Insurgency (2 page)

Rockbridge cut in. “We hit them hard. Well done boys.”

There were no cheers or back slapping. The Deltas were not happy. Gonzalez broke the uneasy silence. “Before he passed out, Minute Man said something about his attacker. I want to see the film. I want to see what attacked him and Peter Pan.”

Rockbridge’s eyes flashed and he glanced at Matthers who tried to placate the team leader. “Sargent Gonzalez. The film has now been sent off to the Pentagon.”

Gonzalez shook his head something was not right. “The Pentagon? So you are telling me that we carried out a classified mission but haven’t got a security clearance high enough to see our own footage?”

“Correct.”

“This is Bullshit.” Eaton added.

“Eaton!” Rockbridge pointed a finger.

“You point that at me again and I’ll snap it off.” Eaton growled. There was no love lost between Delta and their ‘appointed in country’ CO.

“Gentlemen please.” Matthers held up his hands. “I give you my word that we will recover Black’s body.”

Rockbridge, face now a beetroot red glared at Eaton who grunted but said nothing more.

Matthers continued. “Now I can’t offer any of you a beer but I suggest that you get some serious down time before your next operation. Gentlemen.”

Matthers left the pre-fabricated hut, Rockbridge followed and pointed again at Eaton.

“This is Bullshit.” Eaton stated again as the door closed behind the officers.

Gonzalez stood. “You don’t think I know? But you heard him.”

Miller shook his head. “We messed up. I should have been faster. I just couldn’t stop it in time.”

“It?” Gonzalez said.

“Them, the Talibs.” Miller corrected himself.

“And since when does the US of A’s Delta Boys take orders from a friggin Brit?” It was a constant complaint from Eaton.

“Hey, we come under JSOC but we’re here as ISAF remember that.” Gonzalez said flatly as Eaton shook his head.

Flagon saw movement outside. “Here comes the Doc.”

A medic entered, he had a strange expression on his face. “Styles is awake.”

“Say again?” Gonzalez wanted to be sure.

“I said Sargent, that your man is awake. It’s a miracle but he is sitting up and asking for food.”

“Let me guess, steak well done?”

The Delta team shared a smile. Styles was a ravenous carnivore whose idea of a gourmet meal was an ‘all you can eat buffet’ at a steakhouse.

“No. He’s asking for it ‘blue’.”

“That doesn’t sound like him.”

Miller nudged Eaton “Blue means bloody.”

“Thanks. We didn’t have fancy words on the ranch.”

Gonzalez moved towards the door. “C’mon, let’s go beg steal or borrow him his steak.”

“From friggin where?” Eaton threw his hands up.

Unknown location, Afghanistan

“Drink.”

Black felt a warm liquid touch his lips. Moments later his body felt as though it was burning. His eyes snapped open. Disorientated Black looked around as he started to focus. A bearded figure was crouching in front of him.

“You will have many questions but I am afraid that my answers will not please you.”

Black found his voice. “Who are you?”

“Sergey Krasnov.”

“A Russian?”

“Ukrainian actually, but that is not important.”

As Black’s eyes cleared he realised that he was in a sparsely furnished room. It was dark and there were heavy shutters at the window. “Where am I?”

“The name will mean nothing to you, it is just a village.”

Black tried to sit up but discovered that he was chained to the bed. “What are you, a mercenary?”

“A Red Army deserter, actually. I have lived here for twenty five years.”

Black looked into the face of the man, he seemed no more than thirty. “So you take me captive then what, ransom me off to the Talibs?”

Krasnov shook his head. “I tied you down for safety reasons, your safety and mine.”

“Unchain me.”

“Of course.” Krasnov produced a key and undid a padlock at the foot of the bed. As the chains loosened Black sprung to his feet, his own speed surprising him. He took a step towards the Ukrainian. His captor stood up slowly.

“Again. Who are you and why am I here?” Black scanned the room for a weapon.

“You were attacked, I rescued you.”

Images flashed in Black’s mind from the cave, a man with red eyes snapping at him with open jaws and then darkness. “From whom?”

Krasnov’s eyes bore into him. “A dead man.”

Black noticed a Makarov pistol on the crude wooden chair in the corner. He lunged for it.

Krasnov made no attempt to stop him. “That is my Spetsnaz issue side arm. It is over thirty years old, but like me has been very well preserved.”

Black held the Soviet pistol in a two handed grip and aimed it at the head of the Ukrainian. “Which way is it to the nearest ISAF base?”

“South, two days walk.”

“You don’t have a car?”

Krasnov lied. “The Taliban took it when you Americans scared them away.”

“I’m going to need all the water you have.”

“No you will not.”

“I don’t want to shoot you, but I said I need water.”

Krasnov shrugged. “If you insist upon it there is a well outside.”

“Now I’m going to leave.”

Black moved towards the door and pushed it open, instantly feeling the warmth of the sun on his face. He stepped outside and saw the well. As the rays of the sun touched his neck he felt his throat constrict and then his whole body start to shake. Black fell to his knees and put his hands in front of his face, his fingers were starting to smoke - the skin bubbling. The Ukrainian grabbed his shoulders and dragged him back into the shadow of the hut. Krasnov slammed the door and then pulled the American into a sitting position against the wall. He handed Black a glass bottle. “Drink.”

Hyperventilating, Black looked down and saw that the content of the bottle was blood red. He put it to his lips and then knew that it was indeed blood. He tried to remove it but something inside stopped him. He hungrily drained every drop. Again his body shook but this time a wave of cold surged through him followed by a sheet of fire. “You’ve poisoned me?” Black stood then lunged at Krasnov.

The Spetsnaz commando stepped sideways and using a Sambo move hurled Black against the far wall. “Yes.”

Baring his teeth, something inside told Black to attack again. “I’m going to kill you.”

Black leapt and collided with Krasnov. The pair seemed to tussle in the air for a second before landing in a heap. Black now saw that the other man’s eyes were blood red and that he had fangs. Black hit him with force in the neck and rolled away. Krasnov got to his haunches, rubbed his neck and stared. Black scrabbled for the Makarov still lying in the doorway and pulled the trigger. The roar was ear-splitting in the small room. The round travelled across the space in a millisecond and hit Krasnov in the chest. The Ukrainian grunted and stumbled backwards. Black fired twice more in quick succession, a double tap to the head. Krasnov fell and lay still.

“Shit.” Black wiped his brow and tried to steady his ragged breathing. The man had given him no choice. He prodded the Ukrainian with his boot although he already knew the man was dead. The Delta operative backed away shaking his head; whatever weird gig Krasnov had been part of was nothing more do to with him. He looked around the small room, his eyes seemed to be more adjusted to the gloom now and he started to search for anything that may be of use. He found a map on the table and was surprised to see that Firebase Python was clearly marked, circled in red ink. The map also showed the location of the target Taliban camp and caves. There were notes in Cyrillic at the bottom and a diagram. As he strained his eyes to make out the markings, the letters seemed to make sense and he was able to read them. Black turned the map to orientate himself and then smiled as he realised that he knew where he was. Looking around once more, Black saw nothing else of importance or anything intelligence worthy. As he left the hut the Afghan sun still burned but he no longer felt the heat. Map and pistol in hand, Black took a deep breath and started to walk he had a long way to go.

Firebase Python, Pasaband District, Ghowr Province, Afghanistan

“How ya feeling soldier?” Gonzalez asked as he and the rest of the team looked down at Styles.

“Like I’ve been eaten, chewed up and spat out.” Styles held his hand against the bandage on his neck; he could feel the vein below throb.

“You got a nicked artery, the Doc said you lost a lot of blood and were lucky you didn’t bleed out.”

“What time is it?

“Half three, but it’s gloomy as hell in here so you wouldn’t know.” Gonzalez moved to the widow and pulled the heavy curtain. Rays of bright sunlight streaked across the room falling on the foot of Styles’ cot. Unseen by all an imperceptible smoke started to rise.

“Don’t! Don’t open them. The Doc says that my eyes need to adjust.”

“Sure do look red.” Eaton peered down at his buddy, who’s head started to slump. “Whoa. You ok Marv?” Eaton moved his hand to place it on Styles’ shoulder, but before he could do so Styles’ left had shot across his body and grabbed his wrist. “Whoa, take it easy!” Styles looked up, for a millisecond his pupils were crimson before he blinked and they returned to their normal blue. Eaton unlaced Styles’ fingers from his wrist; they had left a red mark. “If you wanted to hold hands you should have joined the SEALs.”

“Performing seals, maybe.” Flagon chuckled.

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of the invalid!” Styles rubbed his eyes.

Gonzalez became serious. “Do you remember what happened?”

“Didn’t you see the film?”

Gonzalez shook his head. “Taken and sent to the Pentagon.”

“Oh.” Styles screwed his eyes up. “Something jumped on me, must have been a runner from the camp we missed. How many were there Ghost?”

“I couldn’t tell, they kept moving. Sorry. I messed up.” Miller was despondent.

“Hey we all missed him. The bastard was like an animal, clawing at me and then,” Styles touched his neck, “he bit me!”

“Love bite?” Flagon asked.

“He must have mistaken you for a SEAL.” Eaton added.

“There was no one else in the cave, no one else alive that is.” Styles paused as if realizing that the team was one short. “Where’s Peter Pan?”

There was a moment’s silence, Gonzalez spoke first. “Brad didn’t make it.”

“What?” Styles sat up.

Miller nodded gravely. “There was a secondary explosion that brought down part of the roof. I saw him get buried. Nothing I could do. You were lucky I got you out. It missed us by inches.”

“But I can feel him…” Styles’ voice trailed off.

Gonzalez looked at his team. “We’re going to go back there and find him. I’m not going to leave a man in the field.”

Styles swung his legs out of the bed and stood. For a moment he swayed unsteadily before regaining his balance. “Did any of you bring me a steak?”

***

It was night. There was a firm knock at the door. Rockbridge looked up not expecting anyone, annoyed at being disturbed and weary from a long day. “What?”

“May I come in?” The man with black hair asked in accented English.

“And you are?”

“Vladimir Dratshev, GRU.”

“Russian military intelligence?”

“Yes.”

Rockbridge stood. “Please come in.”

The Russian entered. “Thank you. From your expression I sense that you were not expecting me?”

Rockbridge noted the man’s rank insignia. “No General. But that is nothing new; my small team here is ignored by ISAF. We just do the dirty jobs and are not important enough to know what else is going on. But it is always a pleasure to meet our international colleagues.” Rockbridge extended his hand, Dratshev shook. The grip was firm but the Russian’s hand cold.

“I am afraid that the reason for my intrusion is a serious matter.”

“Oh? Please take a seat, General.” Rockbridge nodded at a small fridge in the corner of what was laughingly referred to as his office. “Can I get you a drink, a coke perhaps?”

“No, thank you.”

“So what is so serious that warrants a visit from a General of the GRU?”

“War crimes.”

“What?” Rockbridge was puzzled and somewhat concerned. “Please explain.”

“Of course. A team of your ‘operatives’ recently discovered a cave within a Taliban camp.”

Rockbridge felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, the mission was classified no one outside of his chain of command should have known of its existence. “I’m sorry General; I really can’t discuss any operational details with you, without express permission from the Pentagon.”

“Here.” Dratshev handed Rockbridge an envelope. “I think you will find this is in order.”

Rockbridge opened it and read the letter inside. “Ok. It seems that they want me to offer you ‘every assistance’.” He placed the envelope on his desk, placated but slightly annoyed. He looked at his guest, he’d let him ask the questions but he was dammed if he was going to offer up anything extra.

“In the cave network your men entered, a man-made chamber was discovered. Is this the case?”

“Yes.”

“Can you describe what was found therein?”

“Bodies.”

“Were the bodies dressed in Soviet uniforms?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“From memory, six.”

“Could you tell what the cause of death was?”

“I’m not a homicide detective General.” The Russian remained silent, gaze fixed on Rockbridge waiting for him to answer the question. “Two had been decapitated.”

Dratshev nodded. “That is as I feared.”

“General I will offer you all the assistance I can, but can you please tell me what this is all about?”

“During the Soviet operation in Afghanistan...”

Rockbridge cut him off. “Occupation.”

Dratshev shrugged. “Let us not get bogged down by semantics. During the Soviet, occupation, there were reports of local people being abducted and tortured by Red Army soldiers. Now you in the West may have thought of us as ‘red devils’ who ate the children of our enemy but we were soldiers like you, just doing our jobs. The fact of the matter however was more serious than that. When the Soviet Union ceased to ‘exist’ classified documents came to light and certain officials started to cover their backs. I became aware of an unsanctioned covert operation that had been conducted here in Afghanistan. In short it was a biological weapons’ testing program, small enough to not be picked up on the radar and hidden by the chaos of war. The man-made cave you found, I believe, is the site of this and the men you found are the Spetsnaz operatives who ran it.”