49

KANDAHAR

‘What time are we meeting the defence force investigator again, mate?’ Sam stopped, admiring a stand full of Harley-Davidson brochures.

‘Thirteen-thirty. We have plenty of time, in case you’re thinking of making a great life choice.’ Matt pointed at the Harley Softail.

‘Let’s go and get a brew while we wait. I can’t really be bothered going around the boardwalk again.’ Sam flipped through the finance brochure provided by the Armed Services Club outlining the step-by-step process to becoming the proud owner of the American legend. He placed it back in the stand.

‘I guess that’s why they call it the “bored” walk, right?’ Matt laughed at his own joke.

‘Nice one, mate.’ Sam turned to roll his eyes at Matt. ‘Hey, why are you still carrying your M4? Why didn’t you just leave it back in the accommodation? You only need to carry a pistol around here.’

Matt tightened the Velcro quick-release strap on the weapon, holding it tighter against his shoulder, realising as he did so that he had left the rifle’s suppressor back with his gear. ‘There was some civilian from the defence department bunked in my room, and a couple of specialist geeks too. I didn’t want to leave it in case they decided to conduct their own weapons training.’

Sam snorted. ‘Paranoid much?’

Matt changed the subject. ‘There’s a Starbucks at the other end of the boardwalk – let’s head over there. We can grab a coffee and then go over what we’re going to say again.’

‘You know, Matt, this is fairly cut and dried in my mind.’ Sam sped up his pace to keep up with the platoon commander. ‘We know for certain that the leak was Nadeem. The CO has already disappeared to a diplomatic post in the UK and probably won’t reappear anytime soon, Rapier’s dead, Saygen’s now your best mate and you’re considered a hero for finding these new-generation suicide vests. Easy days, I would say!’ Sam slapped Matt on the shoulder.

‘Yeah, right. So what time do you want to head back to TK tomorrow?’

‘I’m not sure yet. The intelligence update brief is at eight and then we can get away. We can be down at the airport around ten, I guess.’

Easy days, Sam had said. Matt thought about that. It was true that everything had calmed down. Yankee Platoon had endured a lot over the last five months. Matt had been tested and for the most part he had passed – with a little help from Lady Luck. If they hadn’t found those uniforms Matt would almost certainly have been sent home in disgrace and ultimately drummed out of Special Forces. You didn’t lose command and survive in this line of work. There was something though that nagged at him; a feeling that he could date back to his first meeting with Allie van Tanken in Echos. She hadn’t needed to warn him, but it was her warning that had triggered the snowball of events that brought him to where he was now. She was also here for the update briefing tomorrow, he knew, and he hoped to see her after all this business with the ADFIS investigator was out of the way.

• • •

‘Just park it here, Kelsey.’ Steph jumped out the front of the car and turned back to talk through the window to the young female soldier on security attachment to the CIA. ‘Omar should be here soon. Move the car under that tree over there and we’ll come meet you when we get through security.’

Steph moved to the back of the guard box. Looking past the gate she had an unimpeded view down the road. A few minutes later, she saw the little white Corolla approach the first of the checkpoints. She watched as an old man got out of the car. He walked slowly up the dirt road and was commanded to stop by soldiers of the Afghan National Army. Some commands were shouted to him in Pashtu and his arms slowly came above his head. Even at that distance, she could tell that he was trembling. Understandable given the circumstances, she thought.

The ANA soldiers approached Omar and patted him down thoroughly and then used small metal detector wands to make sure he wasn’t carrying anything that they couldn’t detect by hand. His turban was also removed and unwound. Some personal things were taken from his pockets and unceremoniously dropped at his feet. The better-fed of the two soldiers held up a phone towards their commander. Something was yelled back and the phone disappeared into the ANA soldier’s pocket; no doubt a receipt would be supplied for it later.

Omar slowly bent down, the way old men do, with one leg further behind the other for balance, and picked up a small notebook and pen that had been dropped in the dirt. He brushed the items off and placed them back in his pockets then proceeded cautiously the rest of the way towards the gate.

Steph stepped forward. ‘Omar, good morning.’

‘Oh yes, hello, Miss Steph, it is good to finally meet you.’ He stretched out his hand and she took it in both of hers. The poor man was still shaking, she noticed.

‘I have a vehicle here waiting that will take us to a safe place to talk,’ Steph assured him. ‘We can have some tea and you can tell me everything.’ Steph breathed a little sigh of relief. It was always good when the target arrived and wasn’t carrying a surprise, which had become all too common in recent months.

Omar and Steph climbed into the back seat of the Toyota Hilux. Kelsey slowly manoeuvred the vehicle out into the base traffic.

Omar looked out the window in silence.

‘Have you been out here before, Omar?’ She felt stupid asking it. Of course he hadn’t; she was his first contact with Americans.

‘Yes. Yes, I have,’ Omar replied, gazing out the window. He looked around the base at all of the equipment and personnel.

• • •

At that moment, Allie van Tanken was walking along the dusty road towards the cafes on the boardwalk. She stopped to let a Hilux go past and had to do a double take as it went by. She recognised the old man sitting in the back instantly. She remembered him from the photos sent a few months back by Sam. Then it all clicked into place for her: there weren’t two bombers at all. How could there be, if all the attacks in the east were suicide bombers? Rapier was working in Uruzghan and the man in the photo was controlling the suicide bombers. Allie broke into a sprint after the car.

• • •

Steph watched Omar as he took it all in. His response had caught her off guard. ‘But it was a lot different back then,’ he said, looking across at her. ‘Maybe it was forty years ago. I came here with my father. All this area was once fields and small villages stretching from Kandahar to the border regions and beyond.’ He fell silent.

Steph watched as he nervously played with his pen, rolling it around his fingers and squeezing it in his fist. His hands were dry, old and rough. They were evidence of a simple man who had worked his life on the land. His English, however, indicated the hopes that his family must once have had, to invest in a Western education for him. She felt sorry for him for a brief moment, and then didn’t.

The car drew to a stop out the front of six large ISO containers that had been converted into makeshift buildings. Behind these a security fence protected a demountable building that contained Steph’s office and the interview room.

‘Omar, this is our stop. Let’s go have that tea; I’m very interested to hear the information that’s so sensitive you feel you need our protection.’ Steph got out of the car and moved around to the other door to help the old man.

• • •

Sam placed his coffee down on the table as he looked out the window. ‘See that girl, Matt?’

Matt turned his head to see where Sam was pointing. A strawberry-blonde was getting out of the back of a Hilux. He looked back at Sam. ‘What about her?’

‘She’s a spook for the CIA. Steph Baumer. There’s just something about her I find intriguing, and a little sexy. A little nuts perhaps, but . . .’ Sam trailed off.

Matt looked again. He didn’t see anything sexy about her at all; she walked with too much of a swagger for his liking.

‘What on earth is she doing here?’ Sam was looking down the street now, sounding puzzled. Sam’s confusion was quickly replaced by a look of horror and he jumped up, knocking his coffee across the table.

‘Jesus, Sam, what are you doing?’

‘Fuck, Matt, she’s got her gun out! She has a gun!’

‘Sam, what are you talking about?’ Then Matt saw it too. ‘Holy shit, that’s Allie.’ He took off after Sam, at speed.

Sam burst through the door just in time to see Allie release two shots in Steph’s direction.

‘Steph!’ Sam yelled. ‘Steph! Watch out!’

The Hilux had pulled away now, leaving Steph and Omar standing on the dirt road. Sam, with Matt on his heels, sprinted down the boardwalk steps.

‘Steph! Steph, behind you!’ Sam tripped and fell down the last of the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom. ‘Fuck!’

• • •

The sudden commotion had startled Steph. She thought she had heard shooting and she swivelled around, her hand instinctively going to her hip, and she released the thumb break on her Sig Sauer. But by the time she saw Allie van Tanken, it was already too late; the Dutchwoman was aiming again, closing in fast.

From Steph’s left there came a sudden cry of: ‘Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!’ The words sent shivers down her spine, and out of the corner of her eye she saw a young soldier running straight at her and Omar from between two ISO containers.

‘What the fuck?’ Steph was overwhelmed by the realisation that she was caught between two threats. The soldier had only twenty metres to cover, but to Steph’s surprise he didn’t seem to be armed. Then a chill ran through: he was the weapon.

Beside her, Omar had thrust his arms up into the air and was yelling in Arabic: ‘Thanks be to God! Thanks be to the one almighty God!’

‘Steph!’ Steph turned her head to see Allie. ‘Steph!’ she called again, raising her weapon. She fired.

The first round went whizzing past Steph’s head, missing her by mere inches.

It was all happening so fast. Knowing she could only deal with one threat at a time, Steph decided to focus on Allie. She wouldn’t be able to bring her own weapon up in time, not before Allie could adjust and find her target, but Steph’s safety catch was now off and she knew where the rounds needed to go, even without bringing the weapon up to aim properly. She had been taught at ‘The Farm’ in Virginia by the finest firearms instructors, ex-Delta Force and Navy Seal operators, to fire instinctively; it might take more than just a double tap when you’re under stress, but emptying half the magazine in a controlled manner from the holster to the line of sight would ensure something found its mark, she had been told.

She released the first round from her hip, then she squeezed four more times, each trigger pressure faster than the last, each time the weapon coming further up towards where her eyes would finally take a sight picture.

Steph never took her eyes off Allie. The first rounds missed Allie by a few inches, and Allie stopped dead in her tracks. But rather than return fire wildly, Allie steadied herself and took careful aim. Even as Steph pulled the trigger twice more, and her rounds came ever closer to Allie’s body, she was surprised at how focused Allie appeared. As the Dutchwoman took careful aim and fired once more, Steph released two more rounds. This time her weapon was up in front of her face and her front sight post was the centre of Allie’s chest. Bullets whizzed past Steph, again missing her by inches, just as Steph’s own double tap found their target. Allie dropped straight down, clutching at her chest.

BOOM! BOOM! There was a quick double tap on Steph’s right. It was the distinctive sound of a long gun. She flinched and closed her eyes, ducking to her left, remembering the Taliban as she did so. Opening her eyes, she spun to the left and raised her Sig at the same time and saw the soldier already sliding in the gravel, arriving head first at her feet – dead. His arms were outstretched as if he were reaching for something.

‘Oh, shit.’ Steph turned to the right and spotted a man running towards Allie. He was carrying an M4, no doubt the source of the booms she’d heard seconds earlier. It was he who had shot the Taliban now lying at Steph’s feet. He pulled Allie up into his arms at the same time as Steph heard a familiar voice say, ‘Steph! Are you okay?’ Sam Long reached her just as she sank to her knees in shock.

‘Sam! What on earth is going on? What’s happening?’

‘Jesus,’ said Sam. ‘Allie’s killed that old guy who was with you.’

Omar! Steph looked around. The old man who had been standing next to her was now lying in the dirt behind her. She grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him over. He had been shot just above the mouth; his eyes were wide open and lifeless and his nose and top lip hung from his face. He was still clutching his pen in his left hand.

• • •

Allie clung to Matt, shaking in his arms as blood soaked through her t-shirt. ‘Matt, that’s Omar Defari – that’s Rapier’s brother. He’s the other bomber; he has the trigger. I worked it out, Matt.’ She was gasping and sobbing with pain.

Matt swore as he realised: the dead soldier was wearing the one missing vest . . . He glanced at the old man lying dead a few metres away. The pen; the pen was the trigger.

‘Sam! Get away from there! That guy’s got the trigger. Move!’

‘Not much of a first date,’ Allie joked weakly.

Sam picked Steph up and ran with her over the road. Others were arriving now, guns drawn at first and then holstered as they took orders from Matt, still sitting on the ground with Allie bleeding on his lap. Finally an American Special Forces guy arrived to secure the area as they waited for the medics.

• • •

‘Sam, you saw that right?’ Steph sat down on the steps next to Sam. ‘She was coming straight at me with a gun. I mean, it looked like she was going to kill me.’ She squeezed Sam’s arm. ‘She shot at me – you saw that too, right?’

Sam held Steph tight as she turned and started to cry into his shoulder. She was in shock, he realised. ‘I’m not sure what I saw, Steph. It all looked pretty confusing to me.’

‘I’m so sorry, Sam,’ she sobbed. ‘I never meant for this to happen, not like this – it just got so out of hand.’

‘Don’t talk about it now,’ Sam said. He looked over at where Matt was sitting. He was holding Allie in his lap and a huge pool of blood was forming around his legs. Had Steph really believed Allie was trying to shoot her? And if so, did she believe Allie had cause to? Either way, the Dutchwoman had died at Steph’s hands.

• • •

Allie let out a small moan and her eyes flickered and closed.

‘It’s going to be okay, Allie,’ Matt lied. ‘I’ve stopped the bleeding now. You’re going to be fine.’

‘It’s over, Matt – that’s the last bomb. It’s over.’

Matt stroked the hair from her face then looked around. ‘Where the hell are the medics?’ he yelled.

He turned back to Allie, watching as the life started to drain from her, her face becoming grey. Feeling a sob rise in his chest, he lowered his face to hers and felt her last breath on his neck. She shuddered and was gone.

He looked over to where Omar and the suicide bomber lay, and then across to where Steph sat with Sam. Her head was in her hands.

Matt now put it all together. Not only had he been betrayed by those he knew and who were close to him but also by someone else, someone he knew nothing of, until now.

‘No, Allie,’ he whispered. ‘This is not over. It’s just the beginning.’ He caught Steph’s eye as she raised her head. She instantly looked away. No, this was a long way from being over.

• • •

‘It’s on a need to know basis,’ Matt was told by the CIA when he pressed for details. Steph had been sent out of the country hours after the incident and the CIA had closed ranks to protect one of its own. Matt had been left to answer to the Australian army investigators once again.

Sam was of no help. ‘Yes, sir; no, sir; no recollection.’ He wound the investigators into knots.

Two weeks later Matt and JJ had the platoon’s weapons and equipment cleaned, de-serviced and on the way to Sydney. They were going home. Yankee Platoon had been ordered to take over the responsibility for the Tactical Assault Group. Matt was given a warning by his own command, to let the issue go and stop asking questions about Steph Baumer’s whereabouts. It seemed to him that she had become a ghost, much like Rapier had been in those first few months.

Matt did let it go, but he didn’t forget.