by Chris Ryan
Amir ignored her and turned to the bomb. It looked so innocent — just a khaki-coloured package that nobody would look at twice. He bent down and undid one of the straps that bound it together. It revealed a flap, which he raised. He smiled. Beneath the flap was a digital panel; and below it two very ordinary-looking batteries. Each battery was attached to a wire. Amir connected the free ends of each wire to two terminals just below the digital panel. The screen flickered into life: three red numbers.
00.00.00
Amir nodded with satisfaction. He turned a dial and watched the numbers rapidly increase.
0.20.00
Twenty minutes. Enough time for him to get away and do what he needed to; too little time for the bomb to be found. He pressed the dial inwards. It clicked, and immediately the digital display changed.
00.19.59
The countdown had begun. He replaced the flap and tightened the strap over it. Then he looked up at the girl. ‘Turn,’ he told her.
With difficulty, she did so.
Amir picked up the bomb and approached the girl. As he slung the suitcase over her back, she buckled under the weight. He lifted her up again and continued to fix the bomb to her body. Once he had finished, she was almost bent double.
‘What is happening?’ she gasped.
Amir didn’t reply. He just guided her towards the ledge — gently, not because he felt sympathy for her, but because she carried a precious load.
‘Crawl,’ he told her.
She started to gasp even more heavily. ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘My foot…’
‘Crawl!’
The girl whimpered again, but this time she did what she was told.
The first two metres of the ledge were narrowest, less than half a metre in depth. She moved slowly, shuffling along the ledge like a caterpillar on a leaf. Her bad foot dangled over the side, but Amir knew there was nothing she could do about that. Only when she stopped did he call out to her again.
‘Further!’
No movement.
‘Further, or I shoot you now!’
The girl continued. When she came to a halt again, she was nearly ten metres away from the ravine. Amir’s eyes shone with triumph. With her broken foot, the weight of the bomb and the thinness of the ledge, there was no way she could turn round. The bomb was well hidden, out of reach. All he had to do now was make sure she couldn’t crawl backwards.
He raised his gun. For a moment he considered shooting her, but he didn’t dare: the force of the bullet could send her over the cliff, and he had no idea what effect the water down below would have on the bomb. Instead, he aimed it at the overhanging cliff.
He fired. Two clear shots rang through the air high above the river — each of them making the girl’s body jump as though it had received an electric shot — and a hailstorm of rubble fell from the cliff. The girl screamed as a piece of debris struck her good leg; several other hunks of rock fell on the ledge behind her, blocking the way back.
Amir considered saying something to her. Letting her know that her death was very near. But in the end, he decided not to waste his breath. Leaving the whimpering, trembling girl on the ledge — immobile with the ticking bomb pressed down on her — he turned and started to make his way up the ravine.
Only minutes to go, he thought to himself. The very thought of it gave him extra energy as he hurried away from the very place where the blast was going to happen. The bike, he told himself. Get to the bike now and you might even be able to live. To watch it happen from a distance before making sure his group claimed responsibility for the explosion and the world knew what they had done — the hammer blow against the invaders. The very thought brought a smile to his face as he scrambled up the ravine, leaving the girl and the bomb far below.
Chapter Twenty-three
The British base at Kajaki.
‘How many men can you spare?’
Ricki, Matt and Ben stood at the big metal gates to the base. They had left the truck a good distance away and continued on foot with their arms in the air in order to stop the British soldiers at the lookout posts from opening fire on them. Now, though, the two SAS men had their weapons firmly in their fists and Ricki was talking to the ranking officer at the base.
‘Two platoons,’ the OC replied. ‘Maximum. Any more than that and the base is vulnerable to attack. But listen, the whole of this area is littered with mines. You can’t just send men out there to scour the area — we need minesweeping units, the works—’
Ricki shook his head. ‘Listen to me,’ he said, interrupting, ‘and listen good. There’s a nuclear suitcase bomb somewhere in this vicinity. If we don’t find it, and soon, mine strikes are going to be the least of your worries. The whole dam’s going to go up and everybody at the base with it. How long is it going to take to get your platoons ready?’
The OC — whose face had gone a distinct shade of white — stuttered, ‘Er… twenty minutes, by the time we’ve sorted out the radios…’
‘Get it done. What level of enemy activity can we expect?’
‘Hard to tell,’ the OC replied. ‘We’ve had two patrols out each day this week and no contact. That suggests to me that the enemy are dispersed for the moment. Don’t take my word for it, though…’
Ricki nodded. He turned round and indicated Ben. ‘This is Ben. Take him into the camp and look after him. We’re going out to try and find this guy.’ He started to pull down his night-vision goggles.
‘No!’ Ben said.
Ricki, who had already started to turn away from the base, blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, I’m not staying here. I got Aarya into this mess in the first place, and I’m going to help get her out of it.’ The SAS man started to shake his head, but Ben wasn’t having it. ‘You just said you need more people, Ricki. You’ve got no one for twenty minutes. You can’t afford not to take me, and I don’t want to hang around in the base waiting for the whole place to go up. I mean it, Ricki. I’ve come this far. I want to see it through. I’m coming with you.’
Silence from the SAS men.
‘When Amir saw me,’ Ben persisted, ‘he was angry. If he sees me again, he’ll be furious. It might force him into making a mistake. And anyway, Aarya knows me, trusts me. I could be useful…’
Ricki and Matt exchanged a glance. ‘All right, Ben,’ Ricki said. He sounded impatient. ‘Stay close to me, don’t get creative and keep your eyes peeled, OK?’
He and Matt covered their faces with the NV goggles.
Ben nodded and the three of them set off from the camp. ‘Where do we start looking?’ Ben shouted as they ran over the brow of a low hill and saw the Helmand River come into view, far below. To his right was the dam; even though it was only lit up by the silvery light of the moon, he could tell how massive it was, and how devastating its destruction would be.
A shudder passed down his back.
The three of them came to a halt. ‘We’ll split up,’ Ricki said. ‘Matt, you search this area. Ben and I’ll head south along the top of the cliff.’
‘Roger that,’ Matt replied, and without a second glance he disappeared into the darkness.
‘Walk behind me, Ben,’ Ricki instructed. ‘You know why.’
Ben nodded.
Ricki moved swiftly, his head moving from left to right as he scanned the surrounding area through his night-vision goggles. Occasionally he would stop, holding up one hand to indicate that Ben should do the same. Ben would watch, holding his breath, as the SAS man raised his weapon. He always lowered it again, though, and kept moving.
Ben tried not to think about the threat of landmines; he tried to put from his mind the image of Toby and Jack’s burning truck and instead concentrate on walking in the footsteps of his special forces chaperone. Behind them, he heard shouts in the distance: the two platoons of British army soldiers, he assumed, and he wondered if they would be picking their way through this minefield as bravely as Ricki was. Probably not, he decided, and he wouldn’t blame t
hem.
Suddenly, a noise.
‘What’s that?’ Ben hissed.
Ricki had already heard it. He came to a halt and fell to one knee in the firing position. Ben peered into the darkness, squinting to try and see what it was. There was nothing, so he had to rely on his ears to identify the sound. An engine. A low hum. It sounded like a…
‘Motorbike,’ Ricki said, his voice taut. He raised his NV goggles up onto his helmet and pressed one eye into the hologram sighting system of his weapon.
And then he fired. Once. Twice.
Up ahead there was a noise. A small explosion. Ricki pushed himself to his feet and ran in the direction of the sound. Ben followed close behind.
Ten seconds passed.
Twenty.
And then, in front of them, they saw it.
The motorbike was mangled. The rounds from Ricki’s gun had burst one of the tyres and twisted the rest of the vehicle into a contorted hunk of metal. It was lost on neither of them, Ben realized, that the one thing they couldn’t see was the driver.
‘Wait there,’ Ricki instructed. He moved his NV goggles down again and, weapon at the ready, prowled into the darkness.
Silence. Just the crunch of Ricki’s footsteps on the unwelcoming earth. Ben held his breath. They were close. They had to be. Aarya was nearby. And the bomb…
‘If you say a word, I will kill you.’
The voice hissed in his ear just as Ben felt a strong arm wrap its way around his throat and the butt of a gun press into the side of his ribcage.
‘Amir,’ he breathed. Ricki’s footsteps grew quieter.
‘You are foolish to come here.’ Amir’s mouth was only a few centimetres from Ben’s ear: he could feel the warmth of his breath and smell the sweat on his skin. ‘More foolish, even, than the girl. Now you will die together. We will all die together.’
Ben’s throat hurt: Amir was almost strangling him. But he managed to speak. ‘Just tell me where the bomb is, Amir. You can’t just kill all these people.’
Amir snorted. ‘They would kill me if they had the chance — which they won’t.’
‘But if the dam blows, the whole river will flood. Think about it, Amir. Think what will happen. You won’t be killing British soldiers — you’ll be killing innocent people.’
‘Silence!’ Amir whispered. ‘We are going to move away from here. Walk. Now!’
He pushed Ben away from the wreck of the motorbike. The gun dug deeper into his ribs. Ben didn’t even stop to think. He knew the risk; he knew that he was just the squeeze of a trigger away from death.
But if the bomb exploded, they’d all be dead anyway.
‘Ricki!’ he shouted. ‘Help!’
The noise that came from Amir’s throat was like a snake — a long, sibilant hiss of anger. He clenched Ben’s throat harder — so hard that he found it difficult to breathe. But he didn’t shoot, and within seconds the SAS man emerged from the darkness. He still had his NV goggles on and the extendable butt of his M16 was firmly pressed into his shoulder, ready to fire.
Ricki stopped ten metres from where Ben was held captive. ‘Let him go or I shoot,’ he barked.
Ben sensed that Amir had lowered his head so that it was directly behind Ben’s. ‘Then shoot,’ he said, ‘if you want to kill the boy as well as me. Or if you don’t, turn round and start walking.’
Ricki didn’t move. He was like a statue. His gun was perfectly still and to Ben’s eyes it looked as if it was trained directly at him.
Silence.
Stand-off.
An image flashed through Ben’s mind, from just a couple of hours before — the town of Angoor. Two men lay dead in the street, killed by single shots from Ricki’s gun. The SAS man wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if he thought he could get a direct hit. The fact that he hadn’t fired meant the target wasn’t properly in his sights.
It was up to Ben to change that.
He drew a deep breath. It was difficult because his throat was constricted by Amir’s arm. He would only get one chance at this, he knew. It had to go right.
He gathered his strength.
When he moved, it was with a swift, sudden jerk. Amir was taller and stronger, but Ben had the element of surprise. With all his force, he spun round in a semicircle, taking Amir with him. Now they were both facing away from Ricki, but Amir had his back to him.
The SAS man didn’t hesitate. A single shot was all it required for Amir’s vice-like grip to be released. Ben staggered forward, then turned round, fully expecting to see his captor on the floor. But Amir was still standing. Blood flowed from a massive wound that seemed to have taken away half his shoulder; his face was contorted with pain; but he was still on his feet. His milky eye glowing in the moonlight, he staggered away from both Ricki and Ben, towards the edge of the cliff.
Ricki kept his gun trained on the terrorist. ‘Where’s the bomb?’ he demanded. ‘Tell me now or I’ll finish you off.’
Amir’s head lolled. He kept walking backwards towards the edge of the cliff as blood continued to pump from his wounded shoulder. He said something in his own language: it was little more than a whisper, but it sounded strangely evil.
‘The bomb,’ Ricki repeated. ‘Where is it?’
Amir’s eyes flashed. He looked at Ben with a tooth-filled grin, but there was no pleasure or humour in that smile. None whatsoever. He continued to stagger backwards.
Ricki stepped forward. Amir was at the edge of the cliff now. He had stopped walking back because there was nowhere else to go. Only thin air, and it was clear where that would lead.
‘Tell me where it is,’ Ricki persisted. ‘It’s your only chance.’ He continued to walk towards Amir, his gun pointed at the man’s head.
‘Chance?’ Amir rasped. ‘I do not believe in chance. Everything happens for a reason. That is why I am here. The bomb will explode any minute, and my rewards will be in paradise.’
His grin grew wider. More manic. His white eye bulged as he looked from Ben to Ricki and then back again. ‘You will die now,’ he announced. ‘And so will your friend — if she has not done so already.’
‘Where is she?’ Ben yelled.
But too late.
Amir made no noise as he stepped backwards, his eyes shining with fervour. One minute he was there; the next he wasn’t, like a magician who had made himself disappear.
Ricki and Ben ran to the edge of the cliff. Teetering on the brink, they stared down into the void below. Ben had no idea what Ricki could see with the aid of his night-vision; all he knew was that he himself could see nothing but darkness.
Seconds passed. Amir did not scream as he fell. He went to his death without a sound.
There was a moment of utter silence.
And then, from nowhere, Ben thought he heard the sound of a girl shouting.
Chapter Twenty-four
‘Aarya!’ he whispered.
Her voice was faint. Weak. It seemed to drift around them, floating in the night air like a ghost. Ben couldn’t tell which direction it came from, nor could he tell what she was shouting.
‘Get to the bike,’ Ricki said, his voice clipped and urgent. ‘We’ll try and follow his footsteps back from there.’
They ran. All thoughts of landmines had disappeared from Ben’s head with the new urgency of the situation. Aarya was nearby and she was their only hope — their only link to the bomb.
The twisted metal of the motorbike was still smoking from the impact of Ricki’s rounds against the engine. The two of them stood by it and listened hard, trying to tune in their ears to the sound of Aarya’s voice.
Nothing. Ben looked around, desperately trying to see where the shout might have come from; but he was just staring blindly into the night. Ricki had a different strategy. He was staring at the ground, his knees bent and his back arched, like someone on the trail of a wild animal.
‘Over here,’ he said suddenly.
‘What?’ Ben asked.
‘The ground, it’s been disturbed. L
ook: indentations. Footprints. He came from that way.’ Ricky pointed away from the bike back towards the dam. ‘Come on,’ he instructed.
They moved swiftly. Occasionally Ricki stopped to examine the ground, searching for a displacement of the earth before carrying on. But he never stopped for long. Soon they came to what looked like a crack in the ground, a deep ravine that led downwards and towards the edge of the cliff.
‘Quick,’ Ricki said. They climbed down into the ravine and the SAS man took the lead. He clambered expertly down the V-shaped crack, stopping only to check that Ben was all right and still close behind him. Ben heard his own breath heavily in his ears. His heart was thumping, his senses on high alert.
‘Stop!’ he said suddenly. Ricki looked at him. Out of the silence, they heard the voice once more. Louder this time, but little more than a wail. ‘It’s her,’ Ben said. ‘It’s Aarya. I know it is.’
They hurried down the ravine.
The river. There, below them. The ravine had emerged right on the cliff face, and Ben felt a moment of wooziness as he looked out over the water so far below. The dam itself was less than a hundred metres away. He and Ricki looked at each other, and as they did so, Ben felt a sudden sense of desolation. There was nothing here. No sign of—
Suddenly the air around them was shattered by the sound of a girl’s voice. Aarya’s voice. Wailing. Close. Incredibly close. Ben looked to his right. A tiny ledge. And at the end of the ledge…
‘Aarya!’
There was a figure huddled in the darkness. Ben’s eyes penetrated the gloom. It was her all right. He couldn’t see her face, but he could see the outline of the suitcase bomb, cylindrical on her back as she was pressed down underneath it.
‘Ben?’ Her voice sounded impossibly weak. ‘How did you find me?’ And then, ‘Amir, he’s—’
‘Don’t worry about Amir,’ Ben called. ‘He’s… he’s been dealt with, OK?’
‘But the bomb,’ Aarya gasped. ‘It is going to go off.’
