Spy Shadows

by Freddie P Peters

  “She had just joined the Peshmerga. She was my contact, made sure I could go wherever I wanted. We shared the same digs.” Mattie’s tales about her time with the Kurdish fighters made the drive go quickly. Henry almost missed that Malek’s car indicated a turn.

  The colours of dawn had started to illuminate the sky, in a few moments the sun would appear, and they would have crossed the Turkish border by then. Malek’s car turned into a small lane surrounded by fields and agricultural land. In the distance, Mattie thought she could distinguish a couple of helicopters’ silhouettes. Her stomach somersaulted…

  Rami stopped 500 yards from the makeshift airfield. Henry stopped the car and was about to step out.

  “Don’t worry, you need to go now.” Rami had driven the car alongside Henry’s.

  Henry extended a hand. “We can’t thank you enough.”

  Malek smiled and banged the roof of the Jeep. No time to lose. Wasim wished him well and the Jeep sped along the lane.

  The SAS team had been deployed around the aircraft. They had spotted the Jeep and moved into formation. Henry slowed down. Wasim made the call and was put through to the squadron leader. “We are on the approach, 100 yards away from you.”

  Henry kept advancing at a slow pace. Two soldiers came forward, guns at the ready. Henry, Wasim and Mattie left the car slowly. Another man was approaching. Mattie removed the man’s scarf from around her head. Henry and Wasim did the same, hands lifted over their heads.

  “It’s fine. Let them through.”

  The helicopters were waiting; the handshake from the squadron leader and the ring of soldiers that closed around them almost overwhelmed them. Mattie hugged Henry, she hugged Wasim and Wasim slapped Henry’s shoulder. They had made it.

  “We need to go.” The squadron leader jerked his head towards the helicopters. “The sun will be up any minute now.”

  The doors of the two Apaches were open and the SAS team retreated gradually from its position in smaller concentric circles. Four men jumped into one of the helicopters. Henry helped Mattie to strap herself into one of the central seats in the other. He squeezed her hands, looking deep into her eyes. “You’re free.” Mattie squeezed back, hovering between laughter and tears. The rotors started to turn, gaining momentum and throwing dust into the air. Henry squeezed tighter. His hand let go in one swift move. Mattie’s eyes hidden. She moved forward, hands outstretched. “Henry…” She struggled against the safety belt but already she was airborne. “Henry…” Her cry disappeared, drowned by the deafening noise of the blades beating the air.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Henry stood for a few moments until the Apache had flown over the Turkish border. “Time to go.” The second SAS team was about to board.

  “I’m not going.” Wasim looked at Henry and smiled the attractive smile that made the dimples in his cheeks go deeper.

  “But why? What? Where?” Henry shook his head.

  “I’m going back to Iraq. The Peshmerga need me more than MI6 and I’m fed up with fighting IS from afar. I need to be part of a people who are not frightened of fighting this war.”

  Henry felt lost for a moment. Wasim had been more than a patient and capable teacher, he had been a friend. “I think…” Henry ended up nodding. “I think I understand.” He managed to continue. “How will you get back there?”

  “Malek is waiting for me at the end of the dirt track. He’ll smuggle me back into Iraq and I have Sliman’s number.” He moved the mobile in the air.

  “Guys, it’s now or never.” The squadron leader had one foot inside the cabin of the helicopter. They had to go.

  Henry and Wasim hugged, a brothers’ hug. Wasim slapped Henry’s back. “You’re ready.” He stepped back from the Apache and returned to the Jeep.

  Henry boarded as the rotors started beating the air again. The craft hovered slowly over the ground and soared suddenly. The Jeep had already turned back and was speeding down the lane. The Apache banked left and crossed the border.

  Henry sat back in his seat. His weariness had suddenly caught up with him. The squadron leader indicated that they would be in the air for a couple of hours before they reached Aleppo. Henry did not want to think about what had just occurred, focusing on what needed to happen next. He closed his eyes, knowing there was nothing more for him to do but rest and be ready.

  * * *

  Amina had just managed to go to sleep. The dream was strange, as many dreams can be… she was back at the office. Dozens of identical phones had been installed in RED HAWK Control Room… old-fashioned phones too, big black heavy pyramids, with equally heavy receivers. The cords that linked the receivers to the boxes kept twisting in on themselves, making it difficult to pick up the phone and answer. One of the phones was ringing and she couldn’t find which one. Every time she picked one handset there was no one at the other end. She started running around, desperate to answer, to no avail… until Amina opened her eyes and leaned on one elbow… her mobile was ringing. Her hand moved swiftly towards it and almost pushed it off the bedside table. She sat up. “Hello.”

  “Ms Brown?” She recognised Sir John’s voice, sounding harassed and weary.

  “Yes, sir.” Amina was wide awake.

  “Have you heard from Steve?”

  “Not recently, sir.”

  “I’ve had Colmore on the phone…”

  “Is he trying to stop the exchange?” Amina had switched the light on, scrambling around the room to find her clothes.

  “He hasn’t wasted any time in calling the Home Secretary even in the early hours of the morning.” Sir John’s tone sounded less drained.

  Amina would not relent. “Has the Home Secretary decided or still hearing arguments?”

  “I’m having a call with her, her aide and Colmore in 20 minutes’ time.”

  “Do they know the exact time of the exchange?”

  “They know it’s this morning.”

  “It’s almost 7.00am in Aleppo, sir. In an hour’s time agent Harris will be making his way to the rendezvous point. He will switch off his mobile to concentrate on comms between agents…”

  “Understood, I need to keep the discussion going for half an hour…” Sir John mused.

  “Why don’t you try to patch me in… That might gain a few minutes.”

  “That’s a plan.”

  Amina rushed out of the door and just made it into her office as her mobile was ringing again. She checked the clock on the wall. It was gone 7.40am in Aleppo. Another 20 minutes and Harris would be in the clear.

  Colmore was on the attack the instant Sir John finished his introduction of who Amina was.

  “It is inconceivable a terrorist caught in the UK, for atrocities carried out in the UK, could be released when the hostage was no longer a hostage.” Colmore’s well-trained orator’s voice was in full flow.

  “We have no visibility on who the other hostage is?” Amina butted in.

  “All the more… all the more to reconsider this exchange.” The pitch of Colmore’s voice had risen once more.

  “There are Europeans and American female hostages in Raqqa.” Amina kept going.

  “It is not our concern. The UK government is not an NGO or the Salvation Army.”

  “I’m not sure the UK government should turn a blind eye to the plight of these women in captivity… sexual abuse and torture.” Sir John was on the attack too.

  “The US would never agree to such an exchange for one of their citizens, whereas the Europeans, if they are happy to pay, as it seems they are… allow them.” Colmore did not care…

  “Unless you are concerned that your daughter’s fate has not been confirmed yet?” Amina had just had an idea…

  Colmore stopped for an instant. Amina held her breath. Had she read the man right? “Of course not.” Colmore burst out at the implication. “I will not put my family
interests over the national interest.”

  There was a clear intake of breath at the other end the phone. Amina nodded to herself. If Colmore would not put his family interest over the national interest, it was certain he was prepared to sacrifice both to his political career.

  The conversation was almost over. The Home Secretary asked for additional information which neither Sir John nor Amina had. She made her decision.

  * * *

  Henry woke up with a jerk and for a minute did not know where he was. The noise of the helicopter reminded him he was on his way to Aleppo’s suburbs. The squadron leader smiled and handed over a set of headphones with mic. “We are ten minutes from the landing point.”

  Henry nodded. “Are we still in Turkey?”

  “No, but we’ve been following the border until a couple of minutes ago. We’re now in Syria. Twenty clicks from Aleppo.”

  Henry bent sideways to get a better view of the land. The Apache banked right. A Chinook helicopter and a couple of Apaches were already on the ground with four vehicles arranged in a convoy line. Henry’s chopper touched down. He shook hands with the squadron leader, and jumped out before the blades had stopped throwing dust into the air. Henry hunched forward and moved towards the convoy. A familiar face stepped out of one of the cars. Steve Harris was walking in his direction. He was pleased to see Harris looking the way he felt, red eyed, dishevelled… looking like shit.

  Harris stopped, surprised. He jogged towards Henry. “Where is Wasim?”

  “He’s not coming back.”

  “What do you mean?” Harris looked lost.

  “I’ll tell you when we are on our way to Aleppo.”

  Harris frowned and shook his head to dispel the news. “The USB keys?”

  “When we are on the way to Aleppo.”

  Harris rolled his eyes. “Fine, let’s go.”

  They joined the last car.

  “What’s the plan?” Henry asked.

  “We’ve got a few hours before the exchange. I’ll tell you when we’re in Aleppo.” It was not a tit for tat. The driver was a local man, vetted no doubt, but why take unnecessary risks? “Tell me about Wasim.”

  * * *

  They reached the centre of Aleppo for Fajr, the first call to prayer. Maeraka had been placed in the third vehicle in the convoy. They entered Aleppo though the newly developed part of town, large avenues and well organised streets, far from ideal for an ambush. The car left new Aleppo and moved into the old city. They turned into a couple of smaller streets and stopped in front of a house, ancient and elegant, a construction of grey stones and carved wood. Two men in the front car stepped out first. They surveyed their surroundings and one of them gave instructions via his earpiece. The door opened and Henry recognised the silhouette; a hooded Maeraka was being led into the safe house.

  “Let’s go.” Harris and Henry followed. Henry could not quite shake the unease at seeing James again, but he needed him for his plan. He had to make it work.

  The house was dark and cool. Henry followed Harris along a corridor and up a couple of flights of stairs. “Where is the exchange taking place?”

  “Al-Madina Souq.”

  “Kilometres of corridors and alleyways.”

  “And they will have planned their escape.” Harris opened the door of a small room. “Gentlemen, I don’t need to introduce you to one another… Don’t kill each other just yet.” Harris closed the door behind him.

  Henry saw it on his face. James had not expected the transformation. There was no Savile Row suit, no Hermès tie. The clean shaven, impeccable Henry had become a bearded, unkempt man, dressed in old army fatigues. James was looking for something he needed to recognise and found it. Henry’s steel blue eyes had not changed, intelligent, quick witted and focused.

  “There are a lot of things I’d like to say to you, James.” Henry’s voice had changed. “But we haven’t got much time, so if you’re going to deck me one for all the things I did, you’d better do it quickly.”

  James took a step forward and Henry braced himself for the impact; if James wanted to throw a punch, he wouldn’t resist. “So, what’s the plan?” James moved to the table at the centre of the room. He unfolded a map of Al-Madina Souq. From the smallest of boxes, he took out what looked like a beetle. “I’ve come prepared.”

  Henry walked to the table still expecting some reprisal, but James’s calm felt convincing. “What’s this?” Henry pointed to a small command console. James handed it to Henry. “I won’t be able to use a Reaper drone, so I got the next best thing. I’ll be able to follow you and the others. This little bug has a 2 km range… not bad.”

  Henry delicately picked up the miniature drone. Clever. “I have a score to settle with someone who will almost certainly be there to pick up Maeraka.”

  James nodded. He did not need an explanation, just direction. “You want to be at the exchange and follow?”

  “That’s right.”

  “If you look at the map of Aleppo, you can see that the quickest route out of the city lies to the east.”

  “Why east? Has IS advanced that far?”

  “They are very close to Aleppo and have almost certainly infiltrated the suburbs around the M4 and Route 4.”

  Henry leaned over the map, arms supporting his muscled body.

  “They’ll need to take the quickest way out of the souq towards…” His fingers traced a route out of Aleppo. “…the M4.”

  “Correct… it gets them to Raqqa in four hours, a little more perhaps, but it will also be the fastest.”

  James pulled up a chair and sat down. He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and drew a small cross on the map. “This is the exchange point.” Henry sat opposite to James. They were doing, after six years, what they used to do best. Plan their attack.

  * * *

  He had changed his clothes to mix better with the crowd. Jeans and a checked blue shirt that he did not tuck into his trousers so that it concealed his Glock. He had trimmed his beard into a full square crop, a sign he did not belong to any radical type of Islam. Henry had managed to snatch a couple of hours’ rest before the exchange. He came back to the room that James had not left.

  “We’re good to go.” James handed him a cup of coffee.

  Henry took it gratefully. He reviewed the map once more. “I’m good…” Henry took a sip. “I’ve memorised the map.”

  James handed over a small Bluetooth earpiece that would keep them in communication.

  “Where’s Harris?” Henry pushed the small device into his ear.

  “He’s having a final debrief with the exchange team.”

  “Do they know I’m going?”

  “They don’t know what you’re planning, and Harris won’t tell them.”

  “Good.” Henry checked his watch. “08.35.”

  James checked his watch and synchronised it with Henry’s ‘08.35’. He slung a small rucksack over his shoulder. Henry did the same. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Harris checked his watch. They were only 30 minutes away from exchanging Maeraka. The two agents who were taking him to the rendezvous point had clear instructions. Anything going awry and it was a shoot-to-kill situation. Harris donned his bulletproof jacket. His mobile buzzed. The Chief was calling him. Harris pondered. He let it go to voicemail.

  The cars were ready. Four cars had been gathered as back-up. Maeraka came out into the light and blinked. His small frame dwarfed by the two men on each side of him. He was walking slowly, a strong cocktail of drugs swimming around in his bloodstream. The cars left the safe house and drove for 20 minutes. They stopped in front of one of the entrances to Al-Jumrok Caravanserai, one of the oldest parts of the Al-Madina Souq. The covered alleyway was quiet, vendors organising their shops for the day. Two of the men that were part of the escort went ahead and came back after a few minute
s.

  All clear.

  Harris gave the OK. The men took up position at various key locations in the little covered lane. Maeraka was taken out of the car and made to sit in a café. There was now five minutes to go. He played the message from Sir John. Colmore was trying to convince the Home Office to stop the exchange. Harris shook his head in anger… No fucking way. He dropped the mobile back in his pocket.

  Henry had taken up position a few streets away. The souq was a maze of lanes, corridors and shops with exits leading into different alleyways. It would be impossible to follow the footsteps of the people who picked up Maeraka exactly. But they had to exit eventually. Henry and James had decided on two possible exit routes. Al-Haddawi would not be at the exchange, but he would be somewhere in Aleppo, ready to reap the glory of yet another remarkable deed. Mosul… Maeraka’s freedom… There would be no stopping him.

  “M is in position.” There was good reception and James’s voice was clear.

  “Received.” Henry browsed through the shops, ignoring the hustle of the merchants.

  “Three people are approaching, two men and one woman in niqab.” The bug was in the air, transmitting images to James.

  “They have stopped.”

  “M is standing up.”

  “The woman has removed her face mask. Only one man is walking with her now… T-shirt and jeans, no visible weapon.”

  “M has started to walk towards the woman… Harris is walking with him.”

  “They’ve all stopped, five metres away. M and the woman are walking alone.”

  “IS has got M… We’ve got the exchange. They’re walking towards you.”

  Henry started walking at a fast pace along the corridors, following Maeraka’s group two lanes apart.

  “Which direction?” Henry pressed the earpiece deeper inside his ear.

  “East, straight line to the Red Gate.”

  Henry increased his pace. He was in front of the men. Maeraka’s drowsy walking was no doubt slowing them down. Perfect.

  James had found two taxi drivers. They were waiting for Henry at separate locations near the exit. “Your taxi is ready at the Red Gate.”