Michael Parker: A Covert War

But one thing Susan did notice, despite her fretful condition, was that Marcus was unusually quiet. Whenever he responded to something David had said, it was monosyllabic. And when David told them something funny, she thought that Marcus’s laugh was affected. She knew how she herself felt, but had a suspicion that Marcus’s thoughts were not in the room but elsewhere. It was if he was planning something, and that began to worry Susan intensely.

After the evening meal, Abdul allowed Susan and David to spend a little more time together before taking him away and shackling him in a room somewhere. Then he returned and showed Marcus and Susan where they would be sleeping.

Marcus couldn’t sleep; he daren’t sleep because of what he was planning. He knew that Susan would not be able to negotiate her brother’s release simply because she had sent a text message to Cavendish; no, it was much more involved than that.

His best guess was that someone in the government would ask to meet Abdul on neutral ground, which was hardly likely in Afghanistan. Abdul would sense duplicity in that because that was the way governments played the rules. This would antagonise Abdul and he would more than likely take Susan and himself as hostages and use the three of them, David included, as bargaining chips.

He thought about Cavendish and realised the man had sent them into the lion’s den deliberately and was probably relying on some inspiration from Marcus. Perhaps he thought that David would help, but then Cavendish had no idea how fit and strong his former agent was.

The more he thought about it, the more Marcus realised that their lives were almost certainly forfeit unless he could think of something. And it was these thoughts that had been running through his mind the moment he had seen David. And the more he thought about what would probably happen, the angrier he became.

He looked at his watch and could see from the luminous dial that it was almost four o’clock in the morning and soon the dawn light would begin to fill the house. Hopefully everybody in the house would be asleep, although he guessed that Abdul would have posted a guard. It surprised him that Abdul didn’t have a small army with him, but then if the Arab was expecting to be welcomed into the arms of the British Government, he probably would not have wanted his loyal band of thugs watching.

Marcus got out of bed and walked on the balls of his feet to the door. He opened it carefully, surprised that it was not locked and peered out along the corridor that ran the length of the house. He saw a shadowy figure walking towards the short passage that led to the front doors of the house. Marcus had no idea who it was.

He slipped quietly out of the room and closed the door behind him, then tip-toed carefully down to the corner of the short passage. Peering round the corner he saw the figure closing the front door. From his body language, he was closing it like a thief would when entering somebody’s house and didn’t want to be heard.

As the figure disappeared from view, Marcus walked quickly up to the door and edged it open. He looked through the narrow gap and could see the front yard bathed in the half-light between night and dawn. He could see one of Abdul’s men. Habib, apparently asleep on a log, judging from his crumpled shape.

What followed next, Marcus could hardly believe. The figure he had watched leaving the house was Kareem. He suddenly thrust something into Habib’s neck. Then he wrapped his arm around the man’s head and stabbed him again. He let him slump to the ground.

Marcus knew then that they were all in terrible danger and his earlier misgivings about Abdul had taken on a new twist; although he doubted that Abdul had anything to do with what he had just witnessed.

Marcus kept the door open just a little and saw Kareem drag Habib’s body into the sparse undergrowth that struggled for survival alongside the track. As soon as he had disappeared, Marcus stepped out of the house and sprinted across the yard, into the undergrowth and threw himself at Kareem.

It was over within seconds; Marcus had achieved the element of total surprise and knocked Kareem senseless with a chopping blow to the jaw line beneath the ear. Kareem slumped on to the bloody body of Habib in a gruesome parody of endearing friendship.

Marcus stripped the Kareem of his clothes and tied him to the body of his comrade in arms, shoving the tails of the man’s shirt in his mouth and gagging him securely. All the while Marcus was doing this, he kept asking himself the same question; why did he kill Habib?

Marcus could only make guesses and ponder on the imponderable, but that would not get him any further. His next problem was how to tackle Abdul and secure David’s and their own freedom. He had no idea where Abdul was sleeping. Nor did he have any idea where David was, but he intended finding him.

He went back into the house, holding the AK47 that he had picked up from the dead man across his chest, finger across the trigger guard and went back to his room. Once he was in there he knelt beside Susan’s bed, kept the AK47 out of sight and shook Susan awake. As she sat up he put his fingers to his own lips and one hand on hers.

‘Get dressed,’ he whispered. ‘We’re leaving and we’re taking David with us.’

Susan caught on very quickly. She too had realised that they had been taken into a situation which was beyond them, and she guessed that Marcus was taking matters into his own hands. She nodded at him and scrambled out from under the single blanket that covered her.

Marcus took a little time to admire Susan’s delightful curves before leaning over towards her and planting a big kiss on her lips. Then he went over to the door before she could say anything in protest.

Marcus reasoned that Abdul would have put David in the room furthest away from the front door. And he also believed that Abdul would probably sleep in the adjacent room. So he walked to the far end of the passageway and tried the door at the end.

It was locked.

He tried the door opposite. That too was locked.

It left him with no alternative. He crashed his foot against the first door, bringing it hard against the lock. The door was old and weak; it gave instantly, opening with a resounding crash as it swung back and hit the wall.

Marcus ran into the room. It was empty.

He turned and lashed out at the other door which gave in too. As he rushed into that room he saw Abdul reaching across to the chair beside his bed. Marcus could see his AK47 hanging across the back.

He kicked the chair away and shoved the barrel of his own weapon into Abdul’s face.

‘Don’t move!’

Abdul froze. ‘You’re going to die,’ he muttered through gritted teeth.

Marcus slugged him. Abdul slumped back on the bed, not quite unconscious but certainly dazed. Marcus then knelt on top of Abdul with one knee and held him like that until he had regained some of his senses.

‘Now listen. I am going to stand up. You are going to tell me where the key is to David’s chains. Then David, Susan and I are going to leave.’

Abdul shook his head. ‘No, you are going to die.’

Marcus hit him again. ‘Don’t keep saying that. Where’s the key?’

David was sitting up by this time. ‘It’s on the table over there,’ he told Marcus pointing to the table at the far side of the room.

Marcus picked up Abdul’s weapon from the back of the fallen chair and passed it to David. ‘I hope you know how to use this,’ he said. He then went across to the table and picked the key up. Within two minutes, David was standing beside Marcus. Both men were looking at Abdul.

‘Well,’ David said, a little breathlessly. ‘You seem to have control of the situation. What do we do now?’