PRIMAL Vengeance (3) (15 page)

       "Probably a little too complex for Garang's boys." He put the launcher back in its case. "Might come in handy though."

       "I just wanted to give you this back." Jess held out the PX4 pistol that Bishop had lent her.

       He checked it was loaded and slid it into the holster on his hip. "You know, we should probably give you a weapon of your own." He opened one of the crates and pulled out an AK104. "Ever fired one of these?"

       Jess shook her head. "Plenty of handguns but only hunting rifles."

       Bishop grabbed a handful of magazines from another crate and dropped them in an empty cloth bag. "I've got a spare ten minutes. I'll give you a quick lesson."

       They left the armory hut and walked a short distance to where the SFF had set up a rifle range facing into the cliffs that surrounded the village.

       "It's pretty simple." Bishop showed her where the key parts were located on the AK. "Cocking handle, safety, magazine release and trigger." He ran her through the basic operating procedures.

       "You ready to put a few rounds down range?"

       "Yeah, I think I've got the hang of it."

       Bishop set up a target at twenty-five meters. He gave her two full magazines and showed her the proper stance to compensate for the recoil of the weapon. "It's well balanced but will still kick." He reached around showing her how to hold it tight in against the shoulder. "You need to be ready but not tense. That's the trick." His face was next to hers as he showed her how to line the red dot up with the target.

       Bishop felt her press back against his body and for a moment he thought about kissing her.

       The AK barked, snapping him out of the fantasy. The rounds smacked into the target and Jess laughed. "It's so easy."

       Bishop let her go and stepped back. She fired off another few rounds sending them through the target.

       "Try it full auto," he said.

       The AK shuddered as Jess blasted the rest of the clip down range. She held her stance keeping a firm grip on the weapon. Bullets churned up dust behind the target as she riddled it with rounds. When the magazine was empty she depressed the release and dropped it into the dust. The second mag left her pocket and was slammed home in a matter of seconds before she re-cocked the weapon. Then she was back at it, hammering the target with short bursts until she was out of ammo.

       "You're a natural," said Bishop.

       Jess was standing with the AK in her hands, a whisp of smoke leaving the barrel as she laughed. "It must be your teaching, Aden."

       "Yes, thank you, Aden." Garang was standing behind them, his arms folded across his chest.

       "No problem at all," said Bishop. "Jess, you can grab some more magazines and belt rig from the hut. If you want to throw a few more rounds down range I'm sure Garang or one of his boys can help you out."

       Garang gave the doctor a stern look as she smiled and wandered off with her new weapon.

       "Women are not fighters," said Garang once she was out of earshot.

       "She may not fight but she needs to be able to protect herself," responded Bishop.

       "That is my job."

       "Garang, you're not always going to be there. You've got men to lead, battle plans to make, orders to deliver. Everyone needs to be able to look after themselves to allow you to do your job."

       The SFF leader sighed and sat down on a log. The excitement of the recent ambush had worn off and now Garang looked tired.

       Bishop sat next to him. "What's wrong?"

       "You say I have to lead men, make plans, give orders."

       "Yes, you are a commander. These men need you to make the decisions."

       Garang spoke more quietly. "I want to lead these men, I want revenge against Sagrib, but I don't think I'm right for this, Aden."

       "You did great today—"

       "No, you did great," interrupted Garang. "I was along for the ride. Last time I led my men, we were massacred."

       "It's normal to have doubts, Garang. The most competent warriors I've ever met have all had doubts. So far the odds have been stacked against you. Your enemy has had superior firepower and the element of surprise. That's all about to change."

       "But what about the men? If they have doubts in me, then how can I lead them?"

       "They might have doubts but they're still here, so don't let them down."

       "You're right," Garang said half-heartedly. "I suppose we need to get ready for orders. Right?"

       "Mirza's already got the men assembled." Bishop gripped Garang's shoulder.

       As they walked back they could see the SFF soldiers congregated around a model that Mirza had constructed out of rocks and dirt. They were sitting in their teams, laid out exactly how they would be during the fight. Although they were still dressed in an assortment of uniforms, now they all had the same equipment. South African-style chest harnesses were weighed down with ammunition and grenades. Their weapons were new, with modern sights bolted to their AKs and PKMs. Even the doctor looked the part with her AK and magazine pouches around her waist. The whole SFF team looked professional and Garang's confidence grew. He felt ready to deal with whatever the next twenty-four hours would throw at them.

Chapter 24

PETROCOM H425 gunship

Janjaweed Forward Operating Base, Thepkeni Village, South Sudan

       The two guards had been on watch since midnight. Their backs against a tree, they sat wrapped in blankets to ward off the cold African night. From their position on the hill they could see for miles in every direction, from the fires of the camp behind them to the starlit plain that reached out to the horizon.

       One of the men stood up, slung his rifle and walked a little way to piss. As he relieved himself, he stared out into the distance. The first trace of dawn was on the horizon, a faint slither of light that would finally bring some warmth. He finished, rubbed his cold hands together and picked up his AK47. On his way back to the tree, he stopped. In the faint grey of pre-dawn he could make out a small bird hovering near a bush. He watched it dance for a few seconds before continuing on his way.

       A short distance down the hill two men lurked in the shadows. Mirza was hunched over his iPRIMAL, watching the infrared feed from the Hummingbird UAV. Jonjo was crouched next to him, his suppressed AK104 held at the ready.

       "There's only two of them," Mirza whispered. "Forward slope of the hill. Under the big boab."

       Jonjo touched him on the shoulder to let him know he understood.

       "Sledgehammer, this is Scalpel. Moving in for the kill," Mirza broadcast over the radio to Bishop and the rest of the SFF fighters.

       They crept silently up the side of the feature. Jonjo led, his bushcraft beyond anything Mirza had ever seen. The lanky African stalked like a cat, silent as he flitted from cover to cover.

       They followed the rise up to where the micro-UAV had spotted the two sentries. The robotic bird was now circling high above them, its tiny IR camera looking for hostiles.

       The tree came into sight and Jonjo lifted his AK. Mirza flicked the safety off his suppressed pistol.

       They were a few meters from the tree when one of the men heard them. He shrugged off his blanket, stood up and turned to face the sound.

       Jonjo's AK snapped once and the Arab toppled over with a bullet hole in his head. The second man had been dozing. He only woke when his colleague hit the ground with a thud. Judgement clouded by sleep, he reached for his weapon and the young Dinka warrior shot him through the face.

       The two scouts swept through the sentry point, continuing across the hill, cautious of any additional guards. With nothing found Mirza keyed his radio. "Sledgehammer, this is Scalpel. Objective secure."

       Two bursts of static confirmed Bishop had received the message.

       Mirza positioned himself on the forward slope of the hill, watching for any activity from the village. He could see the first morning fires in the camp, enslaved women cooking for their Arab captors. A handful of Janjaweed wandered out to where their vehicles were parked. Technicals and jeeps lined up, ready for another day of killing and raping unarmed villagers.

       While Mirza maintained sentry, Jonjo moved to the rear and waited for the rest of the men to arrive.

       A few kilometers to the south, Bishop and the main SFF force jogged steadily in a long line. Every step took them further away from their vehicles and closer to the camp filled with heavily armed Janjaweed. The only noise they made was the thump of their boots in the dirt and the odd rattle from a weapon or ammunition. Every man was heavily loaded; in addition to their individual weapons and equipment, everyone carried two tins of machine gun ammunition or a brace of RPG rockets.

       Bishop had one of the SA-18 air-defense missiles slung across his back, his AK slung across his chest and a tin of PKM belts in each hand. Despite the cool air, sweat was running down his face, drenching his shirt.

       "Faster!" Bishop whispered urgently. They were taking longer than expected and needed to pick up the pace. First light had already broken and they only had minutes to get into position.

       Garang, who was running next to Bishop, saw the signal first. A single red flash from the top of the hill. He aimed for it, lengthening his stride.

       Jonjo signaled the column with another quick flash. Garang gave the order to stop and the men passed it down the column. As rehearsed, Jonjo moved down to meet them, the Dinka scout leading each of the teams to their firing positions. Within minutes there were three separate groups of ten men laid out on the ridgeline, each armed with two PKMs and three RPGs.

       Bishop handed his SA-18 to Mirza; his tins of ammo had already been distributed amongst the machine gun teams.

       "Any sign of movement?" Mirza asked.

       "The camp's just starting to stir. A few men have been working on the vehicles. I think Garang is right; the UN spooked them and now they are relocating."

        Bishop looked out to the horizon. The faint glow had grown in intensity, a blue-grey hue washing over the rows of Janjaweed vehicles parked in the camp before them. He turned his head as Garang approached.

       "We're ready!" the SFF leader announced.

       "OK, let's roll."

***

       Sagrib was already awake, sucking back a cigarette as he absent-mindedly kicked at a mangled body outside his hut. The girl seemed to stare up at him with blank, bulging eyes; her neck bore the mark of his hands. She was supposed to be a Dinka princess but what sort of royalty did not know how to pleasure a man, he thought. The Janjaweed warlord dropped the cigarette on the corpse and strode towards the middle of village where more useful women were cooking breakfast.

       As he walked, he pulled his satellite phone from his pocket and dialed Yang.

       "Have my men arrived?"

       "Good morning to you, Sagrib. Yes your men arrived last night. They have the new buggies and the mortar ammunition." Yang sounded short of breath. He had been interrupted during his morning training.

       "Good. How many?"

       "Nearly a hundred men; they've eaten almost everything we have."

       Sagrib laughed. "The warrior must be strong if he is to kill. Send them to me as soon as they are—"

       The sound of gunfire interrupted the call. Sagrib spun in the direction of the noise. Muzzle flashes lit up an entire ridgeline as gunfire poured into the vehicle park. A rocket detonated amongst the trucks sending a huge fireball skyward.

       "Sagrib, what is going on?" Yang asked urgently.

       "We are under attack. Send everything you have!"

***

       "WE'VE GOT THEM ON THE ROPES!" screamed Garang over the blast of the machine guns and RPG rockets being fired. "We should push down into the village and finish them!"

       "No." Bishop shook his head. "That's not the plan. We hit the vehicles then we get the hell out."

       "The plan changes. We can finish this now!"

       A massive ball of fire rolled into the sky as another Chinese-built jeep detonated under the hail of fire coming from the SFF positions.

       "That's exactly what he wants, Garang! Right now you've got him outmatched and his trucks are burning. But he still has at least eighty men in that village armed to the teeth and spoiling for a fight. You leave this feature and get bogged down in the village and you'll die here."

       Garang clenched his teeth. He knew Aden was right. This raid had achieved its goal; most of the Janjaweed vehicles had been destroyed. It would take weeks for them to replace the rows of technicals and jeeps burning in front of them. Rounds snapped through the air above them as if to reinforce the point. They needed to withdraw before the Janjaweed could mount a resistance.