Stephen Leather - Hot Blood

‘What – again?’ Shortt punched Shepherd’s shoulder. ‘Seems to me that we did that when we got Spider out of bother a while back.’

Shepherd smiled ruefully. Shortt was right. They had broken the law before. Shepherd owed all the men round the table, big-time. He owed them and he owed Mitchell, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for them. ‘I’m in,’ he said, ‘whatever it takes.’

‘He’d do it for us, no question,’ said O’Brien.

‘I feel like the four bloody musketeers here,’ said Armstrong. ‘All for one and one for all.’

‘There’s five of us,’ said Shortt. ‘And I’m in.’

‘Okay,’ said the Major. ‘The basics are what you saw on the video. Geordie has fourteen days – thirteen and a half, if we’re going to split hairs. He’s being held in Iraq by a group who will, unless we intervene, hack off his head. If past experience is anything to go by, our government will do next to nothing, and pleas for mercy will be ignored. Other than a name on a banner, we don’t know who’s holding him or where he is. We’re three and a half thousand miles away from his location-’

‘Piece of piss, then,’ said Shortt.

The Major ignored the interruption. ‘The only thing we have to go on at the moment is that news broadcast. I’m going to have the video analysed, see if there’s anything on it that might provide a clue as to who his captors are and where they’re keeping him. That’s a long shot, frankly. There’s a banner up behind Geordie that says it’s the Holy Martyrs of Islam – not a name I’ve ever heard of. Any of you know it?’

All four men shook their heads.

‘The problem is, whatever name they use is pretty much immaterial,’ the Major went on. ‘They seem to pluck them out of the air and there are indications of movement between the various groups. Generally low-level criminal gangs seize the hostages, then sell them on to the militant outfits. The criminal gangs are more likely to take cash. Once the political groups are involved it’s not about money any more.’

‘I know this is probably a stupid question, but I don’t suppose his company had kidnap insurance, did they?’ asked Shepherd.

‘No, although they’ve offered a reward of half a million dollars for his return. But, as I said, this isn’t about money. It isn’t even about foreign policy. It’s about terror. The guys holding him want to kill him and they want to do it on camera. The fourteen-day deadline is just a way of generating interest. Now, on a more positive note, the guy Geordie works for is on his way here so we’ll have a briefing from him tomorrow. Meanwhile, any thoughts?’

‘Nuke the lot of them,’ said Shortt.

‘Thanks, Jimbo,’ said the Major. ‘Any serious thoughts?’

‘Are the Yanks on the case?’ asked O’Brien.

‘The military?’ asked the Major. ‘As much as they can be, but one kidnapped British contractor isn’t top of their priorities, not with their own death toll heading towards three thousand.’

Shepherd, Armstrong, O’Brien and Shortt sat back and waited for the Major to continue. The fact that he had called them together meant that he had something in mind.

‘If anything is going to happen, it’s going to be down to us,’ he said. ‘There’s no question of British troops being pulled out, and no question of the government getting involved in any form of negotiations.’

‘Because they don’t negotiate with terrorists,’ said Armstrong, bitterly. ‘Unless they’re Irish, of course. Then they invite them to Downing Street for tea. Bloody Paddies.’

‘Hey,’ said O’Brien. ‘Behave. I’m a Paddy, remember.’

The Major raised a warning eyebrow and Armstrong and O’Brien fell silent. ‘From what I’m told, Geordie’s Sass background won’t be revealed,’ the Major continued. ‘The only family he has is a brother and he knows to keep his head down. The company has been briefed to say only that he served with the army. No details of his career with the Paras or Sass. If the group holding him finds out that he’s former special forces they’ll make it a lot harder for him. Officially Sass can’t be seen to be involved, but unofficially they’ll move heaven and earth to find him. But with Geordie in the Sunni Triangle, we’re going to need American help. Unofficial American help.’

The Major looked pointedly at Shepherd, who knew what he was suggesting and nodded slowly. ‘I’m on it,’ he said.

‘Assuming we do find where they’re keeping him,’ said O’Brien, ‘what then?’

‘Let’s take it one step at a time,’ said the Major.

‘Yeah, but is the plan to let the Yanks try to pull him out, or do our guys go in?’

‘I’d hope it’d be a Sass operation but, like I said, they’re not in the area. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First we’ll find out where he is.’

‘It’s al-Qaeda, right?’ said Shortt. ‘Has to be.’

‘It’s not as simple as that, Jimbo,’ said the Major. ‘There is no al-Qaeda any more, not really. These days, it’s more of a brand than an organisation. All the groups I mentioned have a similar ideology to al-Qaeda, but the days of a criminal mastermind with overall control are long gone. The guys in these groups were probably trained by al-Qaeda in Afghanistan or Pakistan ten years ago, but now they function as autonomous units. In effect, they’ve become a terror franchise. It’s like Burger King. A franchise in Birmingham doesn’t have to call head office every time it cooks a burger. These guys are just out there to cause chaos. If we had an al-Qaeda source, he probably wouldn’t even know where Geordie was being held.’

‘This is a bloody nightmare,’ said Armstrong. ‘Why don’t we just fly over there?’

‘And do what?’ asked the Major. ‘We wouldn’t be able to move around. Any Westerner’s a target. We’ve no intel sources on the ground. No one’s going to talk to us. We’d spend all our time just staying alive. At least here we can take a broader view, see the wood for the trees.’

‘How about Billy and I head to Baghdad?’ said Shortt. ‘At least we’d be on the spot.’ Armstrong nodded in agreement.

‘No one’s going to Iraq,’ said the Major. ‘At least, not yet. We’re only eight hours away. We’ve got just under two weeks, so we don’t have to rush into anything, okay?’

Shortt didn’t look convinced.

‘I want you and Billy trailing the video,’ said the Major. ‘We need to know how it reached the TV stations. The first to get it was al-Jazeera in Qatar. They usually get the kidnap videos first and pass them on to others around the world. If we can follow that video back to the source, we’ll know where Geordie is. Plus, there might be more video with more usable intel on it. I’ll get the pictures we already have analysed, see if there’s anything there to help us. Spider will look into getting American intel on what’s going on in Iraq, and as I said, Geordie’s boss arrives tomorrow so we’ll have a briefing from him.’ The Major stood up. ‘It’ll be okay,’ he said. ‘We’ll bring Geordie home, whatever it takes.’

Geordie Mitchell put down the paperback book he’d been staring at for the past hour. He hadn’t got beyond the first page of The Da Vinci Code. It was creased and there were greasy fingerprints on the cover, and Mitchell couldn’t help wondering who had read it before and if he had lived to finish it.

The room was fifteen paces long and nine wide. There were no windows and only one door. The inside of the door was featureless except for a peephole at head height. There was no lock, and no handle. Other than a threadbare blanket and a blue plastic bucket, there was nothing. When they fed him it was on paper plates and he had to eat with his hands. Water came in paper beakers. He’d been over every inch of the floor and walls and there was nothing he could use as a weapon – except his hands, of course, and his feet, elbows, knees. Mitchell knew a couple of dozen ways to kill with his bare hands, but despatching one of his captors wouldn’t get him out of the basement. He had seen at least six men, and had no way of knowing how many more were upstairs. He could grab one and threaten to kill him unless they let him go, but he doubted they’d be intimidated by threats of violence.