by Chris Ryan
Ben nodded.
‘Stay close to me, but not too close. There’s an enemy sniper somewhere in the vicinity, and if we bunch up we’re more of a target for him. About five metres should do it, OK?’
‘OK.’
‘If we come under fire, hit the ground and do exactly what I say.’
‘Right,’ Ben said. ‘Er, how likely is that, do you think?’
Major Graves avoided the question. ‘Just do what you’re told, son, and you’ll be fine.’
Ben nodded, then followed him out of the compound.
They ran along the compound wall. After fifty metres they stopped. All the soldiers crouched down and Graves gestured at Ben to do the same. His companions raised their rifles and covered both ends of the narrow path while the remainder of the soldiers ran past them.
They continued this manoeuvre past compounds, through ditches, along fields and past the occasional local, who stared at them in that way Ben was getting accustomed to. The going was slow. Every time they were in the open, Ben had to suppress his natural urge to run. Any moment he expected the sound of footsteps and heavy breathing to be replaced by the noise of a sniper shot ringing through the air, but he tried to put that thought from his mind. He was well protected by heavily armed soldiers. Nothing was going to happen . . .
The green zone stopped suddenly and Ben found himself walking into the rubbled remains of a town. Great hunks of masonry were piled up where buildings used to be; shrapnel littered the ground. Ben had the sense of a once-bustling town completely destroyed, a place from which the inhabitants had long since fled.
And up ahead, at the end of a long road of devastation, he saw a high wall with barbed wire curled up over the top of it. As they approached, a huge pair of metal gates swung open to reveal a bustling military base: men in camouflage gear, heavy armoured vehicles, crates full of ammunition boxes. Under other circumstances it would be a most unwelcoming place, but Ben couldn’t wait to get through those gates.
‘Shooter!’ A voice from behind them. ‘Shooter! Get down!’
Ben didn’t even stop to think. He hurled himself to the earth and covered his head with his hands. Just in time. He felt the bullet pass inches above him. It hit a large piece of rubble several metres past where he was lying, then ricocheted back down onto the ground.
‘Enemy fire!’ It was Major Graves’s voice. ‘Cover us!’
From the top of the walls of the base up ahead there was a sudden thundering of weaponry. Ben felt himself being pulled up to his feet. ‘Run!’ Graves told him. ‘Get through the gates! Now!’
Ben didn’t have to be told twice. He sprinted towards the base as the guns continued to blast out of the shelled remains of the town. Did the sniper still have him in his sights? There was no way Ben could tell. He just had to trust that as a moving target he was too difficult to hit.
The soldiers behind him were firing back now, their rifles sounding tinny against the huge guns from the base. Ben just continued to sprint, sore, out of breath and sweating. He made it through the gates, unspeakably relieved to get some solid walls around him.
The rest of the soldiers came bundling in. They all had sweat dripping from their faces and stern, serious expressions. Major Graves stood by the gates, counting them all back in again, then shouted the order for them to be closed. The metal doors slid shut and only then did the heavy firing from the top of the walls cease.
Graves approached Ben, pulled off his hat and, for the first time since they had met, smiled at him. ‘Well done, son,’ he said. ‘You did well.’ He raised one arm and gestured all around him. ‘Home sweet home,’ he announced. ‘Sangin DC. Not much, but it keeps the rain out. At least it would if there was any rain. How you doing?’
Ben raised one eyebrow. ‘I’d be having a much better day if people stopped trying to kill me.’
‘Wouldn’t we all, son. Wouldn’t we all. Now then, we’re going to get you patched up. And then I think you’ve got a bit of explaining to do, don’t you?’
They gave him water – litres of the stuff – which Ben guzzled like there was no tomorrow. An army medic sat him down on an empty ammo case and cleaned him up, binding some of the larger cuts with Steri-Strip. ‘You’ll live,’ he told him.
‘I was planning to,’ Ben replied, trying not to think about how close he had just come to being shot.
As the medic worked, Ben talked. Major Graves stood silently nearby as he explained everything: the abduction, the suitcase bomb, Amir, Aarya and the caves. The airstrike. Graves listened carefully. When Ben had finished, he was momentarily silent. ‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘I’m going to radio back to Bastion.’
Ben waited. The base around him was bustling with activity – men cleaning their weapons, vehicles being checked over. Ben himself was largely ignored and he couldn’t help feeling a bit grateful for that. Now that he had warned the army, his thoughts had moved to Aarya. Where was she now? Struggling under the rubble of the airstrike? Or being dragged by Amir through the desert yet again? Their captor’s sinister face rose once more in Ben’s mind: the scarred, scaly skin; the albino eye. What was he going to do with that bomb? What was his plan? Ben felt his fear being replaced by a sudden anger. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on going after that idiot Raheem . . .
He shook his head. There was no point thinking like that. Aarya was still missing, still in the hands of that frightening terrorist. Ben’s job was to do whatever was asked of him to make sure she was rescued.
He looked up to see Major Graves standing over him, his face serious. ‘I’ve spoken to Bastion. They seem pretty interested in what you’ve got to say. We’ve had rumours for a couple of weeks now about some top-secret enemy operation. No one knows where or when. Special Forces boys are all out on the ground trying to gather intel. Sounds to me like you might have stumbled across a pretty major lead.’
Ben was only half listening. His mind wasn’t on intel, or special forces, or leads. That stuff was out of his hands now. It was on his friend and what he could do to help her. ‘I think Amir’s taken Aarya,’ he said urgently. ‘He’s got something planned for the bomb and he’s using her as a human shield.’
Graves narrowed his eyes. ‘Did you see her after the airstrike on the caves, son?’
Ben took a deep breath and looked at the ground. ‘No,’ he said quietly.
A pause. When Graves spoke his voice was quieter. ‘I’ve got to tell you, Ben – you were incredibly lucky to survive that.’
Ben gritted his teeth. ‘Amir survived it, didn’t he? He had the bomb on his back. If that had gone off, we’d know all about it . . .’
‘Maybe,’ Graves replied. ‘Maybe not. I guess we’ll have to send people up to check out the area.’
Ben stood up. ‘I want to go with them. I owe it to Aarya.’
Graves fixed Ben with a calm look. ‘You’re a brave lad, Ben, but I’ve got to tell you there’s no way that’s going to happen. I’m waiting for my instructions, but I’ll put a month’s wages on you being on a flight out of Afghanistan within twelve hours.’
‘No way,’ Ben said flatly. ‘I’m not going anywhere till I know Aarya’s OK.’
‘This is the army, son,’ Graves said brusquely. ‘I’m afraid you do what you’re told.’
Ben was about to reply when a young private respectfully walked up to them. ‘Bastion on the radio, sir.’
Graves nodded. ‘Stay there, Ben,’ he said, before striding purposefully to the other side of the base. He returned less than a minute later with a frown on his face. ‘Looks like you might be staying here for a bit longer than I thought,’ he said, unable to keep the disapproval from his voice.
Ben narrowed his eyes. ‘Why?’
‘They’re sending some people this way to talk to you.’
‘People? What sort of people?’
Graves eyed him carefully. ‘SAS,’ he said. ‘I guess they want to hear the details of your story straight from the horse’s mouth.’
&n
bsp; And with that, he turned abruptly and walked away, leaving Ben alone once more. Alone to wonder and worry about what was going on around him.
‘Keep walking!’
Amir’s voice was harsh. No nonsense. The voice of a man who didn’t deal in idle threats. Aarya wanted to obey him, but her legs wouldn’t do what her brain instructed. Her knees collapsed and she fell to the desert ground.
Then she screamed. Amir had grabbed a clump of her dirty, matted hair and was now twisting it tightly while pulling her up at the same time. She tried to stand, but she just couldn’t do it and so she was left hanging by her hair. ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘Please let me rest, just for a minute.’
Amir let go of her hair and she fell to the ground once again with a thump that jolted through her whole body. For a fraction of a second, she felt relief. He was letting her rest. But then she heard footsteps. Looking up, she saw Amir stepping away from her, then turning and aiming his rifle in her direction. He used his brown eye to look through the viewfinder, leaving the albino one to gaze at her directly.
‘No!’ Aarya gasped. ‘No . . . please . . .’ She pushed herself back along the ground.
‘You are slowing me down,’ Amir said, his voice suddenly very calm. ‘If you slow me down, you are not useful. You are a hindrance. That is why I am going to kill you.’
Aarya didn’t know where she found the strength. Fear? Adrenaline? Whatever it was, she managed to haul herself up to her feet once again. ‘I won’t slow you down,’ she whispered, her voice racked with fear. ‘I promise I won’t slow you down.’
They stood there, man and girl, tiny in the vastness of the desert. And then, gradually, Amir lowered the rifle.
‘Walk,’ he said.
Aarya continued to stagger through the desert. She wanted to whisper her prayers, but she did not dare and she hoped she would be forgiven for that. To take her mind off the pain that seemed to flow through her whole body, she tried to think of other things. Her mind turned to Ben and a twisting sensation of anxiety corkscrewed into her stomach. Was he safe? Was he even alive? She had felt terrified when she was with him, but was even more terrified now he wasn’t there.
She looked around as she walked. The scenery hadn’t changed since they had left the cave: a seemingly never-ending expanse of stony, sandy earth and undulating hills. Aarya didn’t understand how Amir could know where he was going, but he was directing her with purpose and confidence. He didn’t have the aura of a man who was lost.
The day wore on; Aarya continued her superhuman effort. As the fierce afternoon heat died away and evening came, she started to wonder if even the threat of being shot was enough to keep her moving. And it was at just that point that she looked up and saw something in the distance.
It was a conurbation of some sort. A village? A town? Aarya couldn’t tell. To the left of it, she saw the river. The evening sun sparkled on the water. Aarya, with her parched throat and exhausted limbs, felt teased by the sight. Amir too seemed affected. ‘Angoor,’ he said, almost to himself. ‘My home town. We will be there in less than an hour.’
Amir’s home town? By rights, Aarya knew, it should be a place to fear; but in fact, the very sight of it gave her a renewed surge of energy. Even if it meant she was to be locked up once again in some awful prison, at least she would be able to rest.
‘Keep walking!’ Amir told her. ‘I am still prepared to shoot you, even though we are close.’
Aarya stumbled onwards.
They attracted attention as they entered the outskirts of the town. Attention from the children playing in the dirt; attention from the adults going about their business, transporting goods in rickety wheelbarrows or sitting outside open-fronted stalls that lined certain streets. The evening air was thick with the smell of food cooking. On street corners, she saw members of the Afghan police force. They leaned on their weapons, smoking cigarettes and joking amongst themselves and with other locals. Certainly they did nothing about the local men with guns who paraded up and down with a brash swagger that made them look like they owned the place. One of these men – a swarthy guy with broad shoulders – shouted a greeting to Amir. Amir nodded at him, but didn’t speak.
Through the mist of her exhaustion, Aarya could sense that this place was tense and lawless. It was weird, but she wanted to stay close to Amir. Many people stared at him as they passed, but these were stares of respect. As long as she was with him, Aarya sensed, nobody would approach her.
Amir, despite the load he was carrying on his back, walked with renewed urgency. He clearly knew these streets well, and before long he had guided them off the main road that ran through the centre of town and into a maze of side streets – wide and spacious, but ramshackle and full of houses that looked like they were near collapse. He stopped outside one of the few two-storey houses and kicked three times on the wooden door. Aarya looked up. On the first-floor balcony she saw an armed man looking down with an unfriendly stare. A shiver went down her back as she waited for the door to open.
Amir was expected, just as he always was. As they entered the house – it was dark and didn’t smell at all good – five men greeted him like a brother, then stood back to admire the suitcase bomb, which he had unstrapped from his back. One of the men, who wore a plain black robe, spoke to him in Pashtun: ‘Where are the others?’
‘Fallen,’ Amir spat. ‘At the hands of the hated invaders.’
A shadow passed over them. A silence. It was only then that any of them even noticed Aarya. ‘Who is she?’ the man in the black robe demanded.
‘It is not important who she is,’ Amir replied. ‘She comes with me as a hostage. See to it that she is put under lock and key – and I suppose she should be fed if she is not going to perish on me.’ He didn’t even look at her as he spoke.
Aarya felt strong hands on her arms. Struggling wasn’t even an option as she was dragged into an adjoining room and locked in.
If Ben was here, she thought to herself, he would try to do something clever . . . But Ben wasn’t here. She was completely alone and too exhausted even to move. She collapsed on the floor barely a metre from the door and just lay there, already almost asleep. Through the fog in her mind, however, she heard voices on the other side of the door. Half of her wanted to sleep; the other half told her she should listen, so with a massive effort she tuned her ear in and concentrated on what was being discussed.
Amir was speaking. ‘It has been a difficult journey,’ he said. ‘The hostages were a last-minute decision and they have caused us a great deal of trouble. But I will continue with the girl. The closer we get to the ISAF forces, the more useful she will become.’
‘The ISAF forces,’ his friend said lazily, ‘will not approach this town. We control it.’
‘Your other companions,’ another voice said. Aarya thought it was the man in the dark robe. ‘You think they are dead?’
‘I do not see how they could have survived the airstrike,’ Amir said. ‘But we must not dwell on that until after the operation is complete. When we destroy the dam, all of Afghanistan will know of it. Then we may celebrate their lives, not mourn their deaths.’
The men grunted in agreement.
‘In any case,’ Amir continued, ‘it may be that things will be easier now. Kajaki is heavily defended. It will perhaps be easier for the girl and me to approach unnoticed. The bomb must be planted as close to the dam as possible if we are to destroy it completely.’
‘God willing, you will be successful in your mission.’
Then a new voice spoke. ‘You said you had more than one hostage?’ There was something accusatory in his voice.
‘Yes,’ Amir said quietly, and Aarya could just imagine his white eye burning as he spoke. ‘A boy. I think it likely that he was killed in the airstrike.’
‘And if he wasn’t killed?’ the third voice persisted. ‘What, then? Will he not try to alert the invaders?’
Amir snorted. ‘The boy is an idiot. I would not trust him to do anything suc
cessfully. And besides, he knows nothing of my mission. No, we do not need to worry about him. Of that I can assure you. Even if he does alert anybody, they will have no time to stop me. It happens tonight. I will take the bomb to Kajaki after dark.’
‘I hope you are right, Amir. This operation has been a long time in the planning. It would be unacceptable for it to fail on account of one boy.’
‘It will not fail,’ Amir stated. ‘That is all I have to say.’
The black-robed man spoke again. ‘What will you do with the girl?’
A pause. Aarya held her breath.
‘As I have told you, she will accompany me to the dam. If I need to sacrifice her to ensure the success of the operation, I will.’ He laughed – a short ugly laugh tinged with cruelty. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘once the bomb is planted, she will be of no more use. I will kill her then. Whatever happens, tonight will be her last on this earth . . .’
Chapter Seventeen
A few miles to the south, a Black Hawk helicopter kicked up a huge cloud of dust as it came in to land. Ricki, Toby, Matt and Jack disembarked at the landing zone of the British base at Sangin, leaving the two pilots in the chopper.
The four-man SAS unit each wore ultra-modern digital camouflage made up of tiny squares, and carried M16 assault rifles with hologram sights that had been painted an olive-green colour. On their heads were dun-coloured helmets with night-vision goggles propped up on the tops. Each man wore an ops waistcoat. Ricki and Toby had their handguns attached to their waistcoats just in front of their chests; Matt and Jack had them strapped to the inside of their thighs. Personal preference. They all wore knee-pads on both legs, apart from Ricki, who wore one only on his right knee, to protect it when he was in the firing position. On each ops waistcoat, just below the neck, was a small Union Jack; and each man’s name and blood group was marked on their clothes. Toby carried a rucksack with the few essentials they’d need in the field: radio, medical pack, a bit of food.
