Chapter Twenty-nine

 

 

Rutbah, Iraq

 

“It can’t be. Ying hates weapons,” Justin said.

“Not RPGs, obviously,” Isaac replied. “Now off the line. You and everyone else.”

Justin shook his head and turned off the throat mike. He glanced at Carrie. “Ying? I can’t believe this.”

“It’s possible, Justin. Let’s see what Isaac saw before we—”

A long machine gun barrage silenced her.

Justin and Carrie dropped behind the wall, uncertain of the direction of the fire. It sounded like it came from behind the target house. “Is that Isaac’s team?” he asked.

Carrie shrugged. “Don’t know.”

“Let’s get in.”

He stepped through the gate and bolted across the yard. Reaching the front door without taking fire, Justin drew in a deep breath. Now that the situation was dark on all communications, it became harder to locate and identify Isaac’s team members and the other fighter, if he was still alive. Justin peeked inside the hall, then shouted in Arabic, “Friendlies at the main entrance. Friendlies coming in.”

A moment of silence, then Hadi said, “Good, good, clear to come in.”

Justin turned on his knee and aimed his rifle at the gate. He covered Carrie’s advance and gestured for her to get inside the house. When she did, he followed two steps behind her.

Carrie dashed through the narrow hall leading to the back of the house.

Justin assumed Isaac’s team would have cleared the rooms, as it was the basic task when entering a target house. He noticed only one body, whose leg was visible through one of the open doors. In a matter of seconds, Justin was in the backyard.

Hadi was manning a position near the back gate, while Isaac was standing close to the wall. His pistol was aimed at the head of a detainee who was on his knees with his back toward Justin. The detainee’s hands were tied. “Who is he?” Justin asked.

“Not sure. He’s lying to me, saying he’s a Brit helping the Peshmergas.”

“That’s the truth,” the detainee said in a calm, firm voice with a clear British accent.

“I’m not going to ask you again.” Isaac thrust the pistol into the back of the detainee’s head.

“My answer isn’t going to change, even if you kill me.”

“You’d like that, but it’s not going to happen. My men will slice you up slowly, piece by piece, like a shish kebab. Now, tell me the truth. Who are you spying for?”

Justin stepped closer to the detainee, who said, “I’ve told you—”

“Yes, you’ve told me lies. But—”

“Isaac—”

“Not now, Justin—”

“I know this man.”

“You do? How?”

“He’s someone I’ve been trying to find.”

“Oh, and who is he?”

“Isaac, please meet SAS operative Malcolm Thames.”

Isaac gave Justin a curious glance. “He’s British special forces? I knew he was lying. Too calm. What are you doing here?” Isaac walked around and pointed his pistol at Thames’s scraped and bloodied face.

Justin said, “I’ll tell you about it. Now where’s Ying?”

Isaac pointed at the entrance. “Sped through the alley when she realized that she couldn’t get to Thames.”

“Ying was here for him?” Carrie said.

Justin said, “Did you see Ying?”

Isaac shook his head. “No, but Stephan did. He went after her.” He pointed with his pistol at the alley.

“And Stephan’s sure it’s Ying?”

“Yes, but you’re not convinced?”

“No. As I told you, Ying hates guns. She doesn’t know how to shoot. Did Stephan see her face?”

“Don’t know. You’ll have to ask him when he comes back.”

“We should get out of here. Call the rearguard,” Justin said to Carrie.

Isaac said, “No. Ying will learn of our plans. She has already killed the rearguard.”

“We’re not certain it’s Ying.”

Isaac shook his head. “We’ll have to go through the back. Find another exit.” He grabbed Thames by the arm and stormed toward the gate.

“Is Hadi the only one left?” Justin said as he followed Isaac.

“Yes. We lost two men during the attack on the house. And this was all for nothing.”

Hadi threw open the gate, ran into the alley, and fired a quick burst from his machine gun.

Isaac shoved Thames in front of him, then Justin and Carrie brought up the rear.

“Which way did Stephan go?” Isaac asked Hadi.

“Right, then left, following Ying.”

The group reached the corner of the next house. Hadi turned right, then shouted, “I see Stephan. He has a truck.”

It was a gray Nissan with only a dim headlight. Stephan backed it up as close as possible to the group. Hadi jumped in the front seat, while Isaac shoved Thames into the back. Carrie got inside the cab through the other door, while Justin climbed into the truck bed.

“Go, go, go,” Isaac said.

Stephan hit the gas. The truck swerved and rounded the next corner.

“Where’s Ying?” Hadi asked.

“I lost her four blocks that way.” Stephan gestured to his left. “That woman climbs walls like a cat.”

Justin wanted to ask whether Stephan had actually seen Ying, but a bullet pinged against the steel-reinforced truck bed panels. He lay flat with his head low and prayed no one would fire a rocket-propelled grenade at the truck. The sheets of steel would be useless against the 40mm fragmentation warhead, whose shrapnel most likely would kill them all.

He thought about Ying and the possibility of her being the attacker. Did I completely misread her? Did she lead us here because of Thames, and her objective was to kill him? What about Lim? Where is he?

Someone fired a quick burst from the cab. It was an assault rifle.

A couple of rounds thumped against the side of the truck.

Stephan yanked at the wheel, first left and then right, to make the truck a harder target. The back of the truck scraped against one of the walls as it barreled through the narrow alley. Justin was thrown around in the truck bed, his body bumping against digging implements and a couple of sand bags. Stephan slammed on the brakes and jerked the wheel one more time. The truck barely made the turn, but they were now out of the line of fire.

Justin still kept his head down as they covered a few more blocks. He looked through a bullet hole in the side of the truck. Dark houses and the occasional light in the windows, but no muzzle flashes and no bullets pounded the truck.

“We’re almost out of the village,” Carrie said to Justin. “You okay?”

Justin grunted and said, “I’m all right.”

Stephan cursed the turn of events.

Isaac said, “We’re heading to Saloya. It’s just five miles north, and in friendly hands.”

“Whose friends?” Justin said from the back of the truck. He lay there, but he kept his rifle still in the supine firing position across his body.

“My friends, and by extension, yours.”

“These friends will not turn on us, like yours did,” Stephan said.

“Did you actually see Ying firing at you or others?” Justin said. “Did you see her face?”

Stephan did not answer right away. “No, I didn’t have the pleasure, otherwise I would have put a bullet in her head.”

“So we’re speculating. Ying could still be back in the—”

“No, Justin,” Isaac cut him off. “Our team was decimated, and Ying went dark. Then we see a woman fighting like a ninja. Coincidence? I don’t think so.”

“What if the rearguard fell under attack? They were killed or taken hostage. The jihadists have trained women fighters.”

“Not like that one. Even Mossad female ops, the best in the world, don’t fight like that.”

“So you’re convinced it was Ying?” Justin rolled onto his stomach and looked inside the cab.

“It has to be. But we’ll go over this in detail when we’re alone.”

Stephan said. “It doesn’t matter. Thames isn’t going anywhere.”

“You know he’s with SAS, right?” Carrie said.

Stephan shook his head. “Rogue operative hiding among Daesh fighters, which makes him the same as them.”

“You don’t know the whole story,” Justin said.

“No, but I know enough. He killed my brothers. That’s enough for me.”

“They were shooting at me. All I did was defend myself,” Thames said in a weak voice.

Stephan slowed down, then threw back his right fist, punching Thames in the face. “No one asked you.”

“Hey, that’s enough,” Isaac shouted. “You, just drive. And you, keep your mouth shut.”

Thames nodded slowly. The blow had opened a new cut in his face, which began to trickle blood.

Justin heaved a deep sigh. How did everything go so wrong?