Stephen Leather - Hot Blood

The cook was a big man from New Jersey with a tattoo of Jesus on the cross on his right forearm and a floppy chef’s hat. He plopped a huge sirloin steak on Yokely’s plate, then shovelled on French fries and onion rings. ‘Help yourself to sauce,’ he said, pointing at four stainless-steel jugs. ‘Red wine, Roquefort, Bearnaise or just plain gravy.’

Yokely poured some of the red-wine sauce over his steak, picked up a couple of warm wholemeal rolls and looked for an empty table. The canteen was packed. The food in the Green Zone was as good as anything the military got in the United States, and the soldiers were tucking into plates laden with steaks, ribs and pizzas.

Yokely went to a table where two female soldiers were finishing their pasta. One was a blonde sergeant in her early thirties; her companion was younger and prettier. ‘Do you ladies mind if I join you?’ he asked.

The sergeant smiled and waved at the free seats, then carried on talking to her friend. Just as Yokely sat down, his phone rang. It was Nichols again. ‘Richard, one of the visitors was Wafeeq.’

Yokely swore, then made an apologetic gesture as the sergeant flashed him a frosty look. ‘There’s no doubt?’

‘None at all,’ said Nichols.

Yokely cursed again, under his breath this time.

‘What do you want us to do?’ asked Nichols.

‘What can we do, Simon? I presume the van’s gone?’

‘No way we could find it now,’ said Nichols. ‘Needle in a haystack.’

‘How much fuel do you have?’

Yokely heard Nichols talk to Howell, then Nichols was back on the line. ‘Five hours, maybe six.’

‘Stay put,’ said Yokely, getting to his feet. He looked wistfully at his steak but knew he didn’t have time to eat it. He phoned the Major as he walked out of the canteen into the hot sun and explained what had happened.

The Major realised the significance immediately. ‘Wafeeq didn’t take Spider with him? Why not?’

‘Maybe he smelled a rat.’

‘That’s what it looks like. Which means Spider’s in danger. Geordie too. Did the Predator track Wafeeq?’

‘We didn’t know it was him,’ said Yokely. ‘Look, I’m in the Green Zone. I’m going to commandeer a chopper but it’ll still take time. You’re going to have to go in, Allan. Now.’

‘I understand.’

‘I don’t want to start teaching anyone to suck eggs but there’s open farmland behind the house.’

‘Roger that,’ said the Major.

‘I’ll text you the number of the Predator guy and he can give you a visual before you act,’ said Yokely. ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. And try not to kill too many of them. They’re our only link to Wafeeq.’

‘And Geordie,’ said the Major. ‘Let’s not forget him.’

‘I hadn’t,’ said Yokely. ‘But the way things stand, the only way we’ll find him is if we get hold of Wafeeq.’

The Major put the phone away and twisted in his seat. ‘We’ve got to go in now,’ he said.

‘What’s happened?’ asked Muller.

‘Wafeeq came and went but he didn’t take Spider with him. That means one of two things. They’re going to deliver him later, or Wafeeq got spooked. We can’t take the risk so we’ve got to get him now.’ He unfolded the map Yokely had given him. ‘Let’s get out so we can all look at this,’ he said.

They climbed out of the Land Cruiser and the Major held the map on the bonnet. ‘We don’t have time for surveillance. We have to go straight in,’ he said. He stabbed his finger on the map and looked at Jordan. ‘We’re here,’ he said. He moved his finger to the farmland behind the house. ‘We can get to here without being seen from the house.’ He put the aerial photograph on top of the map. ‘That’s where he is. We can come in over the wall and through the back.’ Jordan nodded and slotted a stick of chewing-gum into his mouth.

‘What sort of firepower do they have?’ asked O’Brien.

‘We don’t know.’

‘How many of them?’

‘No idea.’

O’Brien’s brow furrowed. ‘Back-up?’

‘Just us,’ said the Major. ‘We go in fast and we go in hard. But as we’ll have to interrogate them to find out where Geordie is, we’ve got to keep casualties to a minimum.’

‘Why don’t we make it a real challenge and tie our hands behind our backs?’ said O’Brien.

‘No one said it was going to be easy, Martin,’ said the Major. He folded the map. ‘Let’s get to it.’

They piled back into the Land Cruiser and Jordan put his foot down hard on the accelerator. The Major talked to Shortt on the transceiver and told him to get to the house as soon as possible. Shortt took down the directions and reckoned they were fifteen minutes away.

The Major’s mobile phone beeped and he checked the screen. It was a text message from Yokely with a Baghdad mobile-phone number and a name. Simon Nichols. The Major called and introduced himself.

‘The house is quiet on the outside,’ said Nichols. ‘No one has entered or left since Wafeeq.’

‘We’re in a white Land Cruiser, heading south,’ said the Major. ‘We have another unit coming from the east, also a white Land Cruiser.’

‘I’ll keep an eye out for you,’ said Nichols, ‘and I’ll call you if anything happens at the house.’

The Major put the phone on the dashboard and took out his Glock.

Shepherd opened his eyes. His face was wet and when he took a breath he inhaled water. He shook his head and his eyes gradually focused. Straggly Beard was standing in front of him, holding a bucket. Shepherd had lost count of how many times they had suffocated him into unconsciousness. They kept the plastic bag on his head until he passed out, then threw water over him until he came round.

The tall man slapped him across the face. Shepherd spat to clear his mouth and bloody phlegm splattered across the floor.

‘Who are you?’ the man shouted.

‘Peter Simpson.’

‘Your real name.’

Shepherd coughed. ‘That is my real name.’ Shepherd knew that the questions meant nothing. The men weren’t interested in his answers. There was nothing he could tell them that would stop the torture.

The tall man walked towards him, holding the plastic bag. Shepherd moaned. He had lost all sense of time. The light was on and the shutter on the windows behind him was locked so he had no way of knowing if it was day or night. He felt as if the torture had been going on for ever. The bag was dragged down over his head and instinctively he held his breath even though he knew it would do no good. His chest began to heave and burn, he took a breath and the plastic filled his mouth.

The Land Cruiser screeched to a halt and the Major undid his seat-belt. He put the transceiver to his mouth and clicked the transmit button. ‘Jimbo, we’ve arrived.’

There was a buzz of static, then Shortt spoke: ‘We’re five minutes away, boss.’

‘We can’t wait,’ said the Major. ‘We’ll go in the back way. When you get here, come in from the front.’

‘Roger that,’ said Shortt.

The Land Cruiser had stopped on a dirt road. To the left an olive orchard with stubby trees stretched half a mile to the foot of a gently rounded hill. To the right the farmland was less well tended and was mainly rocky soil dotted with date palms. A herd of wild goats looked at the Land Cruiser, then went back to grazing on a clump of brown grass.

‘That’s the house,’ said the Major, pointing through the palms. Two hundred metres away there was a mud-coloured wall, about six feet high, and beyond it a house with a flat roof on top of which stood a large satellite dish.

Jordan put a pair of binoculars to his eyes. ‘I don’t see anyone,’ he said.

The Major phoned Simon Nichols, who told him that no one was outside or on the roof. The Major put away his phone. ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ he said.