The Kill Zone

by Chris Ryan

  ‘This is going to hurt,’ she said without emotion, then instantly tightened the makeshift bandage and pressed down on the bleeding wound. Caroline’s scream was barely human, but Siobhan’s face remained unmoved, as though she hadn’t even heard it. She kept the pressure on, ignoring the blood that was seeping around the leather of her jacket and through the gaps in her fingers.

  Jack stood over them. There were plenty of loaded weapons in the building, and all he wanted to do was unload them into the professor.

  Caroline saw the look on his face. She closed her eyes and started muttering something. Jack strained to make out what it was. ‘Allahu Akbar . . . Allahu Akbar . . .’

  ‘Don’t even think about it Jack,’ Siobhan hissed.

  ‘You don’t know what she’s responsible for.’

  ‘I don’t care what she’s responsible for. Think! She’s our only link to Khan. We need to find out what she knows.’

  Jack scowled. He knew she was right. He checked his watch. 22.36 hrs. ‘I’m going to recce,’ he said. He walked outside and started prowling around the area. The technical was fucked. He climbed up into the back and over the body of the dead guard to examine the machine gun: it seemed to be in working order, but there was only a single ammo belt. It would give them a few bursts of defensive fire if they needed it. But with blown-out tyres, the vehicle was as good as useless.

  While Siobhan continued to treat Caroline, Jack recouped the Colt, the Makarov and the canvas bag containing his supplies and Siobhan’s GPS from their hiding place beneath the rusted truck. When he returned, the professor was pale-faced and shaking, but she wasn’t bleeding so badly, and she was conscious.

  ‘She’s stabilising,’ Siobhan said.

  ‘Give me a minute with her,’ Jack told her.

  ‘No way. We need her alive, Jack. Without her—’

  ‘I’m not going to kill her. Just ask her a few questions is all. Get outside.’

  ‘I’m—’

  ‘Get outside . . .’

  ‘Fine.’ Siobhan stood up and stomped out of the building like a teenager.

  Jack knelt down beside Caroline. ‘Changed your mind about your boyfriend?’ he asked.

  ‘He’s not my boyfriend,’ she spat.

  ‘I guess that’s why he left you here with me.’

  ‘Whatever he does, he does for the greater good.’

  Jack ignored that. ‘Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to tell me where he’s going with that bomb. What’s his target?’

  ‘Go to hell, Harker.’

  He inclined his head. And then, with no warning at all, he slammed his fist down on Caroline’s wound. She didn’t even scream this time, the pain was so much – just a strangely silent intake of breath as her body shuddered and tears came to her eyes.

  ‘Where’s he taking it?’

  ‘I . . . I don’t know . . .’

  Another slam on the wound. Her body convulsed.

  ‘Where’s he taking it?’

  Caroline struggled to get the words out. ‘I don’t know . . . I swear I don’t know . . . He said it was better that way . . . Please don’t hit me again . . .’ She continued to shake.

  Jack stood, leaving her on the ground – she wasn’t going anywhere without their help, anyway – and walked outside. Siobhan was standing five metres from the door, her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking. After what they’d just heard about Lily, he didn’t blame her for crying. Under different circumstances, he might have cried himself. But there wasn’t time for that. Not if they were going to act on the information they had.

  ‘Khan hasn’t told her anything.’

  She looked at him, her face tear-stained. ‘How do you know?’

  Jack gave her a dark look. ‘You get a feel for these things.’

  Siobhan closed her eyes briefly. ‘We need to get her out of here,’ she said quietly. ‘Back to the UK. She’s our only witness to what Khan’s up to. Nobody’s going to accept a word of this without her. And if we don’t find Khan . . .’

  Jack looked away. ‘This vehicle’s useless,’ he said. ‘I need to check on our Land Rover. You wait here. Try to keep her conscious.’

  Siobhan nodded. She handed over the keys and the two of them went their separate ways, her towards the supine and shaking body of the professor, Jack towards their vehicle.

  He just prayed it was in some kind of state to use.

  The technical that carried Khan and his men bumped and jolted over the shoddy track that passed as a road.

  ‘Slow down,’ he shouted in Arabic. ‘Be careful of the case!’

  The driver didn’t acknowledge hearing him, so Khan grabbed a pistol from the lap of the guard sitting next to him on the rear seat and held it to the man’s head. ‘Slow down.’

  The driver hit the brakes and the jolting reduced.

  Khan wiped the sweat from his brow, then cleaned his glasses again on his now filthy dishdasha. The arrival of his unexpected guests had shaken him. He needed a clear head if his carefully laid plans were to be executed without complication. He had made a mistake, he realised, letting the guards have their way with the women. It had been done in anger. He should have just killed them.

  He turned to his neighbour. ‘Get on the phone,’ he said. ‘If Harker and the women are not dead, they should be killed immediately.’

  The guard nodded. He pulled out a mobile phone and dialled a number.

  No answer.

  He gave Khan a glance and tried one of the other men. ‘They are not answering,’ he said.

  Khan frowned. He knew what it meant.

  ‘The prisoners are still alive,’ he said. ‘Our men are dead. Call the others. Instruct them to meet us as quickly as possible. One vehicle can take me and the case on to safety.’ He pointed a finger around the men in the technical. ‘The rest of you must return with a convoy and eliminate Stenton, Harker and the woman. They mustn’t leave that place alive.’

  The guard nodded. He pulled out a mobile phone, dialled a number and started to speak.

  It took five minutes for Jack to run the kilometre or so of dry, stony terrain to where they had parked the Land Rover. It was a mess. The windows had been smashed out, the tyres blown away and the chassis ripped. Jack could only assume that Khan and his men had shot it up with the machine gun from their technical as they passed. Whatever the truth, one thing was clear – they weren’t going anywhere in that vehicle. Jack cursed under his breath, then ran back to the deserted village. Before he returned to Siobhan, though, he searched the area. It was a scene of devastation. The shacks and shanties that passed for houses were burned out and deserted; looters had picked the whole place clean. In the back of his mind he’d entertained the thought that he might find a serviceable vehicle. That, he now realised, was wishful fucking thinking.

  He found Siobhan still crouched down by Caroline. He could tell by the look she gave him that the professor was in a bad way.

  ‘The vehicle’s fucked.’

  ‘The dead guards,’ Siobhan said. ‘Their phones have been ringing.’

  ‘Shit,’ Jack muttered.

  Caroline groaned and her eyes rolled.

  ‘We’ve got to get her out of here,’ Siobhan told him.

  Jack turned away and checked his watch. 23.00 hrs. Markus would fly at midnight. Even with a vehicle it was tight. But in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night without a ride – it wasn’t exactly like they could call a cab. He had to think of another way to—

  ‘Jack.’ Siobhan interrupted his train of thought. He turned round. She had the GPS cupped in her hands and was staring at it with anxiety written all over her face. ‘Jack, you need to look at this.’

  He joined her in staring at the screen.

  There was no mistaking it. The green dot was moving, not away from them this time. Towards them. They were no more than five klicks away.

  Jack kept staring at the dot. It continued to blink silently but inexorably in their direction. There was
no way Khan would be bringing the device anywhere near them. It meant only one thing. They’d dropped him off somewhere and now they were returning to take care of unfinished business. They knew who Jack was and what he was capable of; they knew the guards whose job had been to finish them off weren’t answering their phones. Chances were they were returning with reinforcements.

  ‘Jesus, Jack. What are we going to do?’

  Jack stared out into the darkness. He couldn’t defend this place alone. Not by himself. Not with the assets at his disposal. The dead guards had assault rifles, but he could only fire one at a time. The machine gun on the technical could take out a truck, two at a push. But once he was out of ammo, the truth was that they’d be sitting ducks. They had two options. To run, and take their chances in the night. Or . . .

  He looked around for his canvas bag. It was on the ground just a couple of metres from where Caroline lay trembling. Rummaging inside it, Jack pulled out the sat phone Markus had given him. He turned to Siobhan, who was still carrying the GPS. ‘I need our coordinates,’ he instructed.

  It took a matter of seconds for Siobhan to run outside, then return and hand him the unit, which now displayed their latitude and longitude coordinates. He nodded at her, then checked the number scratched on the back of his sat phone and dialled it.

  Markus answered immediately. ‘Jack, buddy, I’m getting nervous. Give me some good news.’

  ‘Negative,’ Jack replied. He strode away from the two women. ‘Markus, we’ve got ourselves a situation . . .’

  20

  Jack looked at the GPS. The enemy were four klicks away. ‘We need to get Stenton on to the technical,’ he said.

  Caroline howled as they picked her up, Jack lifting her beneath the arms and Siobhan taking her feet. They manoeuvred her into the passenger seat, where she slouched listlessly. Jack climbed into the back, picked up the lifeless body of the Somali guard and threw it over the side. It crunched as it hit the ground. ‘Take his place,’ he told Siobhan as he jumped behind the steering wheel. ‘The tyres are fucked, but it’s only about five hundred metres up to the main road.’

  Jack floored it. It was a bumpy ride and it got worse the further they travelled and the more the wheels distorted against the rubble-strewn ground. Caroline shrieked more than once as her wound bashed against the side of the vehicle. He could smell the engine getting hot but that didn’t matter: once they got to the road they weren’t going far.

  Once he was on the main road, Jack drove a further 500 metres up to their Land Rover, where he stopped and transferred the jerrycans of petrol and bottles of engine oil into the back of the technical. He continued another 100 metres before driving a little way off the road and coming to a halt. He clambered into the back of the technical, then felt for the clamp that attached the machine gun to its tripod. He undid it. His muscles burned as he lifted the heavy weapon off the truck, then he used the integrated bipod to set it up on a level patch of baked mud by the road, facing north.

  He pointed at Caroline. ‘Help me get her out,’ he said. Together they laid the shivering woman on the ground behind the truck. Even if he’d felt any, there wouldn’t be time for sympathy. ‘Stay with her,’ he told Siobhan. ‘Keep behind the truck. It’s the only cover we’ve got.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Jack glanced at the flashing light on the GPS. Three klicks. Jesus, they were getting here more quickly than he’d expected.

  ‘Roadworks,’ he said, handing her the GPS. ‘Update me on their location.’

  He slung his canvas bag over his shoulder, then took one of the jerrycans of petrol and a bottle of engine oil from the back of the technical and ran with them north up the road, away from the village and in the direction from which the enemy would arrive. A couple of hundred metres and he stopped in the middle of the road, knelt down and poured the bottle of oil into the jerrycan of petrol. Out of his holdall he took the Claymore he’d taken from Markus’s supplies, which he fixed to the jerrycan using his plastic explosive. His bag on his shoulder, he unwound the Claymore’s det cord back down the road and to the side, laying the clacker on the ground ready for when he needed it. He sprinted back to the technical, jumped up on to the top of it, raised his hand and felt for the wind. There wasn’t much, but as far as he could tell the dry breeze was blowing in his direction from the village.

  ‘Two klicks, Jack!’ Siobhan’s voice was tense.

  He pulled out another can of diesel, sprinkled a line of it for a couple of metres down their side of the road, then ran fifty metres towards the village and poured another line. He repeated the process until there were five lines of diesel stretching out along the road and the jerrycan was empty.

  ‘Jack!’ Siobhan’s voice travelled across the open ground. ‘They’re coming! I can see them!’

  He looked up. Headlamps wobbling in the distance. Several sets. It was impossible to gauge their distance accurately in the dark, but it was no more than 1,500 metres. Khan’s men were returning mob-handed. Jack took a lighter from his bag and lit the strip of diesel he was standing by, then ran back towards the technical, lighting each of the remaining four as he went.

  The headlamps were getting nearer, and Jack knew that although the lines of flame extending down the road were designed to be seen from the air, the occupants of the approaching trucks might be able to see them too. They could open fire at any moment.

  Jack sprinted back to where the women were taking cover behind the technical and got back on the sat phone. When Markus answered, he could barely hear the American’s voice over the sound of the plane’s engines. ‘Jack, where in the hell are you?’

  ‘Small fires,’ Jack shouted. ‘One every fifty metres, port side of the landing strip as you’re bearing south. Enemy one klick to the north. I’m expecting to draw fire.’

  A pause. The throbbing of the engines over the phone. And then . . .

  ‘Got you . . . Am I landing into the wind?’

  ‘Roger that.’ Jack checked the headlamps. ‘Get down here quickly, Markus, and kill your lights. It’s about to go noisy.’

  ‘Keep the line open!’ Markus shouted back. ‘I’m coming in steep.’

  Jack slipped the sat phone into his pocket, turned to Siobhan and pointed to the road. ‘He’ll hit ground any minute. When he does, he’ll slow down along the road, then turn back to pick us up.’ He looked down at Caroline, who was barely awake now. ‘Can you get her on to the plane by yourself?’

  Siobhan nodded. ‘But what about you. What about them?’

  Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘I’ll be on the plane as quickly as I can. Just concentrate on yourself, OK?’ And with that he ran back along the road to where the Claymore clacker was resting, then he hunkered down by the detonator so that his profile was out of sight.

  A sound. Engines. Up in the air. Jack couldn’t see Markus approaching, but he could hear him. The same couldn’t be said for the trucks. They were close now. Five hundred metres, maybe less. Jack and the enemy were now well within range of each other. He counted their headlamps. Five sets. Five vehicles. If each one was tooled up with a gimpy, it was a lot of firepower.

  He fixed his eyes on the Claymore and the jerrycan. In the darkness, they were small enough not to be seen until the convoy was upon them. He hoped.

  The sound of the trucks’ engines merged with the buzzing of the aircraft. Jack estimated that they were 300 metres away now, and 100 from the booby trap.

  Fifty metres.

  A dark shadow overhead. The plane’s engines were roaring and Jack could see its silhouette fifty feet above the convoy, coming in to land.

  Twenty-five metres to the booby trap.

  Fifteen.

  Ten.

  The front truck was about a metre from the Claymore when Jack activated the clacker. There was a loud clap as the mine detonated, followed immediately by a second booming noise and a flash that was the jerrycan igniting and exploding. The lead vehicle slammed to a halt, one of its front wheels ra
ised slightly in the air. Jack could tell it was an open-top truck, and he watched with grim satisfaction as the oil he had mixed in with the fuel sprayed on to the passengers. Thick and burning, it would stick to their skin and set fire to their clothes.

  The convoy stopped. Jack couldn’t hear screams above the sound of Markus’s aircraft, which was just now hitting the ground, but he could see panicked, burning figures moving around, jumping out of the lead truck and rolling on the ground to extinguish the flames. He got to his feet and sprinted back to the technical, accompanied by the whining sound of Markus decelerating down the road some seventy-five metres away. He pulled the sat phone from his pocket. ‘Hurry up!’ he yelled. ‘Fucking hurry up!’

  Jack took up position behind the machine gun. With limited ammo, he needed to choose his moment carefully. The convoy, if they had any sense, would advance gingerly in case the road ahead had been mined further. They didn’t know Jack only had a single Claymore.

  A hundred metres away the plane was turning. It started to trundle back in their direction.

  ‘Get ready to load!’ Jack shouted at Siobhan. He didn’t need to: she already had Caroline over her shoulder and was still standing behind the technical for protection. Up ahead, the convoy was still stalled, but that wouldn’t last for long.

  The plane was practically alongside them when the first bullets landed. They came from one of the convoy, and landed five metres short of the aircraft. Jack didn’t hesitate. He fired a short burst from the machine gun that battered his ears like deafening thunder. Up ahead, he thought he saw sparks as the rounds made contact with one of the vehicles, just as he heard the sound of empty shells clattering to the ground. His instinct was to follow it up with a second burst, but his ammo was limited: he had to pace himself.

  The aircraft made a tight turning circle so that it was facing back into the wind. A door swung open.

  ‘Go!’ Jack shouted. ‘Go!’

  He released another burst to cover Siobhan as she ran to the plane with Caroline still over her shoulder.

  This time, though, the enemy fought back.