Kill or Capture (3 page)

Danny joined him and they targeted another open door. Jacko edged forward and aimed through it. The next room was darker still. Heart in his mouth, finger on trigger, he stepped through. Rapidly sweeping the room, the beam of light fell upon a huddle of frightened faces in one corner — the women and children. Then it lit a pile of cushions. They moved. Jacko saw the barrel of an AK-47 emerge and he let rip. The cushions danced as stuffing flew out from the bullet holes. A Taliban fighter groaned and rolled out from among them. “Clear!” Jacko shouted.

“Get back up here,” Connor responded. “We’ve got more trouble.”

A Taliban sniper was spotted on a distant rooftop. He held his rifle up to his shoulder, ready to fire on Baxter’s marines when they moved into his field of fire. Sam pulled his M110A1 semiautomatic sniper rifle tightly to his shoulder, took aim and fired. The crouching Taliban sniper fell forward and dropped over the parapet to the street below. Sam’s feeling of satisfaction was short-lived.

“Incoming RPG from top of mosque minaret,” Ben yelled, dropping flat.

Connor saw it too, but quickly realised it was Baxter’s men being targeted. The RPG hit a building opposite. The blast collapsed a wall down onto several of the men below. Seconds later he heard Baxter over the radio shout frantically, “Man down! Man down! Bring in the heavy armour now. Need urgent casualty evac.”

As the dust cleared, Connor could just make out Baxter pulling a marine from beneath the rubble.

With Jacko and Danny rejoining the others on the roof, they concentrated fire on the minaret until certain the Taliban with the RPG had been taken out. Connor decided to make a dash over the remaining forty metres to the square. Reaching for a smoke grenade, he activated it and threw it so it spun through the air discharging a broad yellowish cloud of dense smoke. Connor led the team forwards, ducking under clothes lines, knocking aside old plastic chairs and jumping over stone parapets. They fired at insurgents on the surrounding rooftops as they moved until they finally reached the roof overlooking the square. Crouching and hurriedly reloading, they took in the scene below.

“What the hell…?” Ben exclaimed as he smacked in a fresh ammo magazine.

Connor was struck by it too. Although a pall of smoke from burnt-out vehicles hung over the square, he could see six bodies in ANA uniform. None resembled Khalid. The square was utterly deserted. Even the Taliban snipers seemed to have melted away. The scene felt unreal. “Sparks, try raising Colonel Khalid on the radio.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Baxter, where are you?” Connor shouted into his helmet microphone. “I can’t see you or any of your men. Baxter… Come in, Baxter, over.”

“Sir, Khalid’s not responding,” said Sparks.

There was no reply from Baxter either.

Within five minutes the square filled with tanks, armoured personnel carriers and ISAF troops from both Alpha and Bravo Company. The area was quickly sealed off. It took just another five minutes for Connor to realise that Colonel Khalid had vanished, along with Sergeant Baxter.

“We’ll find them, sir,” said Danny.

“Don’t count on it,” Connor responded. “I reckon Jabir had this all thought through.”

“But why take Khalid and Baxter?”

Connor squinted up at the burning sun.

“That’s the million dollar question. What exactly is Jabir up to? Somehow, I have a horrible feeling this is just the beginning.”

Deep in the Arghandab valley north-west of Kandahar, between the Loy Wiyala canal and Arghandab River, a battered old Lexus saloon rumbled along a stony track leading to the remote village. Either side lay pomegranate and grape orchards laden with ripening fruit, and fields of wheat and poppies crisscrossed by irrigation channels and wadis. The Lexus pulled into a walled compound and stopped. Two ANA soldiers climbed out of the front and Jabir's nephew, Shafiq, from the back. They were greeted by a tall, slim man emerging from the house; Jabir's brother, Faisal.

“We did it, Father,” Shafiq declared. “Come!”

Running to the back of the car, Shafiq opened the boot. Inside lay Colonel Khalid and Sergeant Baxter, their mouths taped, their heads hooded, their wrists and ankles bound.

Faisal peered into the boot and grinned with delight. “Allah be praised, Shafiq, once again you have proven yourself to be worthy of our cause.” More Taliban emerged from the building and he issued instructions. “Take the prisoners to see Jabir.”

While Khalid and Baxter were manhandled from the boot and dragged indoors, Faisal turned to the two ANA soldiers. “I trust you weren't followed.” They shook their heads. “Good. Come with me. I will get the money you are owed.” He led them into an outbuilding, drew his pistol and shot them both at point-blank range.

Shafiq had followed on his father's heels and was shocked by what he saw. “But they were loyal to our cause.”

“True, but they knew too much. We couldn't risk them betraying us. They are martyrs, Shafiq. Now, I must join the others. I'll leave you to burn the bodies and dispose of the car.”

Inside the farmhouse, Khalid and Baxter were dragged in front of Jabir, who was reclining on a pile of cushions and eating chunks of bread he'd dipped into a bowl of shorwa: a thin, oily broth. He licked his fingers before signalling for their hoods to be removed and the tape covering their mouths to be ripped free.

Shaken and disorientated, both Colonel Khalid and Sergeant Baxter were unsteady on their feet.

“You'll pay for this, Hassani,” Baxter snarled defiantly, struggling to tear his bindings loose. Ibrahim slammed the butt of his AK-47 into Baxter's back. The sergeant crashed to his knees.

Jabir popped a juicy grape into his mouth, chewed a moment, and then spoke. “Welcome to my humble home. I trust your journey was… uncomfortable.”

“What do you intend doing with us?” asked Khalid fearfully.

Jabir called out, and moments later a burly Taliban fighter entered the room clutching an impressive, ornate sword. Jabir rose to his feet and took the sword. He touched the curved blade to the colonel's exposed neck. Khalid froze.

“It is very simple,” Jabir sneered. “I have a list of demands. You shall read them out. We will video you. ISAF and the Afghan government will have one week to comply.”

“Or?” Khalid dared ask.

Jabir moved forward, the sword blade nicking Khalid's neck. The colonel gasped. But the tip struck the wall behind him, skewering a wolf spider that had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the right time. “Or else you will both die!” Jabir warned.

General Patterson was in the Ops Room at Camp Delta. With him were Major Connor and two men from CENTCOM’s Intelligence Unit. They were huddled round a laptop viewing Jabir’s video again. It had been widely distributed to the media and posted on YouTube. The whole world knew about it. Millions had seen Khalid and Baxter on their knees, reading out the demands. Jabir stood over them, his sword held above their heads.

Patterson turned away and paced the room. The heat was getting to him. Jabir’s demands were impossible to meet. “It’s ridiculous! Jabir’s mad. He wants all foreign troops out of Afghanistan. He wants all Taliban prisoners released from prisons in Kabul and Lashkar Gah, and the return of all detainees at Guantanamo.” He turned to one of the intel guys, Lieutenant Sharp. “You said you had some good news?”

“Yes, sir. We believe some rogue ANA helped the Taliban get Khalid and Baxter out of the old town. Two have gone AWOL. Routine drone reconnaissance feeds recorded a vehicle containing two ANA and a youth heading west into the Arghandab valley. They passed unchallenged through a checkpoint manned by other ANA who have since been arrested and are undergoing questioning. Also, we believe Jabir Hassani has made a fatal error. We’ve traced the location where the video was uploaded from. It’s in the same valley. A compound at a remote farming village. We’ve briefed Major Connor and he’s come up with a plan.”

“Well?” Patterson eyeballed Connor. “Can we get them out alive? The Afghan president insists we do everything we can, or else there will be dire consequences.”

Connor inspected a detailed map on the wall of the Ops Room. “This is where we think they’re being held, sir.” He pointed.

Full of impatience, Patterson interrupted. “Right, Delta Force can helo at night and kick some butt. Just tell me what you need, major.”

Connor shook his head. “No, sir. That’s precisely what Jabir will expect. He’ll hear us coming and kill the hostages — assuming, of course, they’re still alive. Jabir’s not prone to making mistakes… like revealing his whereabouts by letting us trace the location they accessed the Internet from. Unless…”

Patterson frowned. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

“Unless it was deliberate, sir. Jabir wants us to know the location. He’ll expect us to attempt a rescue. It’ll be a trap.”

Patterson’s shoulders sagged. “Then what do you suggest?”

“The Canadians have a small Forward Operating Base five kilometres from the target, sir, FOB Crossbow. They’ve been having a rough time lately with Taliban snipers and nightly incoming mortar fire. I’ve spoken to their commander and he tells me that they control barely a kilometre in any direction. Venture any further and they get attacked, and the area is littered with IEDs. If we launched an assault from there on foot, again we’d quickly run into trouble. However, they are close to the river. That’s the key, sir. I’ve broken the mission down into stages. From FOB Crossbow we carry lightweight collapsible canoes to the river. The guys from Crossbow are willing to clear our route of IEDs and insurgents. Then we paddle upriver to a location just a few hundred metres from the farming village. From there we go in silently, and hard. With the cover of darkness we’ll retain the element of surprise.”

“I like it, major, I like it a lot. How quickly can your team be ready to move?”

“Twenty-four hours, sir. Lieutenants Alvarez and Crow are making the necessary arrangements. We’ll have air support available to pick us up once the target area and hostages are secured. But…” Connor hesitated.

“What is it, major?”

“I reckon Jabir’s up to something. There has to be more to this. Either he’ll move the hostages or he’s simply using it as a diversion for something else.” Connor turned to the men from Intelligence. “Is there anything I should know about? Anything supposedly being kept secret?”

“No, sir. Except, well, I’m not sure it’s important.”

“What?”

“The Afghan president is scheduled to make a visit to the area the day after tomorrow. It’s the official opening of a major new section of canal and irrigation network beneath the Dhala dam. He’s going to make a keynote speech about how big construction projects can improve the lives of ordinary Afghans.”

“Goddamnit, that’s it!” Connor felt like he’d just solved a really tricky crossword puzzle. “That’s Jabir’s real target; the Afghan president. You must cancel the visit — but cancel it right at the last moment so as not to alert Jabir that we’re onto him. And send in overwhelming force. You mustn’t let Jabir slip through your net.”

General Patterson grimaced. “Impossible. The Afghan president won’t cancel. He always refuses to show weakness, and there are elections looming. We’ll just have to try to keep him safe. Leave that to us, major. We’ll find a way. I need you to concentrate on rescuing Khalid and Baxter. Don’t let me down, major.”

FOB Crossbow was little more than a square of parched earth surrounded by razor wire, Hesco fortifications, sandbags and twin towers housing mortars and machine guns. Hitching a lift on a Cobra helo, Delta Force touched down an hour before dusk and offloaded their gear. Connor was met by the base commander, Captain Lee Walsh.

“Welcome to Crossbow, major. It’s a bit rough and ready, but I’m sure you’re used to that. We’re pretty isolated up here, so it’s nice to see some new faces. Come with me and I’ll show you the route we’ve cleared for your team leading down to the river.” Walsh led Connor up one of the towers. “There’s a decent view from up here.” He handed Connor a pair of binoculars and pointed. “For maximum cover, we stuck to that ditch. It leads to within twenty metres of the river bank. We had to diffuse three IEDs along the way. Privates Jennings and Stokes here have orders to make sure the Taliban don’t come back to plant more bombs before you begin your mission.”