Deep Black Part 28

I got the answering-machine. I talked slowly and clearly. 'It's Nick, Nick Stone. I need to speak to George, urgently. Tell him I know what's happening tell him I will finish the job, but I must talk to him first. He must call me on the Thuraya. It's life and death, Ezra don't think about it, just do it. Call him, go to him, whatever.'

Jerry had the Vitara in the trees, two long tracks gouged in the frozen gra.s.s behind it. The bonnet clicked open and Jerry climbed out. I went over to him as he bent over the engine. 'You get him?'

I put the phone and G3 on the pa.s.senger seat, took off the mag and pushed down on the rounds. It was full, apart from the round in the chamber and the one I'd ejected. I put it back on the weapon and removed my parka, keeping an eye out for the ejected round in the back of the wagon. 'Just a message.'

No luck with the round. I wrapped the parka sleeves round my waist. Jerry followed suit. 'That was one f.u.c.king amazing meeting. What you make of him?'

'Faith, my a.r.s.e. He's just as f.u.c.ked up as any suicide bomber, bin Laden without a beard.' There was a whole lot more I could have said, but it would have to wait. G3 in my left hand and the Thuraya in my right, I was ready to go.

I didn't give a s.h.i.t about what he'd done to c.o.ke sales, f.u.c.king about with the West's interest in dysfunctionality, or that he didn't paint his toenails red, white and blue. I had my own reasons for wanting him dead.

97.Jerry double-knotted the parka's sleeves round his waist. I put out a hand to stop him. 'Nothing's changed, mate, the offer still stands. You have a family, I've got f.u.c.k-all. Take the wagon, wait in the city. If I don't come back inside two days, you go home and try your luck with George tell him you managed to escape or something.'

He had stopped tying his parka, but there was no reply.

I lifted the G3 between us. 'If George doesn't call, I'm going to have to use this thing. No need for you to be there.'

He was still thinking. 'Thanks, Nick, but no thanks. We both got the same job, for different reasons. I still gotta be there.'

'We'd better get on with it, then, before he f.u.c.ks off with Benzil to Shangri-La. We can't go under the canopy until George calls. But we need to cover the road with the G3 to stop him leaving.'

I checked the Thuraya was still on, and we started jogging along the verge, using the gra.s.s to give us a little grip on the frost. I could soon hear him panting behind me. I must have sounded pretty much the same after so many months of cheese and Branston.

The parka flapped rhythmically against my legs. Sweat leaked down to the small of my back. My hands and feet were boiling.

We had done maybe four hundred when the phone vibrated in my hand.

George wasn't one for small-talk. 'You have Nuhanovic?'

'Yes, but not for long.' I took deep breaths, wanting to be understood on the first attempt. 'Here's the deal. I'll mark the target with the sat phone. You get the fix, I'll talk the ordnance in, we get out and everyone's quits. No more f.u.c.king about with kids' lives, George, please.'

'Agreed. But you must personally identify the target.'

'We are about four hours out of Sarajevo. He's time critical. You got Predators?'

'I know where you are, I have you. There are three UAVs getting airborne now. Wait for a call from the operators. You will confirm the kill. I want him dead, son, not just a pile of rubble. Keep that sat phone on, they'll be calling.' The phone went dead.

I turned to Jerry. 'We got a deal.'

His knees nearly buckled with relief.

I turned and started legging it. It wasn't just because I wanted to get on to the road junction quickly. I didn't want to answer any questions about whether I thought George would keep the deal.

We made it to the track and moved off into the first line of trees. The gra.s.s was wet, not frozen. I put the weapon down while I shoved the Thuraya in my jeans so I could feel when it went off. I slid the parka back on as I explained what George had said, slowly and quietly, so he wouldn't miss anything.

'You can dump the keys and rotary arm here. This is our meeting-place if we get split, OK?'

Jerry nodded, and put them at the base of what was left of the nearest tree, then untied his sleeves and put his own parka back on.

'OK, actions on contact, on the way to target. You make your way back here. Pick up the wagon stuff and get away to the city. Don't waste time if it goes noisy. I'll try and get to target and get on with it. You'll be able to do f.u.c.k-all without a weapon.'

The Thuraya rumbled against my stomach. I got to my knees and pressed the green b.u.t.ton. The cold soaked into me as I kept an eye on the darkness up the track, hoping not to see headlights.

'Who do I have speaking?' It was an American monotone, like a synthesized computer voice.

'This is Nick. You got a fix on us yet?'

'Say again, slowly, Nick I can't understand you.'

'Do you have a fix on us yet?'

'That's an affirmative, Nick.'

I checked the display. There was no number. 'What's your number?'

'That's cla.s.sified.'

'For f.u.c.k's sake, we're trying to carry out a fire-control mission here on a poxy sat phone. I need a number. We're not on target yet. You're going to lose the fix soon. I need to be able to call you once on target.'

There was a pause, then, 'Wait out.'

Jerry came up behind me, his face hidden in his hood. 'What the f.u.c.k they doing, man?'

I put my hand up to stop him. The monotone was back. 'I have a number.'

I tapped it straight into the Thuraya. It was another sat phone. 'OK, listen in. The target is about two Ks from this fix. It's a house complex in the forestry block. Roger so far?'

'That's affirmative.'

'You will lose this fix as we move under the canopy. I will call you once on target. Roger so far?'

'That's affirmative.'

'You on a ship?'

'That's cla.s.sified.'

'We on the same side here? Just tell me how long you have to target.'

There was another pause. 'Time to target is one hour, thirty-four minutes. One hour, three-four minutes.'

'Got it. Wait out.'

I closed down and turned to Jerry as I zipped up my parka. 'One hour thirty-four.'

Those things travelled at about eighty m.p.h., so they would be on target too quickly to have started on a carrier in the Adriatic. Maybe they were from some remote airfield in Kosovo. The US had quite a large peacekeeping presence there.

He nodded somewhere inside the hood. I pulled it down. 'Get those ears working. We'll be seeing f.u.c.k-all soon. When we move, I want you to count the distance. I do about a hundred and sixteen paces for a hundred metres. You know your rate?'

'Not a clue.'

'OK, then, we've got two Ks in there before the track junction. You count my paces, and tell me when we get to eighteen hundred metres. We can't afford to miss that junction.'

I checked the G3's mag, safety, and that the Thuraya was secure in the parka's inside pocket. My feet were starting to freeze.

'You ready?'

98.He wasn't Nuhanovic any more, he was just a target. It had always been easier for me to think of people that way before I killed them.

Hood down, I set off fast along the track. If a vehicle came down the road I'd have to go noisy and take it on with the G3. If the target wasn't aboard, we'd have lost him for sure, but what choice did I have?

Fir branches scratched my face as I pushed my way through. Trapped water cascaded down on me.

Every ten paces I stopped, holding my left hand behind me until Jerry jammed into it. We had to keep together in the dark. Conditions were good underfoot: soft pine needles kept the noise down.

I did another ten metres and stopped, b.u.t.t of the G3 on the ground, leaning forward with both hands on the barrel as I rested, taking deep breaths and waiting for Jerry to b.u.mp into me. I was soaked with sweat under all the layers of clothes, and it dripped down my face, making the scratches sting.

This time he got up close, his panting, minging breath across the side of my face. 'That's just over eighteen hundred.'

'We'll go a bit slower now; eyes open for the track junction on the left, OK?'

I closed my mouth, trying to get some saliva going to help my dry throat, and pushed myself upright on the G3.

A few minutes later I was at the junction with the track up to the house. I stopped again and waited. Now it was going to be his turn to smell my breath. It was eerily quiet, not a hint of wind to stir the trees. 'Count off five hundred this time, OK? After that we'll cut right and work our way through the trees towards the boundary wall. I want to box around that checkpoint.'

'Got it.'

We moved off again, keeping in the middle of the track. I had the G3 in my hands. There wasn't time to move tactically, weapon in the shoulder. I just moved with my head tilted to the right, keeping my ear pointed along the track. My eyes were hard right in their sockets, staring into the darkness ahead, trying to see any movement, any light, any indication of bodies.

I stopped and listened every five or six metres, trying to take deep, controlled breaths. Sweat poured down my face. Eventually Jerry came up, his mouth near my ear. 'Five hundred.'

I set off very slowly this time, weapon held at its point of balance in my right hand. The left reached behind for Jerry, making sure we had contact all the time.

About one fifty short of the checkpoint, I could still see and hear nothing. We could have played safe and cut right, into the forest, but that would have slowed us down even more. We'd just have to stay on the track for as long as we could.

Another twenty and there was a clanking of metal, forward and left. I froze. I could see nothing but black and then more black.

99.I held my breath and leaned forward, eyes closed, head tilted. All I could hear was Jerry breathing to my left.

Then there it was again, metal on metal.

I turned back to Jerry and pulled him slowly into the treeline. f.u.c.k the mines. The target's people were under the canopy the other side of the track, so that was obviously secure. If they hadn't cleared this side, we'd soon get to know about it. If it was going to happen, it was going to happen. Maybe some of that fatalism s.h.i.t had rubbed off on me after all.

I kept a grip on Jerry's sleeve. Even a few metres' separation could mean we lost each other, and it wasn't as if we could just call out to regroup. Now was the time to slow down.

It's so easy to lose any sense of direction in pitch dark, but I got a good marker from the occasional clank and s.n.a.t.c.h of conversation the other side of the track, which became clearer the closer we got. With luck we were going to hit the edge of the treeline soon, and there'd be a short stretch of open ground, then the wall.

I felt my way along, waving my left hand in front of me for obstructions, the right still holding the weapon. Jerry's hand gripped the b.u.t.t to keep contact.

I stopped when a branch blocked my way, took a few paces back or sideways, tried to move round the obstacle and not make noise. Now that I'd slowed, I was more aware of the scratches to my face. My salty sweat made them as painful as wasp stings. My sockless feet had blistered in my boots. My whole body felt as if it was boiling under all the layers.

I stayed focused, trying to keep my sense of direction. An engine started up to our left. I guessed it must be further up the track, the other side of the hedgehogs. I hoped it didn't move. If it did, and up towards the house, I'd have to a.s.sume it was going to pick up the target. I'd have to get out of the trees and take it on. There'd be a gang-f.u.c.k with so many bodies about, and only nineteen rounds.

We came to the edge of the forestry block. I dropped to my knees and crawled the last two metres on my own. After the inky blackness of the canopy, the stars seemed as bright as the sun.

The wall facing me was the one running along the right-hand side of the compound as viewed from the track. The door into the family courtyard was about forty metres down it. Beyond the wall I could catch just the odd glimpse of terracotta rooftop. The three- or four-metre strip of rough gra.s.s between the wall and the treeline was white with frost. No vehicles or bodies had been along it tonight.

Somebody near the checkpoint had a bout of coughing. Maybe it was the exhaust fumes. The engine was still on, but the vehicle was stationary.

I moved back to grab Jerry, and together we followed the edge of the trees away from the checkpoint, towards the family entrance. We came level, and I inched forward.

I looked left. No movement from the checkpoint. Vehicle still stationary.

I moved over the gra.s.s, leaving sign in the frost. There was no gap between the doors, but maybe an inch and a half beneath them. I got down on my knees, then lay flat on the ground. The gra.s.s was icy against my cheek. I couldn't see any light or movement at ground level. There wasn't the perspective to see any higher up.

I got back on my feet and gave the doors a gentle push where they joined, just in case they were unlocked. As if.

I moved back to Jerry and knelt down next to him. We stayed like that, just inches apart, as I got out the Thuraya and powered it up, one hand cupped over the display.

100.I crawled forward a couple of metres, got a signal, and pressed Send on the new number. There was only one ring before the monotone answered.

I talked normally, but kept my voice low. 'It's Nick. Get a fix: what's the time to target?'

Monotone came back, 'Eleven minutes, twenty-two seconds to target.'

Slowly and, I hoped, clearly, I began to explain the set-up of the house to him as if he was walking through the guest doors the guest courtyard with its one-storey building dead ahead, and two-storey guest accommodation to the left, with the pa.s.sageway into the family compound where the buildings met.

I checked after each detail with 'Roger so far?' I got back, 'Affirmative,' each time.

'The target's last location was the far right corner of the long building in the family courtyard. Roger so far?'

'Affirmative. We have a fix on you. I repeat, we have a fix.'

'Roger that. Wait out for the fire-control order: I do not have a target yet. This is not a weapons-free zone. You understand?'

There was a second or two's pause. Then, 'Affirmative.'

'Roger that. Wait out.'

I kept the Thuraya switched on. I wanted to be able to pull it out, get a satellite, and start talking the moment we had the target. Until then, I didn't want some colonel, or whoever was watching the screens in the operations room and making decisions, to go and hit whatever he saw on the other side of the wall because he was flapping about f.u.c.king up.

We needed to be well away from here when the h.e.l.lfires came calling. The target had to die. There was no margin for error.

The operators in the AWACS would be watching their screens, running checks on the Predators' surveillance packages as Bosnia pa.s.sed beneath them. The forward-looking infrared would be giving the operators a green negative of the landscape. Thermal imagers aboard the UAVs would be homing in on heat: the hotter the source, the whiter the image. Bodies would be picked out easily, even through the canopy. Just as important would be the LTD in the nose, and the feedback saying that the h.e.l.lfires were online and ready to go.

I crawled back to Jerry. 'Listen, they're here in about ten. The doors are locked. I need you to get over the wall and open them. I've got to stay this side. If that wagon comes to pick him up at the other doors, I'll need to get down there with the G3.'

He started getting to his feet. I grabbed him. 'When you get to the other side, you might not be able to open it, you realize that? It might be padlocked and then you're in the s.h.i.t unless you can get back over. You understand what I'm telling you?'