by Andy McNab
Chapter Twenty-two
‘NOW THEN, THIS SHOULD DO IT . . .’ DARREL CROUCHED DOWN beside the television. ‘And if it doesn’t, I’ve got another idea.’Agnieszka set his coffee on the table and then knelt down to watch him. The baby lay on the floor nearby. Luke liked that. He liked just lying there, staring up at the ceiling, rearranging himself from time to time. When the atmosphere was tranquil he became tranquil too.‘How you know what to do?’ Agnieszka stared at the nest of wires and the way he flicked through the buttons and settings on the machine.He looked up and gave her a quick grin. His eye was caught by a picture behind her, the large one at the back of the room. Jamie was in uniform and smiling, his eyes shining as he looked over the camera as though a mountain was looming right there behind the photographer and he was about to climb it. Agnieszka loved that picture. Steve Buckle had taken it when the platoon was training in Kenya. She had enlarged it and then bought a nice frame.Darrel gazed at the photo for a few moments longer than politeness demanded. Then he turned back to his wires and answered her question.‘I’ve always been good with this sort of stuff. When I was a kid I used to take things apart to see how they worked. And my dad always made me put them back together again myself, he wouldn’t help me. Sometimes I hated him. But it meant I learned a lot.’She watched him work. Now she knew his face better she could see that he was handsome. The first time she had met him she had liked his smile but found him ordinary enough. Since then the tapering lines of his face had pleased her more and more.It occurred to her now that she could draw those clean lines. On impulse she fetched her sketch pad. It was at the back of a cupboard where, despite Jamie’s encouragement, she barely looked at it these days. She settled on the sofa sketching his dark features as he bent over in concentration. He was older than Jamie and that made his lines deeper and stronger. Jamie was certainly good-looking but his face still had youthful curves which reminded you of the boy he’d been until a few years ago. Whereas Darrel was more of a man.Luke, on the rug, murmured sometimes to himself. Otherwise the room was quiet except for the scratching of her pencil strokes. Darrel did not know she was drawing him until he looked up. He stared at the pad.‘Show me!’‘When it finished. You please continue.’‘But I have finished. Look.’He retreated to the armchair where Jamie usually sat, pressed some buttons on the remote and the TV sprang into life, its picture clear. He turned down the sound and then zapped through the silent channels to prove that he could.Agnieszka was delighted. She watched the pictures rushing past with a smile on her face. That game show was here again, the one where you watched the faces of people who had won a million, or won it and then lost it all. And then that channel was gone, replaced by leopards on a wildlife programme which gave way to a splinter of a soap opera with sulking, angry faces, which was rapidly replaced by a serious newscaster who turned suddenly into a football match. The whole world, in its infinite variety, was galloping past as Darrel zapped his way through the channels. Agnieszka thought: That’s how my life feels. As if the whole wide, colourful world out there rushes by while I sit here alone in Wiltshire.The picture disappeared altogether and Darrel turned to her.‘Oh, Darrel, that very clever what you done!’‘You can tell me I’m clever if it’s still working next week.’ He looked pleased. ‘I’ll phone you to check. Now let’s see what you’re drawing.’She sighed. ‘I only start five minutes ago . . .’But he was delighted with her sketch. He looked carefully at every line and then held it at arm’s length. He told her how good it was until she went pink with pleasure.‘Please, take this home with you. Maybe your wife like it also.’She’d seen his wedding ring, of course. She’d noticed it the first time she met him at the garage. They’d met at the superstore, then he’d come to the house to diagnose the problem with the TV and she’d given him a cup of tea and they’d talked. He’d said she needed some gadget and now here he was installing it. That was three, no four meetings. And he’d never once mentioned his wife. Today was Saturday. Didn’t she ask him where he went? This thought filled Agnieszka with apprehension. She wasn’t sure why.‘My wife won’t like this picture.’ He smiled at her. ‘Because it looks just like me.’Agnieszka blinked at him.‘I’m separated.’‘Long time ago?’‘No.’‘Since when?’‘Since I had that cup of coffee with you.’‘But that was only . . .’‘A month ago.’‘You just separate!’‘Listen, Aggie, these things don’t happen overnight. Everything’s wrong and you put up with it and think this is just the way things are. But everyone’s unhappy. And sooner or later you have to admit it to yourself. And do something about it.’Agnieszka felt her heart beating faster but she did not know why. Anyway, whatever her heart was doing, her head needed time to go through this slowly and methodically.‘So one day, the day of superstore coffee, you say: Enough! And you leave your wife?’‘Sort of.’‘Not exactly?’‘My wife was in the store that day and she saw us.’Agnieszka leaned back on the sofa, her head tilted, and looked at the ceiling. She didn’t know where else to look. Her long, slim neck swept up to her jawline, her chin jutted towards the roof. Darrel watched her. Agnieszka rolled her eyes.‘Oh God, God, everyone was in superstore that day. Was it half-price special offer day, maybe?’Darrel smiled.‘You, me, my wife . . . who else was there? Oh yes, your neighbour with the little girl.’‘The sergeant’s wife. She didn’t see you.’‘I made sure of that. But I didn’t realize my wife was around as well. And she saw us talking.’‘So marriage ends?’ Agnieszka stared at him now, her blue eyes very round. ‘Marriage ends because you take coffee with me?’‘It was ending anyway, Aggie. Coffee just finished it off.’‘But she must understand we only take coffee!’Darrel shook his head.‘She saw me talking to you. Like I really wanted to hear what you had to say? Like I found you interesting? And she said it was years since I talked to her that way. And she was right.’‘And marriage ends?’ Agnieszka was leaning forward. She was whispering. Just saying the words felt sinful enough. ‘Marriage ends because of way you talk to me?’He shrugged. He did not look sad, contrite, hurt or anything a man at the end of his marriage might look.‘After many years?’‘Eight.’She shook her head as though she was trying to shake it clear.‘Because of coffee? With me?’‘Because it had already ended years ago. So all it took was one coffee to finish it off completely.’‘So now what you do?’‘I’ve moved out. I’m staying with my mother, for the time being. Until I can get myself sorted. Gillian and the kids have stayed at home.’‘You have kids?’‘Three.’‘Three!’He laughed at her amazement.‘Well, it’s not so unusual in this country. How many do people in Poland have? Ten?’‘Usual to stop with one. Sometimes a long, long time before two. And three not very ordinary.’But it wasn’t the number of children itself which amazed her. It was the nonchalance with which he could end the marriage that supported so many. It gave her an uncomfortable feeling: unease with her own role in this. How could meeting a man in a shop and having a coffee with him result in such a thing? Had the wife, watching unnoticed, detected an interest in Agnieszka which Agnieszka had been unaware of? Or had she been aware of his interest but chosen to ignore it because she wanted her TV repaired? The thought made her curl up on the sofa. It made her feel unclean.Darrel said quietly: ‘It’s not your fault.’But she did not uncurl. So she had unwittingly ended this man’s marriage. It wasn’t her fault. But did that leave her with some responsibilities towards him?She heard him get up. What was he doing now? Crossing the room? She did not uncurl to see. She shut her eyes and ears and said Aves to herself to keep them shut. Then she remembered. She should pay him for repairing the television, for the gadget he had bought. If she didn’t pay him then there was an implication of friendship. Or obligation.She jumped up. The room was empty except for Luke, now asleep on the floor, his mouth open and his hands up as though he was under arrest. Her sketch lay on the sofa.She ran to the door but she was too late. His car was just pulling away.
Chapter Twenty-three
THE MAIL ARRIVED MINUTES BEFORE 1 SECTION LEFT FOR ITS PATROL and the boss delayed by ten minutes so that the men co
uld read it before they jumped on the Vectors.Dave got a letter from his mother, a letter from Jenny and, ominously, a letter from Jenny’s mother too. He started the one from Jenny, then left them on his cot and went to count the men into the vehicles.‘We’re a decoy, so don’t let’s delude ourselves we’re a fire team,’ he reminded them.Sol was standing at his side.‘Just help me with my English, would you?’ he muttered. ‘What’s the difference between a decoy and a sitting duck?’Dave rolled his eyes.‘You don’t need any help with your English,’ he said. ‘Today there is no difference.’Sol’s ankle had healed and Dave had been relieved to have him back commanding 1 Section.He turned to the lads jumping on board the Vectors right now. Streaky Bacon and Jack Binns were still battle virgins. They’d been on patrol and escorted contractors and been caught in sporadic, low-key fire fights but they had not yet been involved in anything more serious. Although they insisted that they were ready and eager to do so, neither had fired a shot.‘You’re not going out for a fucking picnic!’ Dave barked at Streaky. ‘Sling your weapon, sprog, and get two hands on it.’Binns, climbing in behind Streaky, undid his sling clip rapidly before Dave could see. He looked sheepish when he saw Sol watching him.Dave jumped in beside the driver of the first vehicle as it pulled away. The boss sat with Asma at the front of the second.As they rumbled across the desert Dave felt on edge. His eyes scanned every ripple in the landscape. Ever since that goat had exploded so spectacularly right in front of him, he’d been forced to accept that IEDs had become impossible to spot. Before then he had tried to persuade himself that, if he was alert enough, he couldn’t be caught on the wrong end of an explosion.Nevertheless, he kept his eyes peeled for a pile of stones or recently disturbed earth which might hint at something beneath the surface. He stared hard at a young man watching the convoy from his motorbike whose mobile phone could be a detonator.It was common knowledge that the Taliban were stepping up their use of IEDs. Their explosives were getting bigger and better and the capacity of the Vectors to withstand their blasts was now in question because most of their armour was on top rather than underneath. Since 1 Platoon had arrived in Sin City, news had filtered in regularly of British soldiers elsewhere in Helmand Province who had been killed or injured by mines. There were antipersonnel mines and anti-tank mines and, if you managed to avoid all these, there were always the Soviet-era legacy mines.As they crossed the featureless desert they passed the first train of camels Dave had seen here. It was a biblical sight, the line of humped backs and long necks making slow and rhythmic progress across the sand.‘Could be two thousand years ago,’ the driver said.‘Except for the IEDs.’‘This route has been cleared.’‘Cleared last week doesn’t mean it’s still clear today.’‘You’re not your usual self, Sarge. Having a bad day?’‘I’m pissed off with being sent out undermanned. There’s just not enough of us. And one’s a woman and two are sprogs. The civilians are forcing us to spread ourselves too thin. So we’re a decoy and we’re supposed to keep going but the Taliban don’t know that. To them we’re just the enemy.’‘Well maybe we’ll have a nice quiet ride today,’ the driver said cheerfully.‘You don’t sound your usual self either,’ Dave said. The driver was famous for his gloomy predictions.‘I’ve got mail in my cot. One from the missus and one from my bird. What more can a man ask for?’‘Let’s hope you don’t meet your maker today, then, or everything you’ve got will get sent straight back to your missus unless I remember to pull it out first.’The man’s face clouded.‘Fuck it, I never thought of that.’ Then his expression brightened again. ‘But she can’t nag if I’m dead, can she?’The incoming fire began the moment they arrived in the Green Zone.‘Keep going,’ said the boss. The men on top cover returned fire.They passed the point where the platoon had dismounted last time they were here. They passed the cannabis field. Dave thought he could smell it and when a roar went up from the lads in the back (‘We know where we are! Too fucking right we do! Got everything you came with, Mal?’), he was sure he could smell it. They drove towards the river crossing and the firing suddenly and mysteriously stopped.‘I don’t like this,’ said Dave. ‘Go slow.’‘If we keep our heads down and get moving we’ll be through it in no time.’ The driver was a lot less happy than he’d been ten minutes ago.‘Oh, yeah? We’re supposed to have cleared this area. But they started firing the minute we got here. They’re telling us they’re back. Slow down so I can keep a sharp look-out.’The driver slowed. There was still no firing.‘The fuckers are behind us, so let’s just take a run at it,’ the driver said.‘No. Slow down more.’The driver barely slowed at all.‘Slower!’ Dave yelled, his eyes fixed on the track ahead. He could see it start to rise about two hundred metres in front of them where the track became a bridge over the mighty Helmand River. He could smell the pollen of cannabis and other plants mixed in with the hot dust. Big, floppy leaves tapped gently against the side of the vehicle as they passed. Dave’s senses were so alert they seemed to be screaming at him. He did not blink and his eyes were dry with the effort of scanning the dusty track.He thought: If I was a guerrilla fighter I’d let the army believe they’d cleared this crossing. Then I’d go back. I’d put an IED just before the bridge. I’d make sure no other traffic passed and pedestrians were kept away. An army convoy would come along and it would seem quiet here. The front of the convoy would be blown up. Everyone would stop. Then I’d ambush the rest from behind. So they’d be trapped . . .Until now there had been a lot of detritus floating around in his mind: fragments of last night’s dream, the knowledge of Jenny’s letter on his cot, the information that his knee was hurting for no reason, the worry that Steve Buckle might never recover his mind, a curt warning from Major Willingham that he would have to interview Dave about the death of one wounded insurgent in a ditch. All those thoughts stopped now. The sudden certainty that the Taliban would have planted an IED in their path and in a place where it would cause most chaos sliced cleanly through all the other voices in his ear.‘Stop!’ he yelled as they approached the bridge.The driver responded to the volume and urgency of Dave’s instruction by slamming on the brakes. Behind them, they could hear the second vehicle screeching to a halt too, and the third behind that.‘What’s going on?’ the boss demanded.Dave didn’t reply. The Vector stood still, ticking in the heat, smelling of fuel, clouds of dust circling around it. The firing which had met their arrival in the Green Zone had stopped. Everything had stopped. There were no kids gathering in a cluster to stare at them, no old men in the nearby fields holding their aching backs as they straightened, no small cars bulging with big Afghan families travelling in the other direction. There was only silence.Dave wondered if he should feel stupid. He had just halted a patrol which had orders to keep moving. He had done so on a hunch. He had no evidence for his suspicions.The driver was looking at him. ‘You all right, Sarge?’Dave stared ahead. It seemed to him that, between their stopping place and the rise where the bridge began, the dirt of the track lacked the patina of daily use.He reported: ‘Suspicious ground at vulnerable point ahead.’He looked hard at the track. If anyone was waiting to press a button at the other end of a command wire or a mobile phone, their only vantage point would be just inside the jungle on either side of them. There was visibility from nowhere else. He sent men down to search through the greenery. While they did so he leaned forward and stared at the track.‘I think I see something ahead,’ Dave said. ‘Have the engineers got mine detection equipment?’There was a groan from the engineers.‘I take it that means no?’ Dave listened to the sound of his own voice. It sounded rough, as though he was still bumping along the rutty track.‘No, we’ve got it, Sarge. Only we don’t have 4Cs any more.’‘And?’‘We’ve got an Ebinger but we’re not certain how to use it; we haven’t been trained on them yet.’‘I’m sure the combined brains of 1 Section can help you work that out,’ Dave said. ‘Quickly.’The men came back to the Vectors having found no trace of anyone close enough to both see and detonate a device. Dave began to have doubts. Then he heard the boss.‘Our interpreter has just pick
ed up some enemy chatter which indicates there could be an IED . . .’‘Got the detectors sorted?’ Dave demanded. ‘Come on! We’re sitting ducks here! Just because no one’s firing at us doesn’t mean they’ve all gone home for a nice cup of tea.’The engineers dismounted and Dave sent men to cover them on the ground. The engineers stood arguing over how the machine worked but at last one of them put in an earpiece and began sweeping his way slowly forward.Dave watched him. He had a sudden memory of a beach on the south coast of England soon after he had met Jenny. The first time they’d spent the night together, they’d gone down to the sea before dawn and watched the sun come up across the ocean. They’d lain close, tired but relaxed, on sand which retained the coolness of the night. Then, suddenly, they were surrounded. Old men with metal detectors were sweeping the beach at first light for treasure.Dave sighed and turned from the memory. It had no place in this hot, hostile world.The engineers advanced slowly along the track. About five paces before the bridge, they stopped. The first passed the machine and earpiece to the second. He nodded. They began to dig with the machine, brushing the sand gently from side to side.‘Got something?’ Dave was hot and tense. Were they being watched? Or were the enemy firing positions right behind the Vectors, waiting to prevent their escape?After a few more minutes, the engineers shook their heads. ‘Just an old bolt buried in the track.’‘Can we come back now?’ asked the younger engineer.‘Nope,’ Dave said.‘There’s probably a hundred old bolts between here and the bridge. They probably dropped them when they built it.’‘Move ahead with caution,’ Dave said. ‘The bolt might have been dropped. Or it might have been planted there.’The engineers shrugged. It didn’t seem so surprising to them that an old bolt was buried in the track. But Dave had heard enough stories in Bastion to know that the Taliban could make men lazy with false readings so that by the time they reached the big one they were completely unprepared.After a few more paces, he saw that the engineers had detected something else.‘Another fucking bolt,’ they muttered, looking around anxiously.‘Careful, careful!’ Dave knew they felt vulnerable out there, despite the cover. He could see that they were digging less cautiously now, with the perfunctory attitude of men ordered to do an unnecessary job.The boss said: ‘Our interpreter is picking up a lot of chatter from the enemy. She thinks they’re close.’‘I’ll bet they are,’ Dave said.Suddenly one of the engineers stopped. He pulled the other over to look and they both peered down into the hole. There was a pause and then, simultaneously, they turned back to the Vectors. Dave couldn’t see their expressions, but something about the angle of their heads and the tension in their bodies told him all he needed to know.‘OK, get back in the vehicles. Now!’He reported to the boss: ‘They’ve found the IED ahead.’‘We’ll need EOD to clear it,’ the boss said.‘We’ll need to get out,’ Dave said. ‘Before the Talis trap us here.’But it was already too late.The engineers were nearing the Vectors when the first shots bounced around the vehicles. The men ran the last few paces and jumped aboard as the ambush kicked off. The enemy weapons, including first machine guns and then RPGs, started almost simultaneously. They had been in position. They had been watching. They had been waiting for this order.The weight of fire was so intense that it would not be safe to drive through it. The boss reported briefly while the drivers realigned the Vectors in a defensive position. Dave only wished they’d stopped further back. He guessed they’d be fighting here for a while and there were better places to do that than under a hundred metres from an IED waiting to explode.
