Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  “In the cockpit, Luk. You’re flight crew, remember?” I whispered.

  “Oh yeah, right.”

  Rachel smiled and took his arm to lead him forward to the jump seat in the cockpit, just behind her right hand co-pilot’s seat. I was pleased to see that he ignored her limp. She started the engines, and I checked with the tower. We were cleared for immediate taxi and take-off, which was no surprise. Five minutes later, we were climbing to the north west, with the rising sun behind us. It lit up the sky in a kaleidoscope of vivid colors, and Rachel smiled at me.

  “We’re really back in business, Max. How does it feel?”

  “Ask me when it’s all over,” I called back.

  She pulled a face. In truth, I was convinced we were totally screwed. Screwed if we went ahead, screwed if we didn’t.

  * * *

  They’d waited a short while after dawn; time enough for the reconnaissance drones to sweep the Kabul-Kandahar Highway, and for the data to be analyzed. The intelligence guys gave the road a clean bill of health, so they set out for the return journey. The convoy was a reverse of the inbound leg. Rains led the way in his Stryker, with the Afghan M35 trucks strung out behind. Another Stryker was positioned in the center of the column, and the rear was brought up by the third APC. For some reason, the Lieutenant felt more confident. After all, the road had been cleared. Corporal Delgado issued a stream of reports about air activity, and Rains was able to identify several drones that passed overhead. Reconnaissance drones, he assumed. Or maybe they were MQ-9 Reapers, the fearsome attack drones. Rains knew they were controlled remotely by operators stationed at bases such as Creech Air Force Base, near Las Vegas. Thousands of miles away, the operator could control the hunt for targets and observe terrain using a number of sensors, including a thermal imaging camera. The operator's commands only took a fraction over a second to reach the drone via a satellite link. The MQ-9 was fitted with six pylons for ordnance and extra fuel tanks. An MQ-9 with two one thousand pound external fuel tanks and a thousand pounds of munitions had an endurance of forty-two hours; an awful long time to hunt down the bad guys. The weapons load included GBU-12 Paveway II laser-guided bombs, AGM-114 Hellfire II air-to-ground missiles, and the AIM-9 Sidewinder. It all added up to a good feeling of security, and just knowing they were there was quite a comfort.

  It was so easy. It was a breeze! Maybe the reports of Taliban activity were macho exaggerations, he considered. They completed the long, uncomfortable journey to Kabul without meeting a single enemy fighter. Every man breathed a sigh of relief, especially when they climbed out of the vehicles to exercise their aching muscles. Traveling on Afghan roads was like being beaten in the ass by baseball bats. At least, it was on the main highway. The secondary roads were worse. Rains decided it was time to relax and get to know his crew.

  “You men, if any of you are interested, I’ll buy you all a drink when we’ve checked into Phoenix. I reckon we’ve earned it.”

  There were grunts of appreciation. Sergeant Mason nodded at him. “Good idea, LT. That’ll give the boys a chance to get to know you. We’ve hardly had time to get acquainted since the unit was assembled in country.”

  “They’re good troops, and I’m looking forward to relaxing over a few beers,” Rains replied, feeling that at last he’d said the right thing. “I’m gonna take a look up top, let some air inside now that we’ve made the city.”

  “I’d be careful if I were you, Lieutenant,” Sergeant Mason cautioned.

  “No worries, Sarge. I need to see the beautiful blue sky again. That was a long trip.”

  He opened up the hatch and poked his head out. The city of Kabul was bustling. The sidewalks thronged with men in turbans and pakuls, and veiled women. Women in the city wore the traditional blue burqa, just like their counterparts in the countryside. The garment enshrouded them from head to foot, with just a mesh screen in front of their face for them to be able to see out. Christ, how did they manage to swallow a cold drink through that weird contraption! His prevailing impression was dust, rubble and decay. There was little evidence of the billions of dollars that has been spent on infrastructure, at least, not here. He looked casually at a motorcycle that drew alongside the column. The guy steering it wore a turban, and on the pillion seat a blue robed woman sat, her burqa flowing in the slipstream as the bike roared along the road.

  “The fucking maniac, he’s much too close to the trucks. He’ll be under the wheels if he gets any nearer.”

  “What’s that, Lieutenant?” Mason opened the adjacent hatch and poked his head out. He glanced at the motorcycle then ducked down, shouting at Rains.

  “Suicide bomber, get inside and shut that fucking hatch!”

  The officer heard the words and reacted with the speed that had been drummed into him during basic training. Both hatches clanged shut almost at the same instant, and a split second later there was a huge explosion that rocked the vehicle on its suspension. The soldiers were flung across the interior, and only their Kevlar helmets saved their heads from being dashed against the steel hull. Rains felt a blow to his head and shook it to clear his brain. The tactical screen had gone white as the software automatically went into reboot mode. The soldiers picked themselves up off the floor and felt their limbs for anything broken. Sergeant Mason was already peering through the optical periscope.

  “Those poor bastards,” he said, his voice colored by the anger he felt. “They’ve lost two of the trucks. There’s almost nothing left.”

  Rains waited until the Sergeant ceded the periscope to him. The scene was one of utter devastation, and the two trucks were smoking skeletons of metal and rubber. There was no sign of the crews. Their bodies had been shredded in the blast. He felt a terrible sadness, a sense of failure. They were in his charge, and he’d failed them. Mason looked at him, seeing his despair.

  “It’s not your fault, Lieutenant. This is normal. Welcome to Afghanistan.”

  “It happened on my watch, Sergeant. The fuckers, I’d like to make them pay for this.”

  “I hear you, LT. But they already did. It was a suicide bomb, so they will be a bucket load of little pieces. They’ve made their payment.”

  When they returned to Camp Phoenix, it was as if nothing had happened. It didn’t make Rains feel any better. Maybe it was normal for this hellhole of a country, but it wasn’t normal for him. Next time, he’d make sure he was more alert. Maybe it would make a difference, maybe not. But he’d try. Major Fairchild was sympathetic.

  “It’s bad luck that it happened on your first mission, Rains. Don’t let it worry you. I’ve got something coming up that you can do for me. They’ve got an outbreak of disease in Pakistan, some little town over the border. Medecin Sans Frontieres is sending some of their people to go over there and help them out. You can run escort for them. It’s a milk run over the Khyber Pass, so you shouldn’t hit any problems. I’ll let you know when everything’s in place for you to go. In the meantime, just take it easy. Relax, have a few beers.”

  His weapons specialist, Corporal Delgado, was having an equipment malfunction. When he went to check, he found shreds of flesh hanging from his aerial array. The shreds of Afghan Army uniform were still visible, and Delgado took them down.

  “Hey, guys, lookee here what I’ve found.”

  He proudly showed what he’d found. Rains excused himself and barely made it to the bathroom to throw up.

  Chapter Five

  To America I say I swear by God the great... America will never taste security and safety unless we feel security and safety in our lands and in Palestine.

  Osama Bin Laden

  The messenger rushed into the inner cave. “They are coming, these infidel Americans. The assassins, they’re on their way!”

  Commander Abdul Qadir ignored him for a few moments. Then he turned to him, not reaching for the piece of paper. “Calm down, Mohammed. We already knew this.”

  "But, Commander, their plane has already departed. We have no idea where they will str
ike. They may even be coming here.”

  “In which case they will die, my young friend. Our preparations are all ready. Now, give me the message.”

  He scanned the paper and frowned. “It seems there are nine of these American killers. The message does not say exactly where they are planning to attack, so we will just have to keep alert and watchful.”

  “It will spread our forces very thin, Commander,” one of his squad leaders objected. “Even though they are small in number, they will have unlimited resources, air support, drones, reinforcements and artillery.”

  “Perhaps,” Qadir nodded, deep in thought, “but I think not. These killers come alone, so that their government can disown them when they are killed, which they surely will be. Send out word to all of our fighters. They are to be prepared and send word to me here when they see where these infidels land.”

  The man inclined his head. “It shall be as you say, Commander. We shall slaughter them as soon as they set foot on our soil.”

  “If God wills it, yes, we will slaughter them,” he agreed. But privately, he thought, what if God does not will it? He had no answer for that question.

  * * *

  We had traveled for almost an hour, and still there was no clue as to our destination. I went back into the cabin to find Ed Walker. He was sat on his own, a few feet from his men, who were stretched out and dozing. I tapped him on the shoulder, and he looked around.

  “Yeah, what is it?”

  “I need the destination airport, Mr. Walker. Where are we going? You can’t keep it to yourself any longer. I have a plane to fly.”

  “Ok, sure.” He handed me a piece of paper. “We’re heading there. It’s a map reference.”

  “I can see it’s a map reference, but which airport is it?”

  “I’ve no idea, Hoffman. You’re the pilot. Look it up,” he sneered.

  I went back to the cockpit without another word. I keyed the coordinates into our navigation system, and there was no airport within a hundred miles. Nothing. I went back to find Walker. He was waiting for me, wearing a challenging look on his face.

  “Where’s the airport? I’ve checked, and there’s nothing there.”

  He nodded. “Then I guess you’ll just have to wait and see what they’ve got ready for us. It’ll be usable, whatever it is.”

  “We had an agreement. I said I would only use regular, mainstream commercial airfields.”

  He smiled. “Hell, to these people I guess that’s what it is.”

  “I’m going to alter course to the nearest commercial airfield. I told you. I don’t fly into places where I don’t know whether I’ll be able to get down safely, let alone take off again. The deals off, Mr. Walker, so you’ll have to find someone else.”

  I heard a click behind me. Two of his men stood there; one had cocked his automatic and pointed it at me. It was my turn to smile.

  “I doubt even you would be so stupid as to shoot the pilot.”

  “No, I guess you’re right. That’s why we’ll shoot the co-pilot if you don’t cooperate. That would be a pity. She’s a pretty little thing, for a cripple.”

  I made to swing at him, but one of his men twisted my arm behind me and screwed the barrel of his pistol into my neck.

  “That’d be a stupid thing to try. Just remember whose paying the bills, Hoffman. Now do we fly with one pilot or two? It’s your choice.”

  We stared at each other for a few moments, and all of Abe’s words came flooding back to me, along with my Grandmother Helene’s advice about dealing with the CIA. I knew I was beaten, and I backed down.

  “Ok, you win. What am I expecting when we land?”

  “It’s a field. They cleared last year’s crop and smoothed over the worst of the bumps and rocks. We’ll be fine. If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t have gone for it.”

  I nodded my agreement, and he waved for the guy to release me. I went back into the cockpit and gave them the bad news. Rachel surprised me with her reaction.

  “So we’re going into action? This could be interesting.”

  “It could get us all killed. I wouldn’t be so keen if I were you. It will be a rough strip landing, and we’ve no idea how good the field is. And there is the other matter, we’ve no idea either who will be waiting for us when we get there.”

  I glanced at the back of the cockpit. Luk hadn’t said a word, but he was quietly unpacking his sniper rifle and assembling it ready to go. Rachel saw the direction of my gaze.

  “Luk, what are you doing? We’re not going into battle quite yet.”

  He didn’t look up. “Can you guarantee that?”

  She shook her head. “I guess not, no. So what do we do now?”

  “Do? We do our job. Didn’t they used to say, ‘keep your faith in God and your powder dry’? I think we should check our pistols and make sure they’re ready for use. As for God, he can take care of himself.”

  “He?”

  I chuckled. “Yeah, whatever. The important thing is to keep the engines running when they’re unloading so that if there’s any trouble, we can make a fast take-off. I’ll go and have a word with Walker, and let him know what we’re doing. Luk, you and I can make sure that no one stumbles into the propellers. Rachel, you stay at the controls.”

  He nodded. “I’ll take my rifle with me.”

  Walker barely took any notice of me when I spoke to him. He was busy briefing his men. He looked around when I tapped him on the shoulder and told him what we planned.

  “Yeah, that’s no problem. We’ll be jumping off from the landing field, so you’ll be coming back without any passengers. There’ll be some more crates, and I want you to take them to Joe Ashford. He’ll be waiting for you in Peshawar. Don’t land in Afghanistan or anywhere else other than Peshawar.”

  “What’s in these crates we’ll be carrying?”

  “Need to know, buddy,” he grinned. “And you don’t need to know.”

  “I assume it’s enough to know that it’s something that could cause me a problem if I land inside Afghanistan?”

  “Don’t even think about it. They’d have your balls if they found out what’s in those crates, and if they don’t, Joe will. Just follow my instructions, and it’ll all be fine.”

  “Like the pilot of the Cessna Caravan did?”

  He grimaced. “Fuck you, Hoffman. The stupid bastard messed up, period. Make sure you do it right.”

  I left him to his briefing and went back to the cockpit.

  “We’re twenty minutes out from these coordinates, Max. Do you want me to take her in?”

  “You may as well, yes. I’ll let the passengers know, and then I’ll stay up front.”

  I went aft again and told them our ETA, but they barely took any notice. Then I went up front and strapped myself into the left hand seat. We had full daylight, and Rachel had already begun the descent. Mountains surrounded us everywhere we looked. As we drew nearer our landing site, I could see it was a narrow valley with a high mountain, capped by snow on each side. It was no wonder these were such a hardy, tough and savage people. It was that kind of a land where the weak would perish, and the strong would struggle to survive by right of superior strength. It was a medieval concept of society, but these were medieval people.

  “Three miles to run,” Rachel intoned. “Still no sign of the landing field.”

  “Ok, reduce speed to ninety knots, thirty degrees of flap. Luk, strap in. This could be bumpy.”

  I took out my binoculars and looked ahead for the landing field. Then I saw it. It looked like a pocket-handkerchief from three miles out. There were tiny dots around it, and people and vehicles came into focus.

  “I see it,” Rachel called across to me. “I’ll increase the rate of descent. We’re nearly there.”

  She was an expert pilot, and I was happy to let her handle the controls while I surveyed the surrounding area. It seemed peaceful enough. The nightmarish vision of hordes of savage, heavily armed tribesmen waiting in ambush didn’t look as i
f it was going to happen today. The field came nearer, and I could make out the people and vehicles with the naked eye. One of the men down there fired a flare into the air, and we were able to determine the wind direction. Rachel grunted as she worked out the options. The wind blew diagonally across the field, and we were landing in the best direction, slightly into the wind. The men who watched our descent were all in Afghan dress, robes and turbans, and all carried weapons, although they didn’t look as if they were about to threaten us. The two vehicles that waited for us were Toyota Land Cruisers, the tough Japanese SUVs that would go to most places closed to ordinary cars. The long wheelbase, crew cab models would be enough to transport the men and equipment that were about to disembark. The field came nearer, nearer. I automatically checked the instruments, speed eighty knots, and altitude one hundred feet above ground level. Rachel dropped down lower and flared on to the field. The Twin Otter could land in three hundred yards at a pinch, and take off in an even shorter distance. I held my breath. If we didn’t make it, it was going to be a long walk home. It was a good landing, just a slight bump, and a number of jars as we hit irregularities on the surface, but none were serious enough to cause any problems. She managed to brake the aircraft just before the end of the field. There was enough room to turn around and head back to face the way we’d landed, into the wind. We stopped right at the head of the landing strip, and Rachel applied the brake, keeping the engines running. I went aft with Luk. Walker’s men already had the door open and were jumping down. I wondered if scheduled airlines ever had this problem with controlling their passengers. Maybe I was in the wrong part of the business.

  I jumped down. Luk came with me, carrying his rifle.

  “Take the port engine, and make sure no idiot runs into the propeller,” I shouted to him above the noise of the engines. He nodded and ran off. I heard Walker calling my name, and I went over to him.

  “We need about an hour on the ground, so you can switch off if you like.”