by Geoff Wolak
‘Sambo drive, Sandra in the passenger seat. Drive down this track, windows down, slow down near other jeeps and shoot them. Then back here, not too many risks. Go.’
My two rebels got into the jeep, started it, and pulled around in a circle as the rest of us ran across to the nearest pipes. Seeing a ladder, I peered up. ‘Nicholson, Tomo, up to the first landing.’
Rifles slung, they started up, a sixty foot climb.
Staring down the track alongside the fence, the jeep travelled almost a thousand yards before it halted, gunfire heard. Sanda stepped down, firing bursts off to the left, at who was not seen. She placed down something, fired again, and they turned around, heading back.
Easing to a halt, dust thrown up, Sandra said, ‘There was a jeep and men, but I see the camera so I put the bomb.’
‘Good work.’
‘It’s Tomo, what we aiming at?’
‘See the Admin building?’
‘What’s it look like?’
Sasha and Stretch laughed. ‘Offices, lights, computers, white men in white shirts, and a small sign on the door that says Admin.’
‘I can see it,’ came Nicholson. Cracks sounded out. ‘They’re all on the floor. I can see a panel or two, electronics.’
‘Shoot them.’ I turned to Sambo as he leant out the jeep window. ‘Go the other way, same thing, be careful.’ He sped off in a cloud of dust. ‘Swann, Leggit, hit the big lights in the middle.’
Stretch noted, ‘How’d they fix them lights after? Need a big fucking crane an all.’
‘Yes, and very expensive.’
The distant lights went out one by one. I grabbed the M4, aimed at a block of what looked like stacked Portakabins, and emptied the magazine, dumping the M4 in plain sight. South African IDs in my pocket, I dumped their webbing in plain sight.
My phone vibrated. ‘It’s Tinker. The radio traffic has gone through the roof; admin offices shot up, lights going out, reports of blacks planting bombs and shooting people.’
‘All good stuff.’
‘Reports of Russian gunmen on scene.’
‘Even better. Keep me posted if those Nigerians move, and we killed the two South Africans.’
A burst of fire, and we all peered after Sambo. Sandra was at it again, bursts fired, a bomb placed down. Problem was, I had no idea which number on the list it was. I should have checked.
‘It’s Nicholson. Admin offices are on fire, at least the equipment is smoking.’
‘Good work. Now find something that looks like sensitive kit and shoot it, plus vehicles tyres – lot of tyres.’
‘Hang on,’ Tomo called.
A crack, a distant blast registered. ‘Gas cylinder, Boss.’
‘Good, find some more.’
Sambo screeched to a halt. I told him, ‘Smash the jeep through the fence, drive to the hill, then come back on foot.’
He turned and accelerated, smashed into the fence and dragged a section a few yards, then got stuck.
‘Bollocks,’ I let out. ‘Sambo!’ I waved at him. ‘Set fire to it. Sasha, go help him.’
A distant blast registered as Sasha ran off, soon a second. ‘It’s Tomo. I set a cabin alight.’
‘Good work.’
‘It’s Nicholson. I hit the aerials on the Admin building.’
‘Look for a bunch of armed Nigerians, in jeeps.’
Stretch pointed west. ‘Is that them?’
I turned. ‘Shit!’ Three jeeps were coming this way. Knelt, I aimed, and loosed off ten rounds with my folding stock AK47, windscreens hit. They pulled in behind pipes. ‘Tomo, Nicholson, aim right, west, at the Nigerians!’
Swann and Legget took up position, but we had no shot, the jeep bursting into flames behind me.
Cracks sounded out from above. ‘It’s Nicholson. We got two, but they’re well hidden.’
‘Get down now!’ I turned to Stretch as he knelt ready. ‘You got snap fuses?’
‘Couple, yeah.’
‘Set a bomb here, snap when I say.’
He got ready.
Sambo and Sasha were now knelt behind a pipe, Tomo and Nicholson clattering down. I led them off, and to a dry ditch leading further into the plant, all soon inside it and sent along. I faced Stretch, he waited, so I glanced west. Two minutes later I saw a black face, a man bent double sneaking along.
A look at Stretch, a nod, and he snapped the fuse and ran to me, sliding into the ditch, up and running after me as the others were waved on.
We were all three hundred yards away and behind machinery when the blast registered, damn loud, a huge cloud of smoke and sand blocking out those lights left working. I turned west, parallel to the Nigerians, the one place they would not think to look.
A wire fence appeared, a lock, and inside stood small storage tanks about ten feet high. ‘Truck fuel I think. Stretch, snap a fuse and lob one over.’
With a chopping hand motion I pointed the team onwards, and we ran a hundred yards before halting. A look back, a nod, and Stretch snapped the fuse and lobbed the Semtex, soon sprinting towards us.
‘Go!’ I hissed, and they ran. ‘Get behind something!’
Stretch skidded in as I counted in my head, and I grabbed him, dragging him behind a tall vat. We ran on, a new direction.
The blast registered, a second almighty blast causing us to stop and look back as night turned to day, flames shooting high, a ball of flame reaching out towards us.
‘Run!’
We ran, but spotted a few workers running as well - none shot, till we came across a line of huge trucks, ore moving trucks.
‘How many snap fuses?’ I asked Stretch as we knelt in the sand.
‘Two left.’
‘Middle truck, fuel tank. Everyone else, on me.’
We were now heading towards the south side of the refinery, and finding a small building we hid behind it. Tomo suddenly ran off, stopped and turned a red valve anticlockwise. He ran back.
‘What was that?’ I asked.
‘The opposite of what they want,’ he said with a cheeky grin seen through his facemask. ‘If a value is closed, open it, and if it’s open then close it.’
I smiled and nodded. ‘Good idea.’
Stretch ran in and around the building. We waited, a huge blast, a small ball of flame, a monster truck well alight.
Sasha pointed at the building behind us. It warned of access only to senior staff. Standing, I shot the lock off and kicked the door in, moving inside, a light switch found. On the left sat flashing panels, on the right a locked cage, behind it valves.
‘This is the place,’ Sambo told me as he moved up behind me. ‘Look for the cage and the valve the big white man told me.’
Locks shot off, the lads laboured to turn the vales with a squeak as I loudly shot up the electrics, all of us soon running out and kneeling.
‘This way,’ I called, and we ducked under white pipes, weaved around red pipes and sloshed through water.
My phone vibrated, so I stopped and knelt in the damp sand, the team kneeling in all round defence. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Scorpio here.’
I smiled. ‘Hey Scorpio, eaten all the biscuits yet?’
‘I may have had one or two. Where are you?’
‘No idea, but we just did what you told Sambo to do.’
‘Describe it,’ he asked, so I did. ‘It’s a dump valve by the sound of it, so look for a large black lake of goo.’
‘Get Tinker to track my mobile and you can tell us where to go.’
‘I’ll get back to you.’
Off the phone, I said, ‘Snipers, shoot out some lights.’ Peering over my shoulder, the monster truck was now well ablaze.
Stretch asked, ‘You reckon they all fucked off?’
‘Would you hang around?’
‘Not if I didn’t have to, no.’
My phone vibrated. ‘Wilco.’
‘It’s Scorpio here. You just opened the least important valve.’
‘Bugger.’
&
nbsp; ‘Go due south two hundred yards, see if there’s oil pooling where it shouldn’t. Call me back.’
Phone away, I said, ‘On me,’ and led them off, everyone alert, the angles covered, a few workers glimpsed in the distance, most running from somewhere to somewhere – but in a panic.
Two hundred yards on and we found a small but growing oil slick, four outlet pipes in a row, one open. I ran to the second valve, my boots in oil, and yanked it open after shooting off a small lock. Oil started to flow, then to rush out. Third valve, same deal, the slick growing. Final valve, and I was creating a mess in the sand, a huge slick spreading outwards.
‘Stretch, last snap fuse, but with no Semtex. Just drop it in.’ I waved everyone else away, and we ran east. Looking back, Stretch snapped the fuse and threw it, and ran after us.
Two hundred yards on, we waited, and nothing happened. We waited two minutes, and it was a sixty second fuse.
‘Bugger. Right, find something that will burn.’
‘That jeep,’ Nicholson said. ‘Push it towards the oil.’
‘Good, go!’
We ran to the jeep, fuel line cut, a newspaper from the jeep set alight. Handbrake off, we pushed the jeep into the rapidly growing slick.
‘Wait!’ I called. ‘It may explode. Rest of you, run, two hundred yards!’ I led Nicholson back to the start of the leaking fuel as they ran. ‘Be fast on your legs I told him. Count to five.’ I sprinted off.
Looking back after ten seconds, I could see a small flame in the fuel creeping along, Nicholson sprinting. We ran on, three hundred yards and behind a building, and looked back.
The small flame grew a little, it seemed to reach the oil, a large flame grew, a flash, and I yanked Nicholson inside as a small atom bomb went off, all of us knocked off our feet, ears ringing, heads shaken, all engulfed in a dark world of sand. The facemasks helped some of us greatly, Sandra and Sambo coughing badly.
I rolled over and eased up, feeling the heat even from here. ‘Run!’
They did not need to be told twice. We ran past flashing red lights, horns sounding out, Sandra coughing – and cursing us.
‘Wait!’ Sambo called, and pointed. ‘It is the place again.’
Lock shot off, door kicked in, we found the same set-up. Valves turned, I shot up the electronics before we ran.
My phone vibrating resulted in me calling a halt. ‘Shoot out the lights,’ I told my snipers. Into the phone, I said, ‘Wilco.’
‘What happened?’ Mutch asked.
‘A big bang, a flame a mile high, and we just found another valve and opened it.’
‘Describe what you see.’
‘Pipes, nothing distinct.’
‘Hang on ... OK, south a hundred yards, look for a tall cylinder.’
‘Hold on.’ Of the phone I called the team and ran, and found the tall cylinder, the damn thing a hundred feet high. ‘OK, found it.’
‘Blow it up if you can, it will be expensive to replace. Might not look like much, but inside is delicate equipment.’
‘OK, talk later.’ Phone away, I said, ‘Stretch, all the explosives bar say ... two blocks, on this thing.’
He got to work as we covered him, the snipers shooting out the tall lights, a load roar coming from the fire.
Something exploded, causing us to look, and to duck as metal debris clanked off the metal pipes all around us, Sketch cursing as he worked. With several blocks of Semtex in plain sight, for someone foolish or brave to try and disarm, Stretch attached the phone detonator and ran back.
‘Time to go,’ he suggested.
I stood, checked around, and moved north, pipe to pipe, building to building, the air now full off the acrid smoke, visibility starting to become an issue. There was nothing for it, we ran.
Finding a jeep behind a building, I sprinted at it, keys in it – above the visor. Engine started, I moved it out, everyone jumping in, the snipers hanging onto the sides, and I drove in a direction that I figured was north.
Black smoke billowed in from the left like a big angry monster, so I had to turn right, which was not much better. I put my foot down, soon forced left by a huge pipe, on a hundred yards and right again, under a low pipe and just clearing it – those on the sides screaming, and a fence loomed large. I skidded to a halt. ‘Get off the sides!’
They jumped down, I floored it, and the fence gave, but caught in the tyres and slowed us before rolling us. Stunned for a moment, and in darkness, I pushed Sasha up, towards the door.
‘Where’d you learn to drive!’ he cursed in Russian as the snipers ran in, clambered up and opened the doors, assistance given in getting us out.
Down from the jeep, I said, ‘Let’s agree not to mention that part.’
Rounds cracked overhead, all over us diving down, thirty seconds taken in finding where it was coming from, the jeep peppered.
Nicholson fired twice. ‘Got two, more nearby. Blacks.’
‘Stay here with Tomo, rest on me. Oh, Sandra, Sambo, drop those rifles here.’
On dry dirt and sand we crawled twenty yards away from the lights, Swan and Leggit shooting out the lights nearby, and finally we stood and ran. Behind rocks, Swan and Leggit took position, Nicholson and Tomo called in.
‘Where’s the truck parked?’ Stretch asked.
‘A mile away,’ I told him. ‘We have to go around. Any bombs left.’
‘I have two bombs,’ Sambo told me. Stretch still had two blocks, and six phone detonators.
I had Sambo hand his bombs to Stretch, who made ready, ran forwards and threw them twenty yards, the rest of us withdrawing in covering pairs up the slope. Turning and rushing to the dark top of the hill, we found that we were hidden, and high up, the Nigerians below us and lit up – should they break cover.
Swan and Leggit killed five over ten minutes, the other Nigerians now hiding.
‘When do we blow the main thing?’ Stretch pressed.
‘Put the remaining detonators on the ground, away from each other, Semtex over the hill. Check your fucking webbing for bombs, them I punch all the numbers.’
Stretch ran off into the dark and dumped the Semtex, the detonators placed down ten yards away, Sanda and Sambo taking off their webbing, poring on some goat’s blood when I told them to, and throwing the webbing down the slope.
‘Snipers, any bombs on you!’
‘No, Boss,’ came back as I took out my phone, Stretch holding a torch.
I punched the first number, a detonator behind us scaring Sandra, who screamed. Second number, and nothing happened. Third number, and a blast five hundred yards away must have been one of Sandra’s original bombs. Fourth number, and Sandra again jumped as a detonator behind popped, Stretch laughing at her.
Fifth number, and the ground down the slope blew, a huge cloud of angry sand and smoke, the Nigerians shrouded, and hopefully deterred, the lights down there shrouded. Sixth number, and Sandra screamed again, shouting at Stretch, the lads laughing.
Seventh number, and again the ground below us exploded, a huge cloud of dust blown out.
‘Two left,’ I told Stretch, a look exchanged through the dark.
Something distant exploded, a plume of flame, the main fire still raging, flames climbing high but enveloped in black smoke. I punched the final number, and we lifted up. A flash, a blast, and it looked like an atom bomb had gone off, a doughnut of flame rising.
‘OK, job done,’ I suggested. ‘Someone will have a cleaning up bill.’
‘Wait,’ Sasha called, and he dumped the radio down the slope, as well as Russian cigarettes, some cash.
‘All of you, check pockets, dump anything that links us to this place.’ I threw the radio I had kept and checked my own pockets.
Sambo said, ‘I have a tourist map.’
‘Leave it here, yes. OK, snipers, hit all the tall lights. Five minutes, all out effort. Go!’
The cracks sounded out, and one by one the tall yellow lights blew.
‘How they going to fucking fix that lot
?’ Stretch wondered. ‘They’re like eighty feet up a pole.’
‘Needs a crane to lower the pole, then they swap them,’ I told him as we observed the wanton destruction of someone else’s expensive property.
The refinery lost it lights, but not its illumination. That was coming from three fires.
‘OK, in your teams, same sequence, on me.’ Sipping water, I led them off along the dark ridge at a steady pace, the refinery on my left. I called Tinker. ‘We’re leaving.’
‘They evacuated the place a while back, fire crews not that keen to go in. They’ve shut off the input valves, so the fires will burn down.’
‘Casualties?’
‘None amongst the staff, but reports of security personnel killed.’
‘Who do they think was behind it?’
‘Government of Niger got reports of local rebels and Russian gunmen. Reports of blacks seen on CCTV, AK47s, webbing, seen planting bombs.’
‘Army or police moving this way?’
‘Yes, some reports.’
‘Call with some false sightings, anywhere apart from north.’
‘Will do.’
‘Any word on Izillien?’
‘We have some numbers in Lagos now.’
‘Be interesting to see what Reuters reports in the morning. I think Izillien may go pale.’
Phone away, I plodded on, half a mile to get back to where we had originally pulled up the fence, turning north, eyes everywhere. But cresting the same hill I could see a fire, and it was in the right position to be our truck.
‘That our truck?’ Stretch asked.
‘Looks like it, yes. Someone found it, so we’re walking.’ I transmitted, ‘Stay sharp, someone found our truck and set it alight, fuck knows why, no evidence left behind. Stay sharp.’
‘IRA,’ Stretch said.
‘What?’ I puzzled.
‘Setting fire to our truck to hide our prints, to help us like.’
‘I’m not sure the IRA operate in these parts, or would wish to help me in particular or the SAS in general. They haven’t forgiven me yet.’
Down the slope I broke left, not towards the truck. Easing around a rock I saw the orange cigarette glow almost too late and I opened up, diving down and rolling, a fresh magazine grabbed for. Sasha opened up on automatic, a long burst till I was ready.