A Covert War

by Michael Parker

  ‘He’s a hit-man, Susan; he kills. It’s what he’s paid to do.’

  Marcus waited and watched carefully because he knew it would come. It was just a case of being ready for it. Maggot was so quick, Marcus had never seen anybody with faster reactions and reflexes.

  When Maggot’s arm shot out it was like the long tongue of an Iguana lizard; fast and instantaneous. Marcus moved his head to one side as the ends of Maggot’s curved knuckles slammed into the edge of his cheekbone.

  As Marcus ducked and felt Maggot’s arms sliding painfully past his ear, he turned in towards Maggot’s outstretched arm, dropping quickly and pushing up with one, outstretched hand.

  It caught Maggot beneath the armpit and forced his arm up. This gave Marcus the space he needed to duck beneath Maggot’s arm and move behind him.

  Maggot spun immediately, but as he did, it gave Marcus a micro second of time to aim a kick at Maggot’s kidneys. His foot connected, but Maggot’s body was turning and this had the effect of allowing the kick to glance off his body and not do much damage at all.

  They were now facing each other, but their positions were reversed. They stood square to each other and waited briefly. Then all hell was let loose.

  From the room where Susan had been pushed into by Marcus, she could hear the awful sounds of bone on bone, gristle on gristle, shouts and groans as the two men fought in the confines of the narrow passageway.

  She edged herself closer to the open door, compelled to see what was happening but not wanting to see Marcus being hurt. She peered round the corner and saw Maggot being lifted up bodily by Marcus, and then being slammed down on to the hard floor like a wrestler slams his opponent down.

  Maggot hit the floor but immediately kicked his leg out straight, catching Marcus in the crotch. Marcus cried out in agony and doubled up as Maggot leapt to his feet and grabbed Marcus round the neck. He then began to throttle the life out of him.

  Susan screamed out and ran out into the corridor. She began to pummel Maggot as hard as she could, but it was ineffective; Maggot appeared to ignore her, oblivious to the punches.

  But Marcus knew that Maggot would not put up with it for long; soon he would lash out at Susan and it would be over. Just one, swift blow to her throat would crush her windpipe and she would be dead. He had to stop her, but how?

  Marcus screamed out at her, his voice almost choked. ‘Get out of the way, Susan! He’ll kill you!’

  But Susan kept raining blows on Maggot’s back, ignoring Marcus’s pleas.

  Marcus tried shouting at her again, but no sound came from his throat. His eyes were blurring and he was vaguely aware of Susan’s legs with his fast, diminishing vision. He knew that this would be the only way he could stop her and save her life.

  He forced Maggot to swing round a little by pushing his feet against the wall. As Maggot responded to the increased pressure, Marcus swung a foot at Susan’s leg, striking her just below her knee. She screamed out and fell to the floor.

  Marcus now had nothing to support himself against Maggot’s fierce hold now that his foot was off the floor, and his whole body weight slumped in the arm lock that Maggot had around his neck.

  This caused Maggot to droop slightly and his grip slackened for a moment, which allowed Marcus to twist his body just a little, enough to move his arm and grab Maggot by the balls.

  Marcus squeezed hard. Maggot screamed out and tightened the lock he had on Marcus neck. Marcus squeezed harder until he felt the balls crushing in his hand. Maggot tried ignoring the pain and tightened his grip on Marcus neck. Marcus could no longer breathe; he was choking to death, his head was bursting but he wouldn’t let go. He twisted his hand, feeling the scrotum turning. A few seconds more and he would be tearing Maggot’s balls away from his crotch.

  Maggot yelled at the top of his voice and relaxed his grip on Marcus, who immediately broke away. He straightened, drawing in huge gasps of air. Maggot began to drop towards the floor. Marcus seized the advantage and took Maggot’s head in his hands. He held it firmly and looked for a moment as though a terrible sadness had filled his heart. Then he twisted Maggot’s head fiercely and yelled out at the top of his voice.

  Susan screamed out in terror as she heard Maggot’s neck snap and he dropped to the floor. He was dead.

  Marcus sagged to his knees and bent over Maggot’s body. He was breathing heavily with the tortured sound of someone who has almost been choked to death. He had slumped so far down that his forehead almost rested on his friend’s body, weakened by the terrific fight he had put up against him. There was the look of deep sadness and shock in his eyes when he finally lifted his head and looked down at the man who had been his friend. He dropped back on to his heels, tears falling freely down his face.

  Susan sat up knelt beside him. Then she put her arms around him very tenderly. She didn’t know what to say, she could only try to understand what it must have been like for Marcus.

  He turned his face towards her and looked into her eyes. She could see the pain deep inside him. She then reached forward and kissed him gently on the side of his cheek.

  ‘Very touching,’ a voice boomed out.

  They both looked up immediately, startled. Standing near to the short passage from the front door was Milan Janov. He had a machine pistol in his hand and he was aiming it at the two of them.

  ‘Now you are both going to die. Then I will kill Abdul.’

  He raised the gun and a shattering blast of gunfire filled the corridor.

  Susan screamed and clutched her ears as Marcus instinctively pulled her to him and sought the dubious cover of the floor.

  Janov seemed to burst open as bullet after bullet shredded his body, lifting it high and slamming him against the wall. He was dead before he slithered down the wall to sit, lifeless in a pool of his own blood.

  David stepped into the hallway, the AK47 smoking in his hand. He looked at Janov, then down the passage to Marcus and Susan. He said nothing, then walked up to them and looked down at Maggot’s dead body. He reached down and lifted Maggot’s hand, looking at the joint where Maggot’s finger should have been. He nodded and let it drop.

  ‘Where did you come from?’ Marcus asked him.

  David simply lifted his head in the direction of the room where he had been sleeping.

  ‘I climbed out of the window.’ He looked down at Maggot again. ‘You know, I remembered his voice. He said something before he shot me in the head. I knew then I had to get out because he would have killed us all.’ He turned and looked over at Janov. ‘I nearly ran into him.’

  ‘Lucky you didn’t,’ Marcus commented, ‘otherwise we would have all been dead now.’

  ‘What about Abdul?’ David asked. ‘What are we going to do with him?’

  Marcus got to his feet. ‘Take him with us,’ he said. ‘Cavendish can do what he wants then.’ He put his arm round David and Susan. ‘Time we went home,’ he said. ‘I think we deserve it.’

  TWENTY FOUR

  Cavendish followed McCain out of Base Headquarters and clambered into the military officer’s Chevrolet. The dawn sky was now well lit by the rising sun, painting its glorious colours across the entire horizon. McCain gunned the Chevrolet into life and drove the relatively short distance to the MQ Reaper Flight.

  The pilotless drone was remotely controlled from a very nondescript looking trailer. It stood on its jacks, its wheels clear of the ground. It had no windows so presented a very unprepossessing sight. Its silhouette against the backdrop of the dawn sky simply showed it up as nothing more than a rectangular box on wheels. It was an absurd notion that such an inanimate object could wreak devastation on its unsuspecting victims.

  There was also an air conditioning rig, its huge tubes connected to the control trailer. At the end of the trailer was a short flight of steps. There was another trailer close by, coupled to a generator which hummed quietly beside it.

  McCain brought the Chevrolet to a halt in a small parking lot, alongside other military vehic
les and jumped out. Cavendish followed him as he bounded up the steps and pulled open the door. McCain waited until Cavendish was inside before pulling the door closed behind him.

  The lighting inside the control room was subdued. A narrow strip of floor ran down towards the far end forming a narrow passage, and on each side of that were rack upon rack of electronic control equipment.

  The far end opened up into a tee shape, the bar of which was the Reaper drone control desk. At a little below head height were two screens, each one showing a different topography of the ground over which the Reaper was flying.

  Two men were sitting at the controls. Cavendish knew that the officer on the left was flying the Reaper. The officer on the right was the sensor control officer, responsible for target detection and target lock.

  There was another man at the end, sitting on a kind of jump seat. It wasn’t until Cavendish got closer that he recognised the CIA man, Randy Hudson.

  ***

  Marcus asked the others if they were OK; they both said they were, but Susan insisted that she took care of Marcus’s injuries. Marcus wasn’t aware that he had any, but Susan led him away to the room that served as a kitchen and told him to wait there. She then picked up a bowl and went outside in search of water.

  David was shaking like a leaf, but he had a terrific smile on his face. The trembling was simply a reaction to the death of Janov, and the fact that he had been responsible for it. The shaking didn’t bother him, but he wasn’t keen on the idea that he had killed somebody although he did realise it had been a case of kill or be killed.

  He went along to the room where Abdul had been tied up. He sat on the end of the bed opposite, the one he had slept in, and laid the AK47 down beside him.

  ‘This is where it ends,’ he told Abdul, speaking in Farsi. ‘I expect we will be taking you with us, but what happens then, I have no idea.’

  Abdul couldn’t reply because he was still gagged. David realised this and leaned across the space between the two beds and pulled the gag from Abdul’s mouth.

  ‘What happened out there?’ Abdul asked, lifting his chin towards the door.

  David told him.

  ‘So you killed Janov?’ Abdul said to him. He leaned back against the wall. ‘It is for the better,’ he mumbled. Then he pushed himself up away from the wall. ‘When will we be leaving?’

  David made a gesture, lifting his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. But I think we’ll probably leave within the next twenty minutes or so.’ He pointed towards the other end of the house. ‘Susan is fixing Marcus’s wounds. When they’ve finished, we’ll go.’

  ***

  Hudson turned when he heard the sound of footsteps. As soon as he saw Cavendish, he stiffened. Cavendish walked up to him and stopped.

  ‘Good morning Hudson. Why am I not surprised to see you here?’

  Hudson regarded Cavendish in the half-light with a contemptuous stare. ‘I’m here on business, Cavendish. What are you doing here?’

  Cavendish sniffed. ‘I hope I’m here to stop you and your dirty little games,’ he told him.

  Hudson bridled at the remark. ‘You’re not on your own ground, Cavendish, so have a care what you say.’

  ‘Why?’ Cavendish replied. ‘Will I get the same as last night?’

  Hudson shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Of course you haven’t, but why are you not surprised to see me here I wonder?’

  Just then the sensor operator called out two co- ordinates. Chuck Berry, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat responded by repeating the co-ordinates and operated the controls to bring the Reaper on to a different heading.

  Cavendish glanced over Berry’s head and saw the map displayed on the screen. Berry looked up at him.

  ‘What can we do for you gents?’ he asked.

  McCain told him why they were there. ‘So perhaps you could arrange to speak with Sir Giles Cavendish later today?’

  ‘You’re off track, sir,’ the co-ordinator told Berry.

  The lieutenant turned his attention back to the screen. ‘Back on track. Select missile.’

  The co-ordinator responded. ‘AGM-114L, number one rail selected, port side.’

  McCain turned to Cavendish and whispered out of the side of his mouth, holding his hand there to observe a kind of respectful silence.

  ‘Hellfire Missile,’ he whispered. ‘Fire and forget. Great to watch.’

  ‘Time over target?’ the sensor operator called out.

  Berry checked the figures on his screen and then glanced down at a knee pad he had resting on the top of the control panel.

  ‘Time over target is ten minutes.’

  ***

  Susan finished washing the blood off Marcus’s upper body and around his head and ears. She wanted him to let her examine him elsewhere, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

  ‘I’m ok,’ he told her. ‘I can stand, I can walk and if I have to, I can run.’ He got up from the wooden chair as he said it and put both hands on Susan’s shoulders, holding her gently. ‘When we get back to London, you can examine me wherever and whenever you like.’ He leaned forward and kissed her.

  Susan pulled away and playfully slapped him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Marcus,’ she laughed. ‘Now, how about sorting ourselves out and getting out of here?’

  ***

  Cavendish knew, for no obvious reason other than a gut feeling, which target the Reaper would be firing a missile at. He also knew that if he tried to prevent it, he would be restrained not only by McCain, but by Hudson as well. He could think of no way of preventing Berry launching a Hellfire Missile at the farmhouse where Susan and Marcus had gone to meet with Abdul Khaliq and Susan’s brother. If they were there when the missile struck, they would all die.

  He had less than ten minutes to come up with an answer.

  ***

  David stuffed the gag back in Abdul’s mouth and walked out of the room and down to the kitchen.

  ‘I’m starving,’ he complained as he walked in on Susan and Marcus. ‘How about some breakfast before we go?’

  Marcus disagreed. ‘I don’t think it’s wise; if any of the locals round here heard the shooting, they could send the local Taliban out here.’

  David nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re probably right. What about Abdul?’

  Marcus and Susan exchanged glances. ‘He comes with us,’ Marcus answered for the two of them.

  Susan was feeling so much happier now. That feeling of anticipation, nervousness, expectancy; call it whatever you will, had left her. She felt so much more secure, and that was probably because she had seen Marcus demonstrate an uncanny ability to look at a situation and unpick it so expertly. And with David showing consummate professionalism in the way he handled the situation, she saw no reason to worry about anything. Soon they would all be out of the farmhouse and on their way back to Kabul and freedom.

  ***

  Cavendish kept his hands in his pockets because they were sweating. Despite the cool air conditioned interior, he was beginning to find the whole atmosphere uncomfortable. They had about five minutes before the Reaper would be over the farmhouse and Berry would fire the missile. He already knew the official reason for launching the rocket; to kill suspected terrorists. But he knew that Hudson was dealing in retribution and plain murder.

  He closed his sweaty hand around his mobile phone and an idea came to him. He excused himself to the others and stepped outside the Reaper control room. He then took the phone from his pocket and wrote a simple text on the screen, dialled a twelve digit number and pressed the call button. He closed the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Then he went back inside.

  ***

  Susan cupped her hands in the bowl and scooped the water up to her face and over her hair, letting it cascade down over her bare shoulders. It wasn’t exactly a shower, but in the circumstances, it was the next best thing. She did it again and again until she felt she could get no more out of it.

&n
bsp; There was no towel handy, so she dried herself on her blouse and slipped it back over her shoulders. She emptied the bowl and buttoned her shirt, then went back into the kitchen.

  Marcus and David were waiting there when Susan walked in. She was about to say something to them when she heard her mobile phone ringing. It was in the room she had slept in with Marcus. She looked at the two men and frowned, then went through to her bedroom. When she returned, her face was as white as a sheet.

  Marcus looked up as she walked in. His smile quickly disappeared when he saw the look on Susan’s face. She had the phone in her hand and was holding it out like a gift.

  ‘Look!’ she said.

  Marcus took the phone from her hand which was shaking. The text message was very clear and unambiguous.

  ‘Missile. Two minutes. Run!’

  ‘Fuck! Let’s get out of here,’ he screamed. ‘Out, out!’

  The three of them ran out into the yard, but once they were out there, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Then Marcus pointed towards the far side of the track in front of the house. There was a small orchard about twenty yards from the house.

  ‘In there!’ he shouted. ‘Get as far away as we can. Quick!’

  ‘What about Abdul?’ Susan screamed out.

  Marcus stopped. It took him a few seconds to make the decision. ‘I’ll get him. Now run!’

  Before either Susan or David could protest, Marcus had gone, running into the house as fast as he could. They had used up one minute.

  ***

  ‘Missile armed and locked, and ready to launch.’

  Berry brought the Reaper down to its attack height. Locked on to the image of the farmhouse and held his thumb over the launch button.

  ‘Fifteen seconds. Within range.’

  He brought his thumb down on to the red button.

  ‘Goodbye farmhouse. And all you boys in there can kiss your asses goodbye.’

  He pressed the button.

  ***

  Marcus sprinted down the passageway and into Abdul’s room. The defunct warlord opened his eyes wide in surprise at Marcus’s sudden appearance. Marcus tore the bed clothes from him, hauled him out of the bed and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.