Andy McNab: Agressor

I leaped out and took a running kick at the militant's head.

My boot connected and Akaki's mate cried out.

Charlie rolled to one side and grabbed the weapon, and I kicked again. Charlie staggered to his feet and leaned over him, jamming the barrel into his chest. 'Get his mags, Nick! Get his mags!'

I lifted the poncho. The RPK was basically an AK-47 with a longer, heavier barrel and a non-detachable folding bipod mounted under the muzzle. It could be fed from special box or drum magazines, but also the familiar curved AK-type thirty-round mags. This boy had two of them in a chest harness. I pulled them free and we both legged it into the wagon.

I sawed at the wheel to aim the Taliwagon uphill, away from the square. The fuel gauge gave us just over half a tank.

Charlie pulled back on the cocking handle of the RPK to check there was a round in the chamber. Then he unclipped the mag and pressed his finger down on the top round to see how many were left.

'What you doing, lad?'

'Pointing us at Turkey.'

'No.' He put a hand on the wheel. 'Akaki first.'

'We don't have time for that.'

His hand didn't budge. 'Akaki.'

Fuck it. 'Just one pass, that's all you're getting.'

I threw the wagon into four-wheel and dropped the clutch, swinging us round until we faced the other way. My foot hit the floor.

The poncho had staggered to his feet but now had to dive back into the doorway to get out of the way.

I drove hard for the other side of the square before swinging the wheel right to head downhill. I squeezed the wagon into an alleyway and added a whole new set of dents to its already impressive collection.

We came out into the main drag like a cork from a bottle. The other Taliwagons had pulled in before the bend about 200 metres ahead of us. The militants were putting down a fearsome amount of fire against the BDUs below them. Three bodies lay motionless in the field where the Hueys had landed. The BDUs were still trying to fire and manoeuvre uphill, using the buildings as cover. Now they were closer, Akaki had better targets. Another body lay on the road between them, and I saw a couple of BDUs drag a wounded man into cover just beyond it.

I braked to a halt. Now we were here, I knew Charlie was right. But I wasn't going to tell him that.

I shoved the wagon into first. 'It's one pass, make the most of it.'

He turned his back to me and poked the weapon out of his window, wooden stock resting on the door, butt into his shoulder.

A few faces turned as we moved down the road, then went back to their war.

I accelerated.

Seconds later we were level with Akaki's crew and Charlie fired short, sharp bursts into anything that moved.

The noise inside the cab was deafening, even with both the windows open, and we were choking on cordite. I tried to keep the wagon as steady as I could. The rounds had to make their spots or we'd get a whole shitload in return.

The bodywork took a couple of crunching thuds as the militants got their act together.

Charlie recocked and got off two short bursts.

'Stop! Stop! Stop!'

I hit the brake and Charlie took aim at a cluster of three men, one of whom, unmistakably, was Akaki. He legged it while the two others tried to shield him.

Charlie's weapon fell silent.

'Stoppage!'

He changed mags, his eyes always on the target as it clambered into the back of a Taliwagon.

'Wait! Wait!'

He recocked and kept the bursts short and sharp. Akaki's wagon lurched forward and sped back the way we had come.

I braked hard and threw our Toyota into a three-point turn.

As we closed, their rear screen disintegrated and our windscreen took two rounds. The safety glass shattered but stayed intact.

'Keep going! Go, go, go!'

Charlie kicked out his side of the shattered windscreen. Shards of glass peppered my face, blown back by the wind. More rounds thudded into the wagon. Fuck it, there was nothing I could do but drive.

Charlie rearranged himself in his seat and shoved the RPK's muzzle through the hole in the screen. Its barrel sizzled in the rain. Charlie fought to keep the thing stable on its bipod and aimed as best he could, firing double taps to conserve rounds.

Akaki's wagon disappeared about fifty ahead of us.

'Go right, go right – cut him off!'

I swung the Toyota the way Charlie said, and found myself paralleling Akaki along a narrow mud track between two barns. Charlie held the weapon down to control it. 'Get your foot down! Get up there before him!'

I fought the wheel as the back of the wagon bucked like a rodeo horse.

We roared back up onto the high ground and passed the village square to our left. I threw the Toyota into a turn as Akaki's wagon broke out from the other side of the square. Charlie started firing before I'd even rammed on the brakes. 'Give me a platform. Platform!'

I held the wagon still as Charlie kept firing, short and sharp.

Mud kicked up around Akaki's wagon. It took hits but kept going.

Another burst.

'Stoppage!'

Akaki's wagon crashed straight into the side of the village hall, its wing ripped open. One body jumped out of the back; another fell. The driver stayed put, slumped over the wheel.

'Hold on!'

Ramming the gearshift into first, I aimed at the body running along the edge of the square.

Charlie worked frantically to change mags as we bounced and shuddered towards the runner. No mistaking who it was.

He turned, brought up his weapon, and fired.

I didn't know if we were taking hits or not, and I didn't care. I drove straight at him. 'Get that fucking thing loaded!'

The wind roared through the windscreen as Akaki turned and started to run again.

Too late; our wing caught him in the small of his back, catapulting him across the road.

I passed him; hit the brakes.

Charlie tried to get out.

'Stay!'

I threw the Toyota into reverse. The back wheel lifted over his body then came back down onto the road.

The front wheel followed.

I kept on reversing until Charlie could take aim. Two short, sharp bursts thudded into the body on the ground.

As we crested the hill away from the village, my foot never left the floor.

'One down, one to go.' Charlie had to shout to make himself heard over the wind rush.

'You pissed?' I kept my eyes on the road. We were only ten minutes out of the village and however much we needed them, I couldn't risk lights. What was left of the windscreen my side was shattered. The smashed glass and plastic safety layer protected me from the worst of the wind, but made it even harder to spot the puddles, or any deep hole that might swallow us up.

The firs covering the high ground to our right made our world darker still. The good news was, we were back on the pipeline, heading for Turkey and Crazy Dave. The five-metre-wide scar ran like a guide rail to our left.

I checked the rear-view. Still no pursuit. Fuck it; I switched on the headlights and put my foot down.

I'd just dropped down into two-wheel to try to eke out the fuel when the headlights picked out a static vehicle at the roadside. It was a rusting, lime-green Lada. The bonnet was up.

'Thank you, God.' Charlie reached down and pulled the RPK from the foot well.

I gripped the wheel. 'Come on, mate, I've got to get you home.'

'Fuck that, lad. We got the first bastard, now let's finish the job.'

'What's the point? He had at least an hour's head start. He might be in another vehicle by now, and halfway to Turkey.'

'So what? We check this out, and catch up with him then. I'm going for it. You in?'

As if I was going to leave him and drive on.

I stopped the Toyota and stuck it into first gear, ready to back him. As he climbed out, he pushed the safety lever on the left of the RPK down to the first click, single shot.