry rolled onto his side and stood up. He made his way downstairs to join his team and stopped before entering the room. Mattie had also moved back to the main room. She looked peaceful, settled close to the TV and chatting with Wasim. Strong Mattie. Irresistible Mattie.
Ali was still asleep.
Henry walked into the room and joined the other two crouching in front of a tray on which someone had laid food and more coffee. Mattie smiled and asked whether he wanted anything. Henry nodded and she stood up to refresh the coffee. Henry cast an eye towards the TV set to avoid following Mattie’s silhouette out of the room. Henry and Wasim talked once more about their next move. The TV had again become a feature in the background.
The noise of a broken cup startled them both. Mattie had dropped the cups she was bringing back. She stifled a cry with her hand. A programme was showing three faces. People whom IS had branded betrayers and infidels… most wanted amongst all. Henry, Wasim and Mattie’s faces flashed on the TV screen with a one million dollar reward attached to their names and the praises of Commander Kasim al-Haddawi for being on the chase.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Harris was pacing up and down in the small meeting room. The call with Commander Sanjabi of the Kurdish Peshmerga had been delayed once more. It was already 1pm in Mosul.
Could the team make their way to Al-Hasakah from Mosul alone? It was a ridiculous idea. But so far Henry’s plan had worked. Who would have thought they would go to a town already captured by IS?
No one… including IS itself.
Still the caliphate was well organised, and their use of good media cover was surprisingly savvy. They would soon put
this to good use to track them down. Dan finally entered the room, already wearing an apologetic look.
“Heard some intel from the Kurds, the IS insurgents are marching towards Erbil. With their latest Iraqi recruits, they’ve got momentum.”
“You mean Sanjabi can’t extract my team until later? Is that it?”
“He said tomorrow at the earliest, perhaps even the day after that.”
“That’s not going to cut it.” Harris paused, distracted, biting his lip a few times. “How about you tell them there is a journalist involved… If they get it right, she will do an interview of them?”
Dan raised an eyebrow. “Should you even be telling me that?”
“Almost certainly not, and most definitely not them, but I’ve got to get those guys out today.”
“OK, it’s your call, but…”
“Yes, yes, if it goes tits up I’ll be in the firing line. I’ve been told that once today already.”
“I’ll speak to them again and call you back as soon as I have.”
Harris walked out in a huff. This was a bloody war zone in which various factions were trying to kill each other in the most gruelling of ways and IS was the worst of the lot. What did Dan expect? A form filled in triplicate? Harris stopped in his tracks. He had not heard from Brett since yesterday. Time to remind the British aristocracy it had a deadline to meet. Harris’s phone chimed: a text had been delivered.
Urgent, need you asap. “Shit, what now?” Harris broke into a jog to reach RED HAWK Control Room. Both Amina and James were on their respective computers, searching through data frantically.
“I’ve got it,” James shouted. Amina rushed around to his side of his desk. Harris found them still not knowing what he was looking for. The short TV package was now playing on YouTube in a loop. It showed three mugshots of Henry, Wasim and Mattie, and confirmed a reward of one million dollars for their capture.
“When did it start showing?”
“A couple of hours ago. Wasim called as soon as they saw it.”
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