Andy McNab - Deep Black

'Agreed. But you must personally identify the target.'

'We are about four hours out of Sarajevo. He's time critical. You got Predators?'

'I know where you are, I have you. There are three UAVs getting airborne now. Wait for a call from the operators. You will confirm the kill. I want him dead, son, not just a pile of rubble. Keep that sat phone on, they'll be calling.' The phone went dead.

I turned to Jerry. 'We got a deal.'

His knees nearly buckled with relief.

I turned and started legging it. It wasn't just because I wanted to get on to the road junction quickly. I didn't want to answer any questions about whether I thought George would keep the deal.

We made it to the track and moved off into the first line of trees. The grass was wet, not frozen. I put the weapon down while I shoved the Thuraya in my jeans so I could feel when it went off. I slid the parka back on as I explained what George had said, slowly and quietly, so he wouldn't miss anything.

'You can dump the keys and rotary arm here. This is our meeting-place if we get split, OK?'

Jerry nodded, and put them at the base of what was left of the nearest tree, then untied his sleeves and put his own parka back on.

'OK, actions on contact, on the way to target. You make your way back here. Pick up the wagon stuff and get away to the city. Don't waste time if it goes noisy. I'll try and get to target and get on with it. You'll be able to do fuck-all without a weapon.'

The Thuraya rumbled against my stomach. I got to my knees and pressed the green button. The cold soaked into me as I kept an eye on the darkness up the track, hoping not to see headlights.

'Who do I have speaking?' It was an American monotone, like a synthesized computer voice.

'This is Nick. You got a fix on us yet?'

'Say again, slowly, Nick – I can't understand you.'

'Do you have a fix on us yet?'

'That's an affirmative, Nick.'

I checked the display. There was no number. 'What's your number?'

'That's classified.'

'For fuck's sake, we're trying to carry out a fire-control mission here on a poxy sat phone. I need a number. We're not on target yet. You're going to lose the fix soon. I need to be able to call you once on target.'

There was a pause, then, 'Wait out.'

Jerry came up behind me, his face hidden in his hood. 'What the fuck they doing, man?'

I put my hand up to stop him. The monotone was back. 'I have a number.'

I tapped it straight into the Thuraya. It was another sat phone. 'OK, listen in. The target is about two Ks from this fix. It's a house complex in the forestry block. Roger so far?'

'That's affirmative.'

'You will lose this fix as we move under the canopy. I will call you once on target. Roger so far?'

'That's affirmative.'

'You on a ship?'

'That's classified.'

'We on the same side here? Just tell me how long you have to target.'

There was another pause. 'Time to target is one hour, thirty-four minutes. One hour, three-four minutes.'

'Got it. Wait out.'

I closed down and turned to Jerry as I zipped up my parka. 'One hour thirty-four.'

Those things travelled at about eighty m.p.h., so they would be on target too quickly to have started on a carrier in the Adriatic. Maybe they were from some remote airfield in Kosovo. The US had quite a large peacekeeping presence there.

He nodded somewhere inside the hood. I pulled it down. 'Get those ears working. We'll be seeing fuck-all soon. When we move, I want you to count the distance. I do about a hundred and sixteen paces for a hundred metres. You know your rate?'

'Not a clue.'

'OK, then, we've got two Ks in there before the track junction. You count my paces, and tell me when we get to eighteen hundred metres. We can't afford to miss that junction.'

I checked the G3's mag, safety, and that the Thuraya was secure in the parka's inside pocket. My feet were starting to freeze.

'You ready?'

He wasn't Nuhanovic any more, he was just a target. It had always been easier for me to think of people that way before I killed them.

Hood down, I set off fast along the track. If a vehicle came down the road I'd have to go noisy and take it on with the G3. If the target wasn't aboard, we'd have lost him for sure, but what choice did I have?

Fir branches scratched my face as I pushed my way through. Trapped water cascaded down on me.

Every ten paces I stopped, holding my left hand behind me until Jerry jammed into it. We had to keep together in the dark. Conditions were good underfoot: soft pine needles kept the noise down.

I did another ten metres and stopped, butt of the G3 on the ground, leaning forward with both hands on the barrel as I rested, taking deep breaths and waiting for Jerry to bump into me. I was soaked with sweat under all the layers of clothes, and it dripped down my face, making the scratches sting.

This time he got up close, his panting, minging breath across the side of my face. 'That's just over eighteen hundred.'

'We'll go a bit slower now; eyes open for the track junction on the left, OK?'

I closed my mouth, trying to get some saliva going to help my dry throat, and pushed myself upright on the G3.

A few minutes later I was at the junction with the track up to the house. I stopped again and waited. Now it was going to be his turn to smell my breath. It was eerily quiet, not a hint of wind to stir the trees. 'Count off five hundred this time, OK? After that we'll cut right and work our way through the trees towards the boundary wall. I want to box around that checkpoint.'

'Got it.'

We moved off again, keeping in the middle of the track. I had the G3 in my hands. There wasn't time to move tactically, weapon in the shoulder. I just moved with my head tilted to the right, keeping my ear pointed along the track. My eyes were hard right in their sockets, staring into the darkness ahead, trying to see any movement, any light, any indication of bodies.

I stopped and listened every five or six metres, trying to take deep, controlled breaths. Sweat poured down my face. Eventually Jerry came up, his mouth near my ear. 'Five hundred.'

I set off very slowly this time, weapon held at its point of balance in my right hand. The left reached behind for Jerry, making sure we had contact all the time.

About one fifty short of the checkpoint, I could still see and hear nothing. We could have played safe and cut right, into the forest, but that would have slowed us down even more. We'd just have to stay on the track for as long as we could.

Another twenty and there was a clanking of metal, forward and left. I froze. I could see nothing but black and then more black.

I held my breath and leaned forward, eyes closed, head tilted. All I could hear was Jerry breathing to my left.

Then there it was again, metal on metal.

I turned back to Jerry and pulled him slowly into the treeline. Fuck the mines. The target's people were under the canopy the other side of the track, so that was obviously secure. If they hadn't cleared this side, we'd soon get to know about it. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen. Maybe some of that fatalism shit had rubbed off on me after all.

I kept a grip on Jerry's sleeve. Even a few metres' separation could mean we lost each other, and it wasn't as if we could just call out to regroup. Now was the time to slow down.

It's so easy to lose any sense of direction in pitch dark, but I got a good marker from the occasional clank and snatch of conversation the other side of the track, which became clearer the closer we got. With luck we were going to hit the edge of the treeline soon, and there'd be a short stretch of open ground, then the wall.

I felt my way along, waving my left hand in front of me for obstructions, the right still holding the weapon. Jerry's hand gripped the butt to keep contact.