Devil's Guard- The Complete Series Box Set

by Eric Meyer

  “Yes, he’s who I mean. If he was captured or killed, that would hit them hard, surely? I doubt they’d recover from that.”

  “Well, no, but…”

  “Find him, General. No more half-cocked operations. Send in your experts, and either kill or kidnap this guy. Let me know how you get on. I’ll authorize CIA to lend a hand. That’s all, General.”

  He got up, and the Chief of Staff was left dazed and astonished. As he left the room, the Secretary of State gave him a sweet smile. “Good luck, General. I’d advise you not to screw up this one.”

  He ignored her. How the hell could he get Mullah Omar? It had taken them many years to hunt down and kill Bin-Laden, the Al Qaeda head and architect of 911. Now they wanted him to get Omar in just a few days. Shit! As he left the situation room, he had another thought. What he needed wasn’t Mullah Omar, which was virtually impossible. No, he needed a scapegoat. It wasn’t in his nature to play the political game, but it was the game he’d been placed in. Now who would fit the bill?

  * * *

  The journey was not easy, especially for Luk, but Najela helped him limp along. She’d found a wooden stick that he leaned on to make the going a little easier. But still, I asked Yves to stay close to him with one of his nurses, and several times they called a halt to check the state of his wound. I’d sent Rains on ahead with his men, and posted Art Schramm to bring up the rear. When the insurgents found we’d left, it was possible they’d find our trail and pursue us. If they caught up, I wanted the mercenaries to be there to deal with them. I had little doubt that they’d give the Afghans a hard time if they came near. I walked with Rachel, and we had a little time to talk.

  “What are we going to do about the aircraft, Max?” she asked me with a worried tone.

  “I’ve no idea. What I do know is that it’s the least of our worries. The first priority is to get these people to safety.”

  “You’re taking it all seriously, aren’t you?”

  “What?”

  “Leading the group. You know they all look to you to get them back.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I think Art would manage quite well with his own men.”

  “Maybe, but Rains wouldn’t. Have you noticed how he’s changed since you took command?”

  I thought about it. She was right. He had become more confident, and there was less fear and uncertainty in the way he led his platoon. “Yes, he’s not so timid.”

  “That’s because he looks to you to make the decisions so that he can handle his men. He’s ok, but he’s no officer. A good sergeant, maybe, but that’s all.”

  “I’ll tell the US Army what you said.”

  She laughed. “By all means, but remember this. When we hit trouble, you’re the one they’ll rely on to get them out of it.”

  “Rachel, I’m a pilot, not a military commander,” I protested.

  “Maybe your ticket says you’re just a pilot, but all the same you’re not flying an aircraft now. You’re leading a group of soldiers and civilians through bandit country. And they’re all looking to you to make the right choices, remember that.”

  I didn’t reply. We’d covered almost eight miles and were approaching the entrance to a narrow cave, where Rains had halted his men. I stopped and Najela came forward with Luk to interpret. The path ran into the cave and cut all the way through the mountain. In front of us, the sheer cliff face soared a thousand feet into the foothills of the Hindu Kush. It had a bleak grandeur that was perhaps a clue to the Afghan psyche, cold and forbidding. The dark cave entrance was almost invisible, and without Najela, we wouldn’t have found it. I understood the tunnel was almost two miles long.

  “Would you ask her if there’s headroom in there?” I asked Luk.

  He signed the question and answered me. “No, Najela says we’ll need to crawl through some of the way.”

  “Can you make it?”

  He nodded. “I’ll make it, don’t worry. It’s that or the Taliban. I’ll crawl through ten miles of cave if necessary.”

  They’d gathered in a group, so I told them what was ahead of us. Art Schramm offered to detail a machine gun crew; two men to set up out of sight to guard the entrance until we were through. “I’ll set some grenades inside too, and I’ll give them long fuses. If the gunners get into trouble, they can start the detonators as they come past, and it’ll bring the roof down.”

  “Right. You’d better not tell Najela that part. I gather they spent an age clearing the last roof fall.”

  “They won’t need to worry about using the tunnel again if they’re dead,” he said grimly.

  “That’s true. We need to get moving. Lieutenant Rains, would you lead off into the tunnel.”

  “Sure. Form up, men. Let’s move out.”

  The first part was easy, and part of the way we were able to walk upright, single file. Then the roof got lower, and we had to crouch down to keep going. The roof lowered again, and we had to get to our knees to keep going forward, pushing and pulling our packs and supplies along with us. It was backbreaking and soul destroying. The bare rock was uneven, and all of us constantly cut our arms and legs as we snagged on the sharper edges of unseen obstacles. We crawled for over an hour until finally the roof started to get higher, and we were able to get to our feet and walk again. Two hours after we entered the tunnel, we emerged the other side into a sunlit morning. Rains and his men had already emerged and were standing and staring into the distance. When I got out into the sunlight, I realized why. There was a village nestling in the foothills of the mountain range. But incredibly for this country, it was undamaged. Rachel caught her breath.

  “It’s beautiful, Max.”

  It wasn’t beautiful at all. It was a primitive collection of stone huts. There were two lines of them with a main street running between them. I counted about thirty dwellings, and all of them in good repair. A few of them even had glass in the windows, a minor miracle outside of the main cities. Even there many houses had lost their glass in the unending series of wars that had beset the country in the past three decades.

  “Let’s go and find out if the natives are friendly,” I smiled by way of a reply.

  Rains took up the lead, and we walked into the main, and only, street. People came out of their stone huts to gaze at us, but there was no fear. Finally, we stopped, and a man stood in the street ten paces from us. Najela recognized him and ran forward to greet him. The man signed a reply to her and both their arms moved swiftly as they conversed. Then she came to Rachel and me and signed. Luk came up to translate.

  “She says this is her father, Ban. He is the village headman.”

  I shook hands with him. Rachel stood back, as was the custom here.

  “Would you ask her to enquire whether we may shelter here for a few days,” I said to Luk. “We’ll pay, of course.”

  The signing took a minute or so, but Luk turned to me.

  “It’s no problem. There are some empty houses and a couple of barns too. You’re welcome to any of them. There’s no need for payment. Most of their needs are met by trading, a local barter system.”

  There was a shout from the cave entrance, and Art’s machine gun crew emerged. They gave a cheery wave, and it was clear that we weren’t being pursued. I waved back and continued the halting conversation.

  “Tell him we’ll do our best not to get in anyone’s way, and thank him for allowing us to stay. We’d like to see our quarters now. We’ve been without sleep for some time, and we need to catch up.”

  A guide led us to the houses we’d been allocated. I went into a tiny, two roomed hut with Rachel, Luk and Najela.

  “Do they expect the girls to sleep in one room and the men the other?” I asked Luk.

  He signed to Najela again. She smiled at me and shook her head. Maybe Afghanistan wasn’t so bad after all. The door opened, and Art came in without knocking.

  “I’ve set up a defensive perimeter. The other machine gun crew can cover the approaches to the village, and a sentr
y is hidden on the opposite side. No one can come up on us without we know about it.”

  He stared at me, expressionless. I should have set that up before we came to find out where we’d be sleeping. I nodded to him. “Thanks, Art. I should have done that myself.”

  “Yeah. Don’t sweat it, get some sleep.”

  He turned to walk back out through the door.

  “Art, before you go.”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ll be here for a couple of days at least, maybe more. Can you run me through some of this stuff in the morning?”

  “Sure.”

  They all smiled when he left, and even Najela had picked it up. But I didn’t see the funny side of it.

  “Rachel, if I mess up, people will get killed. It’s not a joke.”

  “Art will look after things, don’t worry.”

  “And when he’s gone back, what then? He won’t stay here forever.”

  “You’re right, but can we discuss it later. I’m exhausted. What are we going to do about food?”

  Damn, I’d forgotten that too! “Get yourself some rest. I’ll be back later.”

  She went to say something, but I was already walking out through the door. I found Ban, and by using a number of universal hand signals conveyed that we were very hungry. He smiled and led me to a stone hut that housed the village ovens. There was also a huge cauldron that was bubbling merrily, issuing a smell so good that I nearly put my hand in and scooped out some of the stew that lay inside. He raised his eyebrows and pointed at me, then pantomimed my people. Did we want the food? Dear God, did we? I nodded enthusiastically. He smiled and pointed at a pile of wooden bowls. I got the message and went out to round everyone up. Sergeant Mason came over to me.

  “What’s up?”

  “Chow’s what is up, Sergeant. Would you get everyone here, and we’ll get something to eat.”

  “You betcha! I was thinking about turning cannibal.”

  I laughed as he walked away. Then I went to the house we’d borrowed and gave Rachel a call, as well as Luk and Najela. But the two were otherwise occupied. The door to their room was closed, and Rachel gave a small shake of her head.

  “They’re busy, Max. I think they’d prefer to be left alone.”

  “Right.”

  The word had spread, and almost the entire party was crowded around the cooking hut. Rains’ infantrymen, Art Schramm’s mercenaries, Doctor Yves St Roulemont and his nurses, and a little to one side Ed Walker with his two surviving bodyguards. I got into line and helped myself to stew from the cauldron, together with a chunk of bread that we all just ripped from an enormous loaf.

  “You did well, getting this organized so quickly,” Rains said to me as he came up, his face covered in stew with breadcrumbs sticking to it. I looked around and saw that we were all the same. Some of them were sat on the ground, others standing and chatting, but the hot food had worked a miracle. What had Najela said about this village, something about magic? If this was it, I’d take it anytime over the Christian church. I just nodded to the Lieutenant. There was no need to tell him that it had little to do with my efforts. He needed a leader. I could see that now. And I needed him, or at least the firepower his troops carried. Art came to join me with his huge sidekick, Trip. Then Yves wandered over with his nurses, and the conversation became animated. They were all grateful to me, and I felt like Jesus feeding the five thousand. I realized Art was speaking to me.

  “I’m sorry, Art. What was that?”

  “I said what weapons have you had training with?”

  “Only the Colt .45 automatic, I’m afraid. My grandmother made sure I knew how to use a pistol if I ever needed to.”

  “In that case, I’ll start you off in the morning with an M-16. One of my guys carries an AK47 too, so you can familiarize yourself with that one.”

  “Thanks, that’ll be appreciated. What I really need is a fast primer on strategy and tactics.”

  “Yep, I’ll get to that. But what it really boils down to is hit the bastards hard when they least expect it.”

  “That’s all?”

  “It’s won more battles than could fill a library full of books. Keep that in mind, and you won’t go wrong.”

  But as I finished the food and went back to our stone hut, I thought about the real battle I’d have to fight. With Ed Walker and his boss, Joe Ashford. They thought they’d bought me - lock, stock and barrel. Maybe it was true, but that made no difference. They’d want me to carry out our bargain, one that I’d entered without knowing the consequences. I wondered how I could adapt Art’s strategy to that particular fight. How could I hit them hard when their guard was down? That would take some thinking about. Rachel had gone back ahead of me, and the reason became obvious when I walked into the hut. Despite the cold, she’d stripped off naked and was lying beneath a pile of bedding. Actually, it was old sacks and a couple of Russian greatcoats. I wondered what had happened to their owners. Afghanistan was not a forgiving place.

  “Come in, Max, it’s cold out there.”

  I started to rip off my clothes. Before I got into bed, I wedged a chair against the door. It wouldn’t hold against much of a push, but at least it would tell anyone we wanted some privacy. An Afghan version of the ‘do not disturb sign’. Then I climbed in with Rachel and felt the soft, firm, smooth skin of her body. It had an instant effect on me.

  “I can see you’re feeling randy already, Mr. Hoffman,” she chuckled.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Quite the opposite. I was hoping you wouldn’t be too tired.”

  “Good. What are Luk and Najela doing?”

  “The same as us, I guess. Now shut up and fuck me, Max. I can’t wait another second. It must be this country, you never know if it could be your last.”

  “Last what?”

  “Last fuck, of course,” she muttered. “Tomorrow we could all be dead.”

  “We won’t be dead. I won’t let that happen.”

  “No, I know you won’t. Now be quiet and screw me.”

  So I did.

  I was still in bed the following morning when someone hammered on the door. It was Art Schramm.

  “What’s up?” I checked my watch. It was almost six o’clock.

  “Weapons training. I thought you’d want to make an early start. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”

  “Sure, I’ll be right out.”

  It took me a few minutes to throw my clothes on, and the temperature outside was barely above freezing. Then we set out to a piece of open ground where he’d set up some targets, pieces of rock stood on end. He handed me an assault rifle.

  “This is an M-16, the standard weapon of the US infantry. It means they’re very common, and there’s no problem finding ammo.” He took it back off me. “This is how you strip it.”

  It took him less than a minute to take the gun apart, and then he re-assembled it.

  “Now you try.”

  Five minutes later, I had a tangled mess of components that looked as if they would never go together to make a rifle. He showed me how it all worked, and I tried again, and again. Until I had it, and the gun was in one piece.

  “That’s good, Max. All you need now is to know how to use it.”

  “Point and pull the trigger?”

  He nodded. “It’s a start. Our M-16s can select semi-automatic, three shot burst or full auto. They’re pretty tough and reliable, just don’t get carried away and fire off a full clip, unless it’s absolutely necessary. This gadget fitted under the barrel is an M203 grenade launcher. It gives the weapon a lot more firepower. Here, you try it.”

  I spent the next hour destroying the peace of the village, firing clip after clip until Art pronounced himself satisfied.

  “That’s good, you got it. Let’s finish off with the grenade launcher. Give it a try. There’s a grenade ready to fire.”

  I pulled the extra trigger, and the small bomb launched and flew towards the broken rocks I’d been shooting at. Art d
ragged me down while it was still in the air.

  “Get down! That’s a grenade you just launched.”

  I lay flat on the rocky ground and felt it shake as the grenade went off. Fragments zinged off the rocks and rattled around us. I’d have been shredded if I’d been standing. We got up, and Art grinned.

  “See what I mean? When you fire one of those babies, you don’t stick around to watch.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind,” I replied, a little shakily.

  “Good, that’ll do for now. After lunch, we’ll cover strategy and tactics.”

  When I got back to our hut, Ed Walker was there arguing with Rachel. They stopped when I arrived.

  “What’s up?”

  “Your fucking bitch is accusing me of theft, that’s what’s up!”

  I hit him then, and just totally lost it. He went flying back to land on the ground. I stood over him, and he looked up at me.

  “Christ, you nearly broke my jaw!”

  “The next time you insult Rachel, I’ll rip you to pieces, Walker. Just watch your mouth. Now what’s the problem?”

  “Luk’s satellite phone, it’s been stolen. There’s only one person who would have taken it, and that’s him.”

  I stared at Walker. “Did you take it? I can easily get Art Schramm’s men to search your gear.”

  “No, I fucking did not, and I resent that question.”

  “I don’t care what you resent. Now get out of here, Walker. I’ve got things to do.”

  He got to his feet. “Don’t you forget who’s the boss and who pays the bills, when we get out of here, you’ll need me.”

  “I hope not. I sincerely hope not. Now get out of here!”

  He stalked away without another word. I grinned at Rachel. “That’s seen him off, shall we get some food?”

  We walked towards the cooking hut, where people were already starting to gather as the smell of the stew wafted around the village.

  “You’re going to have trouble with that guy,” Rachel warned.

  “You’re probably right, but we’re stuck with him for the time being. It’s a pity about the satphone. Do you think he took it?”