Battleground cr-6

by Chris Ryan

  Aarya stumbled forward. Amir followed, closing the door behind him so that they were in total blackness. For some reason, she didn’t know why, she counted the steps. Fifteen of them, and then they were at the bottom, where the smell was musty and foul. She heard Amir moving around in that pitch-black basement and somewhere at the back of her mind she considered running back up those steps and trying to flee; but she knew it would be hopeless. And so she waited.

  A clicking sound. Amir had found a door and opened it. It led into another basement room which had a small candle burning on a wooden table and yet another door beyond it. A short instruction from Amir, and Aarya walked through this door and into a further room. Amir brought the candle with him, then opened a final door which led to the foot of a flight of steps. They climbed up them, and Aarya found herself in an entirely different house. Deserted, or so it seemed.

  They crept through the house, guided only by the light from Amir’s candle, until they reached the front door. Here they stopped. Amir put the candle on the floor, shuffled the suitcase bomb on his back to a more comfortable position, then pressed his ear to the door.

  For a moment, silence. And then, from nowhere, voices. Shouting.

  Amir’s face grew steely. Aarya held her breath.

  And it was then that the air started to ring with the sound of gunshots…

  Chapter Twenty

  The instructions that the Afghan policeman had given led them to the top of a wide side street. They peered out from round the corner, not wanting to be seen. There were houses on each side, but they were very poor places, some of them looking as if they were on the point of collapse. About fifty metres away there was a single building that was two storeys high, with a balcony on the top floor.

  ‘That’s it,’ Ricki said. ‘That’s the building he said.’

  The rest of the unit grunted their agreement. Matt pulled a small cylindrical device from his ops waistcoat and put it to his eye. ‘One man on the balcony,’ he reported. ‘Armed. Another guy covering the front entrance, about ten metres from the door. Also armed.’

  ‘Anything else?’ Ricki demanded.

  Matt replaced the scope. ‘Negative,’ he said. ‘Just the two of them, but there’ll be more inside. I don’t suppose they’ll be offering us a nice cup of tea when we come knocking.’

  Ricki turned to Ben. ‘Listen carefully,’ he said. ‘You need to do exactly what I say.’ Ben nodded. His stomach was twisted with nerves. ‘We need to gain entrance into that house. There’s going to be shooting and you need to keep out of the way of the bullets. But you also need to be close to us.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Ben murmured.

  ‘You see those two trucks?’

  Ben looked down the street. The vehicles were parked on the opposite side to the house, about thirty metres from where they were now standing. ‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘I see them.’

  ‘You need to use those for cover. You’re going to go first, so you can be protected when the fire-fighting starts. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t come out from behind the protection of those vehicles unless one of us tells you to.’

  ‘What if someone else finds me? What if they get out of the house and—’

  ‘Nobody’s leaving that house,’ Ricki interrupted him, quietly but firmly. He turned to the rest of the unit. ‘Toby, Matt, find a back way to the other end of the street. When you’re in position, we’ll cover Ben as he gets to the trucks. Then we’ll go in.’

  The men didn’t need telling twice. Toby and Matt disappeared immediately, leaving Ben alone with Ricki and Jack, now both silent and concentrating. Ben looked around. Nobody else about — this was a quiet part of town. He didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. He thought about Aarya. What kind of state would she be in, if she was still in Amir’s clutches? And then he thought about his mum, and his stomach knotted even tighter.

  ‘Ricki?’ he breathed.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘My mum. They’ll get her out, won’t they?’

  Ricki gave him a serious look. ‘I know this isn’t easy, Ben, but you need to keep your mind on the job in hand. Amir’s the only thing that matters right now. We’ll deal with him first, then we’ll deal with your mum.’

  Ben nodded mutely. It was easier said than done.

  Ricki looked at his watch, then peered round the corner of the street. ‘They’re in position,’ he said. ‘Ben, go.’ He pulled out his M16 from under his robes and took up position at the street corner. ‘Walk slowly and keep your head down. If you run, you’ll attract attention to yourself; if they see your face, they’ll realize you’re not a local.’

  ‘Right,’ Ben said, stopping himself from adding: ‘Thanks a lot.’ He took a deep breath, nodded at the two SAS men, turned the corner, and walked.

  He knew Ricki was covering him; he knew that the slightest sign of trouble would bring a burst of fire from the SAS man’s weapon. That didn’t make things any easier. The trucks were only thirty metres away, but each step felt like it took an hour. He looked at the ground as he went, scratching his head to obscure his face further. With every second that passed, he expected to hear the thunder of gunfire; with every step he took, the desire to break into a run increased.

  Keep walking, he told himself. Don’t panic. They’ve got you covered.

  Fifteen metres to go. To his left, a motorbike parked in the street.

  Ten metres. All the houses he passed were closed up. No light came from them. At the periphery of his vision he could see the man standing on the balcony up ahead.

  Five metres.

  When he reached the truck, he was sweating and breathing heavily. He crouched down and looked behind. Ricki was already following. There was no sign of his weapon, but Ben saw that his hand was delving into his dishdash, and he knew what that meant.

  Everything seemed to happen so quickly. Ricki reached the trucks; by that time Jack was already following and Ben didn’t doubt that at the other end of the street Toby and Matt were also advancing. Ricki passed the trucks, completely ignoring Ben. He pulled his M16 from underneath his dishdash.

  A shout. It wasn’t one of the SAS guys. They’d been clocked. Ben pressed himself against the body of the truck for protection. Ricki bent down on one knee. And then he fired. The suppressed gunshot made barely any noise, but it sounded all the more deadly for that.

  Two shots. And then a thumping sound. Ben imagined the man on the balcony falling to the floor. Ricki and Jack started to run towards the house.

  It was strangely silent. Ben knew he shouldn’t, but he was unable to resist peering round the corner of the truck. Sure enough, two dead bodies lay on the ground. Toby and Matt stood on either side of the door to the house; Jack had taken up position on the other side of the road, covering the entrance with his M16; Ricki was in front of the door. The unit leader pulled something from his ops waistcoat, then aimed his weapon at the door.

  One shot.

  Two shots.

  Ricki kicked the door and it fell open. He hurled the object he’d taken from his waistcoat inside.

  Two seconds, then a blast of light and a huge bang. Smoke billowed from the house and the four men quickly slipped inside.

  Ben pressed his back against the truck once more, breathing heavily. The SAS guys knew what they were doing, but he felt vulnerable stuck out in the street all alone. Ricki’s instruction echoed in his head. Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t come out from behind the protection of those vehicles unless one of us tells you to.

  Muffled shouts from inside the house. Ben pictured the scene: smoke, guns blazing, the unit grim-faced and professional. And then…

  ‘Help!’

  A sudden scream. Close. Ben recognized it, of course. He’d know it anywhere.

  ‘Aarya!’ he whispered.

  More shouts from inside the house.

  Whatever you do, whatever you hear, don’t come out from behind the protection of those vehicles unless one of us tells you to.


  Ben’s lip curled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, knowing it was now impossible to obey Ricki’s instruction. He stood up.

  Aarya and Amir had emerged from a house three doors down. Amir had the suitcase bomb on his back; in one hand he held the rifle, in the other he had Aarya’s hair curled tightly in his fist. He was pushing her in the direction of the lone motorbike Ben had passed moments earlier. And for now, he hadn’t seen Ben.

  Ben looked up and down the road. There was nobody, just the two corpses on the ground. Moving as silently as possible, he emerged from the protection of the trucks and started running towards Amir and Aarya. He might even have made it, had Aarya not looked over her shoulder and seen him.

  ‘Ben!’ she gasped, clearly unable to stop herself.

  Ben winced. At the same time, Amir turned round. The minute he saw Ben, an incredulous look crossed his face, followed by a glare of anger. ‘You!’ he hissed. Still holding Aarya’s hair, he swung round his rifle and aimed it.

  Without hesitation, he fired.

  Ben threw himself to the ground, landing heavily on one side and rolling to the edge of the street. He half expected to feel the pain of a bullet wound, but there was nothing. Amir’s round had missed him. He looked up. Aarya and her captor were running: they were still heading towards the motorbike.

  Ben pushed himself up, but as he did so Amir turned and fired again, randomly. Ben hit the dirt and watched helplessly as Amir climbed onto the bike with Aarya in front of him. The suitcase bomb was still on his back, obscuring their bodies as Amir kicked down on the starting lever of the bike and the engine purred into motion.

  ‘No!’ Ben shouted. Scrambling to his feet again, he ran towards the bike, but it was already moving.

  Above the sound of the engine, he heard Aarya’s voice. Screaming. Terrified. ‘The dam, Ben!’ she yelled. ‘He’s taking me to the dam! Tonight!’

  Ben continued to sprint towards the moving motorbike. If he could reach it, and just grab Amir from behind… He ran as fast as he could, but it was no good. The motorbike was accelerating, and at the last moment Amir managed to swing his rifle backwards and discharge another round in Ben’s general direction. It whizzed past his cheek, sending him crashing to the ground for protection once more. He looked up helplessly, as Amir, Aarya and the bomb reached the end of the street, before turning a corner and disappearing from sight. ‘Aarya!’ he roared at the top of his voice. ‘Aarya! We’re coming after you!’

  His voice echoed into the night as the sound of the motorbike ebbed away.

  Ben was gasping for breath now. A surge of sickness hit him as he realized how close he’d come to being shot. Away from the protection of the trucks, he was suddenly aware that the sound of his encounter with Amir would have disturbed anyone in the vicinity. He needed to get back to cover and wait for the SAS men to reappear. Hauling himself to his feet, he ran back to the trucks. He was only halfway there, however, when the unit re-emerged from the house.

  ‘Ben! What are you doing?’ Ricki barked. He sprinted up to where Ben was standing in the middle of the road. His robes, Ben noticed, were spattered with blood and he made no attempt now to hide his M16.

  ‘Amir!’ Ben shouted. ‘He’s got Aarya and the bomb. He’s taking them to the dam. They’re on a bike and they’re going there tonight!’

  Ricki’s stern expression barely changed as he listened to this information. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I told you. He’s got Aarya — she shouted it out. We’ve got to follow them.’

  As Ben spoke, a strange look passed over Ricki’s face. He raised his M16 and for a moment Ben thought he was pointing it at him. Only when he saw the barrel being pointed over his shoulder, however, did he realize that Ricki’s attention had been held by something else: a group of men at the end of the road. Maybe they had been attracted by the shouting and the noise of gunfire. Whatever, they were armed and looked lairy.

  ‘Get to the trucks, Ben,’ Ricki said quietly.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Get to the trucks. Now.’

  Ben moved, just as Ricki fell to one knee, his M16 in the firing position. He heard the SAS man’s voice, calling to the rest of the unit. ‘Get the trucks started. Both of them.’

  But the unit was already moving. Matt opened the driver’s door of one of the trucks and urged Ben inside; Toby got to work on the other vehicle and Jack joined Ricki in the firing position, ready to head off any potential aggro from the crowd building up at the head of the street.

  ‘Get in the back, Ben,’ Matt ordered tersely. ‘This could kick off any second.’

  Ben did as he was told, his mouth dry with nerves. From the back seat of the truck, he watched as Matt ripped a handful of wires from under the steering column, then started meticulously touching two of them together at a time. After about thirty seconds, he heard the other truck purr into life; moments later Matt found the right combination for hotwiring their truck. The engine coughed, then started turning over.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Matt. He yanked the gearstick into reverse and swung the truck round in a semicircle so that it was facing Ricki, Toby and the crowd. Toby’s truck sped forward and Jack jumped in while Ricki, still aiming his weapon, stepped backwards until he was next to Ben’s truck. He opened the door and got into the passenger seat, then rolled down the window and aimed his weapon out of it.

  ‘Go,’ he instructed.

  The two trucks sped to the end of the road. A few members of the crowd dispersed, but not all of them. One man held up his rifle: he was just about to aim it in the direction of the moving trucks when Ricki discharged his weapon — a wicked-sounding burst of fire that skimmed over the crowd’s head but did its job. The crowd finally dispersed, and just in time. The two trucks swung round the corner, screeching as they went. Ben felt the two wheels on the passenger’s side lift off the ground and he grabbed the edge of the seat. Ricki, though, was leaning out of the window and facing backwards, ready to discharge his weapon should they attract any incoming fire. Only when the crowd was well out of view did he pull himself back in again.

  They were travelling in single file now, and fast. Toby and Jack’s truck was up front, with Ben, Ricki and Matt in the rear truck. Both engines screamed. Matt’s face was a picture of concentration as he negotiated the complicated maze of streets; Ricki leaned back to Ben.

  ‘Get ready for a bumpy ride, mate,’ he shouted.

  ‘Why?’ Ben demanded. ‘Where are we going?’

  Ricki narrowed his eyes. ‘Where do you think?’ he asked. ‘If your man’s carrying out the operation tonight, we need to catch up with him. We’re following him to the Kajaki dam.’

  And with that, he faced the front again, clutching his gun and staring steely-eyed through the windscreen.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Dr Bel Kelland had never been so scared.

  She was surrounded by soldiers — eight of them, forming a protective semicircle around her as she cowered against the back wall of the compound. Their rifles were pointing forwards, but there was no light in the compound for them to see by; just the dusky glow of the still-burning Apache on the other side of the wall.

  ‘Preserve your ammo!’ one of the soldiers had called. ‘Reduce your rate of fire!’

  Private Mears had sidled back to where Bel was crouched. His face was bleeding and he had a harsh look.

  ‘Why did he say that?’ she asked him. Her voice was hoarse and dry — it sounded like someone else’s.

  ‘We don’t know when we’re going to get more air support,’ he said. ‘We’re firing towards the entrance of the compound to stop the enemy from trying to enter, but if our rate of fire is too high, we’ll run out of ammo. And trust me, we don’t want to do that.’

  As if to highlight what Mears had just said, one of the soldiers fired a single shot. It didn’t seem like much to fend off an advancing enemy as it pinged into the Afghan night.

  ‘They’ve got to send someone soon,’ Bel breathed.
She wasn’t sure if Mears heard what she said, because he didn’t reply.

  Time passed, punctuated only by the occasional firing of a round, which did nothing for Bel’s shredded nerves. She had no idea what time it was when the sound of rotary blades drifted towards them. Half an hour later? An hour? Measurements like that had no meaning. The moment she heard the chopper, however, she felt a surge of hope.

  ‘Apache!’ Mears shouted. ‘Apache approaching!’

  The flying machine appeared seemingly from nowhere, the thunder of its engines vibrating in Bel’s ears. For a few seconds it hovered directly over the compound, its searchlights scouring the area like some kind of UFO in the darkness, then it moved on. Outside the front wall of the compound, the Apache dipped its nose slightly. Bel found herself holding her breath.

  The chopper started to fire — loud, chugging rounds coming in short, clinical bursts. The Apache turned ninety degrees so it was now facing away from the compound. It continued to pepper the surrounding ground with gunfire, and with each deafening burst, Bel felt just that little bit safer.

  But not for long.

  The ground-to-air rocket came from very close to the walls of the base. It looked to Bel almost as if it was moving in slow motion. As the rocket soared into the air, she almost couldn’t bear to watch, couldn’t bear a repeat performance, to see a second Apache crash and burn.

  ‘No!’ she gasped, clutching her dirty hair in panic.

  It was almost a fluke that the chopper wasn’t downed. The rocket sailed through the rotating blades, emerging unscathed on the other side and exploding in the air. Nuggets of shrapnel rained down on the Apache, which immediately rose higher into the air. It looked wobbly, and Bel heard one of the soldiers shout: ‘The bird’s been hit by shrapnel!’

  Bel turned to Mears. ‘Is that bad?’ she breathed.

  ‘Yeah,’ Mears replied, sweat pouring from his moonlit face. ‘Yeah, you could say that’s bad.’

  ‘It’s not… it’s not going to crash, is it?’

  Mears’s face looked unbelievably grim. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I’m not a pilot. But I can tell you one thing — they’re not going to risk another rocket strike like that. Not in the dark.’