The Protector

by Duncan Falconer

  The leader asked something in a calm, authoritative voice. Mallory did not understand a word and simply looked at him.The leader beckoned to someone behind him and Abdul walked into the room, looking calmer than the last time Mallory had seen him.

  Abdul held Mallory’s gaze with difficulty. His failure to kill him in the graveyard had left him confused. The Englishman had been saved from Abdul’s blow by the very hand of Allah. It had all seemed so clear to him up until that point, what his purpose was and how he was to achieve it. He had seen himself as a tool of Allah but that clearly was not the case, not entirely at least. Somewhere along the road he had misread the signs.

  But Abdul had come to his senses and seen the way to complete his mission. Mallory had indeed played a part in it but Abdul had not realised what that was until almost too late. Now he knew what he had to do. ‘He asks where the money is,’ he said.

  Mallory’s mouth started to drop open in utter disbelief. ‘You little arsehole,’ he muttered.

  ‘It is payment for Lamont,’Abdul said, as if explaining to Mallory what the money had been intended for all along.

  Explosions close by followed by a rattle of gunfire lit a fire under the proceedings and the leader raised his voice.

  ‘He does not have time to waste,’ Abdul said. ‘Don’t try his patience,’ he added as a warning of his own.

  Mallory exhaled in frustration. It was clearly not an issue for debate and he walked over to the bag, picked it up and dropped it on the floor in front of the leader. The leader nodded to his fighter who crouched to open and inspect the contents. He pulled out several bundles of money, did a quick count, looked up at his boss and nodded.

  Abdul suddenly remembered the bundle Mallory had given him, took it out of his jacket pocket and held it towards the leader.

  The fighter took it, shoved it in the bag and fastened it back up as the leader eyed Abdul.

  Stanza looked from the bag of money to the others in blank confusion.

  The leader barked a command and left the room.

  ‘He wants you to follow,’ Abdul said, stepping aside.

  ‘Me?’ Stanza asked. Everyone seemed to know what was going on except him.

  ‘Both of you,’ Abdul said.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Stanza asked.

  An explosion rocked the building and the dark-eyed fighter shouted at them as he hoisted the bag of money onto his shoulder.

  ‘Now,’ Abdul insisted. ‘He’s taking you to see Lamont.’

  Stanza opened his mouth to say something. But the fighter interrupted with an outburst that was clearly threatening and Stanza hurried out the door.

  Mallory stared at Abdul, feeling a mixture of loss and humility. The money had driven his every move for almost a year, nearly cost him his life and was now gone. But he could not begin to chastise Abdul for what the man had done. Abdul could have run off with the money himself but instead had continued to risk his life to exchange it all for a complete stranger, and an American to boot.That was altruism above and beyond any level Mallory had contemplated. Tasneen had been right about her brother all along. She had said he was good and honourable and would not let him down. In a way, Mallory felt it was he who had let Abdul down.

  Mallory walked out of the room and Abdul followed, the demonic fighter close behind.

  Several more fighters were waiting in the hallway and in the doorways at either side of the house and they followed as the leader headed down the street. Devastation was everywhere: fires burning in roofless buildings, pieces of furniture and rubble strewn all over the road, the air thick with ash and smoke. Homes had collapsed, telegraph poles were snapped or bent, water was pouring from severed pipes, mangled human remains lay scattered around. Mallory covered his mouth to stop from choking on the smoke-filled air and as he followed a fighter directly in front of him he had to lengthen his stride to avoid stepping on a severed arm and then on a face that had been stripped from its skull.

  An explosion sent a chunk of metal whistling overhead and the leader and those close to him ducked as it smashed into the building above. The staccato of heavy machine-gun fire joined the cacophony and was answered, or so it seemed, by a dozen less powerful weapons. A heavy engine roared angrily beyond the row of buildings in the next street, followed by the clunking of metal tracks crunching through masonry. It sounded like a tank to Mallory and as the leader broke into a trot the others responded likewise. The thunder of battle grew in intensity, a chorus of explosions, flying bullets, crackling fires and grinding machinery. Two Apache helicopter gunships roared overhead, nearly clipping the rooftops as they unleashed a torrent of heavy gunfire at some target a few streets away. Mallory prayed that the dense smoke was masking their group enough. As they ran on Mallory had the feeling that they were heading towards the outskirts of the city - which meant towards the front line of the fight and not away from it. He could only hope that the hostage was in a bunker somewhere and that the four of them would be left to fend for themselves.

  The leader turned the corner at the end of the street, followed by his men. Mallory saw Stanza make the corner and when it was his turn he saw to his surprise that the line was filing in through the front door of a house. Mallory followed into the living room that was mostly taken up by a huge hole in the centre, its sides shored up by heavy pieces of timber as in the entrance to a mine. Fighters were climbing down into the hole that was lit from below - Mallory assumed this was the bunker he had been expecting.

  A fighter came running in from outside, barging past Abdul who was a couple of fighters behind Mallory, shouting some kind of warning. The leader barked words of motivation that were repeated by his lieutenants. Mallory looked at the faces of the fighters packed around him, expecting to see signs of fear or panic. But there were neither. He looked at the demonic fighter carrying the money and watched as he pulled the bag off his shoulder and handed it to a young fighter, at the same time giving him what appeared to be instructions. Mallory watched as the bag was carried out of the house, thus bringing to an end his relationship with it. It was never meant to be, he mused.

  The murderous-looking fighter was then handed a heavy cloth bundle which he thrust at Stanza who looked at it quizzically. The fighter displayed little patience with Stanza’s lack of understanding and shouted a command as he shoved the bundle brutally against Stanza’s chest.The journalist had no choice but to take hold of it, almost dropping it since it was heavier than it looked. Then he was unceremoniously pushed over to the hole and ordered to go down into it.

  Mallory and Abdul had just been shoved into the line of fighters waiting to descend into the hole when a massive explosion outside brought down the front of the house, exposing the living room to the street. Several fighters fell under the cascading rubble and were either killed or seriously injured. The sound of falling masonry gave way to human screams and when the initial cloud of dust dissipated Mallory saw a fighter with a spear of window frame sticking through his chest.

  The building across the road suddenly collapsed with a roar but this time it was not due to any explosion. A thundering Abrams tank punched through the walls as if it were a sandcastle, its gun barrel like a battering ram, and bore down on the house.

  There followed an immediate scramble for the hole as the tank’s tracks screeched painfully as it turned. When it stopped the business end of its gun barrel seemed to explode as a shell burst from it.

  The shell was aimed along the street but the shock wave from the end of the barrel almost brought down the rest of the house. Everything went dark as dust completely filled the air, making it almost impossible to see or breathe. All Mallory was aware of after that was being shunted forward until the man in front of him dropped. He followed him into the hole, grasping for anything to hang on to.

  The walls quickly closed in as the tunnel became narrower and Mallory had to release his handholds as quickly as he found them to avoid his fingers being stepped on by others descending from above. When he hit the bot
tom it was so abrupt that his knees collapsed under him and as he recovered the man above landed on him. As Mallory pushed himself to his feet, hands grabbed him and he was yanked in another direction. His face slammed into a dirt wall, breaking his nose, but the lower half of his body continued forward into a space and he dropped into a crouch as he entered a low tunnel.

  He was given no time to recover as the man behind pushed him on with his boot and Mallory scurried on his hands and knees in the darkness until he bumped into the man in front of him. The dust was intolerable although it had improved a little from the hole entrance when he’d thought he was going to suffocate. The ground was rocky and quickly became unbearably painful, tearing the skin off his knees. Mallory squatted to put his weight on his feet, which meant shuffling along like a chimpanzee. His hands kept contact with the back of the man in front as he fought to keep going, his head occasionally hitting a jagged lump in the roof.

  The shouting was constant, the man behind repeatedly pushing Mallory into the one in front who at one point stumbled, causing Mallory to fall onto him. A pile-up threatened and every effort was made to move on. When the man in front finally got going Mallory stepped on something lumpy that gave way in places and it was not until he reached the head that he realised he had been walking on a dead body.

  The air suddenly became even thicker and almost too heavy to draw into his lungs. Mallory’s mouth and throat were filled with so much dust that his saliva glands had given up and he wondered if he would ever reach the end of the bunker - wherever that was. He had never experienced anything like this before. The nearest thing to it had been the tunnels on the Royal Marine Commando endurance course on Woodbury Common but at Woodbury there was always light visible at either end and the air was at least breathable.

  A loud thud above sent a shock wave through the earth that threatened a cave-in and for a moment Mallory’s fear rocketed as it appeared that this was how it was going to end for him. He had never experienced claustrophobia before but he could sense the panic beginning to build and he concentrated on putting himself into a kind of trance as he moved on in order to deal with it, searching for a rhythm in the way he was advancing. As he fought to control his increasing anxiety the man in front came to an abrupt stop and Mallory was pressed into him by the combined weight of those behind. When the man moved again Mallory shuffled after him and saw that there was a distinct change in the light. Mallory’s hopes rose that the tunnel was coming to an end.

  The man in front paused again before shuffling a few feet forward. He did this several times and then abruptly disappeared. Mallory’s outstretched hands found an earth wall and he reached higher to find that the ceiling had gone. He pushed himself upright, banging his back on the ceiling of the tunnel behind him and as he stood up hands from above grabbed him. He was pulled out of the hole and tossed aside onto a stone floor.

  Mallory blew gobs of dust from his mouth and nostrils and wiped it from his eyes. Men were coughing and spluttering all around him and he blinked incessantly until his vision returned and he could make out where he was.They were surrounded by walls or parts of walls as if they were inside what had once been a building. But most of it, including the roof, was missing. A dozen fighters in varying states of recovery were hurriedly sorting themselves out, loading magazines into weapons after blowing and wiping dust from the working parts. The shouting had turned into heavy whispering as fighters continued to be dragged out of the hole.There was an intense sense of urgency. Mallory recognised the leader who was marshalling his men, ordering them to spread out behind a low wall.

  A body suddenly landed beside Mallory like a sack of potatoes and he realised it was Abdul. The young man looked near to death and when Mallory got to his knees to see if he could help he saw Stanza too, lying in a semi-conscious state a few feet away. Abdul coughed and spluttered as he fought to breathe but Mallory was distracted by a sudden feeling that something ominous was about to happen.

  The battle continued to rage with explosions, machine-gun fire, tanks crunching past and helicopters roaring overhead. Mallory initially assumed that they had been retreating as the front line of the assault rolled towards them. But if that was correct something was still not right. He shuffled to where he could look over a wall and saw an armoured troop carrier storm past with several US soldiers running behind it.

  It was then that the penny dropped.The tunnel had not gone towards the centre of the town but towards the outskirts. It had been designed to pass beneath the enemy line of advance. The fighters were now behind the US Marines. The crafty bastards had timed it so that the assault would roll over them. But this wasn’t an escape. Judging by the way the leader was forming up his men he was going to attack the rear of the assaulting line. The Marines had not pressed forward in depth and had chosen to extend themselves to present a broad front. If there was a second wave it was a substantial distance behind the first, something which the insurgents clearly planned to exploit.

  As Mallory stretched up to see the backs of a line of Marines following a tank along a rubble-strewn street he was suddenly yanked around to face the insurgent leader. Abdul was standing beside the demonic fighter who looked even fiercer covered in a thick film of dust, his eyes like dark slits in a rock surface. Stanza was dragged over as the leader spoke and all three men were pushed towards a gap in a wall, an opening that had once been a doorway.

  ‘We’re free to go,’ Abdul said, coughing.

  The dark fighter shoved Stanza through the gap so hard that he sprawled on the ground and his bundle was thrown after him. Abdul did not need further convincing and followed as the fighter raised the barrel of his rifle to point it at Mallory’s chest. ‘Go,’ he said, meaning it.

  Mallory walked out through the gap, looking back, wondering if the man would pull the trigger.

  A cry then went up from the insurgent leader - ‘Allah akbar!’ - and all his men leaped over the wall with him and charged, shooting and screaming as they ran. The demonic fighter looked over his shoulder at his colleagues, back at Mallory, appeared to consider shooting him but then turned away and broke into a run, screaming his epithet as he disappeared into the dust and darkness. Seconds later the sound of gunfire and screams reached a crescendo and the muzzle-flash of discharging weapons became almost constant.

  Stanza began to retch violently, crouched over and holding his stomach.

  ‘You can throw up later, Stanza. We have to get going,’ said Mallory.

  Stanza sat back on his heels and looked up at Mallory, bile running down his chin and neck. ‘Stanmore,’ he said.

  ‘It’s over,’ Mallory said. ‘The money only bought us our freedom.’

  ‘No,’ Stanza said lowering his eyes. ‘It bought us Stanmore too.’

  Mallory followed Stanza’s gaze to the bundle that had fallen open. Inside it was the severed head of a white man.

  15

  War Without Winners

  Mallory, Stanza and Abdul stumbled on through rubble that had once been shops and houses on the edge of the town. The air was filled with the smell of cordite although the three were so used to it by now they hardly noticed. The bodies of dead Arabs had grown fewer as they approached the start line of the assault but Mallory remained alert to every sound and shadow. His two colleagues looked disconnected from the reality of what was going on around them as if numbed by it all, walking like automatons, Stanza carrying his bundle and Abdul following him like a blind man. Mallory had seen vehicles and troops moving on their flanks in the darkness but had chosen not to reveal themselves just yet. It was still dangerous out in the open and the Marines were likely to shoot first and investigate later.

  The battle raged a good distance behind them now, although the occasional explosion went off nearby and ahead - probably mortars fired by insurgents in the town.

  Mallory led them through a deserted building onto a main road and instantly pulled the others to cover when he saw several Hummvees parked a short distance away with a dozen or so t
roops gathered around. He told Abdul and Stanza to remain out of sight while he made contact. Then he stepped back onto the road, his hands raised in the air. The soldiers were cautious as he approached them but after he spoke, announcing his nationality, they could see he was a westerner and they relaxed, allowing him to join them. After a brief chat he returned with a sergeant and a couple of his men to collect Abdul and Stanza. Mallory had explained they were press who had got separated from their media pool and they showed their IDs as proof. The sergeant bought their story and allowed them to wait with the platoon. A couple of hours later a Hummvee arrived to take them to a checkpoint on the 10 motorway on the Baghdad side of Fallujah. A taxi was hanging around a few hundred metres from the checkpoint and the driver was happy to give them a ride back to the Sheraton Hotel.

  Not a word was spoken during the journey and day had dawned by the time the taxi pulled up outside the first checkpoint. Mallory and Stanza climbed out. Abdul remained in the taxi and as Stanza walked away, carrying his bundle, Mallory stopped to look at Abdul who was staring at the floor. ‘You going home?’

  Abdul nodded.

  Mallory wasn’t quite sure what to say. ‘I’ll give you a call later. OK?’

  Abdul didn’t respond.

  Mallory thought he understood and stepped back as the taxi turned around and drove away. He watched it as his thoughts turned to Tasneen and what he was going to say to her. He looked for Stanza, who was already halfway towards the US Army checkpoint, and then down at his grubby hands covered in cuts and abrasions. He felt his broken nose and attempted to clear his nostrils but they were too blocked with either dirt or dried blood.