Owen Sheers - I Saw a Man

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“Creech?” The screener’s voice sounded unsure, a degree off the usual protocol. “We have two times vehicles approaching south-southwest. Approximately eight pax total.”

“Can we get a feed?” Maria asked.

Within seconds a visual appeared from a Global Hawk, a surveillance drone watching the watchers.

“Guess that’s the rendezvous?” The coordinator’s chat message popped up on another monitor.

“Intel on their source?” Daniel typed back, keeping one hand on the Predator’s controls.

“Negative,” the coordinator replied. “Langley picked up the trail in deep country.”

“Double-tap,” Maria said quietly from her seat. “Double-tap, baby.”

Within another thirty minutes Mehsud’s convoy had reached a small compound high up one of the eastern valleys, half in shadow, half in light. In another ten minutes the second convoy, tracked by the Global Hawk, also came within their visual range. A minivan trailed by another pickup. Daniel watched as the two vehicles revved and stalled up the steep track towards the eastern valley. At one point they both stopped and a door of the minivan opened. A man got out, walked to the side of the track, and took a leak.

Higher in the valley, in the mud-walled compound, a single figure, a man, from what Daniel could tell, came out into one of the three interconnected courtyards. There was a tree in the corner, and for a moment he disappeared under its shadow. When he emerged back into the light he was throwing his arm before him, again and again. A scattering of dark dots gathered at his feet, moving erratically. They were chickens, Daniel realised. He was feeding chickens. As Mehsud’s convoy approached he paused in his feeding and looked up. The lead vehicle, the twin cab, came to a halt at the compound’s walls and two men got out. Both carried rifles.

“That’s a weapon confirmation, Major,” one of the screeners said in Daniel’s ear. “Two times rifles.”

“Do we have ID?” Daniel asked.

“Negative,” the coordinator replied. He had a West Coast accent, like a surfer. “If Mehsud’s there,” he continued. “He’s still in one of those vehicles.”

Daniel eased the joystick to the right and circled the Predator. Maria adjusted the sensors in response, keeping them focused on the compound. Their screens were always silent, but there were times when Daniel thought he could tell if there was real silence on the ground too. Like now. He could have been wrong, but the scene looked strangely peaceful. The tree — a fig tree, he’d have guessed — the two guards resting their weapons and waiting in the shade of the compound wall. The pickup and twin cab, also waiting. Everyone was waiting. He, Maria, the screeners, the coordinator, the observer. Somewhere, the pilot of the Global Hawk. And, they all hoped, in the back of one of those vehicles, Hafiz Mehsud was waiting too.

“Okay, people, eyes front.” It was the coordinator again, marking the arrival of the second convoy. The minivan pulled up first, and then the pickup. The van’s door slid open again, a growing dark on Daniel’s monochrome screen; from slit, to square, to rectangle.

“We have two, three, four, five. Five, repeat, five, pax confirmed. All male.”

The last man to exit was carrying something, hoisted on his shoulder. The third to get out now also reached back into the van to lift out an object. It looked heavy, and slightly shorter than whatever his colleague was carrying.

“Is that a weapon?” Daniel asked.

“RPG?” the coordinator guessed down the line.

“Too short,” one of the screeners said.

“Mortar, then,” the coordinator countered.

“Do we have confirmation?” Maria asked them both.

“Possible weapon confirmation,” the coordinator replied.

“Okay, here we go,” Maria said, as another man got out of what they hoped was Mehsud’s pickup. He, too, had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“That’s three times weapon confirmation,” one of the screeners logged.

“Possible four times,” the coordinator reminded them.

Another man followed. He was slower, older, leaning on a stick.

Maria zoomed in on this last figure. He wore a combat jacket over his tribal clothes and carried what looked like a briefcase, holding it close to his side.

“That’s him,” the coordinator said. “That’s our guy.”

Daniel felt his pulse quicken. There were now nine men out of their vehicles on the ground. They were moving towards one another, bunching.

“Sweet target,” Maria said in confirmation.

Daniel breathed deeply, trying to control his adrenaline. He remembered the list of alleged offences below Hafiz Mehsud’s photograph on the wall. Not the detail, just the length. And now here he was, the same man, joining these two meeting groups. In a few minutes they’d move inside, or some of them might begin to leave. He scanned the territory of his screen for any others. Which is when he saw a movement in the minivan, a light patch in the dark of its opened door.

“Minivan door,” he said.

“Check, sensor,” Maria replied, tightening focus on the van.

“What’s the problem, Major?” the coordinator asked. For the first time he sounded urgent, pressed.

“Was that a woman in there?” Daniel asked.

“A woman?” the coordinator replied. “No way. Not at a meet like this.”

“Screeners?” Daniel asked. The van’s open door was filling half his screen now, but all of it was dark.

“No way to tell,” one of the Florida voices said.

“I saw something…,” said the other.

“I saw a man,” the coordinator said, cutting in. “Possible tenth pax.”

“Eyes front,” Maria said. The two groups had come even closer together. They were talking, the armed guards hanging back a few feet. The man from the courtyard had also come round to the front of the compound now, to watch.

“What you got, Creech?” the coordinator asked.

“Two times Hellfires confirmed,” Daniel replied.

“Okay, Major, you have Intel clearance.”

“Permission to engage?” Daniel asked, slipping into his kill protocol.

The observer’s voice was in his ear before he’d finished the question. “Good to go, Major. Permission to engage.”

There was no word from Florida, so, pulling the joystick hard left, Daniel brought the Predator tight around into an attack trajectory. Soon, somewhere in those hills, the faint hum of its blades would be heard.

“Missiles armed.”

“Check, sensor.”

“Paint target.”

“Check, sensor.”

“Target lock.”

“Check, sensor.”

“In three, two, one. Missiles deployed.”

The two Hellfires disappeared from their rails in a diagram of the Predator on Daniel’s monitor. As he watched the scene of their destination — the shadow of the tree, the stilled pickups — the low buzz of his headphones filled his ears, and beneath that, six sets of breaths held on the lines. The counter to his left descended. Through ten, through five. The man feeding the chickens had moved closer. A lighter patch appeared in the van’s door again. Four, three, two. It was a headscarf. One.

The visuals flashed white, blanking in the glare.

“Impact,” Maria said beside him.

Daniel watched as definition slowly returned to the screens. Maria zoomed in close. The vehicles were burning. The few bodies left were prone. The hum of the servers, the conditioned air of the control station, a surfer’s voice, close in his ear. “Good job, Major. Well done.”

AS MICHAEL REACHED the turn in the stairway a floorboard flexed under him, its creaking making him pause. Without going any farther, his heart a tight fist in his chest, he leant forward and looked around the corner.