Savage Deadlock

by Don Pendleton

  The man’s face registered more shock than pain as his internal organs ruptured. He coughed and blood bubbled out of his open mouth, then he slumped forward and Asif stumbled back against the rock under the deadweight.

  He heaved the corpse off him and stepped to one side. Over the ridge of the gully, he could see Jansher approaching. He signaled that things were okay and that they should continue on the course Jinnah had set out for them. The younger man nodded his understanding and changed direction.

  Asif checked that the area was clear, and hauled himself out of the gully, still keeping low. As he rose into a crouch to move forward, a searing pain hit him in the side—three, four times—like a punch from a burning knife. It was so intense that he didn’t hear the volley that accompanied each blow. As he fell, all he could see was the shock on Jansher’s face before a black tunnel closed around his vision.

  * * *

  FAIZ AND ZIA had crossed a flat section of the plateau. They were almost certainly exposed, but they moved so quickly, they would present a difficult target. They were tracking a group of three dark-clad fighters who flitted in and out of view as they used the sparse cover afforded them. Faiz directed the younger, less experienced soldier to flank the man on the left while he took the one on the right, keeping the third man between them.

  Faiz drew his blade and they increased their pace to a run, gaining ground on men who were still putting stealth ahead of speed.

  They were almost on their men when a volley of fire made their targets turn.

  It was too late to turn back or hide. Faiz and Zia threw themselves over the last few meters, smashing into assailants who didn’t have enough time to raise their weapons before they were slammed back onto the hard rock, breath driven from their lungs as Faiz and Zia’s blades claimed their lives.

  The enemy fighter caught in the middle saw both of his compatriots taken down, and paused momentarily, torn between the two of them. He yelled into the suddenly broken silence, either in frustration or for assistance, and sprayed AK-47 fire across the plateau. Zia managed to avoid being hit, but Faiz was not so lucky. As he tried to dodge the shots, a bullet raked his left calf. He roared in anger and pain. Now was not the time to be slowed or disabled. He pulled his own rifle off his shoulder and returned fire, taking down the third man.

  That was one immediate threat eliminated, but there were more to follow.

  * * *

  WITH THE TWO bursts of fire, any attempt at stealth was now blown. The enemy fighters who had been in hiding now emerged to deal with the threat, and the Pakistani military men made no further attempt to stalk their opponents, but were instead seeking cover from which to fire on their prey.

  Bolan dived for the cover of a boulder, dragging Davis with him. As they slammed into the blind side of the rock, shots hammered against it. Bolan cursed, waiting for the volley to subside before returning any fire. Beside him, Davis huddled close as the rock provided only a narrow width for shelter. She was so close that he could hear her swearing continuously in his ear, even though the sound of gunfire filled the air around them.

  And then there was a cone of silence around them. For a moment, it seemed that their direct opponents had stopped to assess the damage. Bolan and Davis had a chance to gather their breath and shoulder their arms before spinning to return fire.

  “You go low, I’ll go high,” Bolan said. “Go.”

  Bolan came up over the top of the rock, while Davis stayed in a crouch. They both began firing immediately, in short, controlled bursts. The gap between each burst gave them a fraction of a second in which to survey the area.

  From the dark shadows that flickered on the periphery of their vision, in and out of cover, with the occasional returned shot, Bolan could tell that their initial estimate had been close to the enemy’s position. By concentrating their fire, he planned to pin them down and take them out when they were forced out of their current hiding place by the onslaught.

  “Keep going—let’s see if we can smoke ’em out,” Bolan yelled over the chattering weapons. Davis nodded briefly and kept up her barrage of fire as Bolan took a grenade from his pocket. He lobbed it in a gentle arc, and it seemed to hang in the air before suddenly dropping into the center of the gathered enemy fighters.

  Bolan and Davis both dropped behind the rocks to avoid the debris thrown up by the blast. The maneuver had to count. They’d left their packs in the narrow rock passage, needing to cut back to bare bones so that they could move with ease and stealth. That meant short bursts to conserve ammunition; grenades only if they could make an impact.

  As the debris settled around them, Bolan turned to Davis. “Take the gully for cover and recon—go!” He yelled, moving out from cover. Davis was only a step behind him as they crossed the distance between the rock and the gully, which had been widened by the blast. They could see the ragged remains of two men hanging over the edge, and as they dived into cover, they pushed the corpses aside and came up, scanning their surroundings.

  They conserved ammunition by refraining from covering fire, trusting to speed and the confusion caused by the blast.

  “Clear in the immediate surround,” Davis said. “We’re a man down and one carrying injuries,” she reported. “The enemy’s in a worse state, but how many of them were there originally?”

  “Good question. Assume they outnumber us. Only thing to do,” he said. “Where are the rest of ours?”

  “Never mind that,” Davis cut in. “Look what’s at three o’clock....”

  Bolan turned. He wasn’t sure he could quite believe what he was seeing....

  * * *

  JINNAH AND PATEL had headed out with wariness that some of their younger and less experienced colleagues lacked. This was why the corporal had partnered the battle-hardened Faiz with Zia. Asif and Jansher would have to fare best they could.

  The corporal had counted up to ten opponents as they ghosted across the terrain. Almost two to one against. For reasons of his own, he discounted the Americans. The colonel was okay, but he had his hands full with the bad-tempered woman.

  Now that their opponents had vanished into the crevices and cover that they were familiar with, he and his compatriot had to think on the run.

  “Gully,” Patel snapped, pointing at a potential piece of shelter. They could both see that it was empty, and Jinnah veered toward the thin path in the rock. He made cover with Patel hot on his heels. They settled into the snug groove and scanned the terrain. One or two shadows flashed on the rocks, and they could see Asif and Jansher to their left.

  “Keep down, you idiot,” Patel said. While they watched, the two warriors separated and Asif went in for the kill, taking out his target. “Good work,” Patel muttered, before cursing as a volley of gunfire rent the air and claimed their comrade.

  Before Jinnah could stop him, Patel had settled the barrel of his AK-47 on the lip of the gully and sighted in the direction of the enemy fire. He returned an answering volley that raked rock and scrub but offered no indication of whether it had hit a target.

  What it did do was make their position known, and the corporal cursed as he pulled Patel down into the gully, the fire they attracted throwing up rock chips and dust that showered down on them.

  They were now trapped. The enemy knew exactly where they were and could keep them pinned down.

  “What did you do that for?” Jinnah yelled at Patel.

  “Return fire, give Asif a chance to make cover,” Patel shouted back angrily.

  “He’s already dead,” Jinnah said bluntly. “All you’ve done is make it harder for us to cover each other’s backs as well as our own.”

  “Hell, I have. We need to take them down before they take us.” Patel twisted out of the corporal’s iron grip and pulled his rifle free, finding the space to return fire across the plateau. Above the chatter of fire, he heard Faiz yel
l as his leg was hit. “That’s Faiz—they’ve taken him, too, all because of those stupid women. We should let them get what they deserve. That’s two good men gone.”

  “It’s not our decision to make,” Jinnah snapped. “We’re soldiers. We obey orders. Discipline, Patel—that’s what’s going to get us out of this, so shut up and listen.”

  Patel’s eyes blazed for a moment, and the corporal thought he’d lost him. Then the fire dimmed as his anger ebbed, and he nodded. “Sir, yes, sir. But it needs to be a good plan....”

  “It’ll be quick. Good I can’t guarantee. We—” He swore loudly as the sound of a grenade explosion cut him off.

  Both men risked a look toward the area where the explosion had sounded. They watched Stone and Davis emerge from cover and head toward the gully.

  “We need to link up with them,” Jinnah said. Whatever he may think of the Americans, connecting with their remaining allies was far and away the best move they could make.

  Jinnah and Patel broke cover and charged forward to join their comrades, who were succeeding in damping down any fire against them and pressing the opposition back into cover.

  But the two Pakistani soldiers were completely unprepared for what was happening on the far side of the gully where Stone and Davis were located. From out of nowhere, a woman had appeared.

  A lone woman with an automatic rifle. A lone woman who braced herself and started to fire on them as they ran toward her.

  Chapter Eight

  Yasmin and Suri found it hard to understand exactly what was unfolding before them. As Lasi skipped off, moving quickly and nimbly between the rock and scrub, using shelter and cover they couldn’t even have imagined was there, they felt as though they were chasing shadows. It was hard enough to follow her, let alone the shadows that represented the approaching force.

  They were too cautious to shoot, and initially, there was no need—Lasi’s rapid movements were either unseen by the enemy, or else she wasn’t enough of a target to attract fire. The unseen rebels were as keen on staying hidden as the three women, so they were unlikely to draw any fire upon them until they were in a secure position or on top of their target.

  And then, when Yasmin and Suri felt they were beginning to adjust to what was happening, all hell seemed to break loose as eight more bodies joined the fray, dressed in combat fatigues and demonstrating less of an ability to hide in the unforgiving landscape.

  The two women exchanged glances. The unspoken question was one that neither could answer. These new players looked like military personnel, but if they were, what were they doing here? Were they after Yasmin and the PWLA, as she had been expecting, or were they after the Balochistan rebels or fundamentalists or whoever it was that was closing in?

  Before the questions even had the chance to fully form in Yasmin’s mind, the silence was broken by fire, which took down one of the military men. The two women yelled in surprise as a grenade detonated. They were unused to violence, and while Yasmin knew she’d have to adjust quickly, she was shaking with the rush of adrenaline that flooded through her. Suri seemed similarly shocked.

  For the first time, Yasmin felt the full import of what she had done in joining the PWLA and bringing the stolen flask with her. The moral and ideological implications had not changed, but the practical result of bringing hardened fighters from all factions down on them when they had so little chance of defending themselves adequately...this now hit home.

  Her first instinct was to take flight, but she fought hard to quell this. Looking at Suri, she knew she was not alone. Her friend was wide-eyed, her lips trembling, and Yasmin was unsure whether she was about to cry or scream hysterically. Perversely, she was able to draw strength from her friend precisely because she knew how Suri felt and realized she wasn’t alone in her fear and doubt. She slapped Suri hard. Her head snapped back, her eyes blazed, and she hit Yasmin with a roundhouse slap that had her extra height and weight behind it, and almost knocked the smaller woman off her feet.

  As Yasmin stumbled, Suri reached out and grabbed her, swearing loudly. “How the fuck did we get into this?”

  “Too late to worry now,” Yasmin muttered, turning back to where a full-scale firefight was building. “We’re here now, and we’ve got a job to do.”

  The two women tried to catch sight of Lasi. Their task, no matter what, was to provide cover for her. The only problem was that she had found shelter so deep that they had no idea where she was.

  “Shaz, we’ve lost her,” Suri yelled as she scanned the horizon.

  “Keep calm,” Yasmin returned. “She’s out there. We just need to keep a lookout for her....”

  They fell into silence, trying to follow the events unfolding before them while they waited for their compatriot to show herself. They saw two men emerge from a gully and head toward the site of the explosion, where two others had already taken cover. One of the military men was pulling his companion, who had been shot in the leg, over to the gully, while another member of their party ran toward it, as well.

  Yasmin was no military strategist, but it seemed to her that this was not a wise move. Converging on the same spot meant their position would be heavily secured, but even she could see that when they were together, they presented a target that could be taken out in one hit.

  Why would they want to do that?

  “There she is! There she is!” Suri shouted suddenly, driving all other thoughts from Yasmin’s mind.

  Lasi had emerged from cover like an apparition. She had a clear shot at the military personnel who had reached the edge of the gully. Her weapon was raised, and as she started to fire, Yasmin realized she and Suri were standing like idiots, watching, when they should be laying down a covering fire. Both women raised their guns and began to fire for the first time in a combat situation. Yasmin felt the recoil hammering into her shoulder with sharp, jolting pain, making her jerk so her shots were high, wide and erratic. Suri’s aim was similar. But at least they were providing some kind of cover.

  Exposed as she was, Lasi would need it.

  * * *

  “WHAT THE HELL is she doing?” Bolan said softly, almost to himself, as he saw the woman stand and take aim. “She’ll get herself killed.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Davis said, heaving herself out of the gully and heading toward the woman. As Davis emerged, Bolan saw the woman shift her stance slightly so that her aim was now directly on Davis as she hit the ground running.

  It was obvious that this woman was a member of the PWLA, based on the fact that she was an armed woman in this region. Bolan could only hope she would come out of this battle unharmed—both for her sake and for his objective. The woman presented a direct link back to the PWLA camp and their target.

  Davis was saved by the sudden burst of fire from behind her. Jinnah and Patel fired on the PWLA member as they closed on the gully. The woman shifted her position to avoid the volley, her aim switching to return fire that blazed wide of Davis as she hit the dirt and rock.

  Bolan made a decision. He understood why the Pakistani military personnel had opened fire, but keeping this link to the PWLA alive was a priority. He was out of the gully and gaining on the woman before Davis had a chance to pull herself to her feet again.

  He registered sporadic fire coming from behind the armed woman, though he was fairly certain that the enemy—those who were left, anyway—now all sat at their rear. In all likelihood, the shooters firing high and wide behind this woman were also PWLA members.

  Davis was now on her feet and only a couple yards behind him as he gained on the armed woman. She had swung her rifle back toward him, but had hesitated as she caught sight of Davis, getting her first clear look at her opposition. She was clearly thrown as she realized one of the soldiers closing in on her was a woman.

  Bolan took advantage of her pause to fling himself forward so that
he hit her like a quarterback, full in the midriff, driving her back onto the ground with a bone-rattling jar that made her drop the rifle.

  “Friend...not to hurt you...looking for PWLA.” He spoke the few words of Urdu he knew.

  But she wasn’t listening. Her eyes were wide, questioning, as she stared over his shoulder at Davis.

  “Relax. I’ve come for Yasmin,” she said in much better Urdu than Bolan’s.

  * * *

  JINNAH AND PATEL were now in the gully vacated by Bolan and Davis, their attention torn between what was happening on either side of the crack in the rock. While Patel watched Bolan and Davis take down the woman who had fired on them, Jinnah was looking back the way they had come. Patel was clearly confused about what the Americans were doing, but Jinnah was furious as he saw Zia struggle across the open ground, half dragging Faiz. The older soldier was trying to keep pace, but his leg wound was bleeding profusely, and the ripped muscle and bone were making it hard for him to support his weight and find the strength to continue. Jansher was moving toward them, covering them as best he could by laying down a suppressing fire that kept the remaining opponents pinned down. Jinnah counted four men as they raised their heads to return fire when they could.

  It was with a grim satisfaction that Jinnah realized they had evened the odds. Six rebels down, and two of his own men. He was thankful that Faiz had survived the confrontation, but the man was in no state to fight, and they needed to end this swiftly and get him treatment. They had medical supplies in their packs, which hopefully remained on the track where they had left them.