Firefight (17 page)

What he was about to do was
haram
, forbidden. A line
from the Koran flashed through his mind:
Whoever takes his
life with a piece of iron will be punished with the same piece of
iron in the hell fire.

The piece of iron he held in his hand was cold. He prayed
silently that Allah would look with forgiveness on what he
was about to do.

And then, the whispered words of the
takbir
repeating on
his lips, he put the cold metal to his head and closed his eyes.

*

It was probably a mistake - Will knew that as he left the
hut. But if Ismail had been telling the truth, he was as much
a victim of the Taliban as Anderson or Latifa. He didn't
deserve a bullet in the head for that, even if it was going
to make their escape more risky. But Drew and Kennedy
had a good head start and Will himself would be out of
the village within minutes.

But his train of thought was shattered by a sudden bang.

A single gunshot.

He flung himself against the nearest wall, looking for the
source of the fire; but intuitively he knew where it had
come from. Poor bastard.

The gunshot, he knew, would attract attention. He had
to get the hell out of there, and fast.

Will upped his pace, skirting around the main square. The
others had left from the north, near the units where they
had been held. Will wasn't going to do that - if anyone had
been roused by the gunshot, the first thing they would do
would be to check on the SAS men. That area would be
swarming with Taliban within minutes. Instead he headed
west, back the way they came, darting down the dark streets
where the huts of the ordinary Afghan villagers were to be
found. Behind him, in the distance, he heard shouts. Thirty
metres away, maybe forty. Too fucking close, in any case. The
dog he had heard earlier began barking; this time, though,
it was joined by two or three others. It sounded like bedlam
back there. Clearly their escape had been discovered.

His breath steamed heavily in front of him and as he ran
along the snowy streets he became aware of voices all around.
He stopped for a moment, listening carefully. They were to
his left and right, but not straight ahead. Will continued to
run.

Ahead of him he could see the generator building where
they had left Ismail earlier that evening. He sprinted towards
it, then hid behind the back wall, which faced out on to
the snowy landscape beyond. But as he held his breath and
listened, he could hear people approaching the generator.
It sounded like two voices.

Will's eyes narrowed slightly as he gripped his Diemaco.

He edged to the corner of the outbuilding, listening carefully.
They were near, but he was sure they hadn't seen him
- they were just searching here on the off-chance. That gave
him the element of surprise. He pressed the Diemaco hard
into his shoulder, then swung round the corner of the building.

He nailed the first of them before the guy even knew
he was there, the suppressed weapon firing a silent shot that
hit him straight in the face. He collapsed like a stone to
the ground. But in the split second Will took to aim his
weapon at the second man, his Taliban pursuer managed to
raise his AK-47.Will released a lethal headshot that brought
the man to the ground, but not before his target had
managed to release a single burst of fire from his own
weapon. It missed Will by several metres, but the sound of
gunshot seemed to echo all round the surrounding countryside.

'Shit,' Will whispered to himself. Everyone would have
heard that and when they found the two Taliban corpses
lying in the snow, they would know which way he had
escaped.

There was no time to hide the bodies. It was now just
a matter of who was quickest. He checked his watch: 01.35.
The others had a twenty-minute start. He
had
to catch up
with them.

Will ran to the back of the generator building and plunged
into the snowy countryside beyond.

Distance was what he needed - distance between himself
and the Taliban. They would be making chase any minute.
They would be on foot. The snow was too deep for any
kind of vehicle, so it would all come down to how much
distance he could put between them. With a pang he realised
that they could well be using the NV goggles they had
taken from the SAS team earlier in the evening: it spurred
him on to move even faster through the snow.

'
Don't look back
,' he whispered to himself. The temptation
to do so was immense, but it would only slow him
down. They'd be on his trail any minute - there was nothing
he could do about his footprints in the snow and the Taliban
would just have to follow them.

He pushed on into the darkness, cursing his decision to
go back for Ismail. Clouds scudded against the silver moon:
occasionally the way ahead would be lit surprisingly brightly
as the moonlight reflected off the snow; but mostly it was
pitch black. Will had to rely on his in-built sense of direction
and hope he was going the right way. At one stage,
the moon peeped out from behind the fast-moving clouds
and illuminated the way ahead. There were footprints - two
sets. Drew and Kennedy, it had to be. He was on the right
path.

He should be catching them up soon. Will would be
moving faster as they would be slowed down by Latifa
Ahmed. Christ, he thought to himself. It was going to be
a relief. Three men's firepower would make him feel a lot
more confident than just his.

He continued to pound the snow-covered earth, his lungs
swallowing great mouthfuls of freezing air as he ran.

At first he didn't hear it; his heavy breath was too loud
in his ears. But eventually the sound was unmistakable. It
was not so much a bark as a yelp. It sounded thin and
desperate.

Dogs. And they were close.

How close, Will couldn't say. He allowed himself a moment
to stop and listen. The wide open space around him meant
that it was difficult to tell which direction the sound of the
dogs was coming from. One moment it would be coming
from the east, behind him; the next minute, it seemed to
come from the north or the south.

'Shit,' he muttered. He started running again. The dogs
would be faster than their masters, but also faster than Will.
And somehow he doubted that all they were after was a
pat on the head and a juicy bone.

As he ran, he prepped the Diemaco. The minute the dogs
came into view, there really was only going to be one
option.

The barking grew louder. It was frenzied and Will tried
to work out how many animals he could hear. Three? Maybe
four? It was impossible to tell: the noise of their yelps seemed
to merge into one great howl of fury. The more of them
there were, the more difficult this was going to be. He
would have to wait until they were close enough to see,
but they would be fast-moving, unpredictable targets. He'd
need to take them all out before they got close enough to
attack.

Will stopped to give himself time to prepare. He turned
round, hit the ground and lay on his front, ignoring the
uncomfortable sensation of cold snow seeping through his
clothes. He pressed the butt of his Diemaco hard into his
shoulder, then surveyed the darkness, waiting for the first
sign of the animals he could hear so clearly, but could not
yet see.

The horrific noise of their barking grew even more frantic.
It was as if they sensed they were close.

They emerged like ghosts from the darkness, silhouettes that
seemed to dart around without coming any closer. Will knew
they
were
coming closer, however. It was just a trick of the
light. As if called to attention by that one thought, the moon
suddenly emerged from behind the clouds and the ground
was illuminated before him like a floodlit football pitch.

He only had a few seconds to take it all in. There were
five of them, running as a pack. One dog strayed a few
metres away from the others, but immediately rejoined
them. It got too close to another of the animals, however,
and was snipped and snarled at by its pack mate. It was
obvious that they were hunting like this out of necessity,
not unity. They were lean and vicious-looking, as if they
had not been fed for many days; even from a distance Will
could see a wildness in their eyes that chilled him.

These were mad dogs. They were hungry and they had
caught the scent of food.

They were about thirty metres away and had not yet seen
Will pressed down in the snow. That soon changed, however.
As soon as they caught sight of their quarry, their snarling
and yelping became hysterical. Their pace quickened as they
bolted towards him. Twenty metres. Fifteen.

One of the dogs was out in front. The leader of the pack.
It took all Will's self-control not to rush the shot. Fifteen
metres was close range, but the target was moving unpredictably.
He kept the gun trained accurately at the head of
the beast and only when he was sure he was on target did
he squeeze the trigger.

The bullet entered the dog's skull with a deadly silence.

As soon as it was hit, the dog raised up in the air. The
animal's forward momentum, combined with the power of
the bullet, caused it to flip a somersault on to its back, spraying
blood from its exploding head across the surrounding snow
and all over the rest of the pack. The remaining four dogs
halted. They looked back at the fallen animal and, as if they
had suddenly forgotten about Will, they turned on its corpse.
Easy meat. As one, they started to rip into the flesh of their
dead pack mate.

'That's right,' Will whispered as he watched the horrific
scene with a crashing sense of relief. 'Get stuck in.'

He started to aim at a second dog. They might have been
distracted, but he wasn't going to leave any of them alive.
His eyes narrowed and he squeezed the trigger.

Click.

'
Fuck
,' Will whispered. The weapon had jammed. He
tried to fire it again, then a third time, but no luck. It was
as good as useless.

Gingerly, he started to push himself up. The dogs were
thankfully distracted, but as he got to his feet, a fight broke
out among them. Two of the animals, more dominant than
the others, started to snap at their mates, warning them off
from helping themselves. The two losers whimpered slightly,
but they clearly understood the pecking order. Low growls
rumbled in their throats; one of them allowed its tongue
to loll lazily from the corner of its drooling mouth; and
they turned to look at Will, who had no firepower now
with which to stop them.

Then they fell silent.

Will swung the Diemaco over his head just as the two
of them, in unison, started to bound towards him. Gripping
the barrel of the gun firmly, he prepared to fight off these
snarling animals using his weapon as a bludgeon. But their
teeth were sharp and they were desperate. He knew his
chances were slim.

It all happened in what seemed like a fraction of a second.
The dog in front leapt at him, just as Will raised the gun
over his shoulder like an axeman preparing to chop wood.
The beast was so close he could smell it and he knew in
that instant that without a working gun, he would be no
match for the animals.

But just as he was beginning to swing the Diemaco, there
was a loud bang from behind him and the dog fell to the
ground, its head blown away. Will felt the animal's blood
spatter over his face as, from behind him, a weapon cracked
repeatedly through the night air, despatching the remaining
three animals with pinpoint accuracy.

Will turned to see a familiar figure lower his Kalashnikov.

'Jesus Christ,' he breathed at Kennedy. 'Leave it a bit later
next time, will you?'

Kennedy grinned. 'Didn't really think you'd need my help
against a few Snoopies.'

'Fucking weapon jammed,' Will spat. 'I'll have something
to say to the armourer when we get back home.'

'Yeah, speaking of which—' Kennedy peered into the
darkness beyond the carnage of the dead dogs. 'They probably
heard the sound of this fucking AK back in Hereford.'

'The Taliban won't be far behind,' Will agreed. 'How far
ahead are Drew and the girl?'

'About a hundred metres. I only came back because I
heard the sound of the dogs - figured they probably hadn't
been let out just for a bit of fresh air and a run around.
Did you find Ismail?'

Will nodded.

'You plug him?'

Will sniffed and looked back towards the village. 'He's
dead,' he said, quietly. 'But it doesn't matter. We've still left
a trail.'

'OK,' Kennedy said briskly. 'I don't think it's far to the
truck now. Let's get moving.'

'Roger that,' Will said with relief and the two men started
running through the snow, leaving the scene of their sudden
and violent butchery behind them.

It only took a couple of minutes for them to catch up
with Drew and Latifa. Drew was carrying her, but still
moving surprisingly quickly. Will did his best not to look
at the woman's face. Drew himself seemed neither surprised
nor pleased to see them; he just spoke as if they'd never
been away.

'I've found the tracks we made on the way in,' he stated.
'We're going in the right direction.'

'We need to up the pace,' Will told him. 'There's Taliban
following. They're not waiting for us at the truck, but they
won't be far behind.'

Drew nodded and silently they hurried on through the
darkness.

It took about ten minutes to get to the truck. Snow had
fallen, leaving a thick blanket over the chassis and drifting
heavily against one side; it had even entered through the
hole at the back where the rear door had been ripped off.
Drew deposited Latifa in the back of the truck, where she
sat gazing expressionlessly into space; then he stood back
with the rest of them. 'We're going to have to dig it out,'
he said.