Insurgency (12 page)

“Black, I know who you are. Nomad, untie Peter Pan.”

“DJ, that you?”

Frankie Bones, call-sign DJ nodded. “Affirmative, now what the crap are you doing here?”

Black rubbed his shoulder. “Vengeance.”

Dale Hicks, call-sign Nomad tapped Black’s shoulder. “Just a kiss.”

“I’m fine.” Black shrugged him off and stood.

“Was he with you?” DJ pointed to Krasnov who lay face down with several bullet holes in his robes.

“Yes.”

“Shit.” DJ shook his head.

“Do not worry.” Krasnov slowly started to rise until he was standing. “They are better shots than I had expected.”

“What the? Never mind. Black, I don’t know what you are playing at but you need to stay here. My team’s been sent to rescue Rockbridge and the others.”

“What?”

“The hostages, dumbass. Now sit tight.”

“You don’t know what you are up against.”

“I think we have a fair idea…” A burst of AK fire rang out. Krasnov turned, saw the two Talib sentries on their feet only meters away and returned fire. The silver rounds from his AK sent them to oblivion.

Black thought fast. “The Talibs are wearing a new type of Russian vest that normal rounds don’t penetrate. Look we need in on this.”

“OK.” DJ pressed his comms switch. “DJ to Gypsy, over.”

There was a single squelch of static as a reply.

“Have two to send in, repeat two to send in. Peter Pan and a friendly. Confirm you understand.”

Another hiss of static.

“OK, go.”

Dratshev remained still whilst Ghulam Ali flinched at the sound of the gunfire below. The real assault had started. The Afghan warlord ordered the hostages to be moved and swiftly scuttled along the escape tunnel towards the trucks. He burst into the night air as the shockwave from a large explosion forced the air out of the cave. Ghulam Ali was thrown against the side of his own pick-up, his temple hit metal and his world became a cold black. Dratshev remained above on the ledge, motionless and listened, his hearing sharpened by centuries of development. The American helo that had delivered the HRT had retreated a safe distance and was waiting, ‘rotors warm’. He withdrew into the cave and headed towards the sound of gunfire, lifting his greatcoat he retrieved his Spetsnaz issue Bizon-2, its sixty four round magazine making it a perfect CQB weapon. As he moved deeper into the cave his eyes instantly adjusted to the lack of ambient light, complete blackness became twilight. He heard the groans of the American hostages as they were kicked, shoved and moved, he did not follow rather continued to head for the fire-fight.

Black and Krasnov moved swiftly into the chamber, the fear of darkness and of death did not enter their thoughts. The distinctive barking of AKs in the distance let them know that the Delta team had been compromised. Now that the element of surprise had been lost, the hostages would only be alive if their jailors wished them to be so. The chamber started to dip before it rose and then widened. Cordite fumes scratched at Black’s throat as they neared the fire-fight and then they saw the Delta team. The Americans were pinned behind a rock-fall whilst rounds rained down at them from a fortified barricade made up of even larger boulders. Two Talibs were on the ground in between the opposing positions and trying to get at the Americans. Each time either would move another round would floor them again. Meanwhile the other Talibs were firing on full automatic; rounds flew in all directions ricocheting from floor, walls and ceiling.

“Identify yourself!” The command was yelled at Black and Krasnov by the Delta operative acting as ‘tail-end Charlie’.

“Peter Pan.” Black shouted as they both dropped to their haunches, palms exposed. “Plus one.”

“Come.” The American beckoned the pair nearer and then pushed them towards the team leader.

“Gypsy!” Black shouted once within yelling distance. He was relieved that he knew the man in charge.

“Can you explain why it’s like we’re shooting friggin ‘bb’ guns?” The Delta team leader watched two more rounds hit a Talib who staggered before getting up once more.

“They’ve got some sort of new vest.” Even Black knew it was unbelievable.

“Bullshit.”

“Where’s your family originally from Gypsy?”

“What? Romania.” Ibanescu replied not understanding why Black has asked.

“Which is most famous for?”

Ibanescu turned his head to look hard at Black. “Strigoi – vampires? More bullshit.”

“Headshots slow them down, sever the neck and you will stop them.”

“Who are you?” Ibanescu pointed a nomex gloved finger at Krasnov.

“Spetsnaz.”

Under covering AK fire a Talib jumped over the barricade and ran at them. Krasnov popped up and delivered a three round burst into the Talib who was floored instantly. The Taliban fire intensified and like WW1 trench warfare a group of Taliban fighters charged over the top at the Delta team. Black unclipped a grenade waited for two seconds and then hurled it. It exploded as soon as it landed shredding three of the advancing vampires.

An explosion greeted Dratshev as he reached the first kill zone. Ahead the cave opened up into a larger chamber that had been barricaded by the Taliban to form a bottle neck with two fields of fire. Anyone entering the kill zone would have no chance of survival. The fortification would defeat most conventional weapons. The cave system itself could only be defeated by a thermobaric bomb or a GBU-28, tunnel buster. These however would never be used when American lives were at risk. Dratshev looked on as a solitary grenade gently whistled over the top of the barricade. It hit the rock-face to one side exploded, harmlessly he thought but then something unexpected happened. The nearest group of Talibs started to scream and then one fell sideways. Dratshev moved nearer and came to an abrupt halt. He could see shards of silver that had left one Taliban vampire dead and two more bleeding uncontrollably. As he tried to reason what had happened another grenade dropped. Dratshev ran, using every last bit of his supernatural speed. The shockwave caught the soles of his boots and nothing else. He chanced a look back and saw more dead. This had to be the work of Krasnov! No one else would know about the vampiric intolerance to silver. Dratshev walked away, he no longer had any desire to stay and fight. He would find Krasnov and face him on his own terms.

Stunned Ibanescu told his men to hold their fire as Krasnov and Black went to work. Krasnov nodded at Black and then fired a three round burst, Black leapfrogged the Ukrainian’s position and got to the Taliban barricade. He pressed himself against the rock immediately next to a firing position. When the echo of Krasnov’s rounds died a Talib stood up to take a shot. The barrel of Black’s AK at point blank range sent a silver jacketed 7.62mm round into the vampire’s temple. Black vaulted over the barricade and searched for targets. He sprayed a further two vamps who dropped before firing another round. He felt a hot stab of pain in his left leg and fell to one knee. Two more rounds hit him in the back sending him sprawling. A controlled burst of AK rounds just missed Black as Krasnov sought out the attacker. The last remaining vampire crumpled and fell.

“Are you OK?” Krasnov extended his hand.

Black grabbed it and pulled himself up. He tasted blood in his mouth and felt hot daggers of pain ripping at his chest and thigh. “Getting used to being invincible.”

Ibanescu joined them. “Which way now?”

Krasnov sniffed the air, Black frowned. “Some senses develop further over time. The Vampires are near. Follow me”.

They edged further into the cave complex, a line of the elite lead by an immortal Ukrainian. It was eerily quiet until they came to what Black could only describe as a crossroads, two chambers met with tunnels leading in opposite directions. Krasnov froze then quickly took several steps backwards as he heard the sound of feet slapping the rock floor. A group of ‘Talib-vamps’ ran past. “That is another exit route.”

“The recon imagery only showed one entrance and exit.” Ibanescu peered along the tunnel.

Krasnov grunted. “Your satellites are wrong.”

“So where are the hostages?”

“Gone.”

“How do you know?”

“There scent is no longer here.”

“Shit.” Ibanescu signalled over two team members and sent them along the corridor.

Black turned to Krasnov. “And Dratshev?”

Krasnov shook his head then put out his arm to block Black’s path as he sniffed the air. “Wait, there is another scent.”

“What?”

“Non-vampire, human.”

“The Afghan boss-man?”

“It is not Ghulam Ali, I would recognise his scent. There are several scents.” Krasnov moved again and Black followed. “This way.”

The Deltas split into two groups, one headed to secure the exit and contact ISAF whilst the second followed Krasnov’s lead. The chamber became wetter and lead Krasnov’s group down until they crossed an underground spring. It was then that they heard the moans. Krasnov waded through and ducked under a curtain of low stalactites. Seeing the Afghan prisoners he had no choice but to feed. In a frenzy he bit the neck of the nearest and drank as much blood as he could before Black appeared behind him. They made eye contact before Black turned away repulsed and Krasnov wiped his mouth. The remaining two prisoners stared back at them, blind in the pitch black.

“What the hell?” In the green world of his NVGs Ibanescu saw the two prisoners in chains and the bodies of four others.

Krasnov addressed Ibanescu. “This is where Ghulam Ali keeps those who have offended him, rapists, thieves and adulterers.”

“Sadistic shits.”

“Your men could take days to survey this cave system and still not find all the Taliban. There are numerous places for an ambush I suggest that we get out and re-group.”

“Again, how do you know the hostages are not here?”

Krasnov shrugged. “Would you keep a valuable asset here?”

“Guess not.”

After freeing the prisoners the group retraced their steps. The slightest lightening of the gloom signalled that they were approaching the exit and the moonlight. Ibanescu managed to get a signal on the comms net. “ISAF has a drone following the hostages. We are being ordered RTB; that includes you two. Helo ETA in three.”

“OK.”

Ibanescu exited the cave.

Krasnov looked at Black. “We have two hours till dawn. I could reach the truck but not much further.”

Black starred at the Ukrainian. “You killed that prisoner in cold blood. You ate him like a rabid dog.”

“No. I fed from him like a vampire. This is the reality of who we are.”

Black felt a hard rage tear through him but knew it was the truth. “What now?”

“I cannot travel with you. I shall stay here until nightfall. I have an idea where the hostages are being taken.”

“Where?”

“Ghulam Ali has another compound to the East. He is a creature of habit and if I am correct I shall meet you there. Now go and say that you lost me in the darkness.”

Black looked at the Ukrainian as he walked back into the mountain.

FIVE: Unknown location, Afghanistan

As the sedative that Dratshev had shot them with started to wear off, Rockbridge became aware of the coughing of a diesel engine. Opening his eyes he realised that he was on the floor of a truck, hog-tied. He had a metallic coppery taste in his mouth and felt nauseous. His vision blurred as the truck bumped over a boulder and his head banged against the floor. He screwed his eyes up absorbing the pain which now came from both his shoulder and temple. Opening his eyes as the wave of pain lessened he saw Gonzalez. “How you feeling?”

“Like a fifty cent ho, used and dirty.” The sergeant replied.

“How long have we been out?”

“No friggin idea.” Gonzalez pushed himself up into a sitting position against the side of the truck

“The Taliban insurgents can’t move us without ISAF knowing.” Rockbridge looked around. “That’s why we’re in an empty truck; if ISAF take it out the Taliban just lose a driver.”

Gonzalez rolled his eyes. “That’s a reassuring thought Major.”

“So where is Styles?”

“Maybe he didn’t make it? Maybe the HRT boys got him back – take your pick. Whatever we’ve got to focus on staying alive long enough to either escape or get rescued.”

“My escape and evasion skills are a bit rusty, Gonzalez.”

“Then we gotta hope that our boys come and get us.”

The truck slowed and there were shouts. The canvas back was abruptly opened and several Talibs jumped up, grabbed the two Americans and manhandled them out. It was still night but the sky had become streaked with the dark blue of pre-dawn light. Gonzalez kept his head down, submissive but scanning his surroundings with alert eyes. They were in a compound containing three single story buildings ringed by mud walls which he estimated to be twelve foot high. A second truck was parked just ahead of theirs. Taliban fighters, their faces covered in dark Shemags dropped out of the tailgate and hurriedly moved towards the smallest of the three buildings. Gonzalez and Rockbridge were forcefully pushed towards the second building and thrown through open doors. Rockbridge twisted in vain but again landed on his shoulder. The crunch was noticeable and the pain severe. He blacked out.

Camp Bastion, Helmand Province, Afghanistan

Matthers continued to watch the feed from the drone. Two trucks had moved slowly in the Afghan night away from the mountains and into the plains beyond. They had been sitting ducks for a Hellfire missile but one or both of them contained the hostages. Now they sat still in a compound which Intel had confirmed also belonged to the family of Ghulam Ali. The images from the drone showed two men being led into one of the buildings. He could not make out which of the three remaining Americans the two men were but he could confirm that they were indeed the missing ISAF men. A plan was already being drawn up, the decoy Black Hawk and the second carrying the HRT had been sent to the nearest ISAF forward operating base to refuel and await further orders. What had gone wrong, Matthers wondered? The HUMINT from the Afghan soldier ‘Hakim’ had been correct, the hostages had been in the cave complex but the Taliban had been expecting the Hostage Rescue Team. He still found it unfathomable, how had a group of Taliban destroyed a firebase and taken such High Value Hostages? He didn’t have any answers and the reports from both Delta teams made no sense. His spirits however were slightly cheered to learn that there was now a second survivor of the attack on the base, and more importantly he was an American. Matthers would debrief the survivor in full on his arrival at Camp Leatherneck after the Op. Matthers screwed his eyes up and shook his head in an attempt to ward off his weariness. The BBC film maker, Turner had been sniffing around again, he’d have sent her back to London but he had needed something to look at. He smirked, that was not officer behaviour. He really shouldn’t have given her any favours but he had and once then Op was over she would be demanding her interview, her scoop her exclusive or whatever it was these reporters called it. Bugger. He needed a real drink. He sipped his tea, it tasted of dishwater.