by Chris Ryan
Danny forced his eyes from the wound to the corpse’s face. It was grotesquely contorted. But recognisable. A young girl. Spots on her face. Naza.
A guard opened the doors to the two cage cells. The door to the enclosed cell that had been Danny’s was still ajar. Danny noticed as he passed that nobody had bothered to clear out the dead bodies. Not that he cared. His attention was on Caitlin, now walking at gunpoint beside him.
Her eyes were glazed. She hadn’t yet recognised the kid.
And then, suddenly, she did.
It was as though someone had flicked a switch. Caitlin suddenly lashed out against the nearest militant, grabbing the barrel of his rifle. ‘You cunts!’ she shrieked. ‘You fucking cunts!’
A second guard ran up to her and thumped the wound on her arm with the butt of his weapon. Caitlin screamed again – but with pain this time.
Danny grabbed her. She was struggling badly. The dog started to bark. Danny held up a conciliatory arm to the gunman – any movement now, he knew, and they would start squeezing triggers. ‘It’s OK,’ he shouted. ‘It’s OK . . . she’s not going to do anything.’
The gunmen were nervous and sweating. They started shouting, and forcing them towards the two cage cells, separated from each other by thick iron bars. Malinka was thrown into the left-hand one, Danny, Spud and Caitlin into the right. Danny understood the logic of separating them like this. These militants wouldn’t want anybody killing anybody else before their boss gave the word. It would be more than their own lives were worth. At the same time, they didn’t want to use Danny’s original cell, because they wanted the psychological effect of Naza’s body to do its work.
The doors to the cage cells clanged shut. The militants locked them. With dismissive sneers at their incarcerated prisoners, they left the block. There was silence, broken only by the grotesque buzzing of the flies that swarmed on Naza’s body, the sound of Caitlin hyperventilating, and the occasional growl from the dog.
Spud turned immediately to Danny. ‘They said they’re holding your kid to keep you compliant. But you know that’s bullshit? The moment you’re dead, they’re going to kill Clara and Rose. You know that, right?’
Danny barely trusted himself to speak. ‘Of course,’ he said. He moved to the front of the cage and examined the lock. It was a sturdy mortise bolt, deeply inset. Difficult to pick, even if they had had the right tools.
‘We’ve got five militants plus Dhul Faqar,’ Spud said.
‘For now,’ Danny replied without emotion. ‘They’ll call for reinforcements.’ He was only half aware that Caitlin was utterly silent. She looked like death warmed up. Her wound must be badly infected. No question. It was bringing her down.
He turned towards the other cell. Malinka was in the far corner. She was pale. Frightened eyes. Sweat on her brow. She was staring into the middle distance. One of the flies was crawling across her face, but she didn’t appear to notice. Danny couldn’t help a creep of revulsion. If Dhul Faqar was right, and this was an American spy, she was in so deep that she was hardly any better than the IS scumbags whose ranks she had infiltrated. She’d been more than happy to sacrifice Danny, Spud and Caitlin. And she had encouraged Dhul Faqar to kill his daughter.
It was almost as if Spud was reading his mind. He put one hand on Danny’s arm. ‘Easy mucker. We might need her.’
His voice seemed to bring Malinka back to the here and now. She looked sharply towards them. ‘We’re dead,’ she said. ‘We’re all dead.’
‘You stupid bitch,’ Danny breathed. ‘We could have had you out of here.’
She gave him a contemptuous look. ‘You think I was just waiting around for my knight in shining armour? You don’t know what I’ve had to suffer to infiltrate these animals.’
Danny looked towards Naza’s body, still hanging at the front of the cage. ‘More than her?’ he said.
Her eyes steamed with anger. ‘You don’t understand.’ She strode towards the bars. She was suddenly close enough for Danny to reach through, and he felt a bomb of anger blow inside him. He slammed violently against the bars, pushing his hands through to grab her. Malinka jumped away just in time. The dog barked loudly.
‘I should fucking kill you right now,’ Danny whispered.
‘What difference would that make?’ she replied, her voice hoarse. ‘Look at you, so arrogant. You don’t know what’s coming, do you? You saw that Yazidi girl, tied to the post? You know how she’s spent the last two months. Raped, every day. Vaginally, anally, sometimes twice a day, till she bled like a slaughtered pig. If Dhul Faqar is in the wrong kind of mood, she gets half the life beaten out of her. And when he grows bored of her, which he will very soon . . .’ She pointed at the body of the strung-up Kurdish girl. ‘You’ve seen how he and his men get their kicks.’
‘Why didn’t you help her?’ Caitlin asked. Although her voice was distinctly slurred, she still managed to sound threatening.
‘Because it would have blown my cover.’ Malinka spat. ‘But what she went through, that will be nothing compared to what’s waiting for me.’ She paused. ‘And for you, it will be even worse.’
‘Maybe not,’ Caitlin muttered. She sounded weak.
Malinka spat again. Caitlin walked to the front of the cell. Here, Naza’s left ankle was tied by a rope to the bars. Caitlin untied it, ignoring the growling dog. Naza’s leg fell stiffly away. Holding the half-metre length in her hand, Caitlin turned to Malinka. ‘When they come,’ she said, ‘we can use these to throttle them.’ She pointed at the rope tying Naza’s right ankle to the front of Malinka’s cage. ‘I need that one too,’ she said, her speech slurred. ‘Untie it for me.’
Malinka looked at Danny, who was still by the bars. She clearly didn’t want to get anywhere near him. Caitlin turned to him. ‘Get away from her,’ she said.
What was she doing? These ropes would be no good when they were at gunpoint, and Caitlin surely knew that. She must have something else in mind.
Danny stepped back. Spud too. Caitlin turned again to Malinka. ‘They’re not going to touch you,’ she said. ‘Now get me that rope.’ She staggered slightly against the bars, and for a moment her eyes glazed over.
Malinka hesitantly advanced towards Naza’s body. She was trembling, and kept looking anxiously towards Danny.
‘Hurry,’ Caitlin hissed. ‘They could enter any minute.’
Malinka reached Naza. With clumsy, trembling fingers she loosened the rope.
‘Give it to me,’ Caitlin said, and she passed her bad arm, which was still carrying her own piece of rope, through the bars.
Still carefully watching Danny, Malinka stepped towards Caitlin.
Caitlin moved like lightning. She thrust her good arm through the bars and quickly hooked it round Malinka’s neck. Malinka slammed forward against the bars, which shuddered and clanged. Caitlin swiftly wrapped her rope round Malinka’s neck, and pulled the loose ends back through the bars.
‘What the hell’s she doing?’ Spud demanded. ‘We might need her!’ He surged forward to pull Caitlin away, but Danny stopped him. Caitlin might be going downhill fast, but she was still managing to think smart. And Danny reckoned he knew what she had in mind.
‘She’s buying us a way out of here,’ he hissed.
Nineteen
A sick, throttled sound escaped Malinka’s throat as Caitlin twisted the two ends of the rope. Her hands flew up behind her head and she tried to grab hold of Caitlin. Her red-painted nails were chipped, but they were still sharp enough to dig into Caitlin’s skin and draw blood.
‘Wait,’ Danny said. ‘Loosen it a bit.’
‘We need to do it quickly,’ Caitlin mumbled, her dirty hands bleeding. ‘These IS – they’re going to move us from here any minute – as soon as we’re reported missing, this place is a target, and they’ll know that.’
She was right. And as soon as they were trussed up and bundled into the back of a vehicle, their options would be severely limited. But Danny needed to get something straight. �
��How did he get my CIA file?’ he demanded. ‘Did you give it to him?’ When Malinka didn’t reply, he strode towards her and whispered in her ear, ‘You want to live, you’d better answer me.’
‘Why would I have your CIA file? I’d never heard of you before today.’
‘Then who—’
‘He made contact with Langley while you were in there.’ She pointed to the cell in which Danny had been incarcerated. ‘He demanded to know why he was under attack by Western forces. Langley denied all knowledge so he emailed your photographs. The other two came back a blank, but the CIA identified you and supplied your file.’ She drew a deep breath.
Danny could tell the rope was still tight by the constricted tone of Malinka’s voice.
‘Why would they do that?’ he demanded.
‘They’re doing a deal,’ she croaked. ‘The CIA want IS out of northern Iraq and into Syria.’
‘Why?’
‘To . . . to destabilise the Russian-backed Syrian government, and to give America control of the Iraqi oilfields.’
‘Jesus,’ Danny breathed. He glanced at Spud and Caitlin in turn. They both looked thunderstruck.
‘Fucking Yanks,’ Spud hissed. ‘How many boys do we know who’ve been killed by IS, and the Americans are getting into bed with them?’ He looked sickened. Danny felt the same.
‘What do IS get in return?’ he demanded. ‘What’s in it for them?’
‘The Americans agree not to target the oilfields they control in Syria – at least that was the plan. Now he knows I’ve been spying on him for the Americans, things will change . . .’
Danny let that sink in for a couple of seconds. His mind was spinning with this new information. Focus, he told himself.
‘What do you know about my daughter? Where is she? Who’s got her?’
Malinka let out a heavy wheeze and then: ‘He never shared that kind of information with me.’
Caitlin twisted the rope harder.
‘I swear . . .’
‘What about the strike on London?’
‘Westminster,’ she gasped. ‘Christmas Day.’ She was trembling.
‘Are you the CIA’s source for that information?’
‘Of course.’
The dog started to bark. Danny glanced nervously at the door. Then he looked at Caitlin and nodded.
Caitlin twisted the rope, a full revolution plus a little more until the rope squeaked. Malinka’s neck squeezed hard against the metal bar. A desperate, croaking sound escaped her throat. Her hands shot up to her neck, and she tried to worm her fingers under the rope. Impossible. Caitlin twisted it harder. Her knuckles were as white as her face, and she was sweating badly. The flesh of Malinka’s neck grew thicker, bulging out from the edges of the rope. Her skin turned blotchy and purple. She was flailing her arms now, but weakly.
Caitlin gave the rope a final twist. It only turned a few millimetres, but it was enough. Malinka’s arms fell to her side and her body slumped. ‘That was for the women,’ Caitlin whispered.
‘Keep it tight,’ Danny warned her. He put his arms through the bars and grabbed Malinka’s left wrist, feeling for a pulse. It was weak, but it was there. She wasn’t dead yet.
Seconds passed. The buzz of the flies crawling over Naza’s body seemed to grow a little quieter. Danny kept his fingers pressed into Malinka’s wrist for another ten seconds, until . . .
‘She’s dead,’ he said. ‘Ease her down to the ground slowly. She needs to stay close to the bars.’
Caitlin loosened the rope, but did not untie it completely. She kept a grip on it as Malinka’s body slumped down the bar, into an awkward heap on the floor. She unwound the rope and staggered back.
‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’ Spud said.
‘Dhul Faqar only has five guys left,’ Danny replied. ‘He’s not going to waste more than one guarding us when he knows we’re locked up. And whoever’s on the other side of that door isn’t going to want one of us to snuff it on his watch. When he sees her like that, my money’s on him entering the cage to try to revive her. When he does . . .’ Danny left it hanging. ‘We need to stand away from the body until the right moment. Spud, make some noise.’
Danny and Caitlin moved to the far side of the cage. Spud moved to the front. He pounded his fist against the cage door, which rattled in its frame. It disturbed the flies on Naza’s corpse, which swarmed momentarily before settling again. It also disturbed the dog, who went into a frenzy of barking and growling. ‘Oi!’ Spud called. ‘Abdul! You might want to look at this.’
Silence. Spud rattled the door frame again. The flies swarmed for a second time. ‘Hey! Get in here!’
The door to the incarceration block opened. One of the militants entered. He wore an irritated frown, and barked something in Arabic. His AK was hanging carelessly across his front. Spud pointed to the crumpled form of Malinka in the adjoining cell. The militant peered over at it. His frown deepened, and he couldn’t disguise the look of worry on his face. He closed the door with his heel and ran over to Malinka’s cell, opening it quickly with a sturdy key on a chain clipped to his camouflage trousers. He lunged inside, and seconds later was kneeling by Malinka’s body, two fingers pressed against her jugular.
Distance to the bars that separated the two cells: four metres. Three paces. Danny was a big man, but he could move fast. He estimated it would take him a second. Then he’d need to get his hand through the bars to grab the militant. Another second. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t like his odds. Two seconds was ample time for someone to retreat from Danny’s reach, if they saw him coming. But this guy was panicking. Badly. If Danny moved now, he had a chance.
He thundered across the cell. He was practically against the bars by the time the militant looked up. He thrust his right arm through a gap in the bars just as the militant started pushing himself to his feet. The militant was angling backwards, but Danny managed to catch his left wrist in a firm grip.
And that was all he needed.
Danny yanked hard. The militant tripped over Malinka’s body as his face crashed against the bars. He shouted out in surprise and pain: that was the last noise he made. Danny thrust his left arm through the bars and hooked it round the back of the militant’s neck. Then he released his right arm, pressed the heel of his hand against the man’s forehead and gave a sudden, sharp, brutal push. The militant’s head snapped back, and there was a crack as the top of his spinal cord split. He went into a crazy spasm, arms and legs flailing, body shuddering. Danny kept his arm crooked firmly round his neck, the face pressed up against the bars as the spasm subsided.
Five seconds later, the militant was still. The tally in Danny’s head changed: four guys left. He allowed the corpse to slide down the bars, just as Caitlin had done with Malinka, and carefully released the man’s neck at floor level so the body rested at the foot of the bars.
They needed his weapon first. Their captors could notice at any moment that the incarceration unit was unmanned. If that happened, they’d be in here. Danny unclipped the dead man’s AK from the sling round his neck, held it vertically and pulled it through the bars. Spud was at his shoulder, ready to accept the firearm. Danny handed it over and was aware, in his peripheral vision, of Spud moving to the front of the cell, kneeling down in the firing position and poking the barrel through the front bars in the direction of the door. Danny himself focussed on the dead man’s keys. They were still hanging from a chain in the pocket of his camo trousers. A solid tug and they were away. He moved to the front of the cage. Unlocking the door would be awkward. There was no keyhole on the inside. He had to crook his arm through the bars again and insert it from the opposite side. The dog went crazy: constant, aggressive barking. Anyone who heard it would know something was happening—
The main door opened. A figure entered. His weapon was raised. Danny didn’t even glance towards him. He knew Spud had them covered. There was a pause of a fraction of a second as Spud let the guy cross the threshold, then a loud report from the un
suppressed AK as he released a single round into the newcomer’s chest. The militant fell to the ground just as Danny got the cage door open.
The dog continued to strain, growl and bark. Spud turned his weapon towards the animal and silenced it with a single round.
Three militants left, plus Dhul Faqar.
With Spud still covering him, he ran to the bloodied form of the new corpse and helped himself to the man’s rifle. Then he looked back at his unit-mates and jabbed a single finger towards the exit, before installing himself in the firing position at the threshold of the door.
Evening had arrived. The light was failing. Danny could hear the engine of a vehicle turning over, somewhere off to his left. Caitlin was right – Dhul Faqar and his men might be preparing to move. They would have decided that this location was heavily compromised. Danny realised there was a chance that the sound of the engine had masked the report of Spud’s AK. From the doorway he had line of sight across the open ground towards the two observation posts. They were unmanned. There was no movement anywhere that he could see.
Options. Move out of the incarceration unit. Methodically search the compound until they came across the three remaining militants. Then make a move on Dhul Faqar, who would probably still be in his personal quarters until it was time to leave. He felt his eyes narrowing at that option. Only he and Spud were armed. Caitlin was fading. They couldn’t leave her alone, but she’d be a hindrance if they started to comb the area. Option two: stay here. Draw the guards in. Pick them off as they entered the incarceration unit—
The car engine suddenly stopped and a different noise reached him. Screaming: a woman. It could only be the Yazidi slave girl. It sounded to Danny very much like Dhul Faqar was having a final bit of fun before the time came to leave. It meant that for the Yazidi girl, time was running out.
