Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  “Good, I guess you’ve got it all worked out. I appreciate it, Sergeant.”

  “I’m just trying to live a bit longer, Sir. I guess we all are.”

  “Yeah, let’s do it. Start the smoke barrage.”

  * * *

  In Creech Air Force Base, Master Sergeant Carol Wendelski checked her gauges and discovered they were running low on fuel. She’d have like to have taken another pass over the position of those troops who were under fire, but it was impossible without landing for more fuel. She expertly guided the Predator back to Kabul; a long, slow flight, during which she had to keep flexing her muscles to stop them going numb. Finally, the video display and nav computer showed her the airfield dead ahead. She called up the tower.

  “This is Creech Control Center. I need urgent clearance to land a Predator. The bird’s low on fuel.”

  Less than two seconds later, the reply came in. “Clearance to go straight in, Creech. Be careful when you taxi. They’re prepping some new birds that just arrived from the States. Do you want me to alert your ground crew?”

  “Nah, I’ll call them, thanks Kabul.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Carol called up her ground crew on the secure communications system.

  “We’re all ready for you, Master Sergeant. Just bring her in, nice and easy.”

  “Roger that.” She dropped the tiny aircraft onto the runway and taxied over to where a group of USAF personnel waited. Using her comm. link, she spoke to the Sergeant in charge.

  “Sarge, some of our people are in trouble, and I need to get the bird back in the air as fast as possible. Can you fuel her up straight away and get her aloft?”

  “Sure thing, we’re ready and waiting. Give us a half hour, and we’ll have you flying again. Have you located him yet?”

  She was already thinking of her next task. She turned her attention back to the voice from eight thousand miles away.

  “What?”

  “Mullah Omar, did you locate him?”

  “Maybe this time,” she chuckled. She thanked them and checked the clock. It was time for her lunch, so she went to the canteen and ate a salad. It was vital to watch your weight in her job. There was no physical activity, and the excess of adrenalin that the tense operations generated meant that it would be easy to become obese. She’d avoided it so far, and intended to keep her slim figure. She checked the clock again. She’d give herself twenty minutes and then start preparing flight operations again.

  Chapter Seven

  We told our community that we are not afraid of Bush’s and America's threats. We are continuing jihad against America and all the invaders. We reassure Muslims everywhere that we are abiding by the pledge, and that victory is coming.

  Mullah Mohammad Omar

  Mullah Omar came out of his trance and gazed at Abdul Qadir. “Commander, perhaps you would tell us what happened. You had sufficient warning, yet still you managed to lose at least ten of your men, including six of your local commanders. You were lucky to escape with your life.”

  Qadir stared at him. “Mullah Omar, my men fought like lions, but the Americans attacked us from behind. They seemed to come out of nowhere. I’ve no doubt we were betrayed.”

  “Perhaps you should have taken that into account when you made your preparations, Commander,” Mullah Baradar said quietly. “Your failure has cost our movement dear.”

  “My failure?” Qadir swiveled to fix the man with a hard gaze. “The area the Americans came from was under your control, Mullah. Are you suggesting that I should take the time to watch over your responsibilities as well as mine?”

  Baradar’s expression darkened, and he was about to spit and angry reply, but Omar’s voice cut through them like a scalpel, sharp and precise.

  “This is not a time to argue about whose failure allowed these Americans to kill our commanders. I have already decided how we will go forward.”

  They leaned towards him, waiting to hear their fate.

  “One of our units has pinned down a small American formation, a group of infantry escorting doctors and nurses on a relief mission to a town in Pakistan stricken with plague. They were attempting the journey on the road through the Khyber Pass. It is unfortunate for them that they departed just as our major attacks had begun. The road through the pass is undefended as a consequence, and we were able to make our attack without hindrance from the normal road and air patrols. However, our forces are not strong enough to finish them off. I want you to take your men and join the attack, Commander Qadir. The next phase of our operation is about to begin, a series of suicide attacks on targets in the cities of Kabul, Jalalabad and Kandahar. I want that American group wiped out to add to our victories. I believe it will be enough to persuade the Americans that there is no advantage to them in staying here.”

  Mullah Baradar bared his teeth in a ferocious smile. “This truly will be a blow from which the Americans will never recover. An entire contingent of their people wiped out, against a backdrop of our attacks and suicide bombers, how can they possibly resist? I have read of the Tet offensive during their Vietnam War, when the American’s enemies came out in a similar series of coordinated attacks. It was a glorious time for the Vietnamese people, and a dark time for the Americans.”

  Omar nodded. “Quite so. Now you understand how important this is. We have to encourage our forces to press their attacks hard and our suicide bombers to make the ultimate sacrifice for the cause. This could be the beginning of the end for the Americans, and we will be able to cleanse our country of the infidels, and once more have control of our destinies.”

  “Allah be praised!” Baradar and Qadir both exclaimed with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

  Qadir was concerned that his leaders could be so blind. Did they not know that Tet was a major defeat for the Vietcong and North Vietnamese regulars who took part in the battle? The military losses were so terrible that the attacks had to be called off early. Yes, politically it had helped the Vietcong; there was no doubt. But militarily, whole units were obliterated. What was more, his men were well aware of that famous military engagement. If they found that their leaders planned on a repeat, how much enthusiasm could he expect from his troops, knowing they were going to their deaths?

  There was another problem. Could there be any honor in making deliberate attacks on medical personnel, doctors and nurses? Some said that these people were a legitimate target for the Taliban. But he didn’t agree, and neither did many others. It was all very well for Mullah Baradar to show enthusiasm, but he wouldn’t be in the front line, leading men to their deaths and slaughtering unarmed doctors and nurses. Perhaps there was no option. He could understand that. But it was not a time for joyous celebration.

  “Commander Qadir, you do not seem to be enthusiastic, is something wrong?”

  He looked at Mullah Omar, seeing the cold, dark depths of the single eye staring at him. “Nothing at all, Mullah. I was merely contemplating my good fortune in being on the front line of this glorious battle.”

  “I am pleased you feel so. Tell me, Commander, you have sons. Have you considered putting them forward for martyrdom?”

  Qadir shivered inwardly. But outwardly he was calm, as he’d trained himself to be when facing the maximum danger.

  “I have not, Mullah. They are training to be fighters and leaders, like their father.”

  “Good, good. Do you have any daughters?”

  He thanked God he did not. “I have no daughters, no.”

  “So be it. I wish you success in your venture.”

  “Thank you, Mullah.” But for a long time he struggled to keep the image of his sons wearing the canvas suicide belts out of his mind.

  * * *

  When I was on final approach for the landing ground with Ed Walker, I called him up.

  “This is Helene Air, ETA in about ten minutes, Mr. Walker. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Just get your ass down here, Hoffman. There’s a group of Americans waiting for us to haul t
heir asses out of the fire, so hurry it up. Out.”

  He sounded drunk, and I couldn’t work it out. Surely they weren’t drinking booze out in the field. But it wasn’t the normal voice of a drunk. No, it was different. I couldn’t be sure why.

  “We’ll be landing in a few minutes, is Luk ok?”

  “Make it as gentle as possible, Max. He’s pretty weak.”

  “Roger. Stand by.”

  They saw me coming in and popped a smoke flare. The wind was blowing towards us, perfect for a landing. It was very light, and I estimated ten knots. I lined up the nose and began to descend through the last few hundred feet. It was an easy landing, and yet the hardest I’d ever made. It had to be gentle, so light, that the wounded man lying a few feet beside me didn’t even feel the jolt as our wheels touched down. I thought I’d made it, but the first jolt was when the port wheel went into a pothole that was outside of my control. I braked before I overshot the field and ran into a heap of rocks, spun the aircraft around and taxied back. I turned through one hundred and eighty degrees and put the brakes on; we were ready to leave. I got up to attend to the cargo door, but Walker’s men were already opening it. He was first up, charging through the fuselage and into the cockpit, almost dragging me behind him.

  “Fuck!” he shouted. Exulted would be more accurate. “Jesus H Christ, we rammed it down their fucking throats. We must have killed twenty of them, Hoffman, and leaders, all of them. Fuck!”

  So that was the way it was. It wasn’t war. It was blood lust. He rammed a cigar into his mouth and dug into his pocket for a lighter. When his hand came out, something dropped onto the floor. He bent down and picked it up. It looked to me like a bloody rag, and he saw the direction of my gaze.

  “It’s a souvenir, Hoffman. Something to show the boys when I get back home.”

  “What is it?”

  “What is it? It’s a scalp, of course. Shit, you should see those bodies when we’d finished with them. Like a fucking butcher’s shop.”

  My mind went numb for a few moments, but I managed to recover a degree of calm.

  “We’re going straight out, Mr. Walker, would you make sure your men know.”

  His smile was manic, like a schizophrenic who hadn’t taken his medication. The eyes were glazed, and the skin had that bone-white quality, like stained porcelain.

  “Too violent for you, eh? I didn’t peg you for a squeamish type. I’ll warn the men. I wouldn’t want to put you off your food.”

  He left the cabin with a braying laugh. He hadn’t even noticed Rachel, still trying to keep Luk alive on the cockpit floor. They were lying in a heap of bloodied blankets.

  “As soon as we’re set on course, I’ll put her on autopilot. I’m going aft to see if any of Walker’s men have experience with battlefield injuries.”

  She smiled, a tired, frightened smile. Frightened for the man she was trying to save. “It won’t put you off your dinner if they’re playing with their trophies?”

  “It’s not the trophies that puts me off, Rachel. It’s the kind of men that would take them.”

  I pushed the throttles all the way forward and let off the brakes. We picked up speed and bumped our way back along the field. Every time we hit a pothole or small mound the aircraft jarred, and Luk groaned. Finally, I reached take-off speed, and I pulled back. We lifted off; immediately the bumping stopped, and Luk went quiet. I throttled back when we’d gained some height, turning to Rachel now that the engine noise was quieter.

  “That sounded bad, I’m sorry. I couldn’t do anything about the bumping. How is he?”

  She didn’t reply at first. When she did speak, I could hear the desperation in her voice.

  “The take-off opened his wound, Max. He’s bleeding again. I’m afraid he’s dying.”

  “Keep him going, Rachel. His father was vital to my grandfather’s survival in Indochina. We can’t let him die.”

  The aircraft settled on course for the coordinates Walker had given me, the frontier between Afghanistan and Pakistan. I locked in the autopilot and went back to speak to Walker. He was dozing on a canvas jump seat and looked up at me as I approached. The manic expression had largely faded, and he looked tired, perhaps even depressed.

  “What’s up, Hoffman. Don’t tell me you have a problem.”

  “One of our people, Luk, he was shot when took off from Kabul. He’s pretty bad. Are any of your men experience with battlefield injuries?”

  He shook his head. “No, not that I’m aware of. Their job’s to kill the enemy, that’s all. I’m sorry I can’t help you. These people we’re hoping to bring back, they’re medics. They should be able to help.”

  “Right. What kind of a landing field are we talking about here? Is it flat, or a proper airfield, perhaps?”

  “We haven’t got an airfield. This is a scratch operation, so we just have to make do.”

  I guess he knew what effect his words would have on me. I gaped at him, and he smiled back.

  “How do you expect me to land an aircraft like this without an airfield?”

  He shrugged. “You’ll find a way, Hoffman. They do it all the time in these backwoods countries. Just find a nice tarmac road and put her down.”

  “Is there a tarmac road where we’re going?”

  “It’s possible, yes. But one way or the other, you get her down on the ground.”

  “How many people are down there?”

  About forty is my best guess.”

  I couldn’t help it, but I could feel my mouth gape open again. “You know that the capacity of this aircraft is twenty passengers maximum? How the hell do you expect to get them all out?”

  “Who said anything about getting them out? We’re going in to nail the suckers who’ve got them surrounded. We’re going to kick ass, Hoffman.” He stared at me, and I could see that his adrenalin was running high again. I wondered what he was on. “And don’t forget, there’re medics down there, so if you want to save your guy…”

  He paused and stared at me. “GET US THE FUCK DOWN THERE! YOU HEAR!”

  I remember saying coldly, “I’ll get you down, don’t worry,” before I returned to the cockpit. Rachel was holding Luk gently, talking to him softly. He’d regained consciousness, and he looked up at me as I crouched down.

  “How are you feeling?”

  I was trying to put a brave face on it. He looked ghastly, chalk-white, and his skin stretched tight over the bones as he fought to control his agony.

  “I’ve felt better,” he whispered. He tried to grin, failed, and then lapsed into unconsciousness again.

  “Rachel, I need his satphone.”

  “What for, who are you planning to call?”

  “Abe Woltz. He said to call if we needed anything. I figure that time is now.”

  “What do we need?”

  “A miracle.”

  I punched in the fast dial, and within seconds the satphone had connected direct to a satellite in low earth orbit, then down to Abe Woltz. It was like talking to a guy across town. The line was that clear.

  “Woltz.”

  “It’s Max. You said to call if we had problems. I believe that time has come.”

  I outlined our difficulties. Luk badly injured; and a group of mercenaries in the cargo space led by a crazed career CIA officer who seemed to have learned his ideas from a Boy’s Own comic book.

  “I don’t know if you can help, Abe, but we need something. If we’re lucky enough to make the landing, Luk is seriously wounded. Believe me, it’s touch and go. Yet all Walker wants is to start a new war with a large group of insurgents down there. We need to get Luk away from here and take him to a hospital, but I don’t know how to get away from Walker before he kills us all.”

  He was silent for a few moments. Then he fired off a series of questions. He wanted coordinates, strengths of friend and foe as much as I knew, armaments, fuel situation, radio frequencies and a load more. It was like being interrogated by an expert, which I assumed was indeed the case. Then som
ething occurred to me. “Abe, have you ever encountered the CIA before, I mean, have you ever had problems with them?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you know what kind of situation we’re in here. I tell you, the guy’s crazy.”

  “I doubt he’s that crazy, Max. People like him. They play the odds. One thing you can be sure of, when the dead bodies have all stacked up, the Ed Walkers of this world always seem to walk away.”

  I could believe that. “Can you help at all, Abe?”

  “Sure, I’ll see what I can put together. Call me back and tell me how things are going.”

  I ended the call and went to check our heading. I estimated we had just over half an hour to run. I left the aircraft on autopilot and went back to Luk. He was still unconscious. I looked at Rachel.

  “Any change?”

  She shook her head. “He’s no different, but I’d guess he won’t last much longer. We have to pray that we can get those medics to help him.”

  “Rachel, it’s not that simple,” I reminded her gently. “They’re pinned down under enemy fire, and so far there’s no sign of a place to land.”

  “You’ll manage it, Max. I know you will.”

  “Thanks for your faith in me, but there’s a lot depending on chance. Too much.”

  “You’ll get us down, if anyone can, I know you will.”

  I nodded and went back to the pilot’s seat. We had a few hours of daylight left, which was the only factor we had on our side. The mountains of the Pakistan border appeared in the distance, and I went to call Abe.

  “We’re not far away now, I’d estimate fifteen minutes or so.”

  “Right. I’ve been pretty busy, and with any luck I’ll have someone come out there to help you. As far as I can gather, those coordinates put you at the foot of the Khyber Pass.”

  “That’s my assessment too,” I agreed.

  “Ok, the problem is that all hell is breaking loose in Afghanistan. It’s like the Tet offensive during the Vietnam War. What it means is that the military has its hands full fighting off the insurgents. My people tell me there are some heavy pitched battles being fought right now. There’s no help available for these people trapped at the bottom of the Khyber until they’ve contained the situation, and that could be several days. I guess that’s why they sent that maniac Walker to take care of it.”