SAS Para-Ops: MEGA SET - SAS Para-Ops Books #1, #2, #3, #4, #5 & #6

by Casey Christie

  Abdul opened the door and Habab, the IS emissary, swept in and sat down without a word of greeting. He said: “It is confirmed. Your target will be at the place I mentioned, tonight, late at night, I think, so you had better find a good place for yourself.”

  “And for me Uncle” said Ali from his corner.

  Habab turned and glared at the lad and then ignored the remark. “This officer is off duty until tomorrow night and that is why he is going to enjoy himself at that place. This is an unusually good chance for us to get at him so don’t let that boy mess things up.”

  Abdul looked at the thin-lipped man and found it difficult to suppress his dislike for this arrogant and ill-mannered male. “How can you possibly know this?” he said.

  Habab stood up, his eyes flashing with irritation. “None of your business. Your job is to carry out our instructions and to make sure that your impertinent child over there doesn’t miss the target.”

  Abdul stood up, his temper boiling up within him: “You are displaying your ignorance. Ali has the finest kill rate of any of our snipers. He is far more accurate than anyone else.”

  Habab looked taken aback and then snapped: “All credit to your training skills” and he was out through the door and left it open. Seething, Abdul closed it and turned to look at Ali. To his surprise the teenager had a broad grin. Once again Abdul noticed how a heart-felt smile transformed the boy---the sulky features and the grim eyes vanished and he looked just like a happy and mischievous young lad.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The look on his face when you gave him lip. He’s not used to people insulting him. That was very good!” and he laughed out loud with pleasure.

  “Make us some coffee, Ali. And then we must get ready for the job tonight.”

  xxxxx

  Col. Brow glanced at his second in command, sitting opposite him in the canteen. Sam Collins was off duty and he was dressed in slacks and a grey sports shirt and was bare-headed. He was a handsome man, accustomed to female attention, but for the past six months he had been living a celibate life. Brow knew this, and sympathised with the man’s desire to find relief. There were not many female staff and they were all lower ranks. Collins had brightened when the Kurdish woman arrived but she showed no interest in him at all, to his surprise.

  “I’m not so sure that what you are doing is wise, Sam. There is an IS element here, you know that. Going to a whorehouse is a bit reckless” said Brow.

  “It’s a discreet establishment Walt. Bull knows it well and he will introduce me. The Madame is a cousin of his.”

  “I know. That man has got relatives all over the place.”

  As if summoned up, the voice of Bull came from the doorway: “Are we still on?”

  Captain Collins got up to join him and the two men went on their way.

  xxxxx

  Abdul decided against revisiting the ruined building from which they had assassinated the South American, but they soon found an equally advantageous eyrie—on the sixth floor of an abandoned office building. Normal commercial life was limping along these days and many business people had fled to safer surroundings.

  Abdul had considered whether he should keep watch on the main entrance from another place, while the boy took care of the rear entrance, but he decided the odds were overwhelming that an important client like the US officer would at least exit by the more discreet route. So they were both watching it now, sharply clear in their scopes.

  “I wish that Habab would walk out now. I would put a bullet in his mouth” said Ali.

  “Don’t waste your energies on thinking about that idiot. He’s got the kind of authority now that he has only ever dreamt of and he doesn’t have the brains or the background to handle it properly.”

  “What do you mean by background, Uncle?”

  “He used to work in his father’s shop so he just knows vegetables. He had no military or police training and if I remember rightly he never went to school.”

  “I haven’t been to school for a long time, Uncle.”

  “But you have received personal tuition which is better and since I have been with you I have introduced you to good books and given you physical training as well.”

  The teenager beamed. “I’m getting muscles I never had” and he flexed his biceps in his short sleeved shirt.

  xxxxx

  The Iraqi General with the fine head of dark hair and the American Captain with a crewcut walked up to the discreet door at the back of the Palace of Pleasure and within seconds Ali had Captain Sam Collins’s head in his cross hairs but then the other taller, broader, man moved in front of him to open the door and they both went swiftly inside and the door closed behind them.

  “You’ll get him when he comes out” said Abdul. “We couldn’t chance a shot just then and alarm them.”

  “I know Uncle.”

  “I think he’ll be out soon. These men don’t take long to get rid of their dirty water.” He glanced at the boy and saw his quick look of puzzlement. “It’s just an expression Ali.”

  xxxxx

  A smiling Fayha met Bull and his companion before they entered the general reception area and ushered them into the small room with comfortable chairs and a cabinet stocked with drinks. Both men chose a whisky on the rocks.

  Bull introduced Collins and Fayha was warmly welcoming and they spoke in general terms until the Madame sensed that the American’s mind was on other things and she led him into her office where she showed what delectable goods she had on offer—local beauties not yet 20 years old, Yasizis, Russians and even two African girls with burnished black skin and bulbous breasts.

  When the Captain had made up his mind she took him to wait for the girl – an experienced and voluptuous local woman she had insinuated into his mind with her colourful description of her sexual talents. Then she made sure someone would watch the action in case it got out of hand. Now she returned to Bull who had made it clear he wanted to talk with her. Then she brought him up to date with all her news, which ranged from sexual revelations – which he quickly cut short – to political titbits in which he showed great interest and even made a few notes.

  At last he sat back and regarded her with silent intensity and she began to feel a little uncomfortable under this kind of scrutiny.

  He said: “You can help me in a sensitive matter Fayha. You know that young man who killed one of your girls—I want to see him.”

  Her expression showed displeasure: “He will never set foot in here again.”

  “Of course. But how I can reach him?”

  “The man who runs him is Abdul. I have his phone number,” and she fetched her mobile and gave him the number and then she could not restrain her feelings: “Do you want him to kill more people Bull?” and for that impertinence she received a withering glare from the Iraqi General. But then he mellowed and gave her a smile.

  “Nothing important. I just want to find out more about him.”

  To change the subject she asked: “So you are with the Americans now?”

  Bull smiled: “I am with many people. But yes, with the Americans as well. Why do you ask?”

  “We never have Americans. Suddenly we have three. You bring one and there

  are another two Americans. They came at lunch time and they are still here.”

  The door opened and in came Captain Collins, a little flushed.

  Bull grinned at the man. “Feeling better now?”

  “Shut up General!” He asked Fayha for a double Scotch on the rocks and she tactfully changed the subject, talking about the weather until Collins suddenly said: “Man, that girl is good! Wow!”

  Fayha beamed with vicarious pleasure. “Didn’t I tell you she was special?”

  “Extra special” said the American officer. “Truly extra!”

  “Drink up Captain. I have to get some sleep” said Bull.

  xxxxx

  The Iraqi General and the American Officer came out of the special door and stood there while Captai
n Sam Collins lit a cigarette and Ali had him in the cross-hairs of his scope and his finger tightened on the trigger when Sam dropped his cigarette and bent quickly to retrieve it and Ash'abah’s bolt of death slammed into the door, splintering it.

  Bull moved like a veteran of combat into the darkness and out of the sniper’s line but Collins straightened up and stood transfixed in shock and that was when the second bullet smashed into his throat and severed his spine and his head fell askew to one side and he dropped, a lifeless corpse, no longer handsome.

  One second later the American sniper posted by Col Brow at the top of the Palace of Pleasure also squeezed his trigger as he had just seen through his scope the distant muzzle flash of Ali’s rifle in the black of night.

  In their sixth-floor eyrie Ali moved aside with his rifle and Abdul rose from his prone position, rifle in hand, when the American bullet came hurtling in and struck the barrel of the rifle and glanced off to rip along the side of Abdul’s skull and he fell to the floor. His rifle which had been cartwheeling through the air slammed against a wall.

  Ali rushed to Abdul and dragged him to the side, into the shadows away from the window. He was unconscious, breathing heavily, “Uncle, Uncle Abdul, wake up, wake up -- we have to get away from here.”

  Ali slapped Abdul on the cheek, and then again and the older man stirred, groaned and opened his eyes. It took him a minute to fully register. He was bleeding from the wound on his head. With the help of the boy, who was carrying both rifles, he struggled to his feet and they stumbled out of the office and down the steps.

  They had barely made it into the safety of a back alley when the two Americans came loping along and climbed the stairs to the sixth floor where they found two cartridge cases and a few bloodstains. They headed back to the American base. They got there soon after Bull who had heard the unexpected third shot ring out from the top of the Palace.

  xxxxx

  In the ops room Bull found Col. Brow in a quiet fury. The sniper team had already phoned him the news and Brow had immediately sent a team to bring back Sam’s body. He would be given an honourable burial, killed in action.

  “I should have ordered him not to go there,” he said. “But I didn’t want to have to do that because it was a very personal issue. Goddammit!” and he struck a fist into his palm. He looked at Bull: “And you nearly copped it too.”

  Then he said: “I never thought a sniper would be after him. I expected a run of the mill robbery or assault, the sort of thing that often happens near a whorehouse when people come rolling out afterwards. I thought our guys could protect him.”

  At that moment the sniper element walked in and gave a fuller report.

  Sergeant Al Stevenson said: “We recovered these two” and he placed the cartridges on the desk. “There was quite a lot of blood so we winged him. Their guy is very good, to have got off a second shot so quickly and with such accuracy.”

  “You’re dead right” said Bull, “if it is who I think it is, a kid.”

  “A kid!” said Stevenson, disbelief on his face.

  “Yes. He’s only 15.”

  “We have to nail that SOB” said Brow.

  There was a long moment of silence finally broken when Bull said goodnight and went to find his bed.

  xxxxx

  It had been an exhausting journey on foot for Ali who had to support the older, strongly built man for most of the way. It took a superhuman effort to get up the stairs to their room and Abdul collapsed on his bed and was asleep—or unconscious—within seconds.

  Ali found their elementary first aid kit and cleaned the wound and bandaged it, the way Abdul had taught him. While Abdul slept, Ali made himself some bread and cheese. For the first time in his young life he felt the full burden of responsibility. Who could he ask for help? He wouldn’t ask that Habab pig for anything. But on second thoughts he would probably have to, for he was the only contact they had. He harboured bitter thoughts as he waited for a new day and eventually fell asleep.

  At nine in the morning Abdul regained consciousness and Ali gave him water. But Ali was greatly worried because the older man was slipping in and out of consciousness and the wound looked angry. Ali applied more disinfectant.

  The teenager was no closer to finding a solution to their situation, except by asking Habab for help. Judging by what happened after the earlier jobs he would be here this morning to pay them and give them the next assignment.

  And at ten o’clock there was the man’s loud triple rap on the door and Ali opened it and Habab walked in, ignored Ali and produced another fat envelope from his pocket but froze in his tracks as he saw Abdul crumpled in bed with a bloody bandage around his head.

  He said in a peremptory tone: “Abdul!! What the hell are you doing? I’ve got more work for you.”

  “He is very sick Uncle,” said Ali. “A bullet grazed his head and we must take him to hospital.”

  The Islamic State officer glared at the boy, sitting on his own bed, and then replaced the cash envelope in his pocket and said: “I don’t have time for passengers. This man is clearly badly hurt and we don’t have medical care handy.”

  Habab produced a pistol from inside his jacket and straightened his arm and aimed the weapon at Abdul’s head but Ali shot him in the left ear with his own handgun, a .38 and the callous fanatic fell over and made a mess on the floor with his blood and brains.

  The sound of the gun stirred Abdul back to awareness and his eyes widened as he saw Habab on the floor.

  Ali said: “He was going to kill you because you are wounded, Uncle, but I could not let him do that.” Ali bent over the body and retrieved the money envelope and placed it on Abdul’s small bedside table.

  “Thanks be to God Almighty for you, my boy” said Abdul, his words a little blurred.

  “What are we going to do now, Uncle?” asked Ali but his mentor was unconscious again. Ali sat there, worry gnawing at his mind like a poisonous rat.

  At 11 o’clock Abdul’s mobile rang next to his bed but Abdul did not stir. Ali took the phone and said: “Yes?”

  A strong male voice said: “Is that Abdul?”

  Ali did not know the voice. He said: “No. Who is speaking?”

  “I am a friend. You must be Ali. I would like to meet both of you, I have big plans for you.”

  Ali’s teenage bravado shattered and he said: “Please Uncle we need help. Uncle Abdul is badly hurt.”

  The voice asked for their address and Ali gave it to him. The voice said: “I’ll be there in 20 minutes. I will knock on the door two times, then wait and then knock another three times, and then wait and knock four times so you will know that it is me. Then I will help you to get a doctor for Abdul and I will explain how I can improve your life.”

  “Yes Uncle.”

  Ali looked at Abdul but he seemed to be asleep and was snoring lightly. That was good. Now how should he meet this man? He decided to have his rifle at the ready and stand back and to the side from the door, which he took off the latch.

  The room was silent apart from the wounded man’s gentle snore and Ali felt his heartbeat quicken as the minutes went by.

  At the entrance to the building Bull paused for second thoughts. What he was doing was extremely risky. This youngster was like a ticking bomb, accustomed to extreme violence. How did he know the kid would not blast him to Hell as soon as he entered?

  But Bull knew that the kid was really desperate for help. But why? Wasn’t he working with DAESH?

  Bull made up his mind. The boy could be a valuable asset and Bull trusted his own gut instinct and he set off up the stairs of the dilapidated building.

  Ali heard the coded knocks on the door and called out: “Come in!” and then waited where he had stationed himself with his rifle at the ready. The door opened and a big man entered with his hands in the air. Ali could see him clearly, side on.

  “Don’t move! You are the man who was with the American!” shouted Ali.

  Bull turned to look at the nervous
teenager holding the rifle and staring at him with eyes glistening with suspicion.

  “I am General Yusuf Khan of the Iraqi National Army. I have come to help you.” Then Bull noticed the body on the floor and he asked: “Who is that?”

  “An ISIS dog” said Ali. “When he saw that Uncle Abdul was wounded he wanted to kill him but I shot him dead.”

  With this information, everything fell into place in Bull’s mind. The boy was truly desperate and his loyalty had been shaken. Good.

  Bull turned to face Ali and the boy suddenly lowered the rifle and said: “Uncle Yusuf, these Islamic State people are all devils. They do not fight with honour, they just kill because it makes them feel important and they enjoy it.”