Andy McNab - War torn

'All hell's let loose over Topaz Zero. He's an international news story now.'

'So the OC isn't going to remember that he told me I could get online as soon as we were back to look at the new baby…'

Kila, who could carry four mugs of tea at once, plonked them down without finesse and went straight over to the 2 i/c. After a hurried conversation in undertones, the officer got up.

'Congratulations, Sergeant. But don't be too long, will you? I'm waiting for an urgent email from the Foreign Office.'

Dave went straight to his inbox and found that Leanne Buckle had sent three sets of pictures. The earliest email said: Weighed in at 7lbs 9oz, so just as well she didn't go to term or she'd probably have been a ten-pounder. Completely gorgeous. You are a lucky bastard, Dave Henley. Love, Leanne.

He clicked on the first picture and caught his breath when it filled the screen. There was Jenny, looking tired, her cheeks red and her hair pulled back from her face, but it was her smile that made his eyes dampen. He knew that Jenny had been smiling at the camera just for him. She had the exhausted exuberance of a new mother and that tiny, sleeping bundle she was holding up was his daughter. He bit his lip.

In the next picture Vicky was standing at Jenny's bedside, peering at the tiny red-faced figure. Both the baby and Vicky surveyed each other solemnly. The scene was lit by Jenny's smile again.

The most recent set showed the baby asleep and Jenny trying to rearrange her hair. He stared hard. This was Jenny less than twenty-four hours ago. It was the closest he had been to her since leaving the UK. Her smile spoke to him. It said: I love you, I miss you, why aren't you here? He swallowed.

'Very nice,' said the OC, appearing behind him. 'Now let's see the baby.'

Dave clicked on the picture of Vicky and her new sister.

'Good heavens, they both look just like you!' said the OC.

Dave grinned, pleased.

'Now, if you don't mind, Martyn's capture is causing a political storm… But the phones are no longer minimized. I haven't told the other men yet so that you can be the first.' Everyone in the cookhouse was watching Martyn on TV. A black-and-white picture of him had suddenly appeared behind the newsreader. In it he was looking a few years younger and had a bit more hair, smiling happily as though he had just won at blackjack. The graphic said HOSTAGE CRISIS.

The reporter looked serious: 'Mr Robertson, an oilman of many years' experience, has been actively engaged in an exploration project that experts believe will make a major contribution to the development of Afghanistan. NATO governments, particularly the US and the UK, hope that if the exploration is successful it could offer Afghanistan an alternative income to narcotics. Diplomats are working round the clock behind the scenes to secure his return…'

'Diplomats!' scoffed Boss Weeks. 'What diplomatic relations does the British government have with the Taliban?'

Kila shook his head. 'Poor bastard. Poor fucking bastard.'

'What are they doing about it apart from talking?' demanded Mal. 'Why aren't they looking all over Helmand Province?'

Finn said: 'The odds are getting longer every minute.'

The others stared at him.

'What odds?'

'You mean, the odds on Martyn coming back alive?' asked Jamie.

Finn looked around swiftly for Dave. He was not in the cookhouse.

'Yes, lads, I'm offering Burlington Bertie on Martyn's safe return. The odds'll be a lot longer tomorrow so now's the time for a punt.'

He was met with blank faces.

'Burlington Bertie. That's a hundred to thirty. Who's up for it?' Dave took the phone to his favourite private corner near the washing place. For once it was deserted.

It took a while to get through to the hospital. He hoped Nurse Prim wouldn't answer again but he recognized her voice at once. Evidently she recognized him too.

'Is that the husband who's in Afghanistan?' she asked beadily.

'Yeah. Can I talk to my wife?'

'It's taken you a long time to phone. She'll be going home any day,' said the nurse.

'Well, we're so busy playing cards and watching the grass grow that I just couldn't be bothered before.'

'Now, now, there's no need for sarcasm.'

He could hear her carrying the phone through the ward.

'We were all very shocked to hear that British soldiers have killed some Afghan children,' she said reproachfully, as if Dave had personally been out spraying bullets into kids.

'Not guilty,' he pleaded.

He could hear the cries of babies. His heart thudded. Babies. And one of them was his.

'Hi, love,' said Jenny.

He swallowed.

'Dave? Are you there, love? Oh, don't say we've lost the line!'

'I'm here, Jen.'

'Hi, darling!'

'I couldn't phone before.' Bad start. Defensive.

'Don't worry, you're here now.' She sounded relaxed.

'Is it all OK? I mean, you're OK, the baby's OK, tell me everything's all right.' Too anxious.

'Calm down, everything's fine. It all happened quickly in the end. There wasn't even time to do it properly with groans and contractions and things. They just had to get her out so I had a Caesarean. It's goodbye bikinis, but who cares?'

'How are you, Jen?'

'Fine. I'm taking painkillers. But I've felt so much better since she was born. All the swelling's gone, the dizziness has gone. I've turned into a gentle old cow, giving milk and more milk.'

'And the baby?'

'A bit surprised to find herself out in the real world so suddenly.'

'Wasn't ready for deployment?'

'She responded well to the alert. Now she's happy as Larry. Likes to be held and cuddled and she's drinking a lot.'

'Trish was there?'

'For the birth? Well, sort of.'

'Only sort of?'

'She was there when I came out of the operating theatre.'

'Oh, shit, shit, you were alone.'

'Nope. There were doctors and nurses everywhere making a big fuss of me. And then Mum was waiting outside. And then your mum arrived.'

'Are they both staying at our house?'

'Yeah, spoiling Vicky rotten.'

'I've only just seen the pictures.'

'Isn't she gorgeous?'

'Yeah,' said Dave. 'Yeah. She's gorgeous. So are you. All I want now is to get home.'

'Still think the army's where you want to be?' Jenny asked.

'That was a cheap shot.'

She laughed. 'Just answer the question!'

'At this moment,' he admitted, 'I'm not so sure.'

When the call ended he turned and saw a silent figure, hanging back in the shadows.

'Jamie Dermott, I should have guessed,' he said, holding out the phone.

'I haven't booked it. But I guessed they weren't minimized any more…'

'Go on. Phone her. Get it sorted out,' said Dave.

Jamie was already dialling. He asked how Jenny was but Dave could tell he wasn't listening to the answer.

About ten minutes later, when Dave was wandering around the base, squinting in the dark at the damage caused by today's attack, Jamie caught up with him.

'Well?' Dave was running his hands over a wall of sandbags and wondering if the engineers would say they should rebuild the whole bloody thing. He looked up. Jamie was smiling.

'Everything's fine! She was all over me!'

Dave grinned back at him in the dark. 'I told you it was only a misunderstanding. Six days with no contact and she's gagging to talk to you. It just proves you've been phoning her too often, mate.'

THE HOSTAGE CRISIS CHANGED EVERYTHING AT SIN CITY. SUDDENLY THE base was the focus of interest – from the international community as well as the Taliban. The major announced that the civilians were to be evacuated. They would be replaced in the isoboxes by top army, Foreign Office and Intelligence personnel.

A line-up of officers waited to receive the VIPs. The base came under frequent attack now and the Chinook was greeted by a volley of fire. Two Apaches hovered on either side, firing back.