by Chris Ryan
Distance to the ground, six metres. No sound. No evidence of a threat. But that didn’t mean there wasn’t one. The cave mouth, directly below him, was out of sight.
Danny jabbed one finger forward to indicate that the others should approach. They joined him silently. Spud got down into the same position and covered the brow of the cliff with his weapon, with Naza just behind him. Danny moved over to the gully they’d used to descend, and started to manoeuvre himself down it, as quietly as possible.
Halfway down, he double-checked that Spud was still covering him. The silhouette of his mate, gun barrel protruding from his chest area, was still there.
It was too awkward to hold his rifle usefully as he continued to descend. Instead, he pulled his handgun from his holster and unlocked it, while his rifle swung from his neck. Every sense was on high alert, finely tuned to the smallest movement or sound. He looked back up. Spud was still effectively covering the ground in front of the cave, so Danny continued his descent. Bit by bit. Rock by rock.
He reached the bottom of the cliff, holstered his Sig and returned to his rifle. Distance to the cave mouth: seven metres. He flicked down his NV goggles, engaged his weapon and advanced.
Five metres. Pause. Listen. Nothing.
Three metres.
With his weapon still covering the cave mouth, he looked up and raised one hand at Spud, before turning his attention back to the cave. On the edge of his vision he could see Spud retreating from the top of the cliff. A few seconds later he sensed movement behind him. He knew that this was Spud leading Naza down the gulley.
Sixty seconds passed. Danny looked to his right. Naza was lying on the ground, Spud on one knee, covering the mouth of the cave.
Danny stepped forward. He was now just one metre from the opening. He could see about halfway into it. Green NV haze. No movement. The temperature, already low, dropped a little more in the vicinity of the cave mouth. Despite that, Danny was sweating. The unpleasant stench hit his nostrils again. Somehow, it seemed even stronger this time. More sinister.
He moved forward, covering the cave mouth with his weapon. This was where they had last seen Caitlin. Now there was no sign of her.
He inched into the cave. He knew he was in a dangerous position. Anyone could be hiding in there and he was an easy target.
He took two more steps inside . . .
Movement. Danny twisted towards it, but suddenly felt the cold steel of a gun barrel against his right cheek.
He froze. Without moving his head, he glanced right.
‘What’s wrong with your radio?’ he said.
The gun barrel fell away. Caitlin stepped into his line of vision. ‘Dud battery, I reckon,’ she said shortly. ‘Spud going to plug me if I step outside?’
Danny engaged his radio, his tension easing. ‘Stand down,’ he instructed. He nodded at Caitlin, who moved out of the darkness of the cave into the relative light of the desert night. Danny flicked up his NV and joined her. Spud engaged the safety catch on his weapon and let it hang across his chest. Danny could see the relief in his face.
‘Who’s the sheila?’ Caitlin asked quietly, so the girl wouldn’t hear their conversation.
‘Her name’s Naza.’
‘She’s just a kid. What idiot brought her?’
‘Her brother. Thinks a lot of himself.’
Caitlin ignored him and stepped towards the Kurdish girl. ‘How old are you?’ she asked.
‘Eighteen.’
‘The hell you are,’ Caitlin said. She turned to the others. ‘We should get away from here,’ she said. ‘There’s been movement out there. Wild animals. Dogs, I think. How far’s the vehicle?’
‘Five hundred metres.’ Danny looked back to the cave. ‘Let’s get our stuff and go.’
They left the HALO gear where it was. Danny and Spud carried the freefall container between them. Caitlin strode up to Naza. ‘Stay close to me,’ she said.
Naza didn’t argue. She couldn’t take her eyes off Caitlin, and the arrogance seemed to have left her.
The weapons container was heavy, but Danny and Spud were equal to the task of transporting it across the undulating terrain towards the Hilux, even if it meant they were sweating heavily by the time they reached it. Rojan was still in position at the fifty-cal. ‘We are safe,’ he called when he saw them approach. ‘I have kept us safe.’ He had removed his shemagh again to reveal his sewn-up eye, and seemed very relieved to see them. He jumped down from the back of the pickup, then staggered back when he saw Caitlin bearing down on him. ‘What the hell are you thinking,’ Caitlin hissed, ‘bringing her along? What is she, fourteen?’
‘Don’t talk to me like that, woman,’ Rojan said, but he looked a little less sure of himself.
Caitlin was about to go for him, but Danny got between them. ‘Leave it,’ he instructed. ‘I mean it.’
Caitlin spat. The Kurd ran over to his little sister. ‘We need them,’ Danny warned her.
‘Happy to have fourteen-year-old girls on the team now, are you?’
‘Not really. But we still need them.’
He looked over to where Rojan was putting a solicitous arm round Naza’s shoulders, but she shrugged him away and turned to Spud. ‘Open it,’ she said, pointing at the freefall container.
Spud had a faint smile in his eyes, as though there was entertainment value to be gleaned from taking orders from this kid. He unsealed the canister and pulled out one of the Stingers. He handed it to Rojan, who made a show of checking it over, before nodding and handing it back. ‘What else?’ he said.
‘Radio packs,’ Spud told him. ‘Only we need one of them now.’ He removed one of the packs and threw it to Caitlin, so that she could scavenge the battery. He looked around. ‘How far to the Iraqi border?’
‘About two hours,’ Rojan said, as if it was nothing. He looked at his watch. ‘If we leave now, we’ll get there just before dawn. That’s a good time to cross. Most patrols change over then. We have friends on the other side of the border. They have been driving around for the last few hours, looking for Daesh patrols. It is safer to travel in convoy when we reach Iraqi territory.’
Spud and Danny lifted the canister up into the back of the pickup. Caitlin removed her med pack from her bergen, before stowing the bag into the rear of the Hilux with the rest of the gear.
‘I’m driving,’ Danny said.
Naza stepped forward, obviously about to argue. Caitlin put one hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s OK, honey,’ she said. ‘You sit in the back with me.’ The girl sniffed, but she did as she was told. Danny took the wheel with Rojan beside him. Spud and Caitlin were either side of the back seat, with Naza in the middle. Danny turned the engine over, performed a three-point turn and started heading back to the T-junction.
‘If anyone stops us,’ he told Rojan, ‘you do exactly what we tell you. Understood?’
Rojan frowned. He obviously didn’t like the instruction. Danny stopped the vehicle. ‘Understood?’ A pause. Rojan nodded. They started up again. Danny glanced in the rear-view mirror as the vehicle trundled along the rough road. Caitlin was staring in contempt at the back of Rojan’s head. Naza was watching her with rapt attention. Like a kid watching her big sister.
Caitlin caught Danny looking at her. Their eyes locked and the flicker of a smile crossed her lips. There was a time, on a previous op, when Caitlin had made it pretty clear she was interested in Danny. He’d made it just as clear that was never going to happen, but he also knew Caitlin wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. She held his gaze as she replaced her jacket. Danny locked his back on to the road.
‘You OK?’ he said.
Caitlin looked straight ahead. ‘Just drive the car, Danny Black,’ she said, before turning her attention to the radio pack that needed fixing.
December 22
Twelve
Dawn broke over the Dubai skyline, the reflection of a blood-red sun glittering off the acres of mirrored glass. A black Mercedes with tinted windows was parked
outside the front of the hotel. It had done the rounds of every exclusive club in the city, before returning here two hours ago. The driver was tired, but he knew he couldn’t sleep. Just because his royal passenger had returned to his hotel, it didn’t mean the party was over.
Far from it.
In the penthouse suite, the main room was a mess. There were two empty bottles of booze on the cocktail bar, one of them lying on its side. Anyone inspecting the counter a little more closely would easily discover a dusting of white powder. There were several drinks glasses dotted around the room, some empty, some half-full. And there were clothes strewn across the floor. Women’s clothes. Four sets. Not much to them.
Two of the women to whom the clothes belonged were in one of the bedrooms that led off the main room. They were hot Eastern Europeans with creamy skin and jet-black hair who had worked out the preferences of certain rich visitors to Dubai. They were naked apart from their jewellery, kneeling together on the bed with their bodies pressed close, kissing. Now and then one of them would moan, then glance towards the man splayed out in the comfortable armchair on the far side of the room, watching them. Tony Wiseman had a chunky tumbler of Scotch in one hand, and he watched the show these two girls were putting on for him. He knew their sound effects were entirely for his benefit, but he didn’t care. All in all, his evening had turned out better than he’d expected. He’d ended up inside his own personal porn movie. It sure beat slumming it on some ship with a bunch of stinking Marines and those cunts Danny Black and Spud Glover.
The thought of them made him take another pull of his drink. He must have frowned involuntarily because one of the girls – Tony couldn’t remember their names – looked suddenly worried. She disentangled herself from her friend and walked over to him, her naked hips sashaying seductively. ‘What’s the matter, honey?’ she said. ‘We not doing what you like?’
‘You’re doing fine,’ Tony told her. He put one hand on her naked arse as she bent over and started to unbutton his shirt.
‘Why not come and join us,’ she whispered.
Yeah, Tony thought. Maybe I will. He downed the rest of his drink, let the empty glass drop on to the carpet and pushed himself up out of his chair, with the girl still semi-draped over him. He stroked the curve of her hips and allowed himself to stare greedily at her breasts.
‘Get back to the bed,’ he told her.
The girl did as she was told. But halfway there, she stopped. A noise had come from an adjoining room. A woman’s scream. Half scared, half pained.
The two girls exchanged a worried look, but Tony was already striding towards the door, buttoning up his shirt. Any sensation of drunkenness had disappeared. ‘Stay there,’ he told the girls, before exiting the bedroom.
There was nobody in the main room of the suite. It was exactly as Tony had left it. There was another scream. Panicked, this time. It came directly from the room Tony knew to be Yellow Seven’s bedroom, where he’d disappeared with two girls of his own twenty minutes ago.
Tony hesitated for a moment. Then, instead of entering that bedroom, he moved swiftly over to the main entrance to the suite. He knew the CP guys would be manning the door. Clearly they hadn’t heard the screams – they’d have barged in at the slightest hint of trouble. Something told Tony he didn’t want that to happen, so he locked the door from the inside before running back across the room and bursting into his new mate’s bedroom.
It was carnage in here. Bedclothes were strewn all over the floor. A bottle had smashed on the carpet. Of the two girls Yellow Seven had taken to bed, one was in the corner of the room, a large white bath sheet pulled up to cover her naked body. The other was standing naked between the bed and the door. She had a swollen eye and a bleeding lip. Her hair was badly messed up, as though she’d been in a struggle. Yellow Seven was standing in front of her wearing a white robe. He had red eyes, and a spaced-out expression. The girl was staring at him in utter terror. There was no doubt in Tony’s mind as to who had roughed her up.
Self-preservation was second nature to Tony Wiseman. He knew, immediately, that this scenario could end up very badly for him. Yellow Seven, fuelled up on booze and coke, slapping some bird around on Tony’s watch. He knew how the world worked. Only one person was going to get the blame for this – and it wasn’t the guy standing in front of him in a dressing gown. He had to make some decisions, and fast.
Tony strode up to him. ‘Get in the bathroom,’ he said. Yellow Seven looked like he was going to argue. ‘Do it!’ Tony pushed him in the right direction. He stumbled out of the bedroom and slammed the door behind him. Tony hurried over to where the girl was cowering in the corner. He grabbed her arm and pulled her across the room to where the girl with the mashed-up face was standing. He spoke in a low, aggressive voice. ‘This is what happened,’ he said. ‘You were invited back here for a drink. You accepted. While you were here, I saw you sneak into our friend’s bedroom and try to steal from him. I confronted you and you went at me with a knife. I retaliated.’
The girls looked at him in horror. ‘He got angry because we refused to—’
‘I don’t want to hear it, love. Trust me, if it comes to it, it’ll be the word of a couple of hookers against a member of the British royal family. Who do you think the Dubai authorities are going to side with? You ladies will be in one of their shithole prisons before you fucking know it. No one will believe you.’
The girl with the bruises started to cry. The other one just blinked at him, uncomprehendingly.
‘Get your clothes on,’ Tony told her with a sneer, ‘and get out. Now!’
The two girls scrambled out of the bedroom. Tony followed. Less than an hour ago, he’d been watching appreciatively as they undressed. Now he barely looked at them as they put their clothes back on. Instead, he walked into the bedroom he’d been using. The two girls had put on towelling robes. They were sitting on the edge of the bed, clearly anxious. ‘Time to go home,’ Tony told them.
One of them started to ask a question. She didn’t get the chance. ‘Out!’ Tony shouted. ‘Now.’
He could tell they had suddenly become frightened of him. Good. He followed them out into the main room. The other two girls were dressed, but they looked a mess, their make-up tear-stained and streaming. One of them moved towards the main door, but tripped in her high heels as she went.
‘Wait,’ Tony told her. ‘You all leave together.’
It took the two remaining girls less than thirty seconds to dress. Nobody spoke. The girl with the split lip looked fucking awful. If anyone saw her, they’d ask questions. Tony moved to the front door and opened it. The two CP guys were there. They looked knackered and pissed off, but clearly knew something was going down – maybe they’d heard the door locking.
‘Is there a back way out of here?’ Tony demanded.
One of them nodded.
Tony looked over his shoulder. ‘These four are leaving. Make sure nobody sees them. Take each one home. Make sure you see their front doors close behind them.’
‘We’ll take our instructions from his—’
He didn’t finish the sentence. Tony grabbed him by the collar and pushed him hard up against the wall. ‘You’ll do what I fucking say,’ he breathed, ‘unless you want to end up on the front page of the Sun, and out of a job. Got it?’
He didn’t wait for the answer. He just strode back into the room where the girls, fully dressed and terrified, were waiting. ‘Any of you sluts mention a word of this, you’ll be screwed, your family will be screwed,’ he said. He strode up to the girl who’d been roughed up. ‘And if you think you look bad now, wait till I have a go at you. Now get out of here.’
They couldn’t wait to leave. Ten seconds later, Tony was alone in the room. He gathered his thoughts, then headed back into the royal bedroom. No sign of him, so he rapped hard on the bathroom door. No answer. He tried the handle. The door opened.
Yellow Seven was sitting on the edge of the bath. He was still wearing his robe, and he had
the bright-eyed, slightly wild expression of someone dosed up with marching powder. He sniffed, and licked his lips rather fast. ‘Are they gone?’ he asked.
‘Gone,’ Tony said.
‘Got a bit carried away. Hope they don’t mention it to—’
‘They won’t. I saw to it.’
Yellow Seven smiled. ‘Sweet,’ he said, his eyes going slightly out of focus. ‘It’s, er . . . it’s good to have you on board.’ He stood up rather uncertainly. ‘We’ll find a job for you. With the family. If you’re interested . . .’
Tony walked over to the shower and switched it on. ‘Get cleaned up,’ he said. ‘We need to leave Dubai this morning.’
Yellow Seven blinked. ‘Why?’ he said. ‘I thought we were having a blast—’
‘This morning,’ Tony repeated.
A pause.
‘Right,’ Yellow Seven said. ‘Sweet.’
Tony left, closing the bathroom door behind him. He scanned the room, immediately picking out a couple of glasses dotted around the place. He gathered them up and looked at the rims. Lipstick. He rummaged in a wardrobe and found a sturdy bag intended for dirty linen. He dumped the glasses into it, then examined the bedclothes. There was a smear of blood on one of the pillowcases. He stuffed that into the bag too.
He could hear the shower still running, and he took a moment to pause. What had the twat said? We’ll find a job for you. With the family. Part of him recoiled at the thought. He’d be the laughing stock of Hereford. But another part of his brain was coldly calculating the potential benefit to him. It was well known that the SAS gave the royals a bit of a hard-on. Now and then they took a Regiment guy – usually a Rupert – under their wing. The chosen one would be in attendance at every royal event. He’d appear in the background of every royal photo. He’d have unprecedented access. And he’d be made for life.
There was no doubt about it. If that jumped-up little turd, with his penchant for nose candy and slapping around hookers, was in Tony’s debt, he, Tony, could work it to his advantage. Big time.