Ignited (Titanium Security Series) (14 page)

Hunter didn’t look away from the man’s gaze, not about to be told what to do by this little shit who may or may not be an ally in this fight. “Tell him I will order my men to engage the enemy if I see fit.”

Gage translated while Hunter kept up with the staring contest.
Yeah, chew on that, asshole.

Apparently tired of the negotiations, the officer waved them away impatiently and began issuing orders to his men. “Guess we’re done here,” Gage said with a smile in his voice.

“’Bout fucking time.” Walking away, Hunter got on the squad radio and informed everyone of the new rules of engagement, stressing that they should return fire if they felt it necessary to defend themselves. “We clear?” They all checked in with an affirmative. “Ellis, Dunphy, stay where you are. Everybody else fall back into defensive perimeter around the school.”

 He could hear the Pak soldiers talking on the radio behind them, no doubt calling for reinforcements. Just as well, since they only had a few hours of daylight left until the sun sank behind the mountains. Hunter doubted the Taliban would stay and fight through the darkness but he couldn’t rule out the possibility.

“Looks like they’re planning to make things interesting over there,” Dunphy said. “Both groups are converging in the center now. Might be getting ready to attack.”

So much for hoping the added military muscle would scare them away. Or maybe they assumed the army would help them fight against him and the rest of the American infidels desecrating the valley with their presence. “Get into position,” Hunter ordered everyone.

There was no adequate cover now except the school itself and they made good use of it. The entire group took up positions around the building, facing out toward the enemy coming at them from two sides.

“Dunphy, what are we up against?” Hunter prompted.

“AKs and a few RPGs.”

Great, RPGs.
“Any new players?”

“Negative. Still fourteen. Gonna lose sight of them in a minute when they move behind that butte.”

“Copy that.” He raised his binos to check on the Pak soldiers, only to find they were still by their truck, apparently not moving until reinforcements arrived. Meaning, ROEs or not, Hunter and his men were on their own for the time being.

Tense minutes ticked past as the enemy approached, unseen behind the screen of hills. Hunter and the others remained in position, keeping watch on the far hills. Then it came. An eerie wail, increasing in volume and strength, one Hunter had heard many times before.

Bring it, you bastards.

“Three groups now,” Dunphy reported. “Coming at you from three different directions. Ellis and I have a clear shot on the group at the far right.”

“Copy that,” he answered. “Fire at will.”

“Roger.”

Lying flat on his belly next to the east wall of the school, Hunter raised his rifle and took aim in the direction of the coming attack. His heart rate slowed as it always did in a firefight, his body calm and his finger on the trigger of his M4. The fighters in the center group suddenly burst out of a gap at the valley’s mouth, closely followed by the one on the left, then the right. “Hold your positions,” Hunter ordered. “No one gets past us.” They all knew what was at stake if they didn’t hold their ground. Dozens of innocent lives depended on them repelling the attack. Including Khalia’s.

As an image of her face formed in his mind, he forced it away and sighted down the barrel of his weapon.

The enemy bore down on them in a suicidal rush, yelling their war cry. They began shooting in that weird haphazard way they had, from the hip, spraying rounds all over the place in the hopes of hitting something. A few rounds plowed into the cinderblock wall at the front of the school, sending up tiny sprays of white. He stayed off the radio, letting his men do their jobs. They’d gone over this plan before and each man knew what to do.

His finger tightened on the trigger. Another ounce of pressure was all he needed to fire. His gaze locked on the man at the front of the center column. He was running flat out toward the school, mouth wide open in his bearded face as he hollered, his AK spewing rounds. Some of the shots thudded into the ground yards ahead of where Hunter lay.

He held his fire, waiting for the enemy to come into the kill zone.
Five seconds. Four. Three. Two. One.

He squeezed the trigger, firing two shots that hit the man’s chest. The Taliban fighter dropped his weapon and crumpled, unmoving. Hunter’s men began to engage the enemy in their designated sectors, methodically picking the attackers off when they came into range. The air was filled with the rattle and echo of gunfire. Hunter took aim at the next fighter but someone beat him to it, hitting him in the torso and sending him tumbling to the grass.

A new burst of gunfire suddenly broke out on their far left. The Paks, finally getting into the fight. Hunter stayed flat on his belly and waited for the remaining targets to come close enough.

“Three tangos down here,” Dunphy reported, confirming Ellis had already taken out three of his own targets. “Looks like reinforcements are coming down that trail. Four so far.”

“Team leader copies,” Hunter replied, readying to fire his weapon at the next enemy. Bullets slapped into the cinderblock beside him, showering him with dust. His vision zeroed in on the closest man’s chest, sighting down the length of the rifle barrel.

“RPG, incoming!”

At Dunphy’s warning, Hunter and Gage simultaneously flattened against the ground and covered their heads a second before the round whistled over them and hit the north wall of the school with a loud bang. The ensuing explosion blew apart the cinderblock and shook the ground. Hunter grunted as the blast wave rolled through his body and chunks of debris rained down around him.

“Tango down. Someone else is trying to load the tube again.”

“Take him out,” Hunter ordered, crawling on his elbows to get a better vantage point. The surviving enemy were still coming at them, running headlong through the hail of return gunfire. He saw three more drop. One crawled away clutching at a wound in his belly.

“He’s down,” Dunphy reported a moment later, “and so’s the RPG. Ellis did it with one round.”

One shot, one kill.
This was why Scout/Snipers
rocked
. “Nice.” Hunter fired again, hitting another enemy fighter high up in the shoulder. His AK flew up into the air as he fell and crawled back toward his line.

More Taliban fighters fell, cut down by the lethal fire delivered by his men. One more man in the lead of his group toppled face first into the grass and suddenly everything got quiet. The eerie yells died away into silence and no more shots rang out. The survivors turned and ran for their lives, dragging the wounded with them.

Hunter counteracted the adrenaline rush flooding his system with a few slow, deep breaths, bracing for a possible counterattack. “Dunphy, report.”

 “The three reinforcements are retreating and there’re only six unwounded shooters left. We don’t see any others hidden in the hills.”

“Copy that. Update me if anything changes.” Having Ellis take more of them out when they seemed to be retreating went directly against the ROEs, and with the Pak army here as witnesses it would cause a serious shit storm. Even though Hunter knew those TTP bastards would likely be back another day when the school wasn’t as heavily defended, that wasn’t his concern now.

All he cared about right now was getting enough room and time to get to Khalia and the students.

After a few minutes passed with no further sign of an attack, Hunter got to his feet and surveyed the area before getting back on the squad radio. “Execute exfil plan Charlie, over.”

In answer everyone got up and hauled ass to their pre-assigned positions. With the enemy withdrawing, now was the perfect time to evacuate Khalia and the others. No telling if the Taliban were regrouping for another round, and there was no reason to stay and find out. As far as Hunter was concerned, they were the Pak military’s problem now. His priority was to get those students and staff to safety, then get Khalia and Ray the hell out of this valley.

****

Youssef left work that evening in a cheerful mood and opted to walk over to one of his favorite cafés for a hot cup of tea before catching the bus home. The entire day had gone by without a single visit from Faatin and he’d made good headway on the next project in his queue. On top of that, he was looking forward to finding out if there’d been an attack on the girls’ school today.

He took a shortcut down some side streets on the way from his office to avoid the crowds. The sun was just starting to set, casting a rosy glow over everything its rays touched. Calls for prayer rang out from the mosques. Being near the end of Ramadan, everyone was in high spirits about the approach of the Eid-Ul-Fitr celebration and looking to fill up on a good meal before the ritual fasting began again at sunrise. When he arrived, his favorite coffee shop was much busier than usual.

After standing in line for almost fifteen minutes to get his vanilla chai tea and a slice of spice cake, he made his way back onto the crowded sidewalks and kept a leisurely pace as he ate his treat, then stopped to sit on a bench for a while. He deserved this reward for everything he’d done this past week.

He lingered over his fragrant cup of tea for almost half an hour, until the sky turned purple and soft and shadows began to swallow the streets. The restaurants, cafés and shops in this area of town were bustling with activity. He walked for a while. When he got tired of battling the crowds he hit an alley that led to another side street, polished off the last bite of moist, decadent cake and washed it down with a satisfying sip of hot tea. Enjoying the relative quiet on this route, he breathed in deeply and sighed. Life was good.

At the next corner he took a left away from the busy part of town. His bus stopped all along this road but he didn’t feel like waiting for it with a big group of people. Right now all he wanted was to savor his solitude and get home to check the news and see if his TTP contact had left him an update of some kind.

A block from his destination, he noticed a black SUV driving up the street toward him. He tossed his garbage into a trash bin on the sidewalk and continued up the street. The vehicle slowed as it neared him. A little weird, since the traffic light was still a few dozen meters away, but he figured maybe they were going to let someone out. When it pulled over to the curb and stopped ahead of him, he paused, a trickle of apprehension sliding through him. The vehicle’s windows were blacked out and the plates weren’t marked.

The passenger door popped open and a powerfully built man slid out wearing a dress shirt and an expensive-looking leather jacket. He stared directly at him and Youssef took an instinctive step back, pulse accelerating.

The man stepped away from the vehicle and Youssef noticed a slight bulge beneath his jacket, just under the armpit. A gun?

“Youssef Khan?” the commanding voice demanded.

Run.
His feet and hands turned ice cold. He took another step backward, ready to whirl around and make a run for it. Who was this guy? What did he want?

“Are you Youssef Khan?” the man repeated in Urdu, in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t used to asking twice.

Youssef struggled to find his voice. “Y-yes.”

“I need you to come with us.” He didn’t make a move toward him or reach for his gun, but the threat was implicit all the same. Run, and the man would take him down. Maybe with a bullet.

Youssef swallowed hard, pulse drumming in his throat. These guys had to be from the government. “What do you want?” What did they know? Had they hacked into his e-mail accounts? Had they somehow listened in on his conversation the other night? His mouth went dry.

The man angled to the side and opened the rear passenger door, giving him a clear view of the holstered pistol beneath his left arm. And not by accident.