“It’s a lot of money too.” James had moved to another screen to check the rate of exchange.
“If they don’t leave Mosul today, they’re fucked.” Amina’s clenched fist against her mouth distorted the words. But Harris got the gist.
“I’ve asked Dan to push the Kurds again.”
“Otherwise they are going to have to chance it on their own.” James’s voice had the authority of a reliable risk assessor.
“They need the Peshmerga cover, otherwise they’ll run into some of the other factions – Syrian army, Syrian rebels or even the Kurds if they don’t know they’re infiltrated agents – who’ll shoot them first and ask questions after.” Harris’s phone chimed again. A text from Dan. Commander Sanjabi on the phone now.
Harris rushed out of the door, ran along the corridor, barely missing a couple of colleagues round the corner.
Dan was ready for him, holding the office door open. The call was on hold. Dan unmuted the phone. “Commander Sanjabi, my colleague is here.”
“Good afternoon, Commander.”
“Good afternoon. You speak of a journalist that is in Mosul?”
“That’s right.”
Words became muffled. Another conversation was taking place in the background which Harris could not make out. “…a woman with the name of Mattie Colmore?”
Dan frowned. Harris did not care. “Yes.”
The line was muffled again, and another voice came on the line. “Good afternoon. This is Colonel Nahida Ahmed Rashid. If Mattie Colmore needs us we will help. Commander Sanjabi tells me you need to extract her today.”
“Yes. There is a bounty on her head and that of the other people with her of a million US dollars.”
There was a silence at the end of the line that lasted a long moment. Should he have told them that? “Then we will extract them tonight. I will give you a rendezvous point and the name of the team leader in one hour.”
“Thank you.” Harris closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The phone went dead. Only one hour to go.
* * *
Wasim had moved the TV to the far end of the room where its glow could not be seen through the window. The mobile phone had been plugged in to keep it charged and everyone had huddled around the TV on the sofas left behind.
Henry checked his watch yet again and Mattie put a hand on his wrist. Her touch was warm and confident. He managed a smile. Had he made a mistake in choosing Mosul as the contact point for the Kurdish army? He let his head drop softly against the back of the couch and closed his eyes. It was already 3pm and the phone had not rung yet. “What are our chances of reaching Al-Hasakah unaided?”
“Next to zero.” Wasim let his back slump into his seat.
“We could move property tonight… we can keep changing.”
Wasim nodded. “If we’re going to do that, we need a recce now. Curfew starts at nightfall. We’d have to move to the new place before then.”
Henry leaned forward. “OK. I’ll go with…”
The burner phone ring interrupted him. Wasim picked it up. He did not speak, simply nodding, looking for a pen and paper. Henry found a pen in his rucksack. Wasim wrote a few words on the back of his hand and hung up.
“We have a rendezvous point with a Peshmerga unit, in the grounds of Hasib Zkria mosque. 19.45. Code name: MOTHER.”
“We need a map. How about your laptop?”
“IS monitor signals… not a good idea.”
“We need to find a good old-fashioned paper map then…”
“I go.” Ali had stood up slowly. “They don’t know my face. Back to the shopping centre… I find map.”
“I’ll come with you.” Mattie’s confidence amazed everyone. “It’s a woman they’re looking for, not one dressed as a man. Besides, Ali can’t drive with his wounded leg. I’ll be fine.” Henry was about to protest but he met Mattie’s eyes. She would not change her mind.
“I’ve been in more war zones than you have, gentlemen… mark my words.” She took the keys of the SUV and disappeared through the back door.
* * *
They came back much later than anticipated. Henry had started to check his watch every five minutes. The gate into the back yard opened softly. Wasim had been waiting in the kitchen manning the back door. Ali hobbled in first, holding a sheaf of thickly folded paper in his hand. He had bought two maps. One of the cities, one of the region stretching beyond the Iraqi border. Mattie came in last, secured the door and walked back into the kitchen.
“There were more cars on the streets than I had expected. They looked more like patrols than locals, but I can’t be sure.”
It was already 5pm. In two and a half hours’ time, once the sun had set, they would make their way to Hasib Zkria.
Henry spread the map of the city on the floor. They all sat around it. Ali spotted the place, despite looking at the map upside down. The mosque was not far, only three blocks away.
“Perhaps we could walk it?” Wasim’s voice sounded dry and gritty.
“So that we don’t attract attention with the SUV.” Henry nodded. “That could work.”
“How about Ali?” Mattie frowned.
“I can do it, even with a…” Ali was looking for the word, “… stick, no crutch.” His finger moving in the air to summon the right word.
“It’s only a quarter of a mile and we can go through the smaller back streets.” Wasim measured on the map.
“Compromise,” Henry offered. “Let’s drive the SUV through the back streets up to the first main road we have to cross. Then we finish on foot.”
Everyone nodded. Wasim folded the map and retreated to one of the bedrooms. Henry had kept his rucksack with him. He sat back in the corner of the room where it lay and went through it methodically. He went through the ammunition he had left. Two spare clips for his Glock, three spares for the smaller weapon he kept hidden under the seat of the car.
The call to prayer resounded around Mosul. Ali disappeared for a short moment. Henry and Mattie prepared some of the food that was left in silence. Mattie uncapped a bottle of water, took a few long pulls and passed it to Henry to finish.
* * *
Dusk had settled over the city. The heat of the sun no longer made the air tremble over the road and pavement. They had not switched on the lights in the apartment and the semi darkness gave the room a gloomy look. Henry had spent some time at the window that looked onto the front garden. One vehicle had driven past and it had attracted his attention. But it had not returned, and he had started to feel a little more at ease.
“Ready?” Wasim had slung his rucksack over his shoulders, the Sig Sauer stuck into his belt and the spare clips in the pockets of his army khakis.
“Let’s do this.” Henry threw his own rucksack over his left shoulder. He pushed his Glock into the small of his back. Ali and Mattie were already in the backyard. Henry closed the kitchen door behind him and Wasim half opened the door into the back alley. There was no light in most of the houses or flats around the small back streets. The area was almost deserted.
They climbed quickly into the SUV and Wasim started the engine. It came to life with a low rumble that echoed around the empty lanes. He drove slowly towards the end of the alleyway and eased the front of the car into the intersection. He turned left immediately into another back alley and made a few more of these turns avoiding the main streets. Wasim took a final left and came to an abrupt stop. Three vehicles had been burned down and left stranded in the middle of the lane.
“Shit.” Wasim slammed his hand on the wheel.
Henry had turned back. “I saw a couple of cars pass the top of the lane as we were turning into this alleyway. We can’t go back.”
Henry opened the door. “Let’s go. We’re not that far from the main road.”
Wasim went first, walking close to the walls of the buildings they
passed along the way and crossing small gardens that looked well-tended.
In the darkness of night, Henry stopped and listened. The sound had gone away but was back again, much louder this time. Henry caught up with the other three and stopped Wasim. “There’s a car in the area going up and down the streets.” Henry’s voice was low and urgent.
“OK.” Wasim and the other two had stopped in the shadow of a building’s doorway. “We’re nearly there. The next road is the largest one before we reach Hasib Zkria. We’ll go one at a time. There are trees in the central reservation. We’ll make use of those.”
“Understood.” Henry fell back and waited for Mattie and Ali to reach the top of the lane. He found a couple of abandoned cars and crouched behind them. Wasim disappeared in the distance, running across the main road to reach the central reservation. No traffic came; he was in the clear. Mattie went second and she too was in luck. As the young man stood up to cross, the beams of a car lit up the alleyway in which they had stopped. Henry rolled into shrubs to take cover, but Ali was in full view. He launched into a desperate sprint, half running, half hobbling to escape. Ali did not cross; instead he turned into the main road, in the middle of the tarmac. Henry was too stunned to tell him to stop. The car accelerated and took a sharp right turn to catch up the runner. Henry ran to the end of the lane, drawing his gun. The sound of a car hitting a body, the impact of flesh against metal, told him all he needed to know. Henry turned into the road. Wasim had appeared on the other side of the large avenue, urging him to cross now. Four men had left the car, rushing to check whether the runner was still alive.
Henry shook his head. He crouched behind a large SUV, risking his head to one side. A few yards away one of fighters was standing over Ali, prodding him with his boot. The young man yelped and tried to hold back a scream. In the beam of the car’s headlight, Henry recognised one of the men who had served him at the shopping centre. Rage twisted his gut. He trained the gun on the driver who had just left the car when another SUV turned into the road. The news had already spread, and soon more men would be arriving and tell al-Haddawi they had found what he wanted. Henry retreated behind the vehicle that was shielding him, hesitant. There were now nine men surrounding Ali, too many to take on.
Henry bent forward, running across to the central reservation and in a second dash reached Wasim. “We can’t leave him.”
Wasim looked around for an angle from which to take the men down. The men had their weapons with them and the rifles they carried were more than a match for the guns Wasim and Henry had. He shook his head. Ali shrieked in pain. One of the men laughed. The next cry sounded inhuman, a voice speaking of torture and terror. “Kill me.”
Henry and Wasim froze. It could not be Ali… But the scream came again. A plea, by someone who knew what would happen if he was interrogated by these men.
Wasim shook his head again and retreated slowly into the darkness of the building hiding them. He dragged Henry with him. “We need to go…”
Henry let himself be led away, almost stumbling. They reached the back of the building. In a few yards they would enter the next set of alleyways. Henry’s body straightened, he shook Wasim off and retraced his steps running. He reached the street and drew his gun.
Three gunshots.
Ali stopped screaming.
* * *
They ran without stopping, turning into a maze of small lanes. Wasim was in front, Mattie following. They kept running through the gates of Hasib Zkria mosque, left open for early prayer. They turned into the grounds of the mosque and followed the wall of the garden surrounding it. Out of breath, they finally collapsed in the shadow of some of the bushes that had been planted there years earlier. No one spoke. They listened.
The shots that Henry had fired had surprised everyone and it would take time before they found the empty shells of Henry’s gun. The area would soon be teeming with IS fighters and cars.
At the foot of the minaret, a light flashed several times.
Mattie nudged Wasim. “Yes, I saw it.”
It came back again. Wasim fished a torch out of his rucksack and responded. Three flashes, stop, three flashes.
Two silhouettes moved out of the shadows towards them. Wasim waited to stand up until they were closer. When he did Mattie followed him. “MOTHER sent me.” The voice behind the dark scarf said.
Wasim hesitated. Had he heard right? The scarf came down and Mattie suppressed a cry. “Sliman Vechivan…”
“Mattie Colmore…” The two women hugged tightly. “I could not leave you behind.”
Henry had finally risen too. “We don’t have much time. The cars are at the back of the mosque. We must go.”
Sliman led the way along the garden walls and through another gate. Two Jeeps were waiting. She indicated to the three of them to join her in the second Jeep. She had not asked where the fourth man was. There could only be one explanation.
The Jeeps moved around the back streets swiftly. The vehicle leading the way slowed down regularly and then picked up speed as the roads were clear. The head lights were turned off, no need to attract the attention of other cars coming along some of the streets they crossed. The Jeeps abruptly came into the open and lurched forward through local fields. They slowed down as they reached an odd-looking dirt track. Sliman turned around towards them. “The River Koshr is almost dry at this time of the year. No one will try to find us driving inside the riverbed.”
It took less than half an hour to leave the outskirts of Mosul and when the Jeeps crossed the bank of the Koshr into flat land, the terror of Mosul had been left behind in darkness.
* * *
Amina put the phone down and took a moment to compose herself. “They’re out of Mosul.”
Harris punched the air.
James had wrapped his arms around his body as the call came in. He let go and shook his head. Incredible.
Harris looked at the clock on the wall. It was just after 9pm in Iraq and 7pm in London. Sir John had said until the end of the day.
Abu Maeraka had been moved to an isolation cell at Belmarsh. In a few hours he would be moved outside London to RAF Northolt base, then flown to Cyprus. By early morning tomorrow he would be prepared for the exchange.
IS had chosen a different female hostage without disclosing it to the British. Was IS so confident they could fool everyone? Or perhaps they believed that at the time of the exchange the Westerners would not leave a white female in distress in the clutches of IS. And they would be right. Still, keeping Maeraka until they had reached Al-Hasakah was still an option. No rush to let The Chief know…
“Need to discuss options.” James had gone back to his desk, observing from behind his screen.
“Not yet.” Harris stretched and yawned. “I need a coffee. Anyone else want one?”
There was a unanimous yes and Harris took a walk to Caffe Italia. The night was still young. He would call Sir John shortly before midnight to update him.
* * *
They were driving across the countryside. The Jeep shook and bounced on the dirt tracks. The driver was good, negotiating difficult terrain without slowing down or losing control. “Kathoon is one of our best drivers,” Sliman had said. Mattie had introduced Sliman, the commander of an all-female Peshmerga unit, who had finally been called to play a decisive role in the fight against IS.
The Jeep slowed down and soon came to a halt at the bottom of a small hill that announced a change of landscape and formed the ridge of a low mountain. Sliman got out and raised her binoculars to her eyes. She surveyed the hill, did a 360-degree check of the landscape around and came back in.
“There’s activity towards the south-east, but they are far behind. It could be nothing but better be careful. We’ll drive you to the border with Syria. From there it is only 50 km to Al-Hasakah.”
“How about the YPG?” Wasim’s voice sounded unsure.
>
“They are around but we couldn’t find anyone at such short notice.”
“And the rendezvous point in Al-Hasakah?” Wasim craned his neck to take in the terrain.
“I was coming to it. When we reach the border. I’ll show you on the map the best route to get there. I’ve got navigation tools and equipment.”
“You mean?”
“Guns of course – without proper guns you are not going to get very far in this country and…”
A faint noise stopped Sliman. She killed the headlights of the Jeep. The second vehicle followed suit and the three vehicles crawled against a couple of boulders. The noise intensified and everyone recognised the chopping sound of rotary blades. A couple of helicopters were coming their way.
“Out of the car.” The Peshmerga came out, rifles at the ready, and took position. Kathoon opened the boot and found a place next to Sliman, leaning against the bonnet of the car for balance, an RPG lodged over her shoulder. The searchlight moved around like a slender beam drawing an abstract design. It searched the cluster of rocks that only lay a few yards from the two cars and moved on. No one shifted even after the sound of the rotor blades had faded into the distance.
Sliman got up from behind the Jeep and stood her fighters down. “We are not very far from the Syrian border. They won’t come back this way, but we need to hurry.”
The two Jeeps started their tortuous voyage up the steepening slopes. It only took 20 minutes to reach a dual carriageway. Kathoon stopped the car and got out. She walked to the back of the Jeep and took out a map and compass. Sliman stretched the map over the bonnet of the car and took Wasim through the details of their next journey. More dirt tracks that cut through difficult terrain would enable them to join a main road to Al-Hasakah. Sliman assured them the Syrian Kurds had been alerted and she handed over a letter from Colonel Nahida Ahmed Rashid. In the boot there was plenty of equipment: three assault rifles, 12 extra clips, more clips for the Glock and Sig Sauer.
“This is all we could afford, but I hope this might be of help.” Sliman nodded. She shook hands with Wasim and Henry. “I hope to see you soon, Mattie Colmore… In Erbil.”
Spy Shadows Page 40
