The rain thrashed down noisily on the metal cab roofs, adding a throbbing, persistent drumming to the whining crescendo caused by the screaming engines. It threw itself malevolently against the opaque windscreens with an unending violence, beating and slashing, swirling and ebbing as it tried to overwhelm the struggling wipers. The huge trucks battled uphill, slithering and sliding as the heavy treads frequently lost purchase in the slough beneath them.
Spider yawned involuntarily with fatigue. He forced his senses to concentrate on the climbing track. He was shattered. The other drivers must also feel exhausted. Tiredness was dangerous. On well-maintained roads, it was a threat: here it could kill—and often did.
His watering eyes searched through the gloom for the crest of the mountain. There would be an area on the top where a number of vehicles could park. They would stop; a hot drink and some sleep would work wonders. He opened the net and warned the drivers.
* * * * *
The drivers seemed refreshed just by the thought of rest. Although there was no laughing or joking, they were in reasonable spirits as they prepared bedrolls under the trees for the oncoming night. They fired up their Calor gas stoves; the very idea of hot drinks and food had revitalized them. The deluge had ended, but the warmth that followed was ebbing and a cooler dusk pencilled deep, lengthening shadows throughout the valley.
Leaning back against the tree, Spider could pick out the flickering glow-worms of light in the far distance. They punctuated the darkening valley as its inhabitants switched on lights to hold the night at bay.
Strange, he thought, that in most places where he had served, the armed conflict had taken place in beautiful countryside. Each had claim to its own brand of beauty, and this country had a stronger claim than most. However, here, as in all those other places, the ugliness that lived in the hearts of men sought out the beauties of nature to revile and wantonly disfigure them. With a brutality distinguished only by its callousness, it desecrated the gems of all cultures other than its own.
Such mutilations would never heal.
* * * * *
Kalosowich was livid. The damned convoy was still en route for Tuzla; it was as if his intervention had been a mere gnat’s bite. He had not even slowed its progress. With few reserves to deal with it, he would have to divert forces from another area. This time the force must be strong enough to put paid to what had grown from a meddlesome annoyance to an insult to his pride.
Breathing noisily through his nostrils, he surveyed the map. The company strength force of paramilitary on its way to Zepa would be ideal. It would have to travel cross-country, but even then, it would be doubtful if it could reach a suitable cut-off point in time, unless a delay could hinder the convoy. Narrowing his eyes, he looked around the Ops Room as he thought the matter through.
A delaying tactic? His eyes came to rest on the rifle with a telescopic sight leaning against one of the trestle tables. He swung back to his map.
Yes! The snipers at the cemetery!
CHAPTER TEN
The woman rolled slightly to lift the weight from her left side, slid her right hand into her jacket and tugged the bra strap to free her breast from the cleft between her upper arm and chest. Withdrawing her hand, she then squirmed into a more comfortable prone position and took up the slack of the weapon’s sling against her forearm by repositioning her left elbow.
Aiming down at a target could cause a careless sharpshooter to underestimate the distance. However, she knew the exact range to each point in her arc of fire, stretching from the corner of Stilovic Street, formed by two sides of the high-rise apartment block, and at the other extreme bounded by the arched doorway of the play centre.
On her first day on this sector of Sarajevo, the initial shot to test the range had bisected the head of a stray dog scavenging close to the roundabout. Four hours later, her assessment of the range was confirmed when she made the first kill of her assignment. The old woman was the beginning of a chain that included two other women, a middle-aged man and a French Legionnaire wearing a flak jacket. She brought him down with a headshot.
Not all of her shots killed instantaneously; she had seen movement after some strikes, but she was confident that the wounded would not get up. A hit with the Dragunov was invariably fatal. The tearing effect of the slug was horrendous, and the resultant haemorrhaging was massive, to say nothing of the shock caused by a strike anywhere on the human body.
There was no crosswind on the street; she could be sure of this because the thin ribbon on the wreath against the wall of the flats was motionless. Kevic had placed the garland, not out of sympathy for victims, but for sighting purposes.
Every sniper knew the hazards of discovery and to minimize risk, rarely fired a second shot. It was elementary that single well-placed shots and lack of movement, together with good camouflage, ensured survival.
The boy, with his bag of sparse shopping, had to be either suicidal or retarded to remain standing on that corner. Even if he were to walk away now, it would be too late. What was he waiting for? He looked around as if lost. Did the idiot want to die? A few moments more and it would not matter. The thought struck her that, if he had lived, her younger brother would be about the same age as this boy. She thought about Pero to stifle the feeling stirring in her breast and to convince herself that she felt no compassion: men, women or children were all legitimate targets.
As a young girl, she had lived on a small farm bordering the woods some three miles outside Trnovo, and had often gone hunting with her brothers, the elder one now serving with Zeljko Raznatovic’s Arkanoci, the paramilitary unit providing the cutting edge of the ethnic cleansing program.
She had rivalled them both with her accuracy. On stationary artificial targets, her marksmanship was as good as her brothers, but her patience, tenacity and the inborn ability to remain motionless for long periods far exceeded their efforts in those earlier times, when the targets were deer or renegade foxes.
Later, at University, she had taken up skiing as a pastime and soon found that she was a natural at cross-country skiing. Before long, she was a member of the team representing the University, then her country, in the winter biathlon, skiing and target shooting her way to many awards. Her ability to suppress emotion, ignore empathy and tightly rein her imagination was a strength that contributed to success more than ever before.
Pero, who had joined the Army of the Republic of Srpska, died sometime after the November attack by the Croat Muslim forces on Kucin. There was no news of him until the following September when his remains were found near the Rajski Do hotel.
A noose of metal cable pinioned his ankles with a thick piece of wood attached to the other end. Most of his bones were broken and his skull smashed. His shredded clothing showed that his captors had tied him to a vehicle of some sort and dragged him to the hotel.
The young Muslim boy looked both ways, through force of habit, for non-existent traffic. He was about to step off.
The sniper took a deep breath, closed her left eye and took up the slack in the trigger. She realigned the crosshairs and releasing half a breath, paused, and then continued the even pressure on the trigger. Remaining relaxed, but channelling all her concentration through onto the target, she fired. As if the shot suddenly and inexplicably withered the supporting legs, the short figure wilted and dropped to the ground. The sniper slowly lowered the weapon and reached for the ejected casing.
She pulled her logbook towards her and made the necessary entry.
* * * * *
An air of total desecration pervaded the cemetery at Debelo Brdo. Toppled headstones, shards of memorials and tombstones lay scattered in the long grass. The ground under the trees was strewn with withered flowers and broken vases. Many of the uprooted gravestones formed windbreaks and walls for lean-to shelters. Here and there, sleeping figures were interspersed among the debris.
Kevic knelt beside the sleeping figure and touched her nose with a leaf. The nose twitched for a few seconds, then
stopped. Her lips softened, the tension left her jaw and as the lines grew shallow again, her whole face gradually relaxed into that of a young girl. He slipped the stem into one of her dark, rich curls and grasped her shoulder. She awoke after a gentle shake and looked up at the young man assigned to her for training.
“It’s time, Jelena,” he said. “We leave in thirty minutes.”
She widened her eyes and, as recollection returned, nodded. She partially undid the sleeping bag and sat up. For a few seconds she watched Kevic’s retreating figure then, supporting herself on her right elbow, pulled the combat boots towards her.
With a movement of her legs, the sleeping bag unzipped completely and she removed her socks from the boots. The chill of the morning cooled her feet, and she hurriedly pulled on the worsted socks. She unlaced her boots and pulled both on without tying them. After tucking the laces into the top of the boots, she turned to the Bergen that she had used as a pillow during the night. She flipped the top open and pulled out a camouflaged toilet bag, which she wrapped in a dark green towel and headed down the slope of the hill towards the stream.
On reaching the water’s edge, she removed her sweater and shirt and crouched above the fast-flowing water.
Why don’t I ever bring a bowl?
She scooped some water up into the palms of her hands to wash her face, knowing full well that when tasked for this kind of operation a soldier only packed the bare essentials. Time enough for luxury out of the field. There were important things more worthy of packing in the Bergen than prissy little washbasins.
Her face washed and dried, she dipped her toothbrush into the flow and scrubbed her teeth. She missed the sharp tang of toothpaste but knew that it was not essential to dental care. She chuckled, as she thought that at least she did not have to shave, but the chuckle died as she remembered that none of the other twelve male snipers did either.
She strode back to the cemetery. As she reached her pack and equipment just below the crest of the hill, Kevic met her with a proffered mug of coffee.
“Hvala,” she thanked him as she tucked her wash bag beneath her arm and took the mug that he held out with the handle towards her. He smiled and turned back to his weapon and gear.
The coffee had already lost its initial heat. She set the mug down on a piece of broken marble, and put on her combat jacket. Kevic, who was sitting on the waterproof ground sheet with his back against his pack, polished the cases of the rounds that she was to use. He finished and began to occupy himself with the portable gas cooker. Jelena poured water into the mess tin. Both heard the approaching footsteps and looked up as the sergeant came closer.
“Your tasking for today’s been cancelled. The Colonel wants you for a special job. Now.
“Pack your gear, and I’ll brief you while you’re doing it.”
* * * * *
Kevic was proving to be capable and had done well in preparing the position considering the limited time they had had. Jelena had decided that, for this attack, a fully camouflaged hide was superfluous. The drivers would be unarmed, as UNHCR did not allow its employees weapons.
The position chosen was not ideal, but was adequate for what they had to do. It was grudgingly big enough for both of them, but comfort was not an overriding concern—at least not on this mission. A slab of upright rock standing almost chest-high topped with thin divots provided their cover. Kevic had dug up a clump of gorse and made a screen on top of the turf. He was now fashioning an unobtrusive gap to allow for the rifle’s muzzle.
The road was less than two hundred yards away below them. Jelena had a clear view of a longish stretch beneath her to the left, from which direction the convoy would appear. The road dipped into a valley of dead ground so the noise of the vehicles’ engines would have to suffice as warning of its approach.
In front of her, the land, covered in scrub, fell away almost to the road itself. Behind them, the slope, dotted with stunted pines, was gradual for about ninety or so yards before becoming too steep and bare to support any growth.
She uncased the Dragunov, throwing the canvas holdall to one side, and then removed the plastic protective cup from the sight. Holding the weapon by the small of the butt with her right hand, she pulled Kevic to one side with her left and leaned forward against the front of the hide. Passing the muzzle through a gap in the spiky twigs, she then asked Kevic to check the front for any evidence of the weapon. Satisfied there was none, he re-entered, giving her a quick shake of his head.
Sighting the rifle on a large outcrop of rock on the far side of the road, she loosed off two rapid rounds. Her efficient manipulation of the bolt and the rapidity of the second shot so quickly after the first never ceased to enthral Kevic. One day he too would be a class rifle shot. The spurt of chippings and faint wisp of smoke at the rock confirmed her point of aim. She cocked the rifle and took it out of the aim. They lowered themselves to the ground and settled back to wait.
* * * * *
The sound of the engines reached them long before the first vehicle appeared. They both stood, and Jelena picked up the rifle. She adjusted her stance, took several deep breaths then brought the rifle up into the aim in readiness. Despite being alert, the alacrity, with which the jeep leapt over the crest of the road, surprised her.
It travelled on for a hundred yards as she took up the first pressure then squeezed off one shot, then a second. The glass of the window disintegrated. The chassis bucked wildly and swung violently to the left, scraping along the rock face before shuddering to a halt. The body and tail of the following convoy reacted like a punctured concertina.
The truck behind the stricken leader crashed into its rear, pushing it and its luckless driver another thirty yards. Before she could fire at the driver of the second wagon, he opened his door on the opposite side and was out of sight. With a surprising, swift presence of mind the other drivers switched into reverse and, in an awkward parody of a drunken caterpillar, shunted their trucks back up the road.
Jelena snapped another two rapid shots at them but without success. Concentrate, she told herself, but before she could fire again, they had reached the safety of the crest and disappeared below the skyline.
While she worked the bolt of the rifle to reload, she was off-guard when the driver of the jeep, whom she was convinced she had hit, leapt out and ran around the front of his vehicle to get to the other side.
Jelena fired before he had gone two paces. The man dropped, but instead of lying inert, he rolled sideways under the front wheels. She let the muzzle of the rifle sag but kept the stock tight against her shoulder. The crack of the shot reverberated and echoed in diminishing volume across the mountainside. She swore under her breath. Kevic started to say something, but an abrupt grunt silenced him in mid-sentence.
She scanned the vehicle. Nothing. Bringing the weapon back into the aim, she used the telescopic sight to traverse the length of the 4 x 4. No movement whatsoever. She felt sure she had hit him. Was it the force of the shot that had thrown him under the truck?
* * * * *
Rath’s huge fist bunched on Spider’s collar and he dragged him from under the Jeep.
“Now I am really pissed off,” Rath snarled as they crouched beside the rear wheels. “We’ve got a sniper to deal with now.”
“No self-respecting sniper would double tap like that,” grunted Spider sitting back against a wheel as he tried to massage some feeling back into his neck muscles. “He could be overconfident, or he’s new at this game.”
Rath squatted back on his heels. “Self-respecting or not, his aim’s bloody good,” he retorted. He indicated the two vehicles with a nod. “He’s got us bottled. What’s next?”
“Is there any open ground between the wagons?” Spider craned forward to look.
Rath glanced along toward the next vehicle then shook his head.
“The AK 47s are in your cab?” Spider asked.
“One o’ them; the other’s in the tool compartment.” Rath grinned as he realized the p
urpose of the questions. “Ah, time for the set piece counter attack?”
“With textbook diversionary tactic,” smiled Spider, “then we’re going after the bastard. You get the weapons while I see how his reflexes are.”
When Rath returned with the two rifles, Spider removed his helmet. Both men made their way to the rear of the second truck and crouched in its shadow. After checking his rifle, Spider stepped away from Rath and gave himself space to swing the helmet by its chinstrap.
“It’s going out at the front of the Jeep. As soon as it does, we break for the other side of the road and the scrub.”
Rath nodded, braced his legs and watched the swing of Spider’s arm.
* * * * *
At the blur of movement, Jelena swung the muzzle and fired once. The helmet bounced, and then continued several yards down the road before rolling to a stop. She cursed and belatedly redirected her aim at the rear of the vehicles.
Too late! The diving rush of two figures from the rear of the second truck into the undergrowth at the near side of the road carried them into the cover of the rocks and scrub. They were once again out of sight. Damn!
Switching her aim to the point where they had disappeared into the bushes did not help, because the tell-tale branches that should have revealed movement remained undisturbed and motionless.
She marshalled her thoughts. The situation was changing and deteriorating rapidly. It was becoming dangerous for her and Kevic. She knew that the two hiding below them would not remain there. They could not be ordinary aid convoy drivers; their calculated reactions and the fact they had weapons proved this. In the seconds that the dash from the road had taken, she had seen that both men were armed. If those drivers over the crest also had firearms, then the advantage had changed sides.
The Tuzla Run Page 15
