by Damien Lewis
When he was just twenty yards short, Mick dropped the Land Rover into second gear. For a moment he wondered if they would make it through. Up front, Mick knew he had some serious ironwork on the vehicle. There was a massive bull bar, plus the bumper itself was like an iron girder. Mounted beneath that was a heavy winch – another hunk of solid steel. Below that again was a thick metal undershield protecting the engine. Even the headlights had solid bars over them. And the whole of the Land Rover was encased in a rollcage. It was made of heavy metal tubes the size of scaffold bars. The windscreen, the roof and the side doors were all protected in this way.
The rollcage in turn was welded to the Land Rover’s solid steel chassis. With all the built-in armour plating, Mick reckoned the vehicle had to weigh at least 3 tonnes. It was powered by a 2.5 litre turbocharged diesel engine. It was weighed down by all that extra kit. But Mick knew what the vehicle was capable of. It was very highly geared. The top speed was little more than 70 m.p.h., but from 0 to 30, the power and acceleration was awesome. Mick reckoned he’d hit the checkpoint at around 30 m.p.h. Three tonnes at that speed was all but unstoppable. He thought they had a good chance to make it through.
He gritted his teeth and punched his right boot to the floor. The engine roared as the turbo cut in. They were thrown back in their seats. The enemy figure in front froze for a second, and then, at the last moment, he flung himself clear of the vehicle. As the Land Rover shot past, Bill grabbed his MP5 and pointed it out of the side window. With one hand he emptied a burst into the enemy soldier’s face.
The Land Rover’s bull bar splintered the wooden barrier as if it were matchwood. With its engine screaming the three tonnes of raw metal ploughed into the checkpoint. There was a deafening crash as oil drums and sandbags flew in all directions. Enemy soldiers dived for cover out of the Land Rover’s path. Mick and Bill ducked as the windscreen shattered. Sheets of metal and wooden planking smashed down on the vehicle, but bounced off harmlessly, thrown clear by the steel rollcage.
For a horrible moment, Mick felt a stabbing pain in his wrists. The steering wheel had been wrenched from his grasp. He glanced up through the shattered windscreen. The front wheels had hit a pile of concrete blocks, and he fought to regain his grip as the Land Rover reared up over the jumbled blocks. Then they were climbing over the top and smashing through clear of the roadblock and back on open tarmac again.
Mick jerked the Land Rover’s wheel to the right. The bull bar crushed two of the mobile spotlights as if they were tinfoil. As he pulled clear he gunned the engine and slammed it into third gear. At the same time he heard enemy rounds tearing into the rear of the Land Rover. They punched holes in the aluminium body-work but were stopped by the armour plating.
Out of the corner of his eye Mick caught sight of a group of vehicles. Several Mercedes and a couple of Toyota jeeps were parked up by the roadside. He jerked the wheel again, this time ramming the Land Rover into the nearest Merc. There was a crunching of metal as the steel bumper ripped the front off the enemy vehicle. At the same time Kiwi Jim pounded the checkpoint with the 50-cal heavy machine-gun.
As they tore away from the wrecked Mercedes, Mick did a rapid visual check of the Toyota jeeps. If the enemy came after them, he wanted a good idea of what he was up against. The jeeps looked pretty standard and he saw no signs that they were armoured. They’d be fast on the road. But off road on tough terrain they’d be no match for the Land Rovers.
Suddenly, Mick saw Jock raising himself up in the seat behind him. He had his favourite weapon – his GPMG – levelled at the hip. Jock must have made a miracle recovery from the Sarin gas. There was a deafening burst of gunfire as Jock opened up on the last of the enemy vehicles, pouring a concentrated burst of fire into the fuel tank of the Merc. As they accelerated away there was a massive explosion. The Merc’s fuel had blown sky high.
In seconds they had shot past and hit the open road. The front of the Land Rover was covered in wreckage. Both its wing mirrors were shattered. But Mick still had a rear-view mirror in the cab. He checked behind him. To his relief he saw the two other Land Rovers powering away from the burning checkpoint. He could see the tracer flying from their heavy weapons. They were giving the enemy a serious pounding. Mick changed up into fifth gear and thrust his foot to the floor. Quickly, the wrecked checkpoint was left behind.
‘Alpha One, sitrep,’ Mick announced. He was asking the other vehicles to report in to him.
‘Alpha Two, vehicle and team intact,’ came the reply.
‘Alpha Three, vehicle intact,’ came Guy’s voice on the net. ‘But we got wounded.’
‘Shit!’ Mick cursed. ‘How bad?’
‘Couple with flesh wounds,’ Guy replied. ‘But I got one hit in the groin. Lot of blood. Could be his artery’s hit.’
‘OK. You blokes got a medic in your vehicle, right? Do what you can. Soon as possible we’ll haul up so we can deal with them.’
Bollocks. The last thing they needed now was wounded. How many were there and how bad, Mick wondered? He checked his rear-view mirror, to see if he could chance stopping. But way behind he could see headlights now. They hadn’t put all the enemy vehicles out of action and it looked as if they had pursuers.
‘Don’t this thing go no faster?’ Mick asked.
‘It ain’t built for speed, buddy,’ Bill answered. ‘It’s built for running enemy roadblocks. You want speed you should’ve taken Major Wanker’s BMWs. Tell you one thing. If we had, we’d all be dead by now. They weren’t expecting armoured Land Rovers. You could tell by the way they set the goddamn roadblock.’
‘Well, we ain’t out of the woods yet,’ Mick declared. ‘They’re coming after us. And they’re a lot fucking faster than we are.’
‘So what d’you suggest, buddy?’ Bill said, with a grin. ‘You’re the goddamn SAS. How you gonna get us outta this one?’
‘Mate, this is what I suggest …’ Mick answered.
‘Alpha One,’ Mick spoke into his throat mic. ‘I’m looking for an ambush site. I’m stopping when I find it. Our vehicle will form the centre of the roadblock. Team Two, you take the right hand side of the road. Team Three, the left. Be ready in seconds ’cause they ain’t far behind us. Keep your engines running, but kill your lights. I want to mallet the fuckers with everything we got.’
‘Alpha Two, copied,’ came back the reply.
‘Alpha Three, copied.’
What Mick needed now was a good ambush site and fast. Up ahead was a tight bend in the road. It wasn’t perfect. But it would have to do.
‘Hold tight!’ Mick yelled.
As he rounded the bend he slammed his foot on the brakes and wrenched the steering wheel over. In a screech of burning rubber he brought the Land Rover to a halt. It was left broadside on the road. A little later Land Rovers two and three came to a sudden halt in the dust on either side. The three vehicles formed a V-shape now, completely blocking the road. They cut their lights and the scene went totally dark. For a second Mick considered using night vision goggles for the ambush. But he quickly ruled it out. If they did so the headlights of the enemy vehicles would blind them.
Kiwi Jim and Jock swung the GPMG and the 50-cal heavy machine-guns around. Apart from the Land Rovers’ engines ticking over there was silence now. Mick heard a dog barking in the distance. And then the straining of motors as the vehicles in pursuit drew nearer. Mick pulled his MP5 closer into his shoulder. He focused on the dark road behind and tensed his finger on the trigger.
‘Alpha One,’ Mick spoke into his mic. ‘On me, open fire.’
Twenty seconds later a pair of headlights rounded the bend some 800 yards behind. The vehicle was travelling fast, 80 or 90 miles an hour. By the height of the headlights, Mick reckoned it had to be one of the Mercs. He held his fire as the vehicle raced towards him. A second and a third pair of lights appeared behind it. Suddenly there was a screeching of tyres, as the lead vehicle slammed on the brakes. The driver must have caught a glint of his lights on the Land Rovers
up ahead. As the driver struggled to bring the car to a stop, Mick held his fire. He reckoned that the Merc had to be armoured. It was heavy and taking a long time to come to a halt.
Suddenly the driver lost control and the Merc spun sideways on the road. As it did so, the whole of the vehicle became visible. Instantly Mick opened fire with his MP5, raking the Merc from right to left with a barrage of fire. At the same time the big guns to either side of him let rip. The heavy 50-cal rounds tore through the Mercedes armour like a giant tin opener. There was a sharp explosion and in an instant the car became a ball of orange flame. There was a horrible screaming and Mick saw that the men inside were being burned alive. Then the hail of rounds from the Land Rovers ripped into the vehicle behind.
Back at the bend in the road Mick could see other vehicles screeching to a halt. There were a couple of Toyota jeeps and more Mercs. Figures went diving into the bushes at the side of the road, then returned fire. Quick as a flash Kiwi Jim hauled one of the light anti-armour weapons (LAWs) out of the Land Rover. In one swift movement he had the weapon armed and up on his shoulder. The Land Rover was lit up in the flash from the rocket firing. It streaked ahead in the darkness and impacted in a massive gout of flame. Bodies were thrown into the air as the two cars behind the lead Mercedes burst into flames. The whole of the road was now blocked with burning debris.
Fucking nice one, Kiwi, Mick thought. It was time to be moving again.
‘Let’s fuckin’ MOVE!’ Mick yelled.
Mick dropped his smoking weapon and gunned the engine. He wrestled the vehicle back into line and accelerated away. As he did so, Kiwi Jim and Jock kept hammering away at the enemy with the big guns. Mick put his foot to the floor and the other two Land Rovers pulled in behind him. He checked his mirror. Several of the enemy vehicles were on fire now. A tangle of burning wreckage was completely blocking the road.
‘Alpha One. Keep your lights out,’ Mick spoke into his mic. ‘Drive on night vision only. Let’s not make it easy for them to follow.’
For several minutes Mick and his team drove on in silence. He kept checking behind him. He hoped that he’d lost them. But somehow, he didn’t think so. Finally, he caught a tiny pair of dots in the Land Rover’s mirror. Headlights. Again they had enemy vehicles on their tail. He checked once more. As the enemy vehicles rounded a bend he counted four sets of lights. Four vehicles had got through the ambush and were still after them. He glanced across at Bill. Bill raised his eyebrows. Mick jerked a thumb behind him.
‘More of the fuckers back there,’ Mick said. ‘They ain’t giving up, mate. Not that easily.’
‘We ain’t gonna lose them on the road, buddy,’ Bill replied. ‘An’ they ain’t fallin’ for that ambush trick again.’
‘Yeah. So time to head for the desert,’ said Mick. ‘Ask your buddy Omar – where’s the nearest point where we can leave the highway.’
Bill turned to Omar who was crammed into the back seat. They began a rushed conversation in mixed English and Arabic. Then Bill turned back to Mick.
‘Two miles away, take the turn-off to the left,’ Bill said. ‘Omar reckons it’s our best chance.’
‘Alpha One. Enemy in pursuit,’ Mick spoke into his radio. ‘We’re going to lose the road. Hit the open desert. Follow my lead. Let’s see the fuckers follow us then.’
At Omar’s signal, Mick took a turn onto a track to the left. Quickly, it opened out into the flat desert. Mick kept glancing in his rear-view mirror. Soon, he saw the enemy vehicles stopping at the roadside behind them. But after a short delay, he saw three sets of lights leaving the road. The vehicles turned in his direction, their headlights probing the darkness. The enemy were coming after them. It had to be the Toyota jeeps. And they must have packed them full of their men at the roadside. Still the bastards weren’t giving up.
Mick jabbed Bill in the ribs. ‘Tell Omar I need rough ground. Rougher the better. And tell him a river would be good. A deep one.’
Bill turned back to Omar. They spoke for a few minutes in mixed English and Bill’s basic Arabic. Then Bill turned back to Mick.
‘Right, buddy, how rough d’you want it?’ Bill asked. ‘Omar says there’s a camel track coming up in about a mile. It’s rougher than a Baghdad whore, or least that’s how Omar put it. That do ya?’
‘Sounds perfect, mate,’ Mick replied. ‘Let’s do it. ’Cause those fuckers behind are gaining again.’
‘Now that ain’t all,’ Bill added, grinning. ‘That track that’s rougher than a whore’s whatsit. Well it leads to a wadi. Kinda dry riverbed. But Omar says this time of year it ain’t likely to be dry. More likely to be water up to the windows. How’s that suit ya?’
‘Nothin’ better than a wet wadi, mate,’ Mick replied.
‘Of course, if it’s too deep when we reach it we’re trapped,’ Bill added, grinning.
‘Just tell me where the bloody turn-off is, mate,’ Mick replied.
A minute later and Omar signalled Mick into a sidetrack. Immediately, the Land Rover started bucking and groaning, and Mick had to cut his speed. The camel track was a series of deep ruts. Even for the Land Rover it was treacherous going. After five minutes of boneshaking progress, the track began dropping into a valley. Mick figured the riverbed would be at the valley floor. He checked his mirror. Back up behind him Mick could see the headlights of the enemy vehicles. But they had slowed to a crawl. Mick grinned to himself. It was like driving across a ploughed field, this camel track of Omar’s. And nothing could beat a Land Rover across such terrain.
As they hit the valley floor, Mick caught sight of a stretch of water up ahead. It was glistening faintly in the light of the moon. He was glad he’d checked out the enemy jeeps back at the roadblock. As far as he could remember, none of them had any deep-water gear. By contrast, each of the Land Rovers was kitted out with a ‘snorkel’, a pipe that ran up the right-hand corner of the windscreen. It sucked in air from the height of the vehicle’s roof to allow the engine to keep running under water. It meant they could drive through water to a depth of five feet or more. If the river was deep enough then the enemy were finished. Mick gunned the engine and took his vehicle to the water’s edge.
‘Alpha One, going wet,’ Mick spoke into his radio.
It was best to warn everyone. Just so they could try to keep their weapons and ammo dry. Mick changed down into second gear, then plunged his vehicle into the water. In seconds they were in up to the level of the doors. Brown sludgy water began to pour into the cab. Mick kept the engine revving and pushed ahead. The water started streaming in through the broken windscreen. Much higher, and even they would be in trouble. He could hear the exhaust gurgling and bubbling in the river behind him. For a while the water kept rising, then the riverbed levelled off. With a surge of power, the Land Rover hauled itself up out of the water and onto the far bank. They were through!
Mick pulled over on the riverbank. His trousers were soaking wet, and his boots filled to the brim. He could hear the splashing of the river water pouring out of the cab. Checking behind him he saw the other two Land Rovers driving themselves clear of the river. They’d done it, Mick told himself. He glanced across the water. On the far side, the enemy vehicles had come to a halt. There was no way that they could follow. If they tried to they’d be finished.
‘Alpha One, let’s go!’ Mick yelled into his radio. ‘Let’s get out of range. Before those fuckers try to spoil the party.’
Bill held out a hand to Mick. ‘OK, buddy. You done it. It’s mission accomplished. I got you a security escort to the airport. Then you can crack open the bubbly on the flight home.’
‘We done it, mate,’ Mick replied, as the two men shook hands. ‘Without you, we’d have been toast.’
‘Ah, whatever,’ said Bill.
It was the day after their arrival back in Baghdad. The drive from the river crossing to the city had gone without a hitch. There had been no further sign of the enemy. Bill was still trying to find out who it was that had attacked them. He wa
s using all his local sources to do so. But so far, there were no firm leads. Of one thing they were certain, though. It had been a well-planned ambush. The enemy had been expecting them, on that road and at that time. The only thing they hadn’t been expecting was Bill’s armoured Land Rovers. Bill had two good men in hospital. They’d been in the rear vehicle. Their injuries were serious, but he reckoned they’d pull through. And Bill had vowed to get his revenge.
Mick and Bill were convinced of another thing, too. The ambush had been meant to take them alive. To capture them, or something, without damaging the painting. Normally, they would have slowed to a stop at a US military checkpoint. If they’d done so at this one, weapons would have been stuck in their faces. They would have been hauled out of the vehicles at gunpoint. And what would have happened next didn’t bear thinking about. Bill was certain that whoever had set the ambush was after one thing. The painting. Which meant that someone, somewhere had betrayed them.
‘I’ll be seeing you, buddy,’ Bill remarked. ‘It’s just until the next time. An’ there is gonna be a next time, isn’t there? There’d better be. I enjoyed this one too much for it to be the last.’
‘Sure thing, mate,’ Mick replied. ‘Maybe I need to jack in that photography job. Pay’s shit. Come out here’n work with you?’
‘Any time, buddy. I’d kill for guys like you on my team. Any of you. You’re always welcome. So long, buddy. Take real good care of that painting now, won’t ya?’
‘Cheers, mate. East End Eddie there’s got it. And there’s no one going to take it off him in a hurry.’
With that, Mick turned and jumped in his vehicle for the short drive to the airport.
CHAPTER NINE
THE FOUR MEN stood in line at the BA check-in desk. They weren’t overly nervous. As Bill had said, it was mission accomplished. Time to relax and enjoy the flight home. Eddie still had his bandages. And Jock was wheezing from the effects of the Sarin. But it could have been a lot worse for either of them. They looked little different from the other private military operators passing through Iraq’s main airport. Back at Bill’s villa Eddie had sewn the painting into the lining of his jacket. Just like Tony, his dodgy art thief mate, had told him to. What could go wrong now?
