by Chris Ryan
Thirty metres in. Seventy metres to the far side. The river depth had remained constant. The current, if anything, was a little weaker here, making it easier for them to wade across. Over his shoulder, Danny saw that the Hilux had reached the water’s edge. It stopped for a few seconds, then moved slowly into the river.
The unit continued moving forward. They were halfway across now, and Danny thought he could maybe feel the water becoming an inch or two shallower. Looking to his right, he could see that Naza was shivering badly. They needed to get her out of the water as quickly as possible—
‘Shit.’ Spud’s voice to Danny’s left. ‘What the hell’s he doing?’
Danny looked again. Now it was his turn to swear. The Hilux was halfway across the river, 100 metres due west of their position. It had picked up speed. Plumes of churned-up water were spewing from its wheel arches. And even over the noise of the rain, Danny could now hear the vehicle’s engine – a high-pitched scream as it revved its way through the water.
The unit instinctively lowered themselves so the water lapped over their shoulders. Danny kept eyes on the Hilux. It was only thirty metres from the far side of the river now. Twenty metres. Ten.
He looked beyond, desperately scanning the Iraqi side for threats.
Nothing.
Rojan was going to make it.
He was emerging from the river and heading towards the gap in the fence—
Danny saw the explosion before he heard it. In an instant, the Hilux transformed into a massive fireball. A split second later, the roar of the explosion hit their ears. It was massively loud, even from this distance across the water. Danny knew for a certainty that it would have been heard for a radius of at least a mile. Burning debris shot up into the air, and there were a number of secondary explosions – probably the ammunition in the weapons canister detonating.
A scream from Naza. Blood-curdling. ‘MY BROTHER!’
‘Get under the water!’ Danny shouted. But Spud had already done that, and Caitlin was in the process of dragging Naza under to protect them from any flying debris. Danny struggled out of his bergen, took a deep breath and then pushed himself under the floating pack.
Ten seconds. Twenty. He remerged, knowing that any shrapnel would now have fallen. The Hilux was a flaming shell. But even worse, he could see the headlamps of a vehicle beyond it, on the other side of the broken border fence. Impossible to tell its distance under these conditions. Maybe 500 metres? Maybe less. But definitely approaching. Fast.
‘Get back to the Turkish side!’ he yelled. But a moment later, he realised that wouldn’t be possible. Naza was no longer with Caitlin. They’d become separated. The Kurdish girl was now moving downstream, all arms and legs, a riot of splashes. She was at least twenty metres away, out of control, and the current was pushing her towards the Iraqi side.
Even worse, Caitlin was following her.
The headlamps were getting closer to the burning Hilux. Less than 400 metres, at an estimate. Spud was next to Danny. ‘We can’t get separated!’ he shouted.
He was right. They were more effective as a unit of three. It meant following Caitlin. ‘Go!’ he said, before launching himself after the women. He felt himself having to restrain a surge of panic. It would only take the headlamps of that vehicle to fall in the wrong direction and they’d be lit up like a Christmas tree. They needed cover, fast. That meant getting to the reeds on the Iraqi side as quickly as possible. Danny half-ran, half-swam, surging through the water that suddenly felt as thick as molasses. Up ahead, he saw Caitlin grab Naza, who was shivering and clearly in a state of great panic.
The water was only waist-deep now, the far side fifteen metres away. Danny checked on the approaching vehicle. It was 100 metres from the blazing Hilux, which put it about 170 metres from the unit’s position, and approaching the gap in the border fence. Close enough for them to be seen if they were unlucky. ‘Move!’ he hissed at the others. They surged forward towards the bank, covering the final ten metres in less than ten seconds. The border fence was twenty metres away. As soon as they reached the reeds, they flung themselves down into them, half submerged in the marshy ground. Spud was within earshot, about three metres to his left, while Caitlin and Naza were ten metres behind him. He could hear Naza crying and struggling. ‘Caitlin, keep her quiet,’ Danny hissed into his radio. He slung his wet rucksack in front of him, used it to rest his weapon on, raised his NV goggles and surveyed the scene through the sight on his weapon. ‘No one move,’ he whispered.
His field of view was somewhat obscured by the reeds, but he could make out the bare bones of what was unfolding ahead of him. The vehicle had reached the remains of the Hilux, from which thick smoke was now billowing as the rain hit the flames. Whatever had destroyed it was no makeshift IED. Danny’s money was on an anti-tank mine. But who the hell would be laying serious explosives like that? Danny flicked through the possibilities in his mind. IS militants? Turkish border guards? He didn’t think so.
He remembered Hammond’s warning before they deployed. ‘You realise that you won’t be the only SF team on the ground in northern Iraq . . .’
Men emerged from the new vehicle. At least seven, maybe eight. They were armed and possibly dressed in camouflage gear, though it was difficult to see through the rain. He couldn’t make out their faces. But he could tell, by the way they surrounded the Hilux with their weapons prepared, that they weren’t idiots. They were taking the time to double-check that there was no chance of any threat coming from the smouldering shell of the vehicle.
Fifteen seconds later, the group of men split up. Danny could tell now that there were eight of them. Three disappeared out of sight beyond the Hilux. They were obviously going to comb the riverbank in that direction.
Two stayed by the Hilux. The remaining three were heading the unit’s way.
Each man had a torch fitted to their rifle. They moved slowly and carefully, scanning the area ahead of them, paying particular attention to the reed beds. Distance: fifty metres, and closing.
‘Do we engage them?’ Spud hissed.
Danny paused. A firefight was the last thing they wanted. It put them at risk, and a noise could alert other people to their presence. Much better to stay hidden here in the tall reeds if possible.
But that might not be possible. The three armed men were doing a thorough job. If they got too close, the unit might not have any alternative. Sometimes, the only option was to shoot first.
And they were now only forty metres away.
Thirty.
They were walking in a flat line, about three metres apart. Danny directed his sights to the guy on his right. He knew, without having to ask, that as Spud was on his left, he’d have the guy on the left lined up.
‘Hold your fire,’ Danny breathed.
There was a sudden surge of more powerful rain. The three guys looked up, and for a hopeful moment Danny thought it would make them retreat. It didn’t. They just started moving more quickly, as if they wanted to get the job done sooner.
Twenty metres.
What if these were the Kurds? Danny cursed himself for not thinking of that before. He spoke very quietly into his radio. ‘Caitlin, do you copy?’
‘Roger that.’
‘Can Naza identify them?’
A pause. Then Caitlin said: ‘Negative. She says they’re not our contacts.’
That was all Danny needed to know.
Fifteen metres.
He squinted suddenly. One of the torch beams had shone directly into his sight, dazzling him. When he regained his vision a few seconds later, he knew immediately that something was wrong. The three men had stopped, and one of them was shining his torch directly at Spud. Even if he couldn’t see Spud himself, he had surely noticed the impression he was making on the reed bed.
Which meant there was only one call to make.
‘Take the shot,’ Danny said.
Chances were that the two guys on either side of the trio never even knew what happened
. Danny and Spud fired at exactly the same moment – the two reports of their weapons sounded like one – and the rounds found their targets in the men’s chests with deadly, unswerving accuracy. They collapsed immediately, but Danny had already turned his attention to the third man. At the sound of the weapons, he had dropped to the ground, so quickly that Danny had insufficient time to engage him. Alarm bells rang immediately – whoever this was, his reflexes were instant and he wasn’t panicking. This was not some IS shitkicker. This was a pro.
It wouldn’t save him though. Danny and Spud both knew where he had fallen. Danny altered the trajectory of his weapon just a few degrees. He clicked the safety switch to semi-automatic. Then he fired a substantial burst of rounds towards where the target lay. Spud did the same. The resulting thunder of gunfire lasted only a few seconds, but it was deafening. There was no doubt that it could be heard from a substantial distance. The other gunmen – whose vehicle was by the blazing Hilux, 150 metres away – now surely knew they were there.
As their weapons fell silent, Danny heard screaming from the guy they’d just hit. It didn’t last long, fading seconds later into a long, gurgling sigh. Danny’s attention was already elsewhere. Five enemy remaining. Well trained, well armed. He could see, through his sights, the silhouettes of the other three men running back up to their vehicle next to the burning Hilux. For a split second, he considered trying to take one of them out, but he knew it was a risky shot, and there was a chance of giving away their position, if they hadn’t already done so.
And then the moment was gone. Their enemy had taken cover behind their vehicle.
‘These are trained soldiers.’ Spud confirmed Danny’s intuition. There was a tense edge to his voice. ‘They had white skin. Not Iraqi or Turkish. Who the hell are they?’
Danny didn’t have an answer. Just more questions. ‘And why did they booby-trap the border crossing?’ But they couldn’t waste time figuring these things out. They were still in the heart of a firefight. ‘We need to keep our positions,’ he said. ‘If we show ourselves, they’ll be on to—’
He didn’t finish. There was a sudden burst of automatic fire from the direction of the vehicle: a dull, clunking heavy sound that told Danny this was more than an assault rifle. More like a machine gun. Rounds whizzed over their heads, and exploded on the riverbank all around them. As the ammunition flew, and just before he pressed his body hard into the ground to protect himself from the incoming, he caught sight of two figures heading towards them in a pincer movement, protected by the covering fire.
And then, from the vehicle, another burst of movement.
One of the armed personnel had pulled down the rear panel of the Hilux. Something smaller than a human, and much faster, darted out.
‘Attack dog!’ Danny shouted.
The dog was unbelievably quick. It shot towards them, barely visible through the reeds, eating up the 150 metres between them so speedily that it was simply impossible for Danny to track it through the sight of his rifle. With his naked eye, he saw it cross the open ground in seconds and hurtle between the two approaching armed personnel, and when there was a momentary lull in the covering fire, he heard the animal bark twice.
Danny was a dog man. He could hear the aggression in that bark.
He lost sight of the animal, but knew it was less than fifty metres away. He grabbed the handgun holstered in his ops waistcoat as he said into his radio: ‘Put the dog down if you can . . .’
The covering fire started up again. The pincer movement guys continued advancing.
‘Where the hell is it?’ Spud hissed.
Another bark. Somehow, the dog was to their left. ‘Caitlin!’ he shouted. ‘It’s going for you and Naza! Put it down! Put it down!’
Seconds later, his warning was met by a scream. Naza.
Danny rolled on to his back so he could see what was happening behind him. Caitlin and Naza were lying on their fronts ten metres away. Just as he turned, Danny saw the dog hit hard and fast. As it leapt through the reeds towards them, he immediately identified the dog as a Malinois. Lean. Hungry. Like a skinny Alsatian, it was all bones and muscle. It was going for Naza, leaping through the air in a perfect trajectory towards the girl.
Caitlin’s reaction was instinctive and lightning-fast. She hurled herself towards Naza, covering the girl’s body with her own to protect her. A fraction of a second later the dog thumped against Caitlin, landing directly on her back.
Naza screamed. Caitlin squirmed and tried to roll over, but the dog instantly clamped its jaws into Caitlin’s upper arm and started shaking its head violently.
The pain had to be bad, because the screams that followed didn’t come from Naza but from Caitlin, who was tussling and rolling with the dog. There was an aggressive, low growling and snarling. Danny aimed his handgun in their direction, trying to line it up with the dog. But it was impossible. The movement was too fierce and frenzied. He risked shooting Caitlin instead.
Suddenly there were three muffled gunshots. The attack dog whimpered momentarily, then fell away from Caitlin. She’d obviously managed to get some rounds into the Malinois’s guts to put it down, but even from this distance Danny could hear her heavy breathing, stuttering and painful, and small, terrified whimpers from Naza. He could tell the girl was frightened but unhurt. The same was not true of Caitlin. An attack dog like that could easily kill a man. Caitlin could be in a very bad way—
‘Danny!’ Spud’s voice was tense. Danny rolled over to his front again. The attack dog was dead, but it had done its job of identifying their position. The enemy personnel knew where they were now. Danny surveyed the open ground between them and the vehicle. The two advancing men had gone to ground. Danny did not doubt that they had their position in their sights. If the unit tried to move, they were dead.
More gunfire, low across the reeds. Assault rifles – 7.62s. It came from the two advancing men. They were covering the remaining three men, enabling them to move forward from the vehicle. Jesus. These fuckers were really after them. Danny suppressed a surge of panic in his gut. They were truly pinned down, by professional guys with excellent combat skills. It wouldn’t surprise him if these were special forces soldiers. In a corner of his brain he started cursing himself for going with Rojan’s plan. But he quickly cut off that line of thought. He needed to focus entirely on the present.
Which wasn’t looking good.
Silence.
Time seemed to slow down. He heard Spud hiss: ‘Frag?’ He had only half a second to consider whether a grenade would be a good idea – there was a good chance it would wound one of the men, but again the movement involved in throwing it might give away their exact position – before the enemy gunfire started up again. Short, coughing barks of automatic fire that told Danny without even having to look that the enemy were advancing again.
He tried to evaluate their options. Should they get back into the river, allow the current to pull them downstream? No. Caitlin was wounded. They’d be dead the moment they emerged from the reeds. There was nowhere else they could take cover here. It meant their only option was to engage the shooters. But that meant three against five, with no cover . . .
The gunfire fell silent again. Danny estimated that the five targets were twenty-five metres away. They had to do something. He slowly felt in his ops waistcoat for a fragmentation grenade. They’d run out of options. ‘Frags on three,’ he whispered to Spud. ‘Ready?’
‘Ready.’
‘One . . . Two . . .’
The enemy fire started up again. Deafening. At least two weapons, their rounds falling even closer . . .
Danny was about to shout ‘three’ and pull the pin on his frag when something stopped him. A new burst of gunfire. Heavy weaponry – at least a fifty-cal, by the sound of it – from a distance of maybe 100 metres. It completely dominated the relatively puny bark of the enemies’ rifles, and it chugged on, relentlessly – ten seconds, fifteen seconds – before stopping as suddenly as it had begun.
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nbsp; When it finished, it was replaced by the sound of agonised screams. Three voices, maybe four. The unmistakeable shrieks of men who would be dead in a matter of seconds.
Danny was breathing heavily, his heart pumping fast. He looked gingerly through the sights of his rifle. Perched on the horizon, 100 metres to his eleven o’clock, just beyond the gap in the border fence, was a second pickup truck, much like the Hilux that was now no longer even smouldering. And like the Hilux it had, mounted on the back, a fifty-cal machine gun, pointing directly at them.
The pickup started moving towards them, trundling slowly. The screaming had stopped. That didn’t mean all the enemy targets were dead, but they were severely weakened. ‘Everyone stay down,’ Danny hissed into his radio. He could see that the fifty-cal was manned by a single gunner, and while he had his suspicions about who these people were, he sure as hell didn’t want them to make a mistake and start firing on the unit.
Twenty seconds passed. For the first time in what seemed like hours, the rain suddenly subsided a little. Danny could hear the low growl of the pickup’s engine now. He found himself holding his breath as the vehicle drew closer. It stopped about thirty metres away. A voice called out. Male. Harsh. Danny didn’t understand it.
A pause. Then Caitlin’s voice came across his radio earpiece. Strained. Tense with pain. But audible. ‘The girl says it’s the Kurds. They’re telling anyone in the vicinity to show themselves with their hands in the air, or they’ll fire again.’
Danny hesitated. This went against every instinct he had. They would be putting themselves at the mercy of people they didn’t know, who had substantial firepower.
But they couldn’t fight back, and if these were the Kurds they were supposed to be meeting, they didn’t even want to.
‘Get Naza to shout back. Tell them she’s with three others, one female, two male. If we see any potential threats apart from her friends, we’re going to fire on them.’