by Stuart Field
‘So, what did Steel say?’
‘He said we have work to do,’ she replied, her face expressionless, her eyes filled with revenge.
Chapter Sixty-Five
As the sun rose to its pinnacle over the island of Gozo, so did the temperature. The hope of cloud cover had been carried away by a wind from the west. The once cool breeze had become warm and stifling. Even though it was late in the morning, the heat to come was apparent.
Aamir sat in an old Mitsubishi flatbed truck and looked out of the window at the diverse landscape. The rest of his men were in four other vehicles; two at the front, the other two to the car's rear.
They were heading for the ferry and then, the US Embassy.
This would be the ultimate strike. Destroy the eyes and ears of the crossroad between North Africa and Europe. The people at the embassy would be taken by surprise – they would have no idea what had hit them.
Everything was going as planned.
Everything the Master had promised would happen, had happened.
Their source inside had arranged everything, the house, weapons, intel, and the plane in Tunisia. The Master had been right to trust this hidden HE. Soon, the Master would be on the plane, taking the fight to the United States.
Aamir closed his eyes and rested his head on the headrest, letting the breeze from the open window brush his face. He thought about his family, his friends, everyone he had lost in the war in the old country.
Aamir had fled to Tunisia from his village. He had seen everything and everyone destroyed by missiles. Death from afar had taken everything from him. He had made it alone on foot. Surviving the perils of the desert. He had heard stories of a better life in the city.
His old life was gone – ripped away from him.
It had taken him nearly a month to get to the city. Aamir had taken on jobs for food and shelter at farms. He had stolen to eat when he had too.
And then he met the Master. He was in a village Aamir was passing through. The Master had this aura about him. He was a big man, tall and straight-backed, his head held up high. His hand’s hand long boney but powerful-looking fingers. To Aamir, this was the most impressive looking man he had ever seen – almost god-like. The Master had seen Aamir – who was only a boy at that time. Twelve years old and alone in the world, with only hate to carry him through.
The Master had walked up to Aamir. They stared at one another in silence – each one sizing the other up. The Master had just smiled and looked over at the men with him. Then returned his gaze to Aamir.
No words were spoken – they were not required. The Master returned to his group, and Aamir followed gingerly behind.
From that moment on, his path was clear. He would take the battle back to those who had taken everything from him. Aamir had been trained and schooled. He had learned how to read and write in both English and Arabic. He had become an excellent student and had the admiration of the others. The Master had regarded him more like a son than a soldier, his right hand.
A tear rolled down Aamir’s face but was quickly taken by the wind. He wept for the family that he had lost, but soon they would be avenged. He raised his right wrist and looked at the battered timepiece – it was nearly eleven in the morning.
The second safe house was south-west of Attard. It was an abandoned farmhouse – another gift from HE.
It was a ten-minute drive to the port at Mgarr and then a twenty-minute crossing to Cirkewwa harbour in Malta. The ferry crossing would give them time to eat and drink. The first rule of any soldier – eat when you can. They had no idea when the next time would be at the other end, and the last thing Aamir needed was the men fatigued for what they were about to do.
He needed them fit and functioning.
When they got to Malta, it would be a good half hours drive to the safe house. If all went well, they should be there by two o’clock. They had time. There was no need to rush.
Once at the safe house, the plan was simple – they would wait there until the signal. The Master would call them when all was in place, which would be the last call they would receive.
Aamir stared out of the window as they passed the parish church in Qala. He stared at all the people happily taking photos. All of them completely unaware of the chaos Aamir and his men would soon bring.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Steel drove into the small village and stopped at the fork in the road. He had passed the church with the cemetery. To the left he would be back in Qala, to the right, he would be heading north. Steel checked the maps on his tablet. Steel looked over at his cell phone, a quick electronic ping told him he had a new message. From Samara, her contact had come through. Foster was ok, he was injured, but alive, and he was resting in the embassy’s medical centre. Steel sent her a thank you then placed his phone into his pocket. He felt slightly better, definitely relieved at the good news.
There was nothing much, no big towns or villages, just open fields and a limestone quarry to the north. Steel smiled, then swung the vehicle off to the tight right turn and headed for the Triq ll Fortin Sant Anton Road.
Stan was woken as Steel revved the engine and hit the road hard. Sending Stan upwards from his seat and landed just as hard on the floor.
‘Sorry,’ Steel said, glancing back over his shoulder. Stan sat up on the back seat and rubbed his back with one hand and held onto the other's front passenger seat. Steel steered erratically, hoping the wheels were moving in the same direction. The lack of power steering often meant he moved the steering wheel but was lucky if the actual wheels moved with it – or at all.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Stan said. ‘At Azure Window, did you find what you wanted?’ Stan said again, his hand still nursing his back.
‘Yes, and more at Hondoq Bay,’ Steel said. Glancing back at Stan who was placing his cell phone into a top pocket of his shirt. The pocket was illuminated by the light from the screen.
‘So, you found the place on that film you showed me – cool,’ Stan said. He looked around for a moment, taking the time to get his bearings. He did not recognise anything, so he looked over the passenger seat at Steel’s tablet and saw where they were going.
‘Where you are going, there’s nothing up here, just a couple of farmhouses, nothing unusual.’ Stan said. His face creased as he slapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth.
Steel looked at Stan using the review mirror and grinned to himself. The overindulgence was getting to the cabbie. Revenge was sweet – or rather a foul sickly taste in the mouth.
‘Precisely, if you’re going to hide, you’re not going to be in the middle town. You need somewhere out of the way – but, at the same time, close enough for access to supplies,’ Steel said.
Stan wobbled his head in no particular direction, an indecisive movement, whether to agree or not – he looked like a bobblehead on a dashboard. Then his look changed to one of confusion.
‘Wait, who’s hiding?’ Stan asked. Slipping on his seat belt and clicking it into place.
‘The men on the boat,’ Steel said.
‘Oh, yeah, right,’ Stan nodded. Then the puzzled look returned. ‘Wait… hang on… what boat? What men?’ Stan looked around confused. ‘And where the hell are we?’ Stan looked about in a panic as if he hadn’t actually studied the map on the tablet.
‘We’re… Never mind, go back to sleep,’ Steel said. Stan bleched loudly, releasing fumes that could be weaponised. Stan sat back and closed his eyes, his head rested on his shoulder, and he began to snore. It had taken an impressive four seconds for Stan to have fallen asleep – Steel wasn’t entirely convinced the man had been fully awake to start with. Many a time in the Army, Steel had seen men so tanked up they had no recollection of what they had done, but still, they had continued on throughout the night like sobberish men. It was possibly the lizard brain had kicked in – or muscle memory.
Steel had forgotten how many times had he gone downtown, and gotten so drunk he had no idea of anything. But
still managed to go to the local chip shop, order fish and chips, walk back to camp – all with an alcohol content that should have killed him.
He’d let Stan sleep it off for now, and then, Stan would earn his keep.
The sun beat down relentlessly. The lack of air-conditioner made the inside of the vehicle a furnace. Steel had opened the windows in the hope to get a cold breeze, but he was rewarded instead with warm air and dust. The last time he had driven like this was in Iraq.
Steel stopped the car at a junction and looked at both routes that led off into the distance. He grabbed the cold bottle of water and cracked the top and drank. It was still cold, condensation running down the sides. Steel picked up the tablet with his free hand and looked at the satellite image. The map showed Qala and the coastal line, but the picture was too big to get an idea of where he was. He tapped the screen twice, and it zoomed in to that point showing a road, but not the one he was on. He placed the tablet onto his lap and played around with the image, sliding the frame back and forth, up and down until he reached the crossroads where he sat.
The road to his right followed the Triq ll Fortin Sant Anton Road. This led to the quarry and from what he could see, not much else for at least a few miles, far too much distance between Hondoq Bay and what lay further up. The quarry was out of the question as it was still active, no chance of hiding there.
However, the road that went left seemed more promising. There were several farmhouses, and it wasn’t too far from the bay. He would start there, and if he was wrong, he would head back and take the road to the right. Steel took another sip from the bottled water and put the gear into first, turned the wheel and headed down Triq AndarlX Xaghari road, which was little more than a dusty track. Steel figured this was the perfect route the people he was looking for would take. He’d passed another road further back – the Triq ll Wileg Road, but it was a decent asphalt road, which meant it was the main route with plenty of people using it. Not the sort of road you would want to use if you did not want to be noticed. Steel was looking for people who had smuggled themselves onto the island and were hiding out. They wouldn’t be in plain sight, or anywhere many people might find them suspicious.
He’d always had a knack for spotting a place people would hide. The other kids used to refuse to play hide and seek with him because it would take him minutes to find them, but they could never find him. He had learnt to think like the people he was tracking. It was a natural skill he had always had, but the army had perfected it.
‘If you want to find the enemy, you gotta think like um,’ said one of his instructors.
Steel was looking for a large enough place to house twelve or more men. He thought back to the idea that something big was going down – and something big wasn’t going to take seven men. It was more than likely that there was at least twenty or more. And they would possibly split into two teams – a group in the north and the second in the south. If something happened to one of the units, the other could move in within minutes.
The operations building would have to be a place to stash vehicles and equipment for a length of time, that meant somewhere with a large capacity to sleep and feed a section or company of men. Luckily, the part of Gozo that Steel was searching held little in the way of options, it was mostly fields and hills of low bushes and rocky terrain.
Steel wiped the sweat from his brow. He figured it must be at least fifty degrees in the truck, even with the windows open. From time to time, there was a cool breeze from somewhere making his close his eyes briefly and praying it would last. However, it was soon replaced by more hot, unforgiving air.
Steel followed the road and checked the map on the tablet, making sure he wasn’t driving past anything. Some of the tracks were old, just two groves carved out by vehicles, with long grass growing tall and untouched in the centre making it difficult to assess when the last car had used the track. He was driving down a single lane track with low stone walls either side. He had farmland to his left, the ocean to his right, and the unforgiving sun above him as they headed north along the track. Steel stopped the old Land Rover and took another sip from the water.
He had parked next to a strange-looking old limestone building. It had a doorway and steps on the outer wall that led up to a second doorway. The building was square and looked almost like a tiny fort or watchtower – only it was far too small for either. Steel figured it was a resting place for the farmers when the weather got too much, possibly the lower level was for animals – goats or sheep.
He sat and drank for a while longer, his thoughts wandered to Foster. He wanted to call and find out how what had happened, but he knew Foster would just tell him it wasn’t part of his mission. And Foster would have been correct – Steel was just there to find out what had happened to Lucy, nothing more. But Steel kept on having the nagging feeling that what Foster was working on and Lucy’s death weren’t entirely exclusive.
Steel fought with the gear leaver to put it into first. After a couple of seconds of mechanical crunch and screams from the gears, the vehicle lunged forwards, and they were back on the road. As he drove, Steel noticed a short track and an old farmhouse at the end of it. Steel went a bit further and found an excellent spot to pull in without blocking other users' narrow path. The last thing he needed was a load of farmers or locals beeping their horns at him, attracting the people he sought. He may as well hold up a sign saying ‘I’m here.’
Steel parked the vehicle so it could not be seen from the farm. If they happened to see the car, they would think it was just another local parking up. Also, Steel was suffering by driving this ancient Land Rover, and not a brand new rental. A new rental would be too obvious, never blending in. Steel searched his pack and pulled out a set of binoculars. They were simple things, about twenty bucks from a store he’d been to in Valletta, but they did the trick.
Unfortunately, where he sat, Steel had no clear view of the property due to the old walls, trees and contour of the ground. This meant he had to get out of the car and find a decent reconnaissance point. He checked the image on the tablet for any stone walls he could use as cover. Steel mapped out a route in his head to what he considered to be an ideal spot. He could follow the limestone wall line to another one of those square buildings he had seen previously. The building would be perfect as cover.
Steel closed down the tablet, tucked it back into his backpack, and then took another sip from the water, which was now lukewarm. But it was wet, and his mouth was dry from the dust and heat.
Steel watched as Stan sat up and stretched off, belching loudly as he did so. Steel said nothing, just shook his head in amazement at the man’s lack of social graces.
‘Why ’ave we stopped?’ Stan asked, looking around.
Stan did not know what was more disappointing, the heat and lack of air-conditioner or the fact Steel had brought them to the middle of nowhere with no sign of a cafe.
‘We’re not far from a town called Qala,’ Steel said. He took out a paper map and followed into a neat square, making it easier to read.
‘Qala, yeah, I know it.’ Stan said, twisting himself at the middle. Steel nodded and past Stan the map.
‘We are here,’ Steel said, pointing at the track on the map, which was nothing more than a dotted line. ‘If you follow this road it will take you back to Qala,’ Steel said.
Stan stared at the map and looked around at the landscape, getting his bearings.
‘So, where you goin’?’ Stan said, with a puzzled look, as he suddenly realised he had just been given an exit strategy.
‘You stay here, I’m going to check something out,’ Steel said, as he checked the items in his backpack. ‘If I am not back in ten minutes go find Samara, don’t try and come after me, just find Samara,’ Steel said.
Stan nodded, his eyes wide with fear. ‘what bloody sort of trouble you expectin?’
‘Oh, you never know,’ Steel shrugged as he looked back at the direction he would be taking. ‘but, if there is any, get the
bloody hell out of here.’ Stan nodded and watched as Steel crossed a nearby field to avoid the line of sight from the farmhouse. Staying low and keeping to cover. The sun was to his right; meaning any shadow he may have a cast would be hidden by an old limestone dividing wall, bushes, and trees. Steel headed for the small square building not far from the main building, he could easily observe what was going on without being seen from there. All the while, he checked for movement or hidden cameras. If he had been in charge of the location, he would have set up wifi cameras all around, covering the grounds for intruders.
However, he did not see any.
Steel got to the square building and snuck up to the roof. The door to the upper floor was unlatched, so he gingerly inched it open. Steel found it was somehow cooler inside. But he was out of the direct sunlight, making it feel a whole lot better. Inside the air was thick with dust and sand, Steel coughed into his sleeve. The room was small and had the signs someone had used it, but not recently. Whoever had stayed there, had made a small fire near a tiny window – which was more a hole in the wall, and perfect for covert reconnaissance.
Steel found a spot where he could observe, without being seen. He took out the cheap binoculars and a pair of ladies nylons. He took one of the nylons out of the package and using a knife from his backpack he cut out two small pieces of the fabric. He reached inside his pack and took out two elastic bands. Steel stretched each of the pieces of cloth over each of the large lenses of the binoculars. Then secured them with the bands. A trick he’d learned from his time as a sniper in the army to avoid glare giving his position away.
He could see them, but they could not see him.
The farm was made up of a small group of buildings. A two-story building which Steel figured was the farmhouse. This was made of limestone with grey roof tiles. The windows had green wooden shutters, and the front door was also green with flaking paintwork.