Michael Parker - A Covert War

David made a gesture, lifting his shoulders. ‘I don’t know. But I think we’ll probably leave within the next twenty minutes or so.’ He pointed towards the other end of the house. ‘Susan is fixing Marcus’s wounds. When they’ve finished, we’ll go.’

Hudson turned when he heard the sound of footsteps. As soon as he saw Cavendish, he stiffened. Cavendish walked up to him and stopped.

‘Good morning Hudson. Why am I not surprised to see you here?’

Hudson regarded Cavendish in the half-light with a contemptuous stare. ‘I’m here on business, Cavendish. What are you doing here?’

Cavendish sniffed. ‘I hope I’m here to stop you and your dirty little games,’ he told him.

Hudson bridled at the remark. ‘You’re not on your own ground, Cavendish, so have a care what you say.’

‘Why?’ Cavendish replied. ‘Will I get the same as last night?’

Hudson shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Of course you haven’t, but why are you not surprised to see me here I wonder?’

Just then the sensor operator called out two co- ordinates. Chuck Berry, who was sitting in the pilot’s seat responded by repeating the co-ordinates and operated the controls to bring the Reaper on to a different heading.

Cavendish glanced over Berry’s head and saw the map displayed on the screen. Berry looked up at him.

‘What can we do for you gents?’ he asked.

McCain told him why they were there. ‘So perhaps you could arrange to speak with Sir Giles Cavendish later today?’

‘You’re off track, sir,’ the co-ordinator told Berry.

The lieutenant turned his attention back to the screen. ‘Back on track. Select missile.’

The co-ordinator responded. ‘AGM-114L, number one rail selected, port side.’

McCain turned to Cavendish and whispered out of the side of his mouth, holding his hand there to observe a kind of respectful silence.

‘Hellfire Missile,’ he whispered. ‘Fire and forget. Great to watch.’

‘Time over target?’ the sensor operator called out.

Berry checked the figures on his screen and then glanced down at a knee pad he had resting on the top of the control panel.

‘Time over target is ten minutes.’

Susan finished washing the blood off Marcus’s upper body and around his head and ears. She wanted him to let her examine him elsewhere, but he wouldn’t hear of it.

‘I’m ok,’ he told her. ‘I can stand, I can walk and if I have to, I can run.’ He got up from the wooden chair as he said it and put both hands on Susan’s shoulders, holding her gently. ‘When we get back to London, you can examine me wherever and whenever you like.’ He leaned forward and kissed her.

Susan pulled away and playfully slapped him. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Marcus,’ she laughed. ‘Now, how about sorting ourselves out and getting out of here?’

Cavendish knew, for no obvious reason other than a gut feeling, which target the Reaper would be firing a missile at. He also knew that if he tried to prevent it, he would be restrained not only by McCain, but by Hudson as well. He could think of no way of preventing Berry launching a Hellfire Missile at the farmhouse where Susan and Marcus had gone to meet with Abdul Khaliq and Susan’s brother. If they were there when the missile struck, they would all die.

He had less than ten minutes to come up with an answer.

David stuffed the gag back in Abdul’s mouth and walked out of the room and down to the kitchen.

‘I’m starving,’ he complained as he walked in on Susan and Marcus. ‘How about some breakfast before we go?’

Marcus disagreed. ‘I don’t think it’s wise; if any of the locals round here heard the shooting, they could send the local Taliban out here.’

David nodded thoughtfully. ‘You’re probably right. What about Abdul?’

Marcus and Susan exchanged glances. ‘He comes with us,’ Marcus answered for the two of them.

Susan was feeling so much happier now. That feeling of anticipation, nervousness, expectancy; call it whatever you will, had left her. She felt so much more secure, and that was probably because she had seen Marcus demonstrate an uncanny ability to look at a situation and unpick it so expertly. And with David showing consummate professionalism in the way he handled the situation, she saw no reason to worry about anything. Soon they would all be out of the farmhouse and on their way back to Kabul and freedom.

Cavendish kept his hands in his pockets because they were sweating. Despite the cool air conditioned interior, he was beginning to find the whole atmosphere uncomfortable. They had about five minutes before the Reaper would be over the farmhouse and Berry would fire the missile. He already knew the official reason for launching the rocket; to kill suspected terrorists. But he knew that Hudson was dealing in retribution and plain murder.

He closed his sweaty hand around his mobile phone and an idea came to him. He excused himself to the others and stepped outside the Reaper control room. He then took the phone from his pocket and wrote a simple text on the screen, dialled a twelve digit number and pressed the call button. He closed the phone and slipped it back in his pocket. Then he went back inside.

Susan cupped her hands in the bowl and scooped the water up to her face and over her hair, letting it cascade down over her bare shoulders. It wasn’t exactly a shower, but in the circumstances, it was the next best thing. She did it again and again until she felt she could get no more out of it.

There was no towel handy, so she dried herself on her blouse and slipped it back over her shoulders. She emptied the bowl and buttoned her shirt, then went back into the kitchen.

Marcus and David were waiting there when Susan walked in. She was about to say something to them when she heard her mobile phone ringing. It was in the room she had slept in with Marcus. She looked at the two men and frowned, then went through to her bedroom. When she returned, her face was as white as a sheet.

Marcus looked up as she walked in. His smile quickly disappeared when he saw the look on Susan’s face. She had the phone in her hand and was holding it out like a gift.

‘Look!’ she said.

Marcus took the phone from her hand which was shaking. The text message was very clear and unambiguous.

‘ Missile. Two minutes. Run! ’

‘Fuck! Let’s get out of here,’ he screamed. ‘Out, out!’

The three of them ran out into the yard, but once they were out there, neither of them seemed to know what to do. Then Marcus pointed towards the far side of the track in front of the house. There was a small orchard about twenty yards from the house.

‘In there!’ he shouted. ‘Get as far away as we can. Quick!’

‘What about Abdul?’ Susan screamed out.

Marcus stopped. It took him a few seconds to make the decision. ‘I’ll get him. Now run!’

Before either Susan or David could protest, Marcus had gone, running into the house as fast as he could. They had used up one minute.

‘Missile armed and locked, and ready to launch.’

Berry brought the Reaper down to its attack height. Locked on to the image of the farmhouse and held his thumb over the launch button.

‘Fifteen seconds. Within range.’

He brought his thumb down on to the red button.

‘Goodbye farmhouse. And all you boys in there can kiss your asses goodbye.’

He pressed the button.

Marcus sprinted down the passageway and into Abdul’s room. The defunct warlord opened his eyes wide in surprise at Marcus’s sudden appearance. Marcus tore the bed clothes from him, hauled him out of the bed and threw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift.

The clamps holding the Hellfire missile opened on the port rail under the wing of the Reaper. The missile’s single stage, rocket propellant motor fired, bringing the thrust to over 600 pounds at which level the missile left the rail, dropping away until it was 500 feet from the aircraft. It then armed itself automatically and went in search of its target; the farmhouse which was now being hastily evacuated by Susan and David. But Marcus was still in there.