by Ryan, Chris
His full weight pressing down on the satchel containing the Claymore.
A split second later, the mine detonated.
The ground beneath McGee erupted with a burst of orange flame. In the next moment there was a second, brighter orange ball as the charge triggered, and McGee vanished behind a cloud of smoke and dust as a deep whoosh rumbled across the field. Bald, Porter and Hulk flattened themselves, hugging the ground as hundreds of ball bearings whipped through the air, passing a few inches above their heads and clattering against the timber posts.
A few moments later, the noise faded.
Bald cautiously lifted his head and looked across the clearing, blinking dust out of his eyes. Tendrils of smoke drifted up from the blackened patch of earth where McGee had been crawling. The smell of charcoaled flesh hung thick in the air.
Above the hollow ringing in his ears he could hear Hulk at his side, cursing and yelling as he sprang to his feet. Bald and Porter both jumped up and followed him, rushing through the thinning haze of smoke. They stopped a metre short of McGee. Or what was left of him.
His trunk had survived the blast. The plate armour had absorbed most of the impact, the outer material burned to a crisp. The armour itself was covered in scorch marks. The rest of his body had been blown apart. His legs had been torn off at the groin, spilling his intestines across the ground. There was a ragged bloody stump where his head should have been. The area was covered with scraps of flesh and bone fragments and shreds of incinerated fabric.
Several beats passed. Nobody moved. They all just looked at McGee’s body in stunned silence. Then Dudley scrambled down the side of the mound and came hurrying over. He caught sight of McGee’s rag order corpse and stopped abruptly in his tracks.
‘Oh shit,’ he gasped. ‘Oh Jesus, fuck.’
Bald glanced over at Hulk. The guy appeared to be in a state of shock. The colour had plunged from his face.
‘What the fuck happened?’ Dudley demanded.
‘Stupid bastard must have accidentally depressed the clacker,’ Bald said. ‘Putting all that pressure on the satchel must have done it. Triggered the Claymore.’
Porter furrowed his brow. ‘But you can’t detonate one of them things by accident. Got to link the battery up first.’
‘He did,’ Bald said. ‘Bloke had the Claymore and the battery hooked up before he put it in the satchel. Had the safety bale on the clacker lowered and all.’
Hulk looked up, the look on his face darkening. ‘You watched him do that?’
‘I was right next to him, aye.’
‘And you didn’t think to say anything to him?’
‘I did. Idiot reckoned he had it under control.’
Dudley jabbed a finger at him. ‘That’s a crock of shit. You probably didn’t say a word. Kept your mouth shut so Bobby could get himself killed. That’s what happened’
‘Why the fuck would I let him do that?’
‘You’ve been wanting him off the team from the get-go. Admit it, asshole.’
‘I didn’t rate the guy as an operator. Got no problem admitting that. Doesn’t make me a murderer.’
Dudley snorted with contempt and turned to Hulk. ‘You’re not buying this crap, are you?’
‘He’s supposed to be a Navy SEAL, for fuck’s sake,’ Bald said. ‘He should have known how to handle a Claymore. Not my fault he blew himself up.’
Hulk was quiet for a moment. Then he said, ‘Someone find Commander Uribe. Tell him we need four guys. Plus trash bags and latex gloves. Get this mess cleaned up.’
‘What about Bobby?’ asked Dudley.
‘Pick up and bag what’s left of him. We’ll give the guy a proper Christian burial later. Training is suspended.’
Dudley wheeled round and headed in the direction of the camp. Hulk watched him go, then turned to the others. ‘Wait here. Give Dudley a hand when he returns.’
Porter said, ‘Where are you going?’
‘To find Taylor. I need to tell him what just happened. He’ll have to take this up the chain to his superiors.’
‘What for?’
‘The Company was uneasy about a five-man team. They didn’t like the odds. They felt we were taking a lot of risks. Now it’s just four of us, they might decide to pull the plug.’
‘We’re better off without him,’ Bald said. ‘That stupid fuck was going to screw us, mate. He could have got us all killed just now.’
‘I hear your, brother,’ Hulk replied quietly. ‘But somehow, I don’t think that’s how Taylor is going to see it.’
He marched slowly off down the track leading away from the range. Porter watched him go before he turned to Bald, ‘Did you do that on purpose? Tell me the truth.’
‘I tried to tell him. That stupid fucker ignored me. That’s how it happened.’ Bald screwed up his face. ‘You don’t think I deliberately let that prick get himself killed, do you?’
‘I know you’ve done some dark shit in your time. And you two were at each other’s throats.’
‘I’m not a psychopath. I don’t go around slotting people I don’t rate. Christ, if I did that, half of Hereford would be six feet under by now.’
Porter searched his friend’s face for any sign of a tell. He wanted to believe Bald, but he also knew the guy was capable of anything. Given his history. Someone like that, you could never truly trust them.
He shrugged and looked away. ‘Doesn’t matter anyway.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You heard what Hulk said. Langley will probably call the mission off now.’ Porter sighed bitterly and looked him in the eye. ‘You’ve just screwed the op, mate.’
NINETEEN
They were back in the meeting house again. Two hours had passed since the accident on the range. Bald, Porter and Dudley had led the clean-up operation while Hulk conferred with Taylor. It had taken a while to gather up what was left of McGee. The detonation of the Claymore and the explosive charge had dispersed his upper body in an impressively wide radius. There were fingers to gather up, and brain matter and eyeballs and bits of bone. They bagged the remains and buried them in an isolated spot a short distance from the camp. Taylor ordered them to retain anything that might identify his body. Rings, wallet, personal phone. Dudley insisted on burying the guy with his hip flask and led the rest of the team in a tearful prayer. He seemed cut up about McGee’s death. They had evidently struck up a bond in the short time they had spent together.
Half an hour after the burial, Taylor had summoned them back to the meeting house. They had taken up their spots on the benches while the CIA officer sat at the head of the table, steepling his fingers and wearing an angry look on his sunscreen-covered face. Dudley sat directly across from Bald, giving him the stink eye.
‘I’ve spoken with Langley,’ Taylor began. ‘Suffice to say, they’re mightily pissed. So am I.’
‘What’ll happen to Bobby?’ asked Dudley.
‘He doesn’t have any family to speak of. No partner or kids. There’s a brother in San Antonio, but they’re not close. The official line will be that McGee went missing while off-duty, working at an oil installation. We’ll make it look like he was a low-level drug operator who got into debt.’
‘Ain’t right, tarring a man’s name like that.’
‘It’s a good story. No one’s going to be asking too many questions about what happened. But that’s where the good news ends. This is a disaster.’
His eyes landed on Bald.
‘Don’t look at me,’ Bald growled. ‘I’m not the thick bastard who rigged up a Claymore right before a training exercise. It’s not my fault that prick lost his life.’
Hulk said, ‘No one’s accusing you of anything, brother.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ Dudley said.
‘The guy wasn’t a professional,’ Bald snapped, meeting the redneck’s gaze. ‘I can’t be responsible for him not following standard procedures. If he’d done his job we wouldn’t be having this argument.’
‘Is th
e mission still going ahead?’ Hulk asked.
‘Our people are unhappy about the reduction in manpower,’ Taylor said. ‘Conventional military wisdom states that an attacking force should outnumber the defenders by three to one. You’re drastically short of that.’
‘So they’re calling it off?’
‘They gave it serious consideration. But given the stakes, we’re willing to proceed as planned. The four of you will continue to train and carry out the mission as discussed.’
Bald wrinkled his brow. ‘Any word on when the hostage is being moved?’
‘We’re expecting the call from Gallardo’s contact at any moment. Should be within the next twenty-four hours. Could be less.’
‘What about that distraction for the barracks? Can you tell us anything more?’
‘Langley checked in with the team handling it. They’re working round the clock. It’s a big effort. We think they should be able to deploy soon after you’ve arrived at the LUP. Once it’s ready to trigger, you’ll have a thirty-minute warning to move into your final assault positions. That’s all I know.’
‘How soon will we move out?’ asked Porter. ‘Once we hear from the colonel?’
‘You’ll leave as soon as we get the call, confirming the hostage is en route. Any delay will simply give more time for President Vasquez’s cronies to interrogate the hostage. More time for them to torture her.’
‘What about the military reinforcements?’
‘They’re still at least another two days away, as far as we know. But any extra delay and it’ll be too late for us.’
‘We need a replacement for McGee,’ Hulk protested. ‘Four of us makes the operation difficult.’
‘I understand. But my hands are tied. There’s no time for Langley to send someone else down.’
‘Fuck it,’ Bald said. ‘We’ll do better with four. No passengers.’
‘Going to be a close-run thing,’ Dudley said, sucking in a breath.
‘It was going to be anyway. At least this way, we won’t have some steroid-addicted halfwit cocking it up.’
Taylor grabbed his phone and nodded at the faces around the table. ‘I’ll leave you to sort out the details. Proceed with your training. You’ll leave as soon as we’ve heard back from Colonel Gallardo.’
He ducked out of the meeting house and wandered down the main track, slapping bugs away with one hand and cursing under his breath as he dialled a number. Porter watched him go and scrunched up his face in thought.
‘Why are they so keen to push on with the op?’ he wondered.
‘No point trying to second guess their motives,’ Bald said. ‘Same deal as Vauxhall. May as well read the fucking tea leaves.’
Hulk nodded. ‘John’s right. All we can do is keep on planning for the mission. Get everything straight. Make sure we’re ready for when we get the signal.’
‘You’re not worried about the odds?’ asked Porter.
‘We’ve faced worse in the Regiment,’ said Bald.
‘But with backup.’
‘Doesn’t matter. It still comes down to guys like us on the ground, going in and doing the business.’
‘We’re heavily outnumbered, Jock.’
‘That Claymore will knock out most of the defenders. That’s our trump card. We detonate that fucker, we’ll have the woman out of there before the remaining guards can get themselves organised.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’
‘It will,’ Bald insisted.
‘Let’s hope so. Because one thing’s for sure.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We’re down to the bare bones now. There’s four of us left and no support.’ Porter swallowed hard. ‘If this thing goes wrong, it’s going to go badly wrong.’
They worked through the evening and returned to the range the following morning to practise the assault. There was a lot of ground to cover. They had to figure out how to work the plan with a four-man team instead of five. There was some debate over whether to abandon the sniper or slim down the assault team. In the end, they settled on a three-man assault team. The sniper’s role was critical to the mission, they felt. Porter would plant the charge and the Claymore, with Dudley, Bald and Hulk covering him. He would then link up with Bald and Hulk and initiate the assault on the guardhouse, with Dudley taking down any remaining defenders from his position on the hillock.
They did a few more real-time run-throughs, rehearsing the plan to death. They wanted to get themselves well trained, refining their tactics as much as possible, so that they were ready for the mission the moment they got the signal. There was nothing else for them to do for the next few hours except train, and wait.
Taylor had told them the previous afternoon that they could expect the call from Gallardo’s contact within twenty-four hours. So we’ll hear before three o’clock today, thought Bald. Two or three more hours on the range, fine-tuning their drills and tactics. And then we’ll get the green light.
They broke for lunch and returned in the early afternoon to practise a few basic contact drills. Nothing complicated. Just some rudimentary fire-and-move drills, getting down on the ground, then rising to their feet and breaking forward, putting down live rounds on a bunch of paper targets stapled to the plywood staves at one end of the gully. Making sure that everyone on the assault team knew how to work together, getting a feel for each other’s individual strengths and weaknesses.
Hulk and Bald were equally matched, hitting their targets in close groupings. Porter ran the contact drill last, with the others looking on from the sidelines as he ran forward with his M4, breathing hard and sweating heavily as he dropped to a kneeling firing position and squeezed off two rounds at the targets, before scrambling to his feet and racing forward again. When he had finished, he stood to one side, gasping for breath while Bald, Hulk and Dudley approached the paper target.
‘I’ll be damned,’ Hulk said, chewing hard on a wad of tobacco as he tore the paper from the stave and held it up to the sunlight. ‘Look at that. Off target. Every single one of them.’
Dudley spat on the ground and peered at Porter. ‘You sure you’re ex-SAS?’
Hulk crumpled the target into a ball and tossed it aside. ‘Try again,’ he said. ‘Maybe try, you know, hitting the target this time.’
The two Americans laughed and joked among themselves as they retreated to the edge of the range. Bald lingered beside his mucker, giving him the evil eye.
‘Fucking abysmal. You’re turning us both into a laughing stock.’
‘It’s a spot of rustiness,’ Porter said. ‘I just need a few runs to sort myself out.’
‘Bollocks. Look at you. You’re out of breath, for fuck’s sake.’
Porter glared at him. ‘It’s just one bad drill. Nothing more.’
Bald stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘You’ve been on easy street for too long. That’s your problem. All them months working jobs in London, house-sitting for billionaires. You’ve turned soft.’
‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Them rounds you just fired say otherwise.’
Porter stared at him.
‘Smarten the fuck up,’ Bald went on. ‘If you’re having trouble moving, slow down. But make sure you get them rounds on target.’
Something snapped inside Porter. He took a step towards Bald, trembling with anger. ‘Get off my back, Jock. I’ve got this sorted.’
‘You’d bloody better,’ Bald said. ‘We’re about to get into a scrap with a load of armed guards. If we’re going to survive, we’ll need to have each other’s backs.’
Porter pursed his lips and stared at him.
‘You might be clean as a whistle these days,’ Bald added, ‘but if you’ve lost your edge, you’re going to be about as much use to us as a one-armed man in a shoe-tying contest.’
Porter stormed off and went through the drill again while Bald and the Americans watched him warily from the sidelines. Twenty minutes later, at two o’clock, they were interrupted by a sho
ut from the edge of the gully. Bald wheeled round and saw Taylor hurrying over from the track leading to the camp.
‘I just got off the phone with Langley. Colonel Gallardo has heard from his contact in Caracas. The hostage is on the move.’
‘Are we sure?’ asked Hulk.
‘The lieutenant saw her leave the building. He made a clear visual identification. It’s definitely Fuller.’
Bald said, ‘When did she leave?’
‘An hour ago.’
Bald thought it through. From the maps of Venezuela they had studied the previous evening, he knew that Caracas was a ninety-minute drive from the president’s estate. Which meant that Fuller would arrive at the stronghold at around 15.30.
‘The chiefs have given the operation the green light,’ Taylor continued. ‘This thing is for real, gentlemen. Finish up here and grab your stuff. Assemble in front of the parade ground in thirty minutes.’
They quit the range at once and hurried back to the main camp. Grabbed their daysacks and equipment from their bashas and carried out final checks on their weaponry, stashing spare ammo clips and accessories in the pouches of their tactical vests and taking care of any last-minute admin. Nobody wanted to leave anything vital behind. Twenty-nine minutes later, Bald, Porter, Hulk and Dudley made their way over to the parade ground near the front of the guerrillas’ camp.
They were dressed in a mixture of camouflage kit, olive-green shirts and trousers and Gore-Tex boots. Some of the items had been taken from the guerrillas’ stores, or from their own personal backpacks. Their OG clothing came from the supplies provided by Taylor. They were carrying their suppressed M4s with rail attachments, plus five thirty-round clips of 5.56x45mm ammo for each man, stored in the pouches on the front of their plate carriers along with their compact fold-up binoculars.
They wore their Glock 17 pistols on their belt holsters, with two seventeen-round magazines of 9x19mm Parabellum rounds. Each member of the team carried a daysack loaded up with two bottles of drinking water, fresh fruit and bread taken from the camp stores, with a poncho in case they had to lie up somewhere. Also inside the daysack: three L2 fragmentation grenades, Claymore mines and shell dressings. Bald carried the empty milk container filled with detergent and fuel in his daysack. They also carried their passports, credit cards and $4,000 in carry-around cash, along with their CIA phones and portable charger units. Everything they would need for the long journey ahead of them.