Echo Six: Black Ops 8 - ISIS Killing Fields (9 page)

The Iraqi leered. "Perhaps you may learn something, too, Commander. You know you've brought us into the Caliphate? This is ISIS territory, Syria."

"I know where we are. Why did you follow us here? You should have waited across the border inside Iraq."

He stared into Talley's eyes with a belligerent gaze. "I thought you might need our help, Commander Talley. In case you blundered into something you couldn't handle."

He didn't reply at first and glanced at his men. Guy was walking the perimeter, checking for further threats. A man was posted either end of the village, and the sniper, diMosta, was scanning the ground and nearby hills through his scope. Salim's men were still sitting in their vehicles.

Too scared to move without an order? If they carry on that way, they'll die in the first insurgent ambush.

"Captain Salim, it's appreciated. I'll let you know if we need anything. I suggest you take a look inside one of the houses."

The Iraqi officer stared at him for a moment and then stalked across to the doorway of the nearest dwelling. He drew his pistol and went inside. A few seconds later, he came back out and rejoined Talley. His face was expressionless. "A massacre."

"A massacre about sums it up. Captain, I want you to dismount your men, and get them to sweep the surrounding area. There could be hostiles out there, and it would be better than your men sitting on their fannies doing nothing."

The dark eyes flashed with irritation, and he sucked in his stomach as he considered the order. He was a Captain, and Talley had the NATO rank of Lieutenant Commander. Therefore he outranked him. If they were on Iraqi soil, he could maybe have claimed the right to decide how to deploy his men. Except they weren't on Iraqi territory, they were inside Syria.

Strange he called it the Caliphate. As if
they've already lost the battle.

He only hesitated for a moment. "Very well, if NATO requires the assistance of my men, I shall be pleased to give it." He gave an order, and the men began to leap out of their vehicles. A young lieutenant ran up to the Captain and saluted. He spoke in Arabic, but Salim snapped at him to speak in English. "These foreigners don't speak our language, Lieutenant, so we'll keep it simple for them and use English amongst the officers." He stared at Talley. "This is Lieutenant Bino, my second-in-command." He scowled, “Take care, he is a religious man, spends most of his time praying, along with some of his men.”

“That’s not true, Sir. I do my best not to allow my prayers to interfere with my military duties. Some of the men are also devout Muslims. It’s important to them.”

“Devout Sunnis,” Salim grumbled.

He turned away as the young officer saluted Talley. "It's good to meet you, Sir. A pity it has to be in enemy territory." He glanced across at the captive still kneeling, pinned down by Buchmann, "Is that man ISIS? Did he take part in this?"

"Yeah, he is. They butchered, tortured, and raped their way through this village. The heads of the victims are still missing. I've decided to execute him for a war crime."

Salim overheard and came back. "You cannot do that. You would be committing a war crime yourself. We should abort the operation and return at once to FOB Sykes. They'll know what to do with him there."

"Abort the operation? And let a bunch of insurgents come into Iraq?"

The Captain shrugged. "Those are the rules. I don't make them."

"No? I'll show you how to make the rules, pal."

He strode over to the kneeling man and put the pistol to his head. The black clad figure was weeping in terror, pleading for his life. Talley snarled, "I'll give you some of what you gave these people. Difference is, you deserve it. They were innocents."

He pulled the trigger, and the shot seemed to echo off the walls of the dwelling, like an honor guard firing a volley over a casket at Arlington, except this had a poignancy all of its own. The murderer executed at the scene of his crime.

Maybe the ghosts of those people he killed are around
here somewhere. It could even
bring them a degree of closure. Not much, but better
than nothing.

* * *

"Did you see that? He killed my cousin!"

"Yes, Commander, I saw it."

"It's him. The man who killed my cousin Hassan, his name is Talley, Abraham Talley. I recognize him from the photograph."

He pulled out a dog-eared picture printed on cheap paper, part of the photo pack some of the ISIS commanders carried. The printing was streaked and lined, but it was definitely him. Khalil al-Khalil had watched everything from up on the hill, looking down on the village. Now he burned for revenge.

He'd returned to this place to collect the men he'd left to finish sanitizing the village. Not every inhabitant was prepared to submit to the will of Allah, as revealed to the leadership of ISIS. The NATO soldiers had arrived unexpectedly, and then the Iraqis joined them, all of them infidels who dared trespass on the sacred sands of the Caliphate.

He could hardly believe the NATO Commander had shot the man down, killed him in cold blood. Hassan was a distant cousin and a brave fighter. To die like that, gunned down like a common criminal, it was astonishing. Unbelievable.

“He’s dead.”

The man gave him a curious look. “Of course he’s dead. The bullet entered his brain.”

He glared at his runner, Jawad Hussein. "I know Hassan is dead, idiot! I meant the foreigner who killed him is also dead."

"But, Sir, he's still alive. I can see him..."

Al-Khalil gave Hussein a vicious slap to the face. "I meant that he will die very soon, fool! Hasan Jafaar has already given orders to hunt him down and kill him, and I have vowed to make him suffer beyond his wildest nightmares. He will take three days to die, and he’ll spend every minute in screaming agony!"

In his passionate fury, he seized the other man by the throat and squeezed.

"Khalil, I can't breathe!"

He slackened his grip; aware he'd allowed his hatred for the murderer of his cousin to almost make him lose control. "He's dead," he repeated, "Talley is dead."

Jawad was rubbing his bruised throat and sucking in air. "Yes, Sir.”

Khalil grimaced.

Why did Allah allow idiots such as this man to draw breath?

He fought down his anger. "Use the satellite phone. Call our main force, and pass on the order for them to rendezvous with us within the hour. It is time to restart the offensive.”

"Sir, I thought we were ordered to sterilize this region of unbelievers before we embark on any other raids."

"I've changed my mind. Hasan Jafaar made it clear he wants this man dead, so that will be our priority. Tell them to stop on the road two kilometers to the west, and be ready to attack the moment they arrive. We'll meet them there and go in together. Their leader will be the first. This Talley will regret the day he ever set foot in our Caliphate."

"Yes, Sir."

Jawad took the phone and scrambled back down the other side of the hill. Khalil continued watching the foreigners, his anger growing by the minute.

* * *

"You shouldn't have done that."

He looked at Guy and grinned. "I know, but I'll tell you this much, my friend, it felt good. Real good."

"The brass will go ape when they find out."

"They won't find out. There's no one around, just the Iraqis and us. I doubt they give a shit. These people live and breathe violence and death."

“I was just saying, Boss. I wouldn't make a habit of it."

He knew he was in the wrong, but the charnel house they'd encountered in this place had been one brutalized body too far. He forced himself to relax. "Maybe you're right. It'll be dawn in a couple of hours. We'll stop here and take a break, get to know our Iraqi counterparts before we cross back over the border and do what we came here to do."

"Patrolling the border?" Guy raised an eyebrow, "We should be out hunting down the men who did this. I don't give a shit if it's ISIS or the local Sand Sculpture Club. We should locate them and kill them."

"Guy, at least we got one on the scoreboard."

"True, but maybe next time it would be better to take them down in combat. It kinda looks better in the media."

Talley knew his number two was correct. Next time, he'd make sure he did it right, out of sight and preferably in darkness. He decided to call in the unexpected appearance of insurgents, and he looked at Geena Blake. She was still staring at him, her face screwed into an appalled expression.

"Is your box of tricks working? I need to talk to the brass."

She gave him a curt nod. "I'll set it up."

He left her to it. He could have asked Drew Jackson, the commo specialist, but Drew had wandered out of sight into a nearby stone house. Unable to believe the reports of the carnage, he wanted to confirm it for himself. Guy was helping himself to coffee that Lieutenant Rovere had produced from a Thermos flask, as if by magic.

Trust an Italian to be prepared with his own Java.

Domenico handed him a steaming brew, together with the inevitable quote. "Good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be well used."

He took a sip. "It's not wine, it's coffee."

The Italian shrugged. "You should be a lawyer, Boss, arguing over the fine print. Besides, it's Italian coffee. The best."

"Yeah."

He drank it quickly. The coffee was good, and he glanced over at Geena. She was holding up a comms handset, and he strode over to her. Her gaze hadn't softened. "It's Admiral Brooks. He's back in Baghdad, but they patched me through to him."

He took the mike. "This is Talley, Sir."

There was no unnecessary greeting. "You're in Syria."

"Yessir."

"That's not good, Commander. I wanted you on the Iraq side of the border, not running interference with ISIS on their own patch. What's this massacre Ms Blake talked about?"

He explained. Brooks was unimpressed.

"Did I hear you right, Mister? You executed one of their men for war crimes?"

"I did, Admiral. What they did was horrific. Beyond anything I've ever seen before."

There was a frosty silence. "You were out of order, Talley. I'll call you back in one hour. Hold your position. You may have new orders, Brooks out."

He stood around, inspecting the houses, each with its pile of butchered, mutilated, and headless bodies. Then he went to check out the sentries, but Guy had already made it secure. He found diMosta, still quartering the distant dunes and hills with his scope. "Anything?"

He was thoughtful. "I could swear I saw movement up there." The sniper pointed to a low hill a few hundred meters away, "Nothing for a while, but I could go check it out."

"Negative, not unless you see it again. We may be moving soon."

"Back over the border, that'll be a relief."

"They may order us back over the border, or..."

"You think they could want us to attack an ISIS position inside Syria?"

He shrugged. "I hope not, Vince. I sincerely hope not. Not with that bunch of clowns they sent along with us. We're supposed to show them how it works. Some wise guy got the idea that on the job training is best."

"Shit."

"Exactly."

One hour after the first call to Admiral Brooks, Geena called him back, "The Admiral for you."

"Talley, Sir."

Once again, there were no wasted words. "Since you're inside Syria, you can carry on to a new target. It's a fortified village called Al-Amoh, about fifty klicks from your position. Intel is showing reports of an ISIS command center inside, and a garrison of about twenty men. You're to destroy the center, and hold for further orders."

"Yes, Sir. Twenty hostiles, and I have a dozen men in my command."

"As well as the Iraqis."

He didn't answer at first, as he worked out a polite way to describe their allies. "I'm not sure they'll be at any useful fighting readiness, Sir."

Code for 'they couldn't punch their way out of a paper bag.'

"Then you have your work cut out, Commander. Bring them up to readiness, and while you're at it..."

"Sir?"

"Don't kill any more prisoners. Not for any reason, clear?"

"He was..."

"Is that clear, Mister?"

"Yessir."

"Good. Ms Blake has the coordinates of your new target, so talk to her about where you're going."

"What about air support? We could run into serious problems inside Syria."

"The Russian Air Force is running round the clock missions. Anything we send in is in danger of being shot down. Get your men to Al-Amoh, and take down that ISIS command center. When you're done, we'll give you a safe route out. ISIS is gonna be boiling for your blood when they find out what you've done. And Talley! Look after the Iraqis. Remember, they're our allies."

"Yes, Sir."