Chapter 24
There was to be another conversation between the team in Fayzabad and Phil and Harry. Their satellite phone had limited life due to the batteries which drained quickly. They had brought a spare, but it would only last another thirty minutes at most. The weather where they were, still bleak, but the tent proved its worth, and the rations, referred to as MRE’s by the American military and stolen for sale in the Fayzabad bazaar were nourishing and warm, complete as they were with a flameless heater, a water-activated exothermic reaction.
‘We’ll need you and Phil to start removing the numbers in the village. Are you able to get in closer?’ Steve outlined the plan.
‘What about Rehmani and Habash?’ asked Harry. ‘We leave them alone.’
‘That’s correct. Are there any other men in the village?’
‘Some, but they don’t look like fighters.’
‘It’s a perfect disguise, just pretending to be a humble villager. I suppose most of them are, certainly not trained as fighters anyway,’ said Steve.
‘We were pretending to be medical staff. It didn’t fool the headman up in Larki,’ replied Harry.
‘Maybe Rehmani believes his reputation will keep him safe. Anyway, it’s up to you guys to go down to the village and reconnoitre.’
‘The temperature plummets quickly when the sun drops below the valley rim. We’ll go then.’
‘Are there any barking dogs to worry about?’ Steve asked.
‘Phil’s brought some poison. He’ll deal with them.’
‘We’ll give you tonight to prepare the area. Expect us at first light.’
‘First light, agreed,’ said Harry. ‘And remember to take us on the return flight. Phil may love it up here, reliving his commando training, but for me, it’s perishing cold.’
‘We won’t forget you. See if you can find out where the crates are.’
***
Late afternoon with the light dimming, and the temperature plunging rapidly, Phil took the opportunity to move forward cautiously to do an initial reconnoitre. The dogs were restless, at least the two that he could see, and he still had to wade part-way through a small stream and up a rocky incline. He was the most adept at close-in surveillance, but even for him, this was proving to be difficult.
At the first noise – and sound carried easily in the area – the dogs would be howling. The advantage of a strong gusting wind off the ravine, where they had traversed two days earlier had helped divert the sound he made when he stood on the broken branch of a small tree. He held his breath and hoped. The dogs, however, used to the cold, remained huddled up close to one of the huts where there was obviously a blazing fire inside. The wall adjacent to the fire in the hearth had heated sufficiently, and they were intent on achieving the maximum warmth possible.
The poison he carried was ideal for a piece of meat, but here he had neither meat nor dogs ravenous to digest. A blowpipe, some tranquiliser darts, and he managed to put the dogs into a slumber that would last all night and part way into the next day.
As he edged his way around the village, he saw little sign of activity. There was an old couple in one hut and some women in another, but no signs of armed men. The hut where Phil assumed Habash would be was located some distance from the others. It was five metres across open ground. Phil nervously scurried across.
Looking through a crack in the wooden door, he saw a couple copulating next to the fire. It was Samir Habash, and he was on top of the female. Phil left without disturbing and made his way slowly around all the huts in the village. Rehmani, he assumed, occupied the hut at the lower edge of the village, the one nearest to what had been a track before the snow had set in. Phil assumed him to be alone.
There were two more huts. In the days they had been observing the village, they had seen no movement, although the smoke emanating from the chimneys indicated they were the only place that armed men could be.
As Phil circled the first one, he heard the sound of men talking. He saw clearly that from their lookout on the other side of the small creek, the doors of both huts had been hidden from view. He attempted to look into one of the huts – the door was old and cracked and just about to fall off its hinges – when it opened and out strode a short and smelly man carrying a rifle over his shoulder. He joked to those inside as he defecated just two metres from where Phil remained motionless, barely emitting a breath.
As soon as his ablutions were over, the man re-entered the hut. Phil estimated at least four men and who, judging by the smell inside the door, had not been outside other than for the necessary since the snow had set in. They were clearly Taliban. Phil decided to give the other hut a miss and headed back to where Harry was waiting.
‘What’s the situation?’ asked Harry. ‘Are there any fighters there?’
‘At least eight and they look well-armed.’
‘Did you take any out?’
‘Not now, it’s too early. Phone Steve and confirm their time. Thirty minutes before they land, I’ll go over there again and slit a few throats.’
‘What about Habash? Did you see him?’ Harry asked.
‘I saw him, or at least his arse bobbing up and down on some Afghan woman.’
‘He doesn’t waste time,’ Harry said.
It was a little later when Harry was able to get through to Steve. The snow had set in again and the signal, weak at the best of times, was virtually non-existent in even the lightest snowfall.
‘Steve, it’s been snowing here. We need a more accurate time than first light What time can we expect you to land?’
‘Sunrise is forecast at just after seven o’clock tomorrow morning,’ Steve’s voice was barely audible over the crackling line. ‘So we’ll aim to be there with half-light at six forty-five. Is that okay with you?’
‘It’s fine. We need to deal with a few people first.’
‘Are there any fighters?’
‘At least eight, from what Phil can see. We don’t want to take out any too soon. If the time is firm, we’ll go in and see if we can even up the numbers.’
‘Is Habash confirmed?’
‘Yes, Phil’s certain he saw him with an Afghan woman.’
‘Any sign of the crates?’
‘No. We’ll need Habash to tell us where they are.’
***
Intelligence coming in from Kunduz was poor. There was still a small German military outpost at the airport, although their effectiveness was limited, and they were preparing to pull out and relocate back to their home country.
They had failed to query the early takeoff of the warlord’s helicopter. It was no longer in their mandate, even though it was known that he was an acknowledged rogue and villain.
In the past, there had been close to two hundred soldiers stationed at the airport, but with the situation around the world, they had reduced their numbers significantly. There were there at the warlord’s discretion, and he knew it. Any trouble from them and he would not have had any hesitation to reduce the forty remaining down to zero.
The use of the helicopter, a poorly maintained Russian Mi-8, stolen from the Russians as they bolted for the safety of Mother Russia some years previous had cost Al-Rashid two hundred thousand dollars, no room to negotiate. It was either the money or questions as to what he was up to. For the money, the warlord had supplied a couple of his own men for security, but they were neither prepared nor willing to die up a barren valley in the mountains. The warlord may have received a fortune, but they’d be lucky to get fifty dollars apiece.
Steve and team lifted off sixty minutes later, although the other helicopter was still unknown to them. Yanny had insisted on going and as she was a battle-seasoned fighter; Steve had reluctantly agreed. With Fahim at the commands, Zouhair was relegated to the co-pilot’s seat. The weather in the Hindu Kush had relented, and it was remarkable for the time of year – a clear, cloudless night and the stars were clearly seen.
It was not until they were over the town of Baharak that Fahim spoke
through his headset, ‘We’re not alone. There’s another helicopter, just to the right of us. You can just about see it, up about five hundred metres and five kilometres to the front. It’s apparently heading in the same direction.’
‘Have they seen us?’ asked Steve.
‘Probably not, but they will soon.’
‘Can we avoid them seeing us? At least until we’re closer to the village.’ Steve had not prepared for this eventuality.
‘I’m not sure. If I take another route, we may not get through.’
‘We’re committed to the direction,’ Steve said. ‘Head up the valley as if we’re going to Larki and then take the valley that turns off to the northeast. We either beat them to the landing site, or they’ll take Habash and the crates. Whatever we do it looks as if we’re in for a fight.’
Steve made contact with Harry down on the ground. ‘We’ve got another helicopter coming your way.’
‘I assume they’re coming for the same reason.’
‘It seems pretty clear that’s what it is.’
‘So we’ve no idea as to how many we’re up against?’ Harry asked.
‘There’s not much we can do about it. How are you and Phil going with levelling the odds?’
‘Phil’s working his way around the huts now,’ Harry said. ‘I’ve seen him signal three down so far, but that’s probably his limit.’
‘What about you?’
‘We’ve agreed that I’m better as a sniper. I’ve got a couple of M40 bolt action sniper rifles set up here on tripods with sound suppressors. I should be able to take the rest out as they exit the huts. I’ll wing Habash, slow him down if I have to.’
‘We need Rehmani as well,’ said Steve. ‘If he’s immobilised it won’t matter.’
‘I’ll keep those two alive. The rest are for termination.’
‘Can you see where the helicopters are likely to land?’
‘Yes. I assume you’ll both fight it out for the best landing position and then battle it out on the ground?’
‘That seems the only option now. We’re committed. We’ll be on the ground in ten minutes.’
‘Anyone exiting the other helicopter is fair game if I get a clear shot. Is that alright?’
‘Don’t hit the pilots,’ replied Steve. ‘We may need them if our guys get hit. Rehmani may have some surface to air missiles.’
‘I should be able to take them out before they have a chance to arm themselves with anything as serious as that,’ Harry said, confident in his skills with a rifle.
‘If you don’t, we still have the second helicopter.’
‘Okay, I’m signing off. I can hear the first helicopter.’
***
At the sound of the warlord’s chopper, the village came to life. Rehmani, ever cautious, kept clear of the area until his transport out had landed and was secure.
Two million dollars, plus the other loot he had plundered over the years, and an apartment in Dubai was all he wanted now. Al-Rashid, Habash, and all the other deluded fools could have their holy crusade. A few Russian prostitutes from the Cyclone Club – he was still young enough to enjoy them – and his life would be complete. That was if he could get out of the godforsaken village.
Rehmani’s brief interlude, believing his future was secured, interrupted by the sound of screams from his men - Harry’s skill as a sniper, justified. He had severely wounded two of the fighters, and another four were lying dead near the huts.
Rehmani had seen the situation. He knew he was in trouble. He needed to think quickly.
‘There’s a sniper off to your left,’ he shouted. ‘Can’t you see where the shots are coming from?’
‘Yes, Master, but he has us pinned down,’ Bazir, the one person that he trusted, shouted back across the ten metres that separated them.
‘He is only one man; we have eight. What can he do?’
‘We are only two now,’ replied Bazir. ‘He has someone with him. Some of our brothers have had their throats cut.’
‘Then it is for me to save your worthless souls. Grab my daughter. Bring her to me.’
‘As you wish, but she is with her husband. He will resist.’
‘What do I care? If he resists, send him to Allah.’
‘I will follow your command.’
Bazir had been with Rehmani for some years, proven himself to be a loyal employee. On several occasions, he had saved his leader’s life. He was to do the same again. Running, darting, he managed to cover the length of the village in an astonishingly short time.
He burst in on Habash and his bride, Farishta, a frightened child of no education and, to Habash’s annoyance, at least when he was not screwing her, no conversation. Bazir, a rough man, formidable with a gun, pushed Habash to one side with his right forearm and kicked him severely in the face with his foot. Temporarily stunned and unused to physical violence, he remained on the ground for sufficient time to allow Rehmani’s man to exit with the girl.
Bazir pulled her tight to the front of his body and manhandled her for the length of the village, ensuring that she was always pointing towards the other side of the valley where the sniper was. He had heard that the infidels would not shoot a woman. What scorn he would have had for such weakness had he the time for such reflection, but he did not.
At the moment he released his grip on the thin and pallid child, Harry seized the opportunity. With a clear sight from the second of his M40s and with a new bullet in the barrel, he squeezed the trigger and shot him straight through the chest, slightly to the left of the heart.
Rehmani knew full well that he was safe as long as he held his daughter close, edged towards the waiting helicopter. He looked over to the warlord’s two henchmen and the only one of his men still standing.
‘The crates are over there,’ he shouted, ‘not more than ten metres, under that mound of soil. Grab them and let’s get the hell out of here.’
‘We are here to guard the helicopter, not to do your work,’ one of the henchmen shouted back.
‘You are a fool. Do you think your master will reward you for your cowardice when I inform him?’
‘We will bring the crates,’ the reluctant henchman said.
Harry, unable to take out the two henchmen as the helicopter was in his line of sight, could only watch as he saw it prepare to leave. Phil had been momentarily delayed after one of the fighters managed to get past his guard, inflicting a nasty gash across his face with the blade of a knife. Temporarily blinded and blood streaming into one eye, it had taken him precious minutes to recover.
‘Quickly, can’t you hear the other helicopter?’ Rehmani screamed. ‘Let’s get out of here before it lands.’
The warlord’s Russian helicopter had one advantage over the well-serviced and maintained helicopter that Fahim had been piloting. It had not suffered a minor malfunction that reduced its performance.
As it lifted off the ground, the Taliban leader pushed his daughter roughly from his grip. ‘Your husband can look after you. I hope you have a good life.’
A minute later, the helicopter carrying Steve and the others came into view.
‘What happened? What kept you?’ Harry asked angrily when they landed.
‘It’s the fuel we bought in Fayzabad,’ Fahim reluctantly admitted. ‘I knew it smelt off when we put it in, but there was no option.’
‘And what happened?’
‘Loss of power.’
‘What’s the situation here?’ Steve asked.
‘I’m surprised to see you here, Yanny,’ Harry said.
‘Why? I’ve been into the field in Afghanistan before. I didn’t receive all those medals just for sitting behind a desk at headquarters.’
‘No, I wasn’t referring to that,’ Harry admitted.
‘Is he here?’ she asked.
‘He’s here. Phil has him, although you’re not going to recognise him.’
‘Where are the crates?’ Steve asked.
‘In the other helicopter and we’ve no id
ea where it’s heading. I assume we can’t follow it in this old bucket?’
‘Unfortunately, we can’t,’ replied Fahim. ‘But I believe it can be monitored. Is that correct, Steve?’
‘The American military have satellites all over this place. I’ll get Ed Small onto it.’
Just then, a reluctant and dirty tribesman, his face covered in congealing blood, was escorted down to the helicopter, his hands tied firmly behind his back with a couple of cable ties. Some distance behind, a small child walked, her head covered with a scarf.
‘Hello, Samir. We meet again.’
‘Yanny!’ replied Samir when he saw her. ‘I wish it could be different. I never expected it to turn out this way. And I certainly didn’t expect to be up here in this village, meeting you under such circumstances.’
‘And the child?’ said Yanny. ‘Is this your new plaything?’
‘She is Rehmani’s daughter, my tribal wife.’
‘How could you? She should be in school.’
‘She has never been to a school,’ replied Samir. ‘She has never been out of this valley.’
‘What do we do with her?’ Steve asked. ‘Can we use her to bargain with her father? I assume he has the crates?’
‘He has the crates,’ said Harry. ‘And no, we cannot bargain with him. He used her as a shield and then dumped her here.’
‘He is a cruel and deceitful man,’ said Samir. ‘He cares neither for his daughter nor the cause.’
‘And what cause is that, the senseless slaughter of millions of innocent people?’ Harry responded.
‘If the Israeli government had listened and acted after the first Haredi settlement, none of this would have happened. There would have been no millions.’
‘This is not the place to discuss semantics,’ Steve said, sensing the urgency. ‘We need to get back to Fayzabad and the sooner, the better.’ The brief call from Ed Small had indicated that the helicopter carrying Rehmani and the crates was being tracked, and it was heading west. ‘Put Habash, or whatever his name is, on board and let’s get out of here.’
Terrorist: Three Book Boxed Set Page 29