First Strike (4 page)

Under the cover of darkness, Connor led Danny, Jacko and Sparks towards the village. Their night-vision equipment gave the world a strange, eerie glow. Connor and Jacko were armed with silenced M4 carbines, while Danny and Sparks carried FN MK48 light machine guns. Crouching against the wall, close to the courtyard, Connor whispered to Sam over the comms. “We’re in position. Update us on current insurgent locations, over.”

From the mountainside, Sam peered through the infrared sight of his silenced M110A1 semiautomatic sniper rifle and scanned the village.

“Two still on the roof. Both sitting down, cross-legged. I’ll take them out on your command, sir. Just one target in the yard, to your left. Others have gone indoors. Door to building on your right is open and I can see activity inside. The two doors opposite are closed but there is light coming from both houses.”

“OK. Confirm line of sight and then on my count, over,” Connor replied, signalling Danny and Jacko to move silently to the opposite wall.

Sam lined up the crosshairs of his sight with the first Taliban on the roof. He knew he’d have to take out the second insurgent quickly. “I have the shot, sir, over.”

“Three, two, one.”

Sam exhaled to relax and squeezed the trigger, absorbing the recoil. The Taliban keeled over. Quickly, he panned his rifle left in a movement he’d practised a dozen times in preparation. Then two rapid shots and the second lookout slumped forward. “Clear, clear, clear… over.”

Connor and his team gritted their teeth and rushed into the compound. The lone Taliban standing outside turned in surprise. Jacko fired and the man dropped.

Danny and Sparks kicked open the doors of the houses. The men sitting inside making IEDs were taken completely by surprise.

At the same time, Connor headed towards the open door clutching a grenade. He tossed it inside, spun round against the wall and braced himself for the blast. The building shuddered and dust billowed out through the door and window. He leapt into the doorway and stepped inside. Amid the swirling dust a dozen Taliban lay on the floor. Connor heard a groan. One of them was still alive. Connor saw a bloodied hand reaching for a rifle and he didn’t hesitate. A double tap, two shots in rapid succession, and the room was still.

Connor had just finished securing the area when Sam's voice crackled in his earpiece.

“Sir, there may have been a third lookout. I saw someone running away,” he said. “I couldn't get a clear shot, over.”

Connor cursed. He knew it was a race against time now. “Sam, bring Ben and Hamid down here. We're moving out. We have to locate that mine and call in the air strike before the alarm is raised, over and out.”

Hamid was vague about how long it would take to reach his own village and the silver mines. He kept peering at the struggling Ben, and wondered why on earth they didn't just leave him behind. He thought the Americans foolish. The Taliban, he reckoned, wouldn't hesitate to leave a wounded man behind on such a mission. And he wondered if such ruthlessness lay behind the Taliban's success.

An hour into their march the wind rose to a howl and buffeted their every step. It whipped up the snow and pelted them. Despite Ben abandoning most of his heavy kit, every agonising step took him closer to exhaustion. When he collapsed for the third time, he pleaded for Connor to leave him to rest. “Sir, I'm holding you back. I don't want to be responsible for the failure of our mission. You go on. I'll take my chances.”

Connor knew that Ben was right. But he also knew that to leave him there was the equivalent of a death sentence. And he was damned if he was going to lose one of his men. He grabbed Ben's webbing. “Now, you listen to me, Sergeant Saunders. All you have to do is keep placing one foot in front of the other and we'll get there in time. You walk or you die!”

Teeth chattering, Ben reluctantly nodded and tried to get to his feet. Connor helped him up.

Jacko and Sam stepped forward. “We'll carry him, if necessary, sir,” said Jacko.

Another five hours wading through the snow, their faces and feet numbed by the cold, they drew close to Hamid's village. The valley had narrowed and the mountains towered over them, shutting out the pale moonlight. The trail was steep and the snow compacted. Connor knew it meant others had recently come their way.

“My house is on the edge of the village,” Hamid declared, pointing. “The entrance to the mine is beyond. You cannot see it from the village. It is in a deep ravine.”

Connor looked at his team and realised everyone was exhausted. They needed rest and he needed time to figure out how best to proceed. “Where are they holding your family?”

“In a stone hut close to the mine's entrance. I used to keep explosives in it. It has no windows and a strong lock. It makes a good prison.”

“Right, then we'll rest at your house. Lead the way.”

Hamid swallowed hard but nodded. He knew it was pointless to protest.

Connor took Sparks to one side. “Bury the bulk of our gear here. Just in case.”

Entering the enemy's lair, Connor knew that the slightest slip-up and they'd be dead.

Sergeant Sparks was woken by voices and a baying dog. He blinked. Daylight streamed in through a narrow crack between two grubby blankets being used as curtains. Connor dipped back from the window. “This place is crawling with Taliban.”

Connor heard Pashto and Dari being spoken. Barely six feet from the window, three Taliban stood talking and he’d been listening in. They had been there a week and were due to leave tomorrow. “We’ve got to get a look at that mine,” Connor said, thinking aloud.

“I will tell you the way,” Hamid replied. “But the guards will recognise me, and there might be trouble. So, you go alone. I will go and see Khan later. I need to free my family.”

Connor frowned. There had been something nagging away at him ever since he first met Hamid. If Khan knew Hamid was talking to Bradley, an American, why hadn’t Khan ordered his men to kill Hamid as well? Grabbing the Afghan, he posed the question, his tone threatening.

“Yes, it is true Khan feared I would reveal his presence here,” Hamid responded. “That’s why Bradley had to die. But my father tried to convince Khan that my only reason for meeting Bradley was to sell our emeralds. Nevertheless, Khan decided to test me. If Bradley gave me money for the emeralds, confirming I spoke the truth, Khan’s men were ordered to let me live. I was instructed to return here with both the emeralds and the money, and give both to Khan. Only then will he release my family.”

Connor scratched his beard thoughtfully. It sort of made sense.

Filled with painkillers, Ben slept soundly. Hamid boiled some water and Sam added it to their powdered ration packs. As they ate, a plan began to form in Connor’s head. “Hamid, go and fetch all your spare clothes. If we’re going to have any chance of getting to the mine in daylight we need to be disguised.”

Hamid disappeared into another room. Danny followed him.

“Sam, you stay here with Ben, and keep a close eye on Hamid. We’ll do a recce, and with any luck get the co-ordinates of the mine. We’ll radio them back to CENTCOM and get the hell out of here as soon as it’s dark.”

Jacko was busy cleaning his rifle. “So you believe our little friend’s story, do you, sir?”

Connor shrugged. “Right now, I don’t think we have much choice.”

Jacko pulled a face. “If you ask me, his story doesn’t entirely add up. Why was he still there when we arrived at that abandoned village? Why didn’t he leave with Khan’s men? After all, he had the cash and emeralds.”

There was no denying it, Jacko had a point. Connor couldn’t think of a reason why Hamid had stayed on at the village either. When the Afghan returned clutching a pile of unwashed clothes, Jacko fired the question at him. Hamid put the clothes down. “I told Khan’s men I was feeling ill and needed to rest a while. Bradley had said there were others coming. I stayed on to warn you.”

It was the perfect answer. Too perfect? Connor wondered.

Connor, Sparks, Danny and Jacko left Hamid’s house wearing clothes the Afghan had given them. They walked slowly through the village. The place was a hive of activity, with small gatherings of Taliban squatting about fires and talking of war. There were so many, few gave Connor and his men more than a second glance. Connor noticed several cages full of chickens and half a dozen tethered goats. He suspected that a feast was going to be prepared. Maybe, just maybe, they’d timed their visit perfectly.

Following Hamid’s instructions they continued along a path that climbed northwards, away from the village. With the storm having passed and the sun now out, Connor was struck by the barren, almost brutal, landscape of snow and rock. He figured that if it wasn’t for the silver and emeralds, few would even try to eke out an existence in such a remote and unforgiving place.

The path quickly levelled out. Either side, sheer rock faces rose high into the sky. To their left, the ground fell away steeply to form a deep ravine. At the end was the entrance to the mine, a small stone building, and six Taliban guards. Danny appeared at Connor’s shoulder. “Reminds me of the caves at Tora Bora,” he whispered. “So well concealed that air strikes won’t work.”

Connor nodded. Reaching to his wrist, he felt for his GPS device hidden beneath his sleeve and pressed the button that would record his precise position. He now had the information Rogers needed to target the air strike but knew that it was doomed to failure. Sparks read his thoughts. “Sir, it would be better if we could blow the entrance ourselves. But we haven’t got the ordnance to do that.”

Connor remembered how Bradley had told him that Hamid’s family had stockpiled old Russian munitions. “No, but I know a man who has.”

A sudden commotion behind them made Connor and his men turn sharply. They could only look on in horror. Hamid was waving an AK-47 rifle triumphantly in the air. Behind him, Taliban were dragging Sam and Ben. And behind them came twenty more Taliban, all shouting and cheering and waving their rifles, all baying for the blood of the American infidels to be spilled.

“Why, the dirty, double-crossing little rat,” Jacko snarled.

Sensing Jacko was reaching for his concealed handgun, Connor grabbed his arm. “Wait. It might not be quite what it seems.” Connor had noticed that Hamid had not pointed them out and figured there had to be a reason why. “I reckon someone came to his house and saw Ben and Sam. Hamid had no choice but to make out he’d captured them on his return journey.”

“Khan will never buy it,” Danny replied.

“No, maybe not, but it has bought both Hamid and us some time.” Connor came to a snap decision. “He’s not going to give us away. At least, not yet. Come on, we’ll join the crowd. They’re heading inside the mine.”

Merging with the throng, Connor and his men entered the silver mine. The entrance, little bigger than a doorway, led to a tunnel directly into the mountainside. Well lit by lamps, Connor noted several narrow side shafts piled high with weapons and boxes of ammunition. The crowd continued on, the ear-splitting cacophony of shouting echoing and reverberating. Deep into the mine, the tunnel opened up into a ninety foot cavern. Water dripped from the ceiling and the uneven floor was wet and slippery underfoot. There were tables and chairs and filthy old mattresses, some covered in richly embroidered blankets. On a raised platform sat a plump man, wearing a black turban. He had a large scar on his face. “So we meet at last, Mullah Khan,” Connor muttered hatefully under his breath.

Sam and Ben were thrown onto the floor at Khan’s feet. The crowd fell silent. Hamid stepped forward. “These infidels came with Lieutenant Bradley. I have tricked them. They are a gift to you, Mullah Khan.”

A tall Taliban fighter standing at Khan’s shoulder leaned forward and whispered to him. Khan then spoke. “These men attacked a village. Many of our brothers perished. Rafiq, here, was there. He says there were other infidels.”