They leapt to their feet. With the element of surprise, a short burst of rapid fire from their silenced M4 carbines dealt with the four armed insurgents, stray bullets punching out chunks of the yard’s wall. The women screamed. They grabbed up their children and ran indoors. Danny and Jacko hurriedly jumped down into the yard, Danny covering the open door while Jacko readied to search inside. He switched on his M4’s rail-mounted tactical light and visible laser marker. Cautiously, his pulse racing as the adrenaline surged, he stepped through the doorway. He supressed the fear — of enemies waiting in the dark — and swept the room. The narrow circle of light picked out furniture and cast weird shadows. Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. “Clear,” he whispered into his mic.
Danny joined him and they targeted another open door. Jacko edged forward and aimed through it. The next room was darker still. Heart in his mouth, finger on trigger, he stepped through. Rapidly sweeping the room, the beam of light fell upon a huddle of frightened faces in one corner — the women and children. Then it lit a pile of cushions. They moved. Jacko saw the barrel of an AK-47 emerge and he let rip. The cushions danced as stuffing flew out from the bullet holes. A Taliban fighter groaned and rolled out from among them. “Clear!” Jacko shouted.
“Get back up here,” Connor responded. “We’ve got more trouble.”
A Taliban sniper was spotted on a distant rooftop. He held his rifle up to his shoulder, ready to fire on Baxter’s marines when they moved into his field of fire. Sam pulled his M110A1 semiautomatic sniper rifle tightly to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The crouching Taliban sniper fell forward and dropped over the parapet to the street below. Sam’s feeling of satisfaction was short-lived.
“Incoming RPG from top of mosque minaret,” Ben yelled, dropping flat.
Connor saw it too, but quickly realised it was Baxter’s men being targeted. The RPG hit a building opposite. The blast collapsed a wall down onto several of the men below. Seconds later he heard Baxter over the radio shout frantically, “Man down! Man down! Bring in the heavy armour now. Need urgent casualty evac.”
As the dust cleared, Connor could just make out Baxter pulling a marine from beneath the rubble.
With Jacko and Danny rejoining the others on the roof, they concentrated fire on the minaret until certain the Taliban with the RPG had been taken out. Connor decided to make a dash over the remaining forty metres to the square. Reaching for a smoke grenade, he activated it and threw it so it spun through the air discharging a broad yellowish cloud of dense smoke. Connor led the team forwards, ducking under clothes lines, knocking aside old plastic chairs and jumping over stone parapets. They fired at insurgents on the surrounding rooftops as they moved until they finally reached the roof overlooking the square. Crouching and hurriedly reloading, they took in the scene below.
“What the hell…?” Ben exclaimed as he smacked in a fresh ammo magazine.
Connor was struck by it too. Although a pall of smoke from burnt-out vehicles hung over the square, he could see six bodies in ANA uniform. None resembled Khalid. The square was utterly deserted. Even the Taliban snipers seemed to have melted away. The scene felt unreal. “Sparks, try raising Colonel Khalid on the radio.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Baxter, where are you?” Connor shouted into his helmet microphone. “I can’t see you or any of your men. Baxter… Come in, Baxter, over.”
“Sir, Khalid’s not responding,” said Sparks.
There was no reply from Baxter either.
Within five minutes the square filled with tanks, armoured personnel carriers and ISAF troops from both Alpha and Bravo Company. The area was quickly sealed off. It took just another five minutes for Connor to realise that Colonel Khalid had vanished, along with Sergeant Baxter.
“We’ll find them, sir,” said Danny.
“Don’t count on it,” Connor responded. “I reckon Jabir had this all thought through.”
“But why take Khalid and Baxter?”
Connor squinted up at the burning sun.
“That’s the million dollar question. What exactly is Jabir up to? Somehow, I have a horrible feeling this is just the beginning.”
CHAPTER SIX
Jabir’s hostages
Arghandab valley, north-west of Kandahar
Deep in the Arghandab valley north-west of Kandahar, between the Loy Wiyala canal and Arghandab River, a battered old Lexus saloon rumbled along a stony track leading to the remote village. Either side lay pomegranate and grape orchards laden with ripening fruit, and fields of wheat and poppies crisscrossed by irrigation channels and wadis. The Lexus pulled into a walled compound and stopped. Two ANA soldiers climbed out of the front and Jabir’s nephew, Shafiq, from the back. They were greeted by a tall, slim man emerging from the house; Jabir’s brother, Faisal.
“We did it, Father,” Shafiq declared. “Come!”
Running to the back of the car, Shafiq opened the boot. Inside lay Colonel Khalid and Sergeant Baxter, their mouths taped, their heads hooded, their wrists and ankles bound.
Faisal peered into the boot and grinned with delight. “Allah be praised, Shafiq, once again you have proven yourself to be worthy of our cause.” More Taliban emerged from the building and he issued instructions. “Take the prisoners to see Jabir.”
While Khalid and Baxter were manhandled from the boot and dragged indoors, Faisal turned to the two ANA soldiers. “I trust you weren’t followed.” They shook their heads. “Good. Come with me. I will get the money you are owed.” He led them into an outbuilding, drew his pistol and shot them both at point-blank range.
Shafiq had followed on his father’s heels and was shocked by what he saw. “But they were loyal to our cause.”
“True, but they knew too much. We couldn’t risk them betraying us. They are martyrs, Shafiq. Now, I must join the others. I’ll leave you to burn the bodies and dispose of the car.”
Inside the farmhouse, Khalid and Baxter were dragged in front of Jabir, who was reclining on a pile of cushions and eating chunks of bread he’d dipped into a bowl of shorwa: a thin, oily broth. He licked his fingers before signalling for their hoods to be removed and the tape covering their mouths to be ripped free.
Shaken and disorientated, both Colonel Khalid and Sergeant Baxter were unsteady on their feet.
“You’ll pay for this, Hassani,” Baxter snarled defiantly, struggling to tear his bindings loose. Ibrahim slammed the butt of his AK-47 into Baxter’s back. The sergeant crashed to his knees.
Jabir popped a juicy grape into his mouth, chewed a moment, and then spoke. “Welcome to my humble home. I trust your journey was… uncomfortable.”
“What do you intend doing with us?” asked Khalid fearfully.
Jabir called out, and moments later a burly Taliban fighter entered the room clutching an impressive, ornate sword. Jabir rose to his feet and took the sword. He touched the curved blade to the colonel’s exposed neck. Khalid froze.
“It is very simple,” Jabir sneered. “I have a list of demands. You shall read them out. We will video you. ISAF and the Afghan government will have one week to comply.”
“Or?” Khalid dared ask.
Jabir moved forward, the sword blade nicking Khalid’s neck. The colonel gasped. But the tip struck the wall behind him, skewering a wolf spider that had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time. “Or else you will both die!” Jabir warned.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Rescue mission
Camp Delta
General Patterson was in the Ops Room at Camp Delta. With him were Major Connor and two men from CENTCOM’s Intelligence Unit. They were huddled round a laptop viewing Jabir’s video again. It had been widely distributed to the media and posted on YouTube. The whole world knew about it. Millions had seen Khalid and Baxter on their knees, reading out the demands. Jabir stood over them, his sword held above their heads.
Patterson turned away and paced the room. The heat was getting to him. Jabir’s demands were impossible to meet. “It’s
ridiculous! Jabir’s mad. He wants all foreign troops out of Afghanistan. He wants all Taliban prisoners released from prisons in Kabul and Lashkar Gah, and the return of all detainees at Guantanamo.” He turned to one of the intel guys, Lieutenant Sharp. “You said you had some good news?”
“Yes, sir. We believe some rogue ANA helped the Taliban get Khalid and Baxter out of the old town. Two have gone AWOL. Routine drone reconnaissance feeds recorded a vehicle containing two ANA and a youth heading west into the Arghandab valley. They passed unchallenged through a checkpoint manned by other ANA who have since been arrested and are undergoing questioning. Also, we believe Jabir Hassani has made a fatal error. We’ve traced the location where the video was uploaded from. It’s in the same valley. A compound at a remote farming village. We’ve briefed Major Connor and he’s come up with a plan.”
“Well?” Patterson eyeballed Connor. “Can we get them out alive? The Afghan president insists we do everything we can, or else there will be dire consequences.”
Connor inspected a detailed map on the wall of the Ops Room. “This is where we think they’re being held, sir.” He pointed.
Full of impatience, Patterson interrupted. “Right, Delta Force can helo at night and kick some butt. Just tell me what you need, major.”
Connor shook his head. “No, sir. That’s precisely what Jabir will expect. He’ll hear us coming and kill the hostages — assuming, of course, they’re still alive. Jabir’s not prone to making mistakes… like revealing his whereabouts by letting us trace the location they accessed the Internet from. Unless…”
Patterson frowned. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
“Unless it was deliberate, sir. Jabir wants us to know the location. He’ll expect us to attempt a rescue. It’ll be a trap.”
Patterson’s shoulders sagged. “Then what do you suggest?”
“The Canadians have a small Forward Operating Base five kilometres from the target, sir, FOB Crossbow. They’ve been having a rough time lately with Taliban snipers and nightly incoming mortar fire. I’ve spoken to their commander and he tells me that they control barely a kilometre in any direction. Venture any further and they get attacked, and the area is littered with IEDs. If we launched an assault from there on foot, again we’d quickly run into trouble. However, they are close to the river. That’s the key, sir. I’ve broken the mission down into stages. From FOB Crossbow we carry lightweight collapsible canoes to the river. The guys from Crossbow are willing to clear our route of IEDs and insurgents. Then we paddle upriver to a location just a few hundred metres from the farming village. From there we go in silently, and hard. With the cover of darkness we’ll retain the element of surprise.”
“I like it, major, I like it a lot. How quickly can your team be ready to move?”
“Twenty-four hours, sir. Lieutenants Alvarez and Crow are making the necessary arrangements. We’ll have air support available to pick us up once the target area and hostages are secured. But…” Connor hesitated.
“What is it, major?”
“I reckon Jabir’s up to something. There has to be more to this. Either he’ll move the hostages or he’s simply using it as a diversion for something else.” Connor turned to the men from Intelligence. “Is there anything I should know about? Anything supposedly being kept secret?”
“No, sir. Except, well, I’m not sure it’s important.”
“What?”
“The Afghan president is scheduled to make a visit to the area the day after tomorrow. It’s the official opening of a major new section of canal and irrigation network beneath the Dhala dam. He’s going to make a keynote speech about how big construction projects can improve the lives of ordinary Afghans.”
“Goddamnit, that’s it!” Connor felt like he’d just solved a really tricky crossword puzzle. “That’s Jabir’s real target; the Afghan president. You must cancel the visit — but cancel it right at the last moment so as not to alert Jabir that we’re onto him. And send in overwhelming force. You mustn’t let Jabir slip through your net.”
General Patterson grimaced. “Impossible. The Afghan president won’t cancel. He always refuses to show weakness, and there are elections looming. We’ll just have to try to keep him safe. Leave that to us, major. We’ll find a way. I need you to concentrate on rescuing Khalid and Baxter. Don’t let me down, major.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Delta close in
Forward Operating Base Crossbow
FOB Crossbow was little more than a square of parched earth surrounded by razor wire, Hesco fortifications, sandbags and twin towers housing mortars and machine guns. Hitching a lift on a Cobra helo, Delta Force touched down an hour before dusk and offloaded their gear. Connor was met by the base commander, Captain Lee Walsh.
“Welcome to Crossbow, major. It’s a bit rough and ready, but I’m sure you’re used to that. We’re pretty isolated up here, so it’s nice to see some new faces. Come with me and I’ll show you the route we’ve cleared for your team leading down to the river.” Walsh led Connor up one of the towers. “There’s a decent view from up here.” He handed Connor a pair of binoculars and pointed. “For maximum cover, we stuck to that ditch. It leads to within twenty metres of the river bank. We had to diffuse three IEDs along the way. Privates Jennings and Stokes here have orders to make sure the Taliban don’t come back to plant more bombs before you begin your mission.”
Jennings was manning the machine gun. He seemed relaxed, chewing a stick of gum. Stokes was peering through a tripod-mounted ranging scope. In the heat their uniforms were drenched in sweat. “There’s been some movement, sir, but every time they come out into the open, we send them running for cover.”
“You said you were being attacked almost every night,” Connor remarked.
Jennings looked up from his weapon. “Yep, every night for the past month. It’s true what they tell us during basic training, sir.”
“What is?”
“That soldiering is basically long periods of extreme boredom, followed by short periods of extreme violence, sir.” He grinned. “But it’s worth the wait!”
Connor raised the binoculars and surveyed the terrain; flat, dusty green, and crisscrossed by shallow ditches and wadis. The ground eventually sloped down to a band of dense undergrowth by the river. He handed the binoculars back. “Thank you, captain. Your efforts are much appreciated. We’ll move out at midnight.”
Jacko led the men, their faces blackened for camouflage, along the ditch. Behind him Sam, Danny and Ben dragged the three collapsible two-man canoes and paddles. Connor and Sparks brought up the rear. With the moon obscured by cloud, the darkness was almost complete. The stifling heat of the day had been replaced by a cool breeze filled with the frantic chatter of insects and the distant sound of the river. Through their helmet-mounted night-vision aids, their surroundings looked otherworldly — giant moths glowing brightly as they zigzagged through the night air.
Midway along the ditch the calm was shattered by an explosion and distant crack of rifle fire. Connor looked round and saw that FOB Crossbow was under attack. To his relief it appeared that the Taliban had launched their assault from the other direction. Within seconds phosphorous flares arced high into the sky. As their flickering light lit the valley beyond, Private Jennings returned fire from the tower. Connor watched for a minute before turning his back on them. He continued to crawl along the ditch. Almost immediately, he bumped into Sparks, who signalled that voices had been heard up ahead. Connor moved silently along the line and tapped Jacko on the shoulder.
Jacko pointed.
Connor saw two figures heading towards them on all fours. They had rifles slung across their backs. They were talking to one another and completely oblivious to Delta Force’s presence. Connor ran a finger across his throat and drew his knife. Jacko drew his too. They remained perfectly still and waited, watching.
CHAPTER NINE
A nasty surprise
“Khatar day?”
“Ho
o.”
“Dalta nazhde kum mayn shta?”
“Na — aarr!”
Connor wiped the blood from his knife on the Taliban fighter’s clothes. Jacko crawled over the two bodies and continued on a further fifty metres. Then he whispered over the radio that the rest of the ditch was clear. Connor ordered the others to move up.
At the river, they slipped the canoes into the water and set off upriver, hugging the bank for maximum cover. The muscles in their arms began to burn as they pulled against the strong current. They pressed on, desperate to remain silent, desperate to remain unnoticed.
After an hour’s exertion, Connor checked his wrist-mounted GPS locator. He was relieved that they’d finally reached his planned point to go ashore. He paddled hard left to take him towards the bank and thick undergrowth. The others followed and they dragged their canoes onto the muddy bank.
Connor needed to get a proper look at the layout of the village — located about two hundred metres away — before making a move on the compound where intel had placed Jabir, Colonel Khalid and Baxter. He lay flat, using his elbows to haul himself through a stinking irrigation ditch. He emerged from tall spiky grass about fifty metres from the nearest building.
To his left was a pomegranate orchard, to his right a field of wheat. Straight ahead was a stony track leading to the cluster of walled compounds, and several derelict outbuildings. He scanned the whole area with a thermal-imaging scope, but saw no sign of any guards. If any were there, they were well hidden. He radioed for the others to join him.
“Do you reckon they’ve moved the hostages, sir?” Ben asked. “This place looks deserted.”
“Don’t know. Guess we’d better find out. Sparks and Sam stay here and cover our exit. Sparks, keep an open channel to CENTCOM and make sure air support is ready to come and evac us at a moment’s notice. Ben and Danny — you’re Team Two — enter via the back of the compound and get onto the flat roof of the target building as quickly as possible. Standard protocol; clear the first floor while Jacko and I deal with the ground level. Move in on my command. Good luck, guys.”
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