Firefight (22 page)

'It
won't
go wrong.'

*

Latifa Ahmed remained on the stretcher bed, huddled on
her front, her legs bent under her and her head in her arms.
She had not opened her eyes since they had taken the
soldier, Will Jackson, away, but she could tell that the two
men who had been interrogating her were still in the room.
It wasn't over yet: they were just waiting for the go-ahead
from the man in the black coat.

Her body was shaking uncontrollably and though her
lungs had been replenished with precious air, her abdomen
ached as if she had been beaten.

They had different ways of torturing people, these
Westerners with their white coats and syringes. But deep
down, she had fully realised in the last few minutes, they
were no better than her Taliban torturers. The sensation of
what had just occurred, the feeling of drowning, of knowing
that death was almost upon you, was as terrifying as anything
she had undergone in Afghanistan.

'Get out.'

The voice made her open her eyes and for an instant
she stopped sobbing and looked up. It was Jackson and he
was talking to the two men who had been interrogating
her.

'I said, get out.'

The bald man, the one who had put the film over her
face, looked as if he might argue, but then he clearly thought
better of it and pushed past Jackson out into the corridor.
The other man followed.

And then Jackson was there by her. He looked stern.
Tired, but stern. Something in his face reminded her of
Faisal. What was it? Determination, perhaps. Strength.

'We're taking you back to the UK,' he said, firmly.

Latifa gave a weak smile.

'For more torture?' she asked.

His lip curled slightly. 'No,' he said. 'No more torture.'

An enormous wave of relief crashed over her. If anyone
else had said this to her, she wouldn't have believed them:
she would have just thought it was part of the torture. But
there was something genuine about this man. She didn't
think he would lie to her.

'Thank you,' she said, simply. 'For everything. You are a
good man.'

Jackson's face remained stern. 'Don't be too grateful,' he
said, flatly. 'You're coming with us for a reason.'

'And what is that?'

'To lure Faisal Ahmed out of hiding.'

Latifa closed her eyes as a strange sense of numbness
passed over her. She coughed, painfully. 'You wish to use
me as—' She struggled for the word. 'As bait?'

Jackson's face remained stony as she gazed up at him.

'You and my brother,' she said weakly. 'You are both
soldiers. You both fight for what you think is right.'

'Perhaps,' Jackson replied. 'But we have very different
ideas of how to go about it. Of what is acceptable.' He
bent down slightly so that his face was closer to hers.
'Don't get too hung up on what a good man I am, Miss
Ahmed,' he whispered. 'I
am
going to catch your brother.
And when I do, I won't hesitate to do what has to be
done.'

She could hear his breathing. Slow. Controlled. He meant
what he said.

'And what is it,' she asked, steadfastly holding his gaze,
'that has to be done?'

The question hung in the air.

'They say,' she continued, 'that my brother is a great
fighter. One of the best. You understand, I suppose, that if
he believes you have been mistreating me, he
will
kill you.'

She looked up at him, as earnestly as she could.

'Not if I kill him first,' Jackson said, gruffly. She felt
her stomach tighten as he turned and walked out of the
room.

Latifa Ahmed watched him go with a sickening sense of
apprehension. Then, once more, she fell back on to the
stretcher bed and waited for the soldiers to wheel her out
to the plane.

London. Later that day.

'I sure hope you know what you're doing, Lowther.'

Don Priestley sat in Pankhurst's comfortable office. It was
four o'clock in the afternoon, and the C-17 Globemaster
had only touched down at Brize Norton at 08.30 that
morning. Pankhurst was tired, ratty and - though he would
never have admitted it to his American counterpart - not
at
all
sure that he knew what he was doing.

'I was there, Don,' he replied, impatiently. He rubbed his
forehead with his fingers as the memory of Latifa Ahmed's
cling-filmed mouth passed through his mind. He'd put a
brave face on it in front of Jackson, but just the experience
of watching it had been traumatic enough. The image
wouldn't leave him. 'I watched the interrogation. Jackson
was right - they weren't going to break her.'

Priestley raised an eyebrow. 'Maybe they would have had
a better chance if your guy hadn't kicked them in the
cojones
.' He waved a piece of paper in the Director General's
direction. 'They made their report already.'

Pankhurst sighed heavily in frustration. It was certainly
true that Jackson's heroics hadn't helped matters; but then,
maybe, if he hadn't intervened . . .

'They did it three times, Don. I've seen the same statistics
as you. Even the most hardened terror suspects fold in
a matter of seconds using your clever little technique.'

'It's not
my
technique, Lowther,' Priestley replied, seemingly
a little abashed. 'The Japanese have been doing it for years.
All I'm saying is, are you sure this Jackson character is the
right guy to take it from here?'

'I wish he weren't. I don't like him. He's insubordinate
and a loose cannon. But we've got to be pragmatic.
Jackson and his team just whisked that woman away from
under the noses of the Taliban. That's no mean feat. And
he still wants Ahmed's head on a plate even more than
we do.'

'I don't know about that,' Priestley murmured. 'You've
seen the latest intel.'

'Enough to know it's close.' He stood up and looked out
of his window.'
Shit
,' he swore suddenly and Priestley looked
surprised to see an expletive leave Pankhurst's lips.
'Sometimes I think every man Jack on the streets knows
more about Faisal Ahmed than we do. We've got chatter
coming in from all sorts of unexpected quarters - just last
night we took two Muslim teenagers into custody. They
both admitted they knew the name Faisal Ahmed, that he
was planning something. But that's
all
they knew.'

'You couldn't probe a little further?' Priestley asked, delicately.

'No,' Pankhurst insisted. 'Not with their lawyers sitting
next to them. And we'd be airlifting planes full of them to
Poland if we did it your way.'

'Like I say,' Priestley complained. 'It's not
my
way.'

'Whatever you say. All I know is I'm hearing the same
rumours from everywhere. He's planning something soon,
but no one knows where or when.'

'Where are they keeping the sister?'

'At the moment she's in protective custody in Paddington.
News of her "arrest" should hit the wires in an hour so,
then she's being moved to a safe house in the North Downs.
Jackson's prepping it at the moment.' Pankhurst passed his
hand over his eyes. 'I don't know when that man ever sleeps.
Anyway, it's a location Ahmed knows - we used it to debrief
him when he first arrived in the UK. Jackson thought that
if we used a familiar site it would make it more likely
that he would try a rescue attempt.'

Priestley looked dubious. 'It would also make it more
likely that Ahmed succeeds. And actually having the woman
there, on site, seems like madness to me. This is pretty highrisk,
Lowther, if you don't mind me saying so.'

Pankhurst shrugged. 'Jackson's convinced that if Ahmed
has any suspicion that his sister isn't really there, he'll abort.
He says it's what he would do.'

'Can't you at least have some proper back-up? A cordon
around the area - men nearby ready to go in if Ahmed
does show his face?'

'How can I, Don? Five's compromised. If I mobilise
everyone, I risk giving Ahmed a direct feed into everything
that's going on.'

Priestley's eyes narrowed and he looked as if he was about
to say something. In the end he seemed to decide against
it, but he didn't look happy.

Pankhurst noticed that look. 'If you have a better plan,
Don, I'm all ears.'

But Priestley, for all his criticism, clearly didn't. 'They've
been instructed, I hope, to shoot to kill. If they give Ahmed
a second's leeway—'

'Of course, Don. They're professionals. They know what
to do.'

'Good,' the American nodded. 'You have a shortlist of
Ahmed's possible targets in London?' he asked, though it
sounded more like a statement of fact than a question.

'Of course - the usual suspects. Thames Barrier,
Buckingham Palace, the London Eye, any of the bridges.
Our people still think the Tube is his most likely target.
Security levels have been raised, but you can't stop and
search everybody that uses the Underground. God only
knows how many casualties there'll be if he puts his mind
to it down there - not to mention the fact that London
will grind to a halt for months.'

There was a pause.

'Cities bounce back,' Priestley said, quietly. 'Look at New
York.'

Pankhurst blinked. 'You won't be offended, I hope, if I
fail to see much comfort in that notion.'

'Of course not, Lowther,' Priestley replied, his voice soft,
reasonable. 'Of course not. But you know that if my country
can do anything to help. Anything at all.'

Pankhurst turned around. He regretted having snapped
at Priestley - they were on the same side, after all. 'Thank
you, Don,' he replied. 'I understand your President has
already made the same offer to the Prime Minister.'

'And if Will Jackson needs any back-up whatsoever -
men, equipment. I'm sure he's well prepared, but the offer's
there.'

Pankhurst rolled his eyes. 'You know what these SAS boys
are like,' he said. 'They'd rather accept help from St Trinian's
than Delta Force. Question of pride, I think.'

Priestley looked confused. 'St Trinian's?' he asked. 'Who
are they?'

Pankhurst smiled tiredly. 'Never mind, Don,' he said.
'Never mind.'

*

Will looked up at the imposing building in front of him.
About twenty miles south of London, nestled in the chalky
North Downs of Surrey, two miles from the quaint market
town of Dorking, Maple Hall was a large, deserted country
house. Will had specified to Pankhurst on the flight back
from Poland exactly what it was he wanted. Ideally, it should
be somewhere Ahmed knew, because that would bolster his
confidence, make it more likely he would try and spring
Latifa. It needed to be somewhere fairly large, so that their
Afghan terrorist would feel he had options when it came
to devising an approach route. But there also needed to be
space around the building, so that the SAS team could keep
up a high level of surveillance. When Faisal Ahmed
approached, they wanted to know about it.

From his satellite phone on board the plane, Pankhurst
had come up trumps. Maple Hall was just right.

The spook who had driven Will and Kennedy there from
Brize Norton had told him something about its history.
During the Second World War it had been a regional centre
of operations. After the war, it had become a barracks of
sorts, a place for soldiers and special forces on training exercises
in this part of the world. For the last fifteen years,
however, it had been pretty much out of service, one of a
number of MOD buildings that were kept on simply so that
the Government had somewhere private and out of the way,
should they ever need it. Ahmed had been debriefed here
on his arrival in the UK. He wasn't the kind of guy anyone
wanted strolling straight into Thames House, after all.

It was a grand building, imposingly square with a high,
pitched roof. If a child were to draw a picture of a house, it
would end up being a similar shape to Maple Hall. The high
walls were a faded, crumbling yellow and each side of the
house had four large, tall windows. The main door had once
been painted red, but the paint was now peeling off; however,
the window frames seemed sound. A straight road led up to
the house, with neatly trimmed lawns. You'd be able to see
anyone approaching from that direction; not that you would
approach from there, if you wanted to do it surreptitiously.

Country roads ran along the west and south sides of the
house; the remaining sides, as well as the areas beyond the
roads, were densely forested and ran uphill to the east. Along
the east side - the back of the house - there was a high
fence, beyond which was a footpath that led uphill into the
forest and the North Downs beyond. The two SAS men -
Drew had been sent back to Credenhill with a shopping
list for the armourer - walked around the house and recced
the surroundings.

'When he finds out where we are,' Will said, almost to
himself, as they walked round the house, 'he'll come at us
from the woods.'

'How do you know it'll be just him?' Kennedy asked.

'Everything we know about him points to him being a
loner. He'll be by himself.'

Kennedy shrugged.
If you say so
, he seemed to say. 'He'll
definitely avoid the road,' he added. 'He'll know it's too easy
for us to set up surveillance and he's not to know Five have
decided not to give us any support.'

'They've got their reasons,' Will told him.

'I bet they fucking have,' Kennedy replied.

Will stonewalled him. He knew that Pankhurst's decision
not to set up a cordon around the house was the
right one. If MI5 had a mole feeding intel to Ahmed,
that would be a sure-fire way of ensuring he knew their
every move. Kennedy and Drew wouldn't see it like that,
however.

Kennedy looked up at the walls of the house. 'We can
set up motion-sensor alarms to cover the area surrounding
the house. That way we'll know as soon as he makes his
approach.'

Will looked up and narrowed his eyes. 'He'll be expecting
that,' he said, distractedly. 'Means he'll come at us hard and
fast. If you were him, how would you enter?'

Kennedy thought for a moment. 'Depends where I
thought you were located,' he said. 'On the ground floor,
then through the window of whichever room you're in.
Tear gas, stun grenades, the works. NV if it's after dark.' He
grinned. 'Three to one's not my kind of odds - I wouldn't
want to come at you unless I had some pretty heavy
weaponry.'

Will nodded. 'And if we were upstairs?'

Again Kennedy thought. 'Avoid the main entrance, obviously.
You'd have the advantage of height and could take
me out immediately. I guess I'd try to scale up to the roof
then swing in through the window again.' He looked sharply
at Will. 'But that takes time and with the motion sensors
we'll be ready for him.'

Again Will nodded his head, more slowly this time. They
started walking to the main door of the house. 'There's
no way we can fool our target into thinking that this is
anything other than a set-up. If he's as good as I'm told
he is, he'll know where we are and how many of us there
are. He'll know we're waiting for him.' He chewed absentmindedly
on his lower lip. 'We can cover all his possible
entry points and try and second-guess him as much as we
can, but the one thing we need to prepare for is the one
thing we can't predict.'

'What's that?'

Will sniffed. 'Well, I don't know . . . The unexpected, I
guess. Ahmed's only chance of success is catching us
unawares. We need to make sure he doesn't do that.'

They walked up into the house and continued the recce.
Inside it was in reasonable repair, but it had the atmosphere
of a place that had been deserted for a long time. There
was a stale smell and the high-ceilinged rooms echoed in
the way only places that have not been lived in for many
years ever do. There were items of furniture here and there,
but Will had the impression that they had been left only
because nobody had bothered to take them away, not because
they were intended to add anything to the general comfort
of the house.

There was a large hallway at the end of which was a
sweeping flight of stairs. To the right, off the hallway, was
a large kitchen with a big open fireplace and a tiny electric
stove - decades old - precariously connected to the
house's ancient wiring. In the corner was a door which
opened on to a flight of steps leading down into the basement.
Will and Kennedy examined it, but the floor of the
basement was knee-deep in water, so it was no place for
them to camp out.

On the other side of the hallway, opposite the kitchen,
was a huge room that went the entire length of the house.
There were two massive windows looking out, but aside
from an old sofa and a table that had seen better days, there
was nothing in there.

The stairs led up to the first floor, which was divided into
four rooms, each with large windows on the outside walls.
A hallway divided them down the middle. They unanimously
decided that the room on the north-eastern corner would
be the most advantageous position for them to set up, as
they would be able to maintain surveillance on the forested
areas to the north and east. Offering a vast expanse of cover,
these were the directions, they decided, from where Ahmed
was most likely to come at them. The room was also opposite
the bathroom - surprisingly small for the size of the
house - which meant they didn't have to move far.

By the time they had made their decision, Drew had
arrived with a van full of equipment. They talked him
through their plans and he nodded with approval. Only
when they had finished did he speak. 'If I were him I'd try
to disable us using gas - CS, something non-lethal if his
sister is in the same room.'