by Eric Meyer
“Amen to that. How many men does Tarzi have left?”
“Sixty, maybe, and they’re all out there, waiting for us to come out.”
“Shit. How’re we going to work this?”
“We have a single option. Go out shooting.”
Ivan’s expression was unfazed. For everything he was, spy, rogue, arms and drugs trafficker, cheat, uncaring bastard, there was one thing he wasn’t. A coward. “You’re saying we’re gonna die?”
“Looks like it.”
They joined Sara at the mouth of the cave, and she stared open-mouthed at the sudden appearance of Ivan and his men. They explained how they planned to get away, and she frowned.
"This is our only chance? We have to blast a way through Tarzi’s men, who’re waiting to shoot the crap out of us the moment we show our faces.”
“That about sums it up,” Stoner agreed.
Her stare was accusing. “You said we had a chance to get out of this.”
He shrugged. What was the point of lying to someone who was about to die? “I lied.”
“Thought so. What do we do next?”
Akram made a dismissive gesture. “One man could get out there easily and find their positions. It would help us to work out how to attack them where they’re weakest. I will do it.”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t get more than a few meters, they’d see you coming and tear you into little pieces.”
“I don’t think so. I can make it,” he maintained, “What other options do we have? If I’m going to die, I may as well die trying to beat the bastards. All I need is a half hour. Slip out there, look around, and slip back. Once we know where they are, we can even hit them with the RPGs before we go out. Give us a better chance of getting through.”
“Akram, you’ll die if you try it.”
“We all die if I don’t.” He looked at Stoner and Ivan. “What do you think?”
Stoner looked uncertain. “If they catch you, it would mean a hard, slow death instead of a quick death.”
“Do it,” Ivan said, “You’re right. We’re damned if we do, damned it we don’t, so go out fighting.”
“That’s all very well.” She gazed at him with scorn, “You’re not the one going out there.”
He grinned. “Someone has to micro-manage and pay the bills.”
Akram grinned. “Don’t forget my outstanding salary. You know where to send it.”
“You got it. And good luck.”
He went to the entrance and peered out. In daylight it was difficult to see how he could make it without being spotted, except for a single advantage. He was an Afghan, dressed in a similar way to Tarzi’s men. Minus the beard and turban, it was true, but at least he had the ethnicity. At a quick glance, he may not attract too much attention. He checked his weapons, an AKM rifle with the classic banana-shaped magazine, the correct profile for a terrorist.
With a final wave, he ran to the nearest rocks. They watched him for a while, seeing occasional glimpses as he made his way across the rough ground, and then he disappeared.
Ivan turned away. “That’s it. Let’s hope he brings back something useful.”
She gave him a long look, and then her gaze fell on Stoner. “Let’s hope he just gets back.”
“Right.”
Gets back for what, to die under several hundred tons of high-explosive? Does he stand a chance? No. When we’re close to the end, all we can do is go out there and try to shoot our way through.
Chapter Eleven
The engine noise was a droning roar, and the effect almost soporific. Reid went aft again to stretch his legs, and Gibbons was alone on the flight deck. He wasn’t feeling tired, not at all. Time to target was a little over two hours, and his guts were churning with anxiety. For the first time, he felt less like a professional Air Force pilot in command of an advanced strategic bomber, and more like a murderer. He’d worked through every option to avoid killing his sister. Including the possibility he was wrong about her being there.
Maybe she’d left Afghanistan, already on her way back to the U.S. She could be in Kabul, in the relative safety of the capital. Or she could be at Tora Bora, and he was about to murder his own sister. He’d done everything he could to salve his conscience. Even if it cost him his career and his freedom, he had no regrets. They were nothing compared to Sara’s life. The question was would it work. He could do no more than he’d already done, and he felt the acid bile in his belly.
“Coffee, Major?”
He looked up. He hadn’t heard Myron return. Coffee sounded good, except for his still-churning stomach. He didn’t need to make it worse. “I’ll pass on that.”
His co-pilot looked puzzled, and he knew his face mirrored his boiling emotions, but Reid took his seat without a word. He contacted the navigator and grinned at Gibbons. “One hour, fifty-nine minutes to target. Not long now.”
If I’m wrong about any of this, she doesn’t have long to live.
He tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice, “Roger that, Myron. Not long.”
* * *
He didn’t make it further than a hundred and fifty meters. Passed through a gap between two huge rocks, and if he’d got into the broken ground a few meters further, he’d be out of sight. Then he could start searching for the location of the enemy positions. He never made it. They grabbed him a few seconds later, a simple ambush when he stepped through the next gap in the rocks. Five men, and with five rifles aimed at his belly, he dropped his own weapon and put up his hands.
Several minutes later, he was staring at Mohammed Tarzi. Whose gloating expression suggested his last moments on Earth would be less than comfortable. Evers was watching from a few meters away, his expression unreadable.
Tarzi slapped him hard across the face, a hard, stinging blow. He knew there was worse to come. “If you thought you could escape the wrath and vengeance of the messenger of God, you are mistaken. How many of your friends are inside my caves?”
Akram knew whatever he said would make little difference to the outcome. They’d torture and kill him no matter what. “Five hundred, and they’re armed with missiles and heavy machine guns. I’d get away while you can, unless you’re looking forward to dying.”
Tarzi gave him a satisfied nod, and his blazing, pink-tinged eyes turned to Mahmud Mahboob. “We will show him the error of that belief. Take him away, and get the truth out of him. You can do anything you like. I don’t care, but keep him alive. When we kill him, I wish to witness the event.” He sneered at Akram. “Anything you wish to say before your agony begins?”
“Yeah, there is. Anyone who listens to you needs their head examining.”
He sighed and glanced at his men. “Make sure he suffers, Mahmud. Badly.”
* * *
They waited for an hour, and he hadn’t returned. Ivan swapped glances with Stoner.
“He didn’t make it. Akram, they must have taken him. I wouldn’t like to go through what he’s going through.”
“Poor bastard. Which means we’re left with the final option, Ivan.” He glanced behind him to the remainder of the mercenaries, waiting further back in the cave, waiting to earn their pay, and waiting to die. They looked unafraid, but inside, Stoner knew the opposite was true. Any man would be a fool if he weren’t. “Are they ready?”
“They’re ready. Say the word, and we’ll go out on the run and try to make it to the nearest cover. With any luck, we’ll take ‘em by surprise.”
He smiled. “Sure we will.”
He picked up the RPD, slung the AK on his back, and shouldered the canvas pack of spare magazines. Ivan shouldered his Tommy gun, picked up another RPD, and grinned at Stoner. “I’m ready.”
He counted off his forces, twelve mercs, Ivan, Gorgy Bukharin, Sara, and himself. And Greg badly wounded, waiting to die inside the cave. They should take him with them, except they couldn’t. Either way he’d die, a victim to the bombs, or victim to the bullets. It was a no brainer.
“If we’re to
have the slightest chance of pulling this off, we need to leave Greg behind, just for a short time. We’ll come back for him unless…” He paused, and didn’t like to say it, didn’t want to tempt fate, “Unless we don’t make it.”
Sara looked shocked when he explained the logic of it. To give Greg a chance, they had to be able to fight unencumbered by a badly wounded man. She didn’t like it, hated the thought of leaving him, but she agreed there was no other way. They couldn’t leave a single person to tend to him. They were severely understrength for an attack on the insurgents. One less gun could make the difference, and turn a thousand to one chance into a ten thousand to one chance. She didn’t argue, went over to make a final check on him, and rejoined them.
In answer to Stoner’s questioning look she said, “He’s still alive.”
“Good.”
“Alive for now. I’m ready.”
Ivan glanced at him. “Me, too. Your call, buddy.”
He went to the entrance, keeping low. Looked around the open ground and saw no sign of the enemy. They were there, but keeping low, away from the RPDs that had given them such a hard time. He wasn’t fooled, they’d be watching and waiting. He waited another minute, but there was no point in delaying any more.
“Let’s go.”
He ran toward the nearest group of rocks less than a hundred meters away, across ground that was wide open, and in plain view of the enemy. The boots of the men who followed him pounded on the hard, rocky ground, and he didn’t need to look back. Just ran until his lungs felt they were about to burst. They’d made around fifty meters when the guns began chattering. A hail of bullets from scores of assault rifles swept the ground. Behind him, the cries and screams of men hit by multiple bullets were enough to tear at the soul, but he couldn’t stop to check. Ran on, and the rocks were twenty meters away when a machine gun opened up nearby, scything across the last stretch of ground lying in front of him.
He threw himself to the ground, aimed the RPD in the direction of the nearest muzzle flashes, and squeezed the trigger. The bullets lashed around the rocks. He had the satisfaction of seeing two rifle barrels jerk away, and the screams of the men he’d hit. But two wouldn’t do it, and he continued raking the enemy positions. Behind him, they were suffering badly. As he slammed in a new drum, he looked around for Sara. She was lying behind him. She’d ditched the RPD and was firing an AK. Short bursts like the professional soldier she’d once been. A few meters away Ivan was spread-eagled on the ground, using a machine gun to pour fire on the enemy to their front.
Four bodies lay on the ground they’d crossed, and at least two men were badly wounded and losing blood. They couldn’t last much longer. And then the enemy machine gun stopped firing. Maybe they had a tiny envelope they could exploit. He weighed up the options and came to a decision.
“We can’t stay here. We have to close with them, or they’ll kill us all. On your feet, charge, and keep firing! Go!”
He ran, storming into the gunfire. His mind calm, there was nothing he could do to change anything. Just accept what destiny was throwing at him, and keep going. Take as many of them as he could before the hot lead punched into his body, and he went down.
Better to die than be tortured to by these Islamic crazies, or entombed beneath thousands of tons of rock after the bombardment.
A bullet punched into the fleshy part of his upper leg, and he stumbled. Willed his brain to ignore it, and he carried on. When he threw himself down behind the rocks, he couldn’t believe he was alive. Sara flopped down beside him, and a split second later, Ivan led his surviving mercenaries into cover. They’d all taken flesh wounds, but not enough to stop their run. Several had been mortally hit and were still out there in the open, dead, or dying.
He looked over the top of the rock they were hiding behind. A bullet threw stone chips an inch from his head, and he ducked back, glancing at the others.
“They’re very close, about ten meters, no more. We can’t go any further, not while they’ve got us pinned down. Just a stroke of bad luck, but we hit them in the center of their main force.”
“How many?” Ivan asked.
“Most of them is my guess, maybe all of them. Forty maybe.”
“Shit. Nothing we can do?”
They’d left the rocket launcher back at the caves, as it would have been impossible to run with the cumbersome weapon. They’d brought the two RPD machine guns, which weren’t anything like enough. He had five of the mercs, Ivan, Gorgy, and Sara. Enough to commit suicide, maybe, like a head-on charge into a well-defended enemy position, but no use for anything more.
“We got out of one trap and put our necks into another,” Sara murmured, “And we left Greg behind to do this.”
He didn’t reply. What she said was true. A silence descended on their tiny position in the rocks. No guns fired, no voices shouted or screamed, and then Ivan spoke, “We don’t have long.”
“To live?” Her voice was caustic, “How did you work that one out, Ivan?”
“I meant before the bombs start to fall.”
“Same thing. Less than an hour.”
“Right. I don’t suppose we’re far enough from the caves to be safe from the bombs.”
Stoner stared at him. “Almost four hundred tons of high-explosive? Are you serious? We’d need to be a kilometer away at least, and then we’d still be in the danger zone. Here, we’ll be in the center of the main blast area.”
“Right, just asking.”
A machine gun began firing. Someone had made it to higher ground, high enough to aim over their heads and prevent them moving. The gunfire smashed into the rocks behind them. Some bullets ricocheted; others chewed chunks of rock that flew around them; every bit as lethal as a bullet if they hit a vital organ. They stayed low, and the fire intensified. Then a second machine gun joined in. Their tiny position became a nightmare of flying projectiles, and it was just a matter of time before they started to take casualties. He gave it a few minutes more, but when the firing continued without pause, reloaded the RPD with his last drum.
He shouted to Ivan over the noise of the gunfire, “I’m going after the machine guns.”
“You want to end quick, is that it?”
“Something like that. I got us into this, and…”
“And you think you’re getting us out of it? Forget it, buddy, unless you know something I don’t.”
“No, but I have to try.”
Sara watched him, and she didn’t offer any objection. Her expression was sad. She was seeing people around her die one by one, and it hurt. He prepared to make his move and stopped. A fresh torment of gunfire smashed into the rocks, and he had no choice but to duck back into cover. Without doubt the enemy was about to launch their attack, an attack that couldn’t fail. Sara and Ivan stared at him, waiting. He was unsure if they were admiring his guts for wanting to make the effort, or wondering about his sanity.
The firing slackened again, and he tensed, ready to launch himself over the rocks and charge the enemy guns. Behind him, he heard Ivan’s laconic voice say, “We have twenty-three minutes before the bombs hit.”
* * *
“What did you say?”
Mahmud Mahboob drew back as Mohammed Tarzi raged at him. “It was the prisoner, my Sheikh. He said they’ve sent in heavy bombers, and they plan to destroy the Tora Bora caves forever, to prevent anyone using them.”
“And they’re due when?”
“About twenty minutes, my Sheikh.”
“Twenty minutes! Twenty minutes! Why the fuck didn’t someone say something? You mean we’re sitting here waiting to die?”
“Er, yes, my Sheikh.”
He rounded on Evers. “And you, why did you not warn me of this attack?”
“They never told me about it. If I’d known, I’d have informed you.”
Tarzi fought to calm himself. How could they do this to him? After everything he’d been through! He’d lost so many men his cause would be put back for months until he recruit
ed more. What mattered right now was escaping the deadly American bombing raid. He’d seen them over Afghanistan before, and even remembered newsreels of the devastating B-52 raids on North Vietnam during the infamous Linebacker campaign. If they planned to do the same similar here, he had to escape. He’d almost beaten these infidels who’d come to dislodge him from this sacred place, and now they were about to snatch away his precious victory.
He glared at Mahboob. “My vehicle, where is it parked? Quickly!”
“In the valley at the end of the track. About two kilometers from here, Sir.”
Two kilometers. If I leave now I may just make it. I have to survive. They believe I am God’s messenger, unkillable. I must not disappoint them. It is my destiny to survive. But these men must stay to make certain the infidels do not follow me.
“Tell them to keep firing, and kill them all.”
“But, the bombers, my Sheikh…”
“Forget the bombers,” he snapped, “I received a message from God, and we are to fight them to the last. Do it, pass on my order.”
Mahboob dashed away, and Tarzi looked at the American who hovered nearby.
“Evers, you will come with me and act as my bodyguard? My life is too valuable to risk.”
“Yes, Sheikh. What about the prisoner?”
“Kill him. Take my dagger and cut his throat. Do it now, then we must go.”
Evers nodded, took the dagger, and walked away to where they had Akram bound. He was a pitiful sight, soaked with his own blood from a score of different cuts, and one eye closed with massive bruising. He looked up at Evers and stared at the dagger he held. His gaze was filled with hatred.
“Come to kill me, Wayne? They taught you how to hate, how to betray your friends, how to go to the very limits of human cruelty. You must be proud.”
His eyes opened and closed, and for a few seconds he was far away. He looked down at Akram’s tortured body for some seconds, and then stooped down. “I’m sorry, Akram.”
Evers returned, and Tarzi led the way walking toward the parked SUV. When they were clear of the caves, out of sight of the men, he broke into a run. They reached the vehicle ten minutes later. Tarzi climbed into the rear seat. Evers took the wheel, started the engine, and drove away at speed, glad to be away from the coming apocalypse. Although he couldn’t stop himself thinking, something in his mind told him what he was doing, what he had done, was wrong.
