by Chris Ryan
‘Someone’s arriving,’ Spud breathed.
Danny panned left. A vehicle had turned off the main supply route and was driving towards the first checkpoint. A large four-by-four, in good nick so far as Danny could tell. Someone was arriving who had money, or influence, or both. As it drew closer, Danny focussed in on the checkpoint. Two guys had emerged. Black clothes. Rifles, probably AK-47s, though hard to tell from this distance. The car came to a halt. One of the checkpoint guards approached the driver’s window. Danny quickly panned right to the second checkpoint. It didn’t look like anyone had emerged. He said as much to Spud. ‘Fucking muppets,’ Spud breathed. He sounded almost insulted that their SOPs should be lackadaisical. But it was fine by Danny. It gave them options.
Danny considered those options. They could approach covertly. Breach the perimeter fence under cover of night and advance on the compound by foot. It was a possibility, but he didn’t like it. They had two objectives – to eliminate the oil middlemen arriving at 0000 hours, and to lift Dhul Faqar. It would be far better to nail the middlemen before they got through the checkpoints and entered the compound, because if things went noisy inside the perimeter fence, it would be ten times more difficult to get their hands on Dhul Faqar. And in any case, it would mean crossing open ground that was most likely landmined to hell, in order even to get to the perimeter.
Option two: be more brazen about it. Approach by road. If they were to do that, they needed to be on top of the guards’ procedures. As the vehicle cleared the first checkpoint, Danny panned round to the second one. Two guys were emerging from the hut at the perimeter fence. It looked to Danny like someone at the first checkpoint had made a call to advise them that someone was arriving. The vehicle reached checkpoint two. A brief conversation, and it was allowed to pass into the fenced-off area of the compound.
Two-stage security. If the guards at the first checkpoint became suspicious at a new arrival, they could let them through, then attack from behind as the guards at the second checkpoint attacked from the front. It would work well, if the guards were on top of their game. But their visual communication was poor. And that was a weakness Danny could exploit.
He lowered his scope. ‘Do you think the guards can see what’s happening at each other’s checkpoint?’ he asked Spud.
‘At night?’ Spud said. Then he pointed towards the boiling clouds over the plain. ‘And in the rain? No. They’ll be relying on radio contact. Or mobile phones.’
Danny agreed. ‘So if we arrive just before midnight pretending to be the middlemen, we could take out the guards at the first checkpoint, leave a couple of us there to usher the real middlemen through, take out the guards at the second checkpoint, then attack the middlemen from front and behind. If we do it with suppressed weapons, we’ve got a good chance of taking out the targets and breaching the perimeter without alerting anyone in the compound. Then we can get the Kurds to make a diversion while we advance on the compound itself.’
‘Could work,’ Spud said. ‘So long as the Kurds don’t fuck it up. You think they’re up to it?’
‘The three guys know what they’re doing. They took out a Spetznaz unit, remember? Naza’s the weak link, but as long as she keeps her head down . . .’ He checked the time. 1715 hours. At the speed they were travelling, Danny estimated it would take them at least four hours to make it down on to the main supply route – especially as they were going to lose the light in about forty-five minutes. Their plan depended on timing. If it was to work, they needed to get moving.
Five minutes later, they had rejoined the others. Danny explained his plan for checkpoints in more detail. ‘But we need to get down to the main supply route before midnight,’ he told Pallav. ‘Is that possible?’
The Kurd nodded. ‘But the closer we get to it, the more chance of Daesh patrols. We should put our flags out now.’
Danny gave it a moment’s thought. He looked around, and up. There had been no evidence of Russian drones since they’d left the dead soldiers by the border. The cloud cover was thick, so aerial photography would be difficult, even if the Russians had dared to breach Iraqi airspace. Now it was a question of priorities. A couple of black flags on their vehicles wouldn’t get them past a one-on-one with any IS militants. But it might fool them if the convoy was being watched from a distance. And they would certainly help with their approach to the stronghold.
‘Let’s do it,’ Danny said.
Pallav and the two other Kurds began to fix an IS flag to the back of the cab of each Hilux. The sour expression on Naza’s face told Danny everything he needed to know about what she thought of those flags. Caitlin spoke quietly to her as the men carried out the job, one arm gently on her shoulder. Danny took paper and pencil from his pack and sketched the layout of the compound from memory, marking each building with the number he had assigned to it. He approached Caitlin and Spud and explained his rationale for believing that Dhul Faqar was most likely to be in building 3.
‘Makes sense,’ Spud said. ‘But we’ve got to get through the perimeter first.’ They re-entered their vehicles and continued along the rough path that forked off to the left.
The going was even slower than before. They found themselves driving down a steep, winding gradient, their brakes squeaking noisily. As the light failed, it became even more difficult to see the track. Danny was totally reliant on following the Kurds’ vehicle. Nobody spoke. Spud and Caitlin were scanning the surrounding countryside from their seats. A tense, expectant silence. Danny kept glancing at Caitlin in the rear-view mirror. He could only dimly see her eyes, but he had a nasty feeling that they were glazing over.
2300 hours. The going had been slower than Danny had anticipated. Now, imperceptibly, the track had grown a little broader. There were furrows in it – tyre marks from other vehicles. As the Hilux edged round a bend in the track, and over a substantial bump, Danny caught a brief glimpse of the highway. It was a couple of hundred metres distant, and a little busier than he’d expected, especially in the southbound direction that they would need to take.
The Kurds stopped. Danny too. They congregated between the two vehicles. ‘We are twenty minutes from the main road,’ Pallav said. ‘Once we are on it, it is very dangerous to stop. We should swap over vehicles now.’
Danny nodded, and handed over the keys to the vehicle he’d been driving. He and Spud loosened their Sigs and fitted suppressors to their rifles and handguns. Caitlin did the same. Danny took a GPS reading. The Kurds knew the terrain well, but in the event that the unit had to extract from Dhul Faqar’s compound cross-country, they would need a precise method of returning to this spot. ‘If and when we need to RV,’ he said, ‘this is our location. You understand “RV”?’
Pallav nodded. ‘I’m trusting you to bring us weapons.’
‘You’ll have more weapons than you know what to do with.’
Pallav sneered. ‘Oh, I’ll know what to do with them,’ he said.
‘Is everyone clear about their roles when we approach the checkpoints?’ Danny said as he and Spud fitted their earpieces.
Nods all round. Danny could sense the tension in the air. He looked up. Dark clouds were scudding across the moon. The rain was coming, any minute. That suited them well, as it would cover their approach and camouflage the sound of their suppressed weapons. He and Spud climbed into the back of the Kurds’ Hilux. Caitlin took Spud’s place in the passenger seat of the vehicle Danny had been driving. They lay on their fronts, one at either edge of the pickup, facing towards the rear of the vehicle. They covered themselves with some dirty old brown sack material that was lying at the foot of the fifty-cal. Danny knew that they would be invisible at a cursory glance. A more detailed examination would uncover them, of course. But by then, if everything went as it should, it wouldn’t matter . . .
The vehicle moved off again, with Danny lying in the darkness. Lying on his front, he felt the bumps in the rough track magnified tenfold. After fifteen minutes, the rains came. Heavy. Noisy. Almost immedi
ately the brown sacking was soaked, and so was Danny. He put it from his mind. If he could put up with it on the training fields of Brecon, he could put up with it here. And he’d have to, because right then the road became smooth. He felt the Hilux turning right, then accelerating.
They were advancing to contact.
From the noise of the Hilux’s engine, Danny estimated their speed at 70 kph. That gave them just under three minutes to reach the narrower road that came off the main supply route at right angles towards the IS compound. Danny counted down the seconds in his head. Bang on schedule, he felt the vehicle slow down, then turn right.
The road became less smooth again. Distance to the first checkpoint, 500 metres. About a minute. He gingerly lifted the edge of the brown sacking camouflage. The second Hilux was tailing them closely. Its headlamps blinded him and he cursed himself for looking. Caitlin had obviously seen him. Her voice came across his earpiece. Muffled, because her shemagh covered her mouthpiece. ‘Two hundred metres to go. Stay covered.’
Danny unlocked his Sig. The Hilux trundled on.
It was slowing down.
‘Fifty metres,’ said Caitlin. ‘You can lose the camo.’
Danny shuffled off the brown sacking. He half-closed his eyes and avoided direct visual contact with the other pickup’s headlamps. He wormed his soaking body a little further to the back of the Hilux, and was aware of Spud doing the same. He reckoned they were doing no more than 10 kph now.
A moment later, when the Hilux had almost reached a halt, he heard Caitlin’s voice again: ‘Two hostiles approaching your vehicle. One more standing in the entrance of the checkpoint hut.’ She sounded sharp. ‘Make contact when I give the word.’
A pause. The vehicle was stationary.
‘Now,’ snapped Caitlin.
There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation. Danny leaned round the back corner of the Hilux and aimed his weapon along the right wing of the vehicle. He knew that Spud would be doing exactly the same thing down the left wing. Sure enough, he saw a drenched but heavily armed guard approaching the driver’s door, front on to Danny’s line of fire, approximately one metre from the vehicle. Danny didn’t have time to ascertain whether the target had seen him or not. It didn’t matter either way. He fired three rounds in quick succession, directly at the target’s chest. There were three dull thuds from the suppressed Sig – almost entirely camouflaged by the noise of the pelting rain – and a faint, flat, ripping sound as the rounds tore into the target’s breastbone. At the same time, Danny heard three equivalent rounds from the opposite side of the vehicle: Spud taking care of his guy.
The target slumped to the ground. Danny threw himself from the vehicle. He caught movement in his peripheral vision as he hit the ground. It was Caitlin. She had jumped from her vehicle and was advancing on the concrete hut, the butt of her suppressed rifle dug hard into her shoulder. Danny braced himself for the sound of gunfire as he advanced to the front of the Hilux, using its chassis as cover. It didn’t come. Good. The next ten minutes would be a lot more straightforward if they could keep their third target alive, for a little while at least.
He peered round from the front of the Hilux towards the concrete hut. If there had been someone standing at the entrance, there no longer was. And there was no sign of Caitlin. Naza, however, was striding towards the entrance. ‘Stay where you are!’ Danny hissed at her. She stopped in her tracks. Still clutching his handgun, Danny emerged from the protection of the Hilux and strode towards the entrance of the hut, aware that Spud was on one knee on the other side of the vehicle, covering him.
Danny raised his weapon, holding it steady with two hands. He scanned towards the second checkpoint and the compound beyond, looking for evidence that their approach had alerted anyone. He saw none, so he entered the hut.
It was bare. There was a small gas lamp in one corner, and a couple of chairs, one of which was on its side. The rain hammered noisily on the corrugated iron roof. In the centre of the room was a young man dressed in standard IS garb. He was on his knees. His eyes bulged. Caitlin stood behind him, the barrel of her rifle resting against the back of his head.
Danny looked back outside. He gestured at Naza to come in out of the rain, then pointed at the body of the guard Spud had nailed, which was lying a metre from the Hilux. ‘Bring them both in,’ Danny said.
Spud grabbed the corpse by its ankles. As he dragged it through the pouring rain towards the hut, Danny gestured to Pallav, who was still at the wheel of the Hilux, to join them inside the hut. Then he got back in out of the rain.
The IS guard was clearly terrified. He couldn’t take his eyes off the corpse as Spud dragged it in, followed by Pallav. Spud left to get the other corpse.
‘Translate for me,’ Danny said. ‘Tell this guy that if he does as he’s told, he’ll live. But I’m going to show what will happen to him if he doesn’t.’
As Pallav translated, Danny removed a knife from his ops waistcoat. He needed to shock this guy into obedience. Their strategy depended on it. He leaned over the corpse and forced its mouth open. It was still warm and malleable. He forced the tip of his knife into the open mouth and, with several quick slashes, cut out the tongue. It didn’t bleed too badly – more of a slow ooze – but the tongue itself was still pink and wet. He threw it towards the guard, who took one look at it lying on the floor in front of him before bending over and retching violently. Spud returned with the second corpse, and dumped it next to the first.
Danny wiped his bloody fingers on his clothes, then turned to Pallav.
‘Ask him how many guards there are at the next checkpoint.’
Pallav asked the question. The answer came immediately. ‘Three.’
‘And how many inside the compound, including Dhul Faqar?’
‘Seventeen,’ Pallav said, having asked the question.
‘Ask him where the keys to his vehicle are.’
‘In the ignition,’ Pallav translated.
‘Tell him to get his mobile phone out. He’s to send a text to the guys at the next checkpoint to say that some locals have brought them gifts for the guys in the compound. He’s driving down to see them in five minutes to deliver them. Check it before it goes.’
Pallav nodded and started speaking in Arabic to the IS guy in quick, urgent tones. The guard nodded fervently, as he understood what was being explained to him, his eyes flickering frequently down to the disembodied tongue. He patted himself down and pulled out his mobile phone from his pocket. With trembling hands, he typed a message, which he showed to Pallav. Pallav nodded, and the guard hit send.
One of the other Kurds appeared in the doorway. He said a few short words, which Pallav translated. ‘Someone’s coming.’
Danny looked at Caitlin. She still had her weapon pointed at the IS guard’s head. He nodded briefly. Without hesitation, she squeezed the trigger. There was another dull, suppressed thud. A tiny explosion of blood, bone and brain matter, but by the time the guard had slumped to the floor, Danny had turned and was heading towards the exit. He looked out in the direction of the main supply route. Four sets of headlamps, distorted and hazy through the rain, had turned off on to the smaller road and were moving towards them.
‘Is it them?’ Spud said from just behind him. ‘The middlemen?’
Danny checked the time. 2350 hours. He felt a crunch of urgency in his gut. Either they were ten minutes early, or it was someone else. Either way, they couldn’t delay. He swore under his breath. He’d wanted at least some of them to get dressed in the black gear of the IS guards. Now they wouldn’t have time.
‘Caitlin, Naza, come with us. If they see women at the checkpoint they’ll get suspicious. Pallav, you know what to do?’
Pallav nodded.
‘Do what you can to keep everything quiet. There’s no sign that anyone in the compound knows what’s happening. We need to keep it that way.’
The three unit members strode out with Naza. They moved directly to the IS guards’ pickup. It had Arabic writ
ing painted on the side – some kind of IS bullshit, no doubt. But that was good. It meant the guards at the second checkpoint would recognise it easily as it approached. They wouldn’t get suspicious until it was too late. Danny got behind the wheel, rested his Sig on his lap and wrapped his shemagh round his head. Spud took the passenger seat. The women went in the back. Danny knocked the vehicle into reverse as the others obscured their faces with their shemaghs. Then they manoeuvred on to the road and sped forward through the first checkpoint.
He looked in the rear-view mirror. The darkness and the rain made it difficult to judge distances, but he reckoned the approaching convoy was 350 metres from the first checkpoint. He increased his speed a little to 40 kph. ‘Twenty seconds to contact,’ he said.
There were two clicks from beside him and behind him as Spud and Caitlin prepared their weapons.
‘Naza, get down. Stay down, whatever happens.’
‘I’m not—’
‘Do it!’ Caitlin barked.
Another rear-view mirror check. Naza was crouching down behind Spud’s seat. The convoy was 300 metres from the first checkpoint. Up ahead, a single figure had emerged from the second checkpoint hut. Danny could make out that his weapon was slung over his back. He clearly wasn’t suspicious.
Ten seconds to contact. Danny wound down his window, slowing down at the same time.
The vehicle came to a halt. The figure was standing right in front of them. Ten metres from the vehicle. He was squinting, clearly blinded by the vehicle’s headlamps. It meant he couldn’t see who was inside.
‘I’ll take him,’ Danny said. ‘As soon as he’s down, we clear the concrete hut.’
He didn’t wait for a response. With the headlamps still glaring, he opened the side door. He stepped out into the rain, his handgun pointing through the open window.
