by Chris Ryan
Of the three of them, he thought he should be the one to recce the area. He knew the layout of the streets best, and someone has to put his neck on the line, he told himself. It might as well be me.
He paused. He could see a truck pulling up. It was right outside the facility. Eight men climbed out, opening up the gates to the plant and walking inside. They were wearing olive-green uniforms, carried AK-47s and shoulder pistols, and on the right-hand side of their tunics, purple insignia. Special Republican Guard, thought Jed. They’ve beefed up the security on this place since I was last here.
He walked on a few more yards, keeping his pace steady so as not to draw any attention to himself. There were maybe a dozen other people on the street, but nobody gave the soldiers a second glance. They were so used to the military in this city, they no longer paid them any attention. It was just something that happened in the background, like the weather.
The truck was pulling away from the plant, and the soldiers were shutting the thick metal gates that blocked its entrance: it looked like a change of shift, and from the numbers of guys getting out, Jed reckoned there were twenty men protecting the plant. He took a few more paces. The facility was a square courtyard, each side about 150 yards long. The gate was the only way in. There were four watchtowers, and machine-gun placements every fifty yards, but only two of them appeared to be illuminated tonight. From street level, you could see the pipes sticking up into the air: thick smoke was billowing from one of them. There were no high buildings overlooking the plant. If you wanted to get in, there were only two options. You could walk up and ring the bell. Or you could try and get in over the wall.
He turned round and walked back to the truck. ‘Here,’ he hissed, as he tapped on the steel door of the Mercedes. Steve opened it, and Jed scrambled inside. Matt was sitting on the floor, chewing sunflower seeds and spitting the husks out on the floor. ‘How’s it looking?’ he said.
‘Like crap,’ said Jed. He knelt down, grabbing a hunk of pitta and chewing on it. ‘I just saw the SRG going into the place.’
‘How many?’ said Steve.
‘Eight,’ said Jed. ‘And there are two watchtowers.’
‘So how are we going in?’ said Matt.
‘We have to go over the wall. There isn’t any other choice.’
‘We can’t go through the door?’ asked Steve.
‘No way. That’ll be where they’ve got the heavy-duty kit.’
‘It’s bloody suicide,’ said Steve.
Jed shrugged. ‘I guess that’s what we’re paid for.’
FOURTEEN
The plan had been agreed back in the truck. They would wait until three in the morning, the moment when the guards inside were most likely to be asleep. Two of the watchtowers were manned, with lights beaming on to the courtyard, but there was a patch of about ten yards where the lights didn’t overlap. Two of them would scale the wall, while the third man would wait outside to provide covering fire if anything went wrong. Once inside, the two men would scout the place out, grab as much information as possible, then get out quickly.
The plan was nasty, ugly and violent. I guess that’s why they picked us, thought Jed.
The wall was eight feet high, and made from solid concrete. Jed leant against it, running his hands along the side. It was as smooth as skin, with almost nothing to grip on to. There was only one way over. A leg-up, and then lie flat and hope to hell no one sees you.
The MOPP suits felt heavy and cumbersome. Jed had strapped the charcoal-lined jacket around himself and pulled on the trousers. Everything had to be sealed up with lightweight plastic clasps so that not a single inch of skin would be exposed to the atmosphere. On his hands there were rubber gloves, and at his side he had a rubber face mask to pull on at the last minute. He’d taken just a pistol and an AK-47 to keep himself light, and his grenades were packed tight to his waist. The MOPP wasn’t a bad bit of kit, he thought. They’d made it as light as they could, but it was still hard to move quickly. They had talked through what kind of chemical weapons might be in the plant – anthrax, mustard gas, or something the British didn’t even know about – and Jed didn’t mind admitting the thought of them turned his blood cold. Still, the suit should offer some protection. I feel like a bloody turkey about to be put into the oven, thought Jed. And maybe that’s what I am.
‘You ready?’ he said, looking across at Steve.
Steve nodded. ‘Let’s go,’ he said tersely.
Matt was kneeling down, with his hands clasped together. Jed put his right foot into Matt’s hands, and within one second he was being lifted clean into the air. Thrusting his arms forward, he grabbed hold of the rim of the wall, then levered himself up. Rolling his body forward, he pulled his legs up behind him, so he was lying flat on the surface.
A pause. There was a soft hum coming from some of the kit inside the plant. He glanced up at the two watchtowers, but the lights weren’t moving. His patch of wall was shrouded in darkness. Looking down, he nodded to Steve. Matt hoisted him into the air, and within a second he was lying flat on the wall next to Jed. Another pause. Jed glanced again at the lights. Nothing. He looked down. The inner courtyard was just a dusty concrete surface, with truck marks smeared across it. On one side, he could see a single-storey admin block that looked like it was put together in a hurry. On the other side, he could see the plant. It consisted of a tangled mess of tubes and wires. At its centre, there was a metal ovoid, like a giant egg, with a series of pipes running into it, and with two chimneys stretching fifty feet into the air. Some white gas was escaping from one of them. From his time as an engineer, Jed could guess that it was some kind of experimental chemical or nuclear facility. But what they were cooking up in there it was impossible to say.
That’s why we have to get inside. This might be the actual evidence of WMD everyone had been talking about for the past few months.
‘Over there,’ whispered Jed, pointing to a hut next to the main metal gates that led into the compound.
Steve’s eyes flashed towards it. The hut had been placed right next to the metal gates. From the back you could see a man’s foot quite clearly sticking out. The night guard.
Jed pointed to his own chest. He didn’t need to say anything. Steve could understand what he was saying perfectly well. I’ll take the bugger.
Jed looked down. It was eight feet to the ground. He rolled his body into position, then gripped on to the side of the wall with his fingertips. Carefully he lowered his body down so that he was hanging flat next to the inside of the wall. He paused, checking that he couldn’t hear any movement, then let go.
Impact. He landed on the ground, letting his knees buckle as he did so, to absorb the force of the landing, and to minimise the noise. He glanced back up at Steve, and gave him the thumbs up. He could see Steve unstrapping his AK-47 and putting the gun into position. If anything went wrong, he would be ready to lay down some covering fire.
Jed glanced ahead. It was forty yards across open courtyard to the hut. He looked behind him to the admin block. There was just a chance they could get inside without being detected. No, he told himself. Better to finish the guards off one by one.
From inside his jacket, he took out an eight-inch steel-plated hunting knife. He’d practised running in the MOPP back in Hereford, and he knew that although it weighed him down, once you got used to it, you could still move at a fair clip. The ground was covered within a few seconds, but it was impossible to run without creating any noise, and as he moved across the open concrete, he could see the feet sticking out from the hut whip away. He kept moving, his legs pounding against the concrete. As he approached the hut, he could see the soldier start to move. Jed threw himself up against its wooden back. He waited, holding his breath, not making a sound. Then footsteps. One, two, then three. He could see the side of the man. With one sudden movement, he lunged forwards, grabbing the guy by the neck with his left hand. His right hand jerked up, then slashed into the side of the man’s throat. The muscle wa
s tough, resisting the cold steel of the blade for a second. Then it slid neatly into the windpipe, like a gear slotting into place. Jed twisted it around, severing the muscle and cutting off the supply of oxygen to the heart. He could feel blood foaming up from the man’s mouth, dribbling down on to his arm. The guard was starting to jerk. He was kicking out with his legs, trying desperately to get some traction on his assailant. He was strong enough, thought Jed, but badly trained: he had no idea what muscles would still be working as his neck was being sliced to pieces. It was like pulling a fish out of the water. He could thrash around, but he didn’t know how to save himself.
One cut, then another. The knife was as sharp and deadly as a surgeon’s scalpel and was taking its prey apart just as effectively. The breath was dying on the man’s lips. Jed took out the knife, and let him fall helplessly to the ground. Within seconds, the rest of the life had drained out of him. Jed looked down into the face of the corpse. He couldn’t have been more than twenty-one or twenty-two, with shallow brown eyes and spots on his skin. His uniform fitted him poorly, and the safety catch hadn’t been released from his gun. He had the surprised, hurt expression familiar to a solider who has seen men fall on the battlefield. Those eyes will be staring back at me for the rest of my life, Jed thought bitterly.
He ran back to the wall. Until the alarm was raised, they had a fair amount of time: once it was, they would have no more than a few minutes to complete the job. Steve had lowered himself to the ground. Jed gave him the thumbs up, and together the two men ran towards the admin block. They were keeping a close eye on the two watchtowers, but so far as Jed could tell, although the lights were on, nobody was watching. He knelt down in front of the door. The mission was to get inside and get as much evidence as possible of what was happening.
Jed took out his pistol, holding his finger on the trigger ready to fire. At his side, Steve was stabbing at the door with his knife. He’d been trained to break locks, but there was no time for anything fancy now. He was just cutting it away with the blade. Within seconds his work was done. The wood had loosened, and two hard heaves from his shoulders finished the job. The door was open, and they went inside.
Dim light was coming from some of the rooms, but the corridor was dark. Jed could see there were turnings to both the left and the right. His AK-47 was stretched out in front of him, and he had unclipped a stun grenade from his pack. If he saw anyone, he wasn’t planning to hesitate.
He paused, waiting to see if there was anyone coming. Breaking the door had made more than enough noise to alert a guard. Nothing. The corridor was completely silent. ‘Which way?’ hissed Steve.
‘Let’s start left,’ said Jed.
He walked along the corridor. The first office had just a series of white boards with some equations written on them. Jed glanced at them, but they didn’t mean much. He was an engineer, not a physicist. He took out a digital camera, flashing a dozen snaps in quick succession. Maybe they’ll mean something to the boffins back at the Firm, he thought. They sure as hell mean nothing to me.
By the time he’d finished, Steve had already checked the next room. There were just some files arranged over a desk, all of them written in Arabic. Steve had taken a series of pictures. Jed strode through the corridor, opening another office door. A desk, a computer and a couple of chairs. He looked at the board. Nothing. We’re finding sod all, he thought. One of us has already died, and we’ve nothing to show for the mission.
‘Next corridor,’ hissed Steve as Jed stepped out of the office.
He followed him down the length of the corridor that snaked along the side of the building. Through the doors, Jed could see an array of scientific equipment. A couple of neon strips ran down the centre of the room, casting a pale light across the workbenches. There were some computers, some stools, but it was mostly measuring equipment: microscopes and sensors, used to detect subatomic particles. First, Jed approached one of the computers, and slotted a flash memory key into its USB port – the Firm had kitted them out with these sticks that could instantly download and store all the information on the hard disk of a computer. Next, he took out his camera, taking another series of pictures. The camera was designed to take snaps in poor light, but the flash was still popping every time he hit the shutter. Like sending out a bloody beacon, he thought to himself. We might as well be waving flags around saying come and get us.
Jed paused, stuffing the camera into his pocket and sniffing the air. A slight smell of dried apples was mixed with the singed metal and rubber of the scientific equipment. A perfume, maybe. Light Blue by Dolce & Gabbana. The same perfume that Sarah always wore.
‘Where next?’ said Steve.
‘The plant,’ said Jed. ‘We need some close-up pictures of that.’
Jed moved swiftly. Sweat was already pouring off him. The MOPP suit turned into a furnace when you ran, and because it didn’t let any air through, your skin couldn’t breathe. He could feel the liquid running down his neck and along his back. ‘Cover me,’ he hissed to Steve.
Steve knelt down, next to the admin block, his AK-47 held out in front of him. Jed started to run across the courtyard towards the spherical chemical plant, rubber soles kicking up dust. He looked anxiously at the watchtowers. Nothing. He checked his watch. Ten past three. They’d been in this place for ten minutes already, and so far their luck had held. But it couldn’t last much longer.
It was twenty yards across to the plant. Grabbing the digital camera from his pocket, he fired off another series of snaps. The camera had been fitted with a high-density memory card, enabling it to take twelve-million-pixel snaps, and store up to five hundred of them. After taking a dozen, Jed started to crawl around the base of the plant, taking more pictures as he did so. He could feel the heat radiating out of the orb at its centre, pulsing waves of hot air that seemed to be vibrating out of the thing as if it had a heart of its own. Christ, I hope it’s not nuclear, thought Jed. Radiation sickness meant a slow, lingering death that could take a decade or more. Better to get shot here than to go through that.
At the back of the plant there was a hatch. It was made of galvanised steel, with some rubber sheeting placed across it. Jed took some more pictures. Next to the hatch, there were two thick water pipes. Jed got in as close as he could to get detailed images on to the camera. They had to find out exactly what this piece of kit was making and how. Steve was still kneeling on the ground, his AK-47 straight out in front of him. A noise. Jed was convinced he could hear something. Inside the pipes, there was a rush of water, and the machinery inside the plant growled and groaned. But this sounded like footsteps. And a cough.
Jed stopped. A rattle of gunfire was breaking out over the courtyard.
‘Run, Jed, run,’ he could hear Steve shouting. ‘Run like fuck.’
He looked round. Steve was holding out his gun, firing in rapid bursts towards the main entrance to the compound.
Jed took the pistol strapped across his belt, slamming it into his fists. He unclamped its safety catch. He could see the burning red of tracer fire bursting out of Steve’s gun. He was firing into the darkness, but his position was horribly exposed: he had nothing he could hide behind. Jed’s head swivelled round, trying to get a lock on where the fire was coming from. Jed glanced towards the watchtower closest to the entrance. He could see a guy up there, turning the light towards where Steve was. Jed pointed the pistol straight ahead of him, letting off a burst of fire. The man screamed as the bullets tore through him, then fell to the ground. One down, thought Jed. Make that two, counting the guy next to the gate. But how many of the buggers are there?
More fire was starting up. Jed was hiding next to the back of the plant, taking shelter, but he could hear the bullets pinging off its metal skin like raindrops hitting a tin roof. He could feel the blood rushing to his head, as the adrenalin of the fight took hold of him. ‘You there?’ shouted Steve, across the courtyard.
There was no point in worrying about chemicals now. They were about to die an
yway. The air rushed into his lungs, hot and humid: he could taste the gunpowder and oil in it, and it made his stomach wrench. ‘Here,’ shouted Jed.
‘Get towards the back wall, I’ll cover you,’ shouted Steve.
Jed glanced around the side of the plant. He could see that Steve had run away from the entrance to the admin block, and was crouching close to the entrance to the plant. There were two dead bodies at his side. One man was up in the watchtower, and at least a dozen more were firing from the broken windows of the admin block. But with enough fire laid down to keep their attacks at bay, there was just a chance Jed could get across the courtyard, and on to the wall where Matt would be waiting for them. ‘What about you?’ shouted Jed.
‘I’ll be OK, man. Now just fucking run. I can’t hold these fuckers much longer.’
Bugger it, Jed thought. I can’t leave Steve there. We’ve already lost one man on this bloody mission. We’re not going to lose another.
He took out a grenade, pulled the pin and started running. With one swift movement, he lobbed the grenade towards the admin block. It crashed against the side of the building, exploding in a haze of smoke. The rate of firing increased, but it was wild and inaccurate. The enclosed courtyard was starting to fill up with smoke and bullets, a nasty fog of death. Jed tore into the darkness, steering himself towards Steve by memory. ‘Here, man, here,’ he was shouting, his voice ragged, his lungs filling up with the smoke from the grenades. ‘We’re clearing out together.’
He grabbed hold of Steve’s arm, the two of them starting to run together. It was forty yards back to the wall where they had come over. Matt had thrown down a rope and an AK-47, and was lying flat on the top of the wall, his own AK-47 pivoted towards the admin block, laying down rapid bursts of fire. The rate of fire was increasing. Jed pulled the pin on another stun grenade, tossing it towards the admin building and waiting to hear the sound of the explosion before running on.