The Legacy Device

by Rachel Amphlett

  The Legacy Device

  (A Dan Taylor espionage thriller short story)

  Rachel Amphlett

  Copyright © 2017 by Rachel Amphlett

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. While the locations in this book are a mixture of real and imagined, the characters are totally fictitious. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Reading Guide & Checklist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  In ebook, paperback & audiobook

  Also by Rachel Amphlett

  Also by Rachel Amphlett

  Also by Rachel Amphlett

  Missed a book? Download the FREE Official Reading Guide and Checklist to Rachel Amphlett’s books here

  One

  Iraq, 2009

  * * *

  Dan Taylor swore and ducked behind the low pock-marked wall as another hail of bullets scorched across the rough terrain towards him.

  ‘Things can’t even go wrong properly around here,’ he muttered.

  To his left, Mitch Frazer cursed and then let loose with a quick burst from his rifle, before curling up in the culvert that ran the length of the wall, dust covering the skin around his eyes. His mouth and nose were covered by a beige-and-green-coloured scarf identical to Dan’s own, a recent addition they’d adopted to counteract the choking dust from the wind-whipped sand of their environment.

  Dan wondered if he looked as pissed off as Mitch did, the man’s eyes blazing at him from under his scuffed standard-issue helmet.

  He turned his head at a movement to his right to see their captain, David Ludlow, crawling on his elbows and knees along the line of the wall towards them.

  ‘Status?’

  ‘Two hostiles, stone hut to the left,’ said Dan. ‘Suspect three more on the perimeter at eleven o’clock.’

  ‘Bastards.’

  For a fleeting moment, Dan wondered if his superior officer referred to the idiots at Intel, who’d insisted the power facility presented no danger to the team, having been abandoned for the past two months while the local area had once more descended into chaos. Then he realised David meant the hostiles; it was simply his upbringing that prevented him from using stronger language.

  Dan suppressed a smirk and instead focused on the problem at hand.

  For a start, they couldn’t get anywhere near the facility by firepower alone; their armoured vehicle was parked behind a building to their six o’clock position, guarded by the remaining three members of the six-man team in case one of the locals or, worse, one of their kids tried to steal it.

  Their attackers had been well prepared. They’d simply waited until the three men were too far away from the safety of the vehicle to turn back, and then opened fire.

  Dan, Mitch, and David had hit the ground at the first sound of trouble, only saved from instant annihilation by a combination of cover fire from the team taking cover at the vehicle’s flank and the poor aim of their attackers.

  ‘All enthusiasm, no finesse,’ Mitch had grumbled as they’d crawled towards the wall they now sheltered behind.

  Except their attackers were improving and showed no sign of running out of ammunition any time soon.

  Unlike the team.

  Even if they could somehow avoid getting shot and make their way back to the vehicle, extra ammunition was in short supply, and support from coalition troops was highly unlikely given the radio chatter they’d heard on the way over.

  Something about a suicide bomber in a busy marketplace on the other side of the city.

  Dan ducked as a burst of machine-gun fire exploded across the top of the wall.

  ‘What the hell happened to “hearts and minds”?’

  ‘This lot must’ve missed the lecture that day,’ said Mitch.

  Dan glanced at the captain who crouched at his right shoulder.

  David’s jaw was clenched while he rummaged in his webbing before he extracted a creased hand-drawn map. He pulled out a pen and added their current position to it, and that of the store hut. Next, Dan watched as he drew a box depicting their vehicle and then stared at the drawing from all angles before he spoke.

  ‘All right,’ he said and toggled the comms mike that hung next to his mouth. ‘You getting this, Terry?’

  ‘Copy.’

  ‘Right,’ said David. ‘We’ll take on the two idiots behind the stone hut. They seem better trained than the others. We’ll use short bursts alternating between the three of us to keep a steady line of fire.’ He cocked an eyebrow at Dan and Mitch.

  Dan nodded, realising where David’s tactics were leading.

  ‘Terry, the three of you do the same to the hostiles on the perimeter. You’re evenly matched, so concentrate on wearing them down.’ He paused and then added. ‘I have a feeling this attack is based on bravado rather than any tactical training, so let’s see if we can disperse them quickly.’

  David waited until each team member confirmed his understanding of the plan, then pushed his comms mike out of the way, shoved the map back into his webbing, and positioned himself against the wall, ready to strike.

  ‘On my count, Mitch – you’re up first.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘Three. Two. One.’

  Mitch twisted his body, kept his head low, and let loose a volley of rounds at the stone hut, sending the two militants diving for cover as the dirt around them lifted into the air. He dropped behind the wall again, and Dan took his place.

  As he straightened, the larger of the two men next to the hut appeared, his own weapon raised, and fired.

  Dan shrank back, then gritted his teeth and took aim.

  His finger placed a small amount of pressure on the trigger, and the rifle churned in his hands.

  The man stumbled back with a cry, dropping his gun and clutching the side of his face.

  ‘Christ, did you get him?’ asked Mitch.

  ‘Shrapnel from the stonework, I think,’ replied Dan.

  ‘That’ll give them something to think about,’ said David, swinging his rifle in the same direction and firing.

  A second cry from the injured man reached their position at the stone wall, and Dan peered over to see the man clutching his leg.

  Dan’s ears were already ringing from gunfire, but he could still make out the sound of rifles being fired from the direction of the vehicle. A movement to his left caught his eye, and he turned in time to see the three younger militants running away from the perimeter, cutting through the scrub and abandoned buildings in their haste to escape.

  ‘Hold your fire,’ said David, and he repeated the command through his comms mike.

  Silence returned to the site, and Dan swallowed.

  He could never get used to the quiet after a gunfight. Even the birds had disappeared, the blue sky above him empty, tainted by a pale hue from the dry heat that rose from the earth.

  David jerked his chin towards the stone hut, where the injured man was being helped to his feet by the younger man with him.

  The man raised his fist and yelled at the small group of soldiers, then ducked under the injured man’s arm and helped him limp away.

  ‘They’ll be back,’ said Mitch.

  ‘Probably. No sense in hanging about to wait for them,’ said David and pointed at the building. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘
Just another day in paradise,’ murmured Mitch as he passed Dan in a running crouch.

  Dan shook his head and then followed, wondering what else was in store for them.

  Two

  The original order to go to the power facility had come in three hours ago, while they were preparing to leave the safety of the concrete and sand-bagged compound that was their base for the duration of their tour of duty.

  Dan had been in the mess tent, tucking an extra energy bar into one of the pockets on the front of his webbing when David had approached, excitement in his eyes.

  ‘There’ll be a slight detour,’ he’d said. ‘Should be able to fit it in between jobs today.’

  Dan had shaken his head as the young captain had grabbed an apple and then hurried out the tent towards their waiting vehicle.

  ‘You know what that means, of course.’ Mitch’s languid tones carried across the cool space.

  ‘Yeah. Long day,’ said Dan and grabbed a second energy bar before throwing it towards the other man. ‘So fuel up.’

  They’d followed David across the dusty earth between the mess hut and the row of parked armoured vehicles.

  When Dan had arrived at the camp on his first tour, he’d been awestruck by the sheer size of the base.

  The city’s airport had been used as a strategic staging post for the past six years, and since then, coalition forces had quickly sprawled over the area. Now, both the US and UK forces were withdrawing, slowly handing over more and more responsibility to the Iraqi Army.

  Dan and Mitch drew level with their captain as he spoke with a major near the vehicle that had been assigned to them for the day.

  The two superior officers had turned their backs after acknowledging Dan and Mitch, and as they passed, Dan strained his ears to catch what was being said.

  ‘... try to beat the Yanks there, for Christ’s sake,’ said the major. ‘We’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.’

  ‘Understood,’ said David. ‘Is it heavily guarded?’

  ‘Hey.’ Mitch had hit Dan on the arm. ‘Stop eavesdropping. It’s rude.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Dan, but picked up his pace. If he didn’t, David would know his conversation had been overheard.

  ‘Secret stuff?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dan and peeled the wrapper from the top half of one of his energy bars. ‘Definitely off the books, by the sound of it.’

  ‘I’m not surprised,’ said Mitch. ‘I think Ludlow’s got too much political ambition to stay in the army longer than he needs to.’

  ‘Politics?’ Dan checked over his shoulder. David had moved on and was deep in conversation with H, one of the other Explosive Ordnance Device operators who made up the team. ‘I don’t think so. PMC maybe, though?’

  It was a well-known fact around the base that both UK and US private military contractors were successfully recruiting some of the best talent from the coalition forces. It wasn’t a difficult career decision for some – the money was rumoured to be double, or even triple, what the armed forces paid, with better equipment and, often, better support networks.

  ‘Not him,’ said Mitch. ‘Too loyal to Queen and country. Maybe the spooks will have him, though.’

  ‘That’d make more sense.’ Dan chewed through the energy bar and thought about what Mitch had said. David was certainly good at handing out information in a piecemeal fashion, keeping knowledge to himself until such time as he felt it necessary to bring his team up to speed.

  Dan had simply accepted this as the man’s way of working – if he thought the team needed to know something, he told them. If he didn’t, well, they simply had to get on with the task at hand, trusting that he’d tell them when necessary.

  Dan knew, though, that David’s way of revealing information in dribs and drabs frustrated some of the team.

  Especially Terry.

  The older man resented the young captain’s ability to read any situation quickly and effectively, even more so now that the rumours of Terry’s supplying of drugs amongst some of the battalion’s less savoury members had begun to circulate and pick up pace.

  Dan had never managed to work out what the source of Terry’s antipathy had been. He often seemed pre-occupied and sullen, reluctant to participate in the high jinks that often helped alleviate the boredom of being holed up in the heavily-fortified base in between the sheer terror of violent skirmishes and the thought of being killed.

  He was certainly clever. H, the young lance corporal who had joined the small team on this current tour, was fascinated by the man’s ability to reconstruct some of the IEDs they’d disarmed. When Dan had quietly voiced his concern about Terry’s almost unhealthy interest in rebuilding something they’d been tasked with destroying, H had simply shrugged his shoulders.

  ‘It helps intelligence gathering,’ he’d said. ‘At least this way, we get an idea of where they might be sourcing parts from – we can go after the suppliers then, rather than risking our lives dismantling the finished goods.’

  Dan had let the matter rest. He had a lot of respect for the lance corporal, and unknown to H, Dan and Mitch had vowed to look out for him – with a wife and young baby back in England, they were doing all they could to ensure he made it back to them alive, even if it meant putting their own lives in danger.

  A slap on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts.

  ‘Ready to roll?’ a voice roared in his ear.

  Dan grinned.

  Richard ‘Dicko’ Henderson had been a courier driver in London prior to joining the Royal Engineers. Dan had quickly deduced that most of his stories about what he had delivered around the capital were utter bullshit, but the man was a born joker and could often be counted upon to diffuse any tension within the small team.

  Dan finished the energy bar and tucked the empty wrapper into his pocket, then rubbed his eyes and tried to concentrate. Two more weeks and he’d be on leave for a month.

  It wouldn’t be his problem for much longer.

  ‘Well? What do you think?’ Mitch had said as they climbed into the vehicle. ‘More strife for us today?’

  ‘Definitely,’ Dan had replied.

  In hindsight, he realised what an understatement he’d made.

  Three

  Dan left the sanctuary of the stone wall and began to step carefully over the open expanse between their previous cover position and the low-set building in front of them.

  His eyes swept the ground as he walked, his knuckles white as he gripped his rifle. Adrenalin coursed through his body, his chest compressing against the Kevlar jacket he wore with every deep breath.

  Although the intel David had received reported no indication of any mines or other activity in the area, he wasn’t prepared to take any chances.

  Especially after the same intel on which they relied had failed to spot the rag-tag group of gunmen that had appeared upon their arrival.

  The ground beneath his feet was uneven; a mixture of sand, stones, and dried grass that poked up from the earth, thin spindly leaves that were sharp to the touch, almost cactus-like in its ability to grow in the harshest of conditions.

  Here and there, pieces of metal and twisted wire littered the dirt, slowing their progress further as they stopped to make sure no explosive ordnance was hidden amongst the debris.

  Dan shifted the weight of the rifle in his hands, a headache beginning to needle the skin between his eyes. He tried to ignore it. He’d grabbed some water from his canteen, but not before they were safely within the confines of the building.

  He stopped for a moment, raising his eyes to the edifice in front of them, a solid concrete monstrosity that had clearly been constructed to withstand a direct hit.

  No doubt Saddam’s engineers had been directed to ensure that the building would survive even the most ferocious attacks, evidenced by the fact that the structure was the only unscathed building in the immediate vicinity.

  The rest of the buildings around it had been reduced to rubble, first by the Americans’ bombin
g campaigns and then by home-grown looters, desperate to find something to sell or barter in exchange for food and water in the days leading up to the ground troop invasion so many years ago.

  Despite the silence, peppered only with the sound of his, David’s, and Mitch’s footsteps, there was an oppressiveness about the place, an expectancy that something was going to happen.

  Dan could sense it, in the way his heartbeat rattled in his ears, the way his gut twisted.

  This was different than the aftermath of a gun battle; this was the adrenalin spike of a primitive fight or flight instinct.

  Every nerve in his body was telling him to run.

  Instead, he twisted his neck, trying to peer past the fence and perimeter wall, but could see nothing.

  ‘Focus.’

  Mitch’s voice, barely above a whisper, reached him from behind.

  ‘I’ve got a bad feeling about this,’ Dan murmured.

  ‘Me, too,’ said Mitch. ‘So, let’s get a move on and get inside that building. We’re too damn exposed out here.’

  Dan exhaled and turned his attention back to the low-set building. ‘What is this place, anyway?’

  ‘A routing station,’ explained David, joining them. He turned on his heel, his eyes raking the perimeter as he ran his finger under his chin-strap and loosened the material from his sweat-drenched skin and the beginnings of a beard. ‘Computers,’ he added. ‘For their utility companies.’

  ‘What, like water and power?’ asked Dan.

  ‘Exactly.’ David checked his watch. ‘Come on. Clock’s ticking.’

  He led the way across the forecourt of the abandoned structure and flattened his back against the chain-link fence while Mitch used wire cutters to snip a small opening for them to crawl through.