Personal Protection (A Spider Shepherd Short Story) (3 page)

Shepherd nodded. ‘Yes, Ya Sheikh,’ he said.

‘And how would you select those men?’ asked the sheikh.

‘We would normally use a process based on the physical fitness regime of the SAS to select the most suitable candidates,’ said Shepherd. ‘Fitness and skill with weapons. They would be our main criteria.’  Jock, Geordie and Rusty nodded in agreement.

‘I’m sure that will often be the correct approach, but not in this case,’ the sheikh said. ‘These bodyguards will be working cheek by jowl with me, will they not? And they will be armed with a round in the breech, so they could kill me in a heartbeat.’ He waited for Shepherd’s agreement before continuing. ‘So the men you will train as my bodyguards, will be selected not on the basis of their physical fitness but purely on their loyalty to me. The men outside are all Bedu, of my own tribe. Their loyalty to me is absolute and unquestioning. These are the men you will train.’

Shepherd could see that it was an order, not a request. But he knew that the sheikh was talking sense. Loyalty was the prime concern. He nodded in agreement. ‘I’m sure that’s the most sensible option,’ he said. ‘Sacrificing expertise for absolute loyalty makes perfect sense, but rest assured, Ya Sheikh, that after we have trained them they will all have the skills they need to protect you.’

The sheikh smiled. ‘That is good to hear,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me exactly what will you be teaching them?’

‘Body protection and some explosive recognition, but the main effort will be devoted to teaching them a simplified version of a Presidential Escort group,’ said Shepherd. ‘A PEG as we call it.  I’m afraid acronyms are an occupational hazard in the forces.’

‘Don’t worry,’ the sheikh said. ‘I trained at Sandhurst myself, and I’m quite used to them, but please explain how a PEG operates.’

‘Well, a PEG consists of three Presidential Escort Sections,’ explained Shepherd.  ‘Each section is four cars and crews with any associated support.  Car One, with a driver and four crew, travels in advance of you to check the routes and search the venues that you will be visiting. Car Two, with a driver and another four crew, travels immediately in front of your vehicle to protect you in case of ambush or attack. Car Three, with a driver and four more crew travels immediately behind your vehicle, ready to respond in the event of an ambush or attack. And the Team Leader travels with you in your vehicle and will protect you with his body in the event of an attack. The three sections work one day on duty, one day stand-by and one day rest.’

The sheikh nodded, satisfied. He asked a few more questions and then began preparing to leave, but Shepherd had one further request to make. ‘Forgive me, Ya Sheikh, but we would also want you to wear a PLB - a personal location beacon - at all times so that, in the unlikely event of you ever being kidnapped or going missing, your bodyguard team will be able to locate you using their communications system.’ He saw the sheikh hesitate and reached into his pocket to pull out a tiny PLB, not much bigger than a penny. ‘As you see, it is very small and discreet,’ he glanced at the sheikh’s hand, ‘and could be fitted, for example, inside the gold signet ring you wear on your little finger. If you’re ever required to activate it, just a sharp tap on a solid object will start it transmitting.’

The sheikh frowned for a second or two but then he nodded.  ‘Very well, if you feel it is essential, give it to me and I shall have it done.’

The sheikh and his convoy set off back to the capital a few minutes later in another cloud of dust. As soon as he had left, Shepherd and the team started work. The Bedu tribesmen were indeed all illiterate, but far from stupid. They had no problems memorising instructions and were quick learners.

Training began at five-thirty each morning, shortly after the Bedu had finished their dawn prayers. Throughout the day the men broke off to pray together, facing Mecca. They broke off training at midday and sunset to eat. The cooking facilities consisted of two Pakistani cooks using brushwood fires to cook Bedu food in large aluminium vats.  The SAS men joined the trainees, eating together from enormous aluminium platters about six feet in diameter. The ate with their right hands, either rice with vegetables or goat, and naan bread.

The weapons training involved a lot of range work and the first session was a vivid demonstration of how much there was to do. When the first batch of trainees were issued with their weapons they immediately began firing them into the air.

Shepherd yelled at them to cease firing. ‘You know what we say?’ Shepherd said, when he’d brought the firing to a stop. ‘When people start firing upwards, it’s time to get indoors because every round is going to obey the laws of gravity and come down again. If it hits you, it’ll kill you just as dead as if it had been aimed at you in the first place. It’s also a waste of ammunition, so that was your first and your last burst of celebration gunfire - understood?’

Rusty translated and the men looked at the ground guiltily.

There was more wild firing over on the range, with rounds spraying all over the hillside behind the targets.  This time Shepherd let them fire away because there was no danger of them hurting anyone. Once they had emptied their weapons, Shepherd gave them the lecture they needed. ‘That was terrible,’ he said. ‘You can see that from the fact that most of the targets are untouched.’ He waited for Rusty to translate before continuing.  ‘You will almost certainly be operating these weapons at close quarters in what will often be crowded areas, because where the sheikh goes a crowd will gather. So the aim is to kill the terrorist, not the innocent bystanders and that means aimed shots, double-taps, not bursts.’  Rusty translated again.

Once the ground rules had been established, the Bedu proved quick and able pupils.  Jock, Geordie and Jimbo had built a Close Quarter Battle area, dug out of the face of a sand dune and divided into sections with baulks of timber, in which they trained the bodyguards relentlessly, firing off thousands of rounds until every man could put a double tap into a target in the blinking of an eye. Jock had given up the lead role when it became clear that none of the translators could understand his Glaswegian accent, and instead Geordie led the sessions.

The bodyguards also had to learn explosive recognition and body protection drills, and vehicle convoy drills. That took a great deal of patience and time to perfect because there were no tarmac roads anywhere near the training camp and the Bedu trainees were not the best drivers in the world.

As soon as the first Presidential Escort Section was trained up, Shepherd took them up to the capital for on-site familiarisation training. Rusty went with him, since the bulk of his admin work was finished and with the systems he’d put in place the camp practically ran itself.  They had developed an excellent working relationship and Shepherd found Rusty’s local knowledge and his extensive understanding of Arab culture a great help.

After a few weeks the other two sections were also fully trained and arrived in the capital to begin their work with the sheikh. There had been no sign of the rumoured threat from the sheikh’s cousin, but Shepherd was relieved that his team was back together. After observing their trainees in action for a further couple of weeks, they were ready to complete the formal handover to the Bedu team leaders, and then return to the UK, unless the Head Shed chose to send them somewhere else.

They were unwinding with a beer after the day’s practice drills when Jonathan Parker appeared.  Jock gave a snort of disgust when he caught sight of him. ‘How is it that every time I’m relaxing with a beer in my hand, you seem to appear?’ growled the Scotsman.

‘Sheer good luck, old chap,’ Parker said, with a mirthless smile. He was carrying a battered leather briefcase.

‘Good luck for who?’ was the baleful reply, but Parker ignored him. He sat down at their table, opened the briefcase and took out a typewritten document. The heading ‘TOP SECRET - UK EYES ONLY’, was the highest possible security classification. ‘We have an intel update,’ Parker said. ‘Sigint suggests that the sheikh’s cousin is now supported by a band of Chechens and they have succeeded in infiltrating the country through one of its porous desert borders. They are now believed to be in hiding.’

‘You mean you’ve lost them,’ said Jimbo. ‘I tell you, you secret squirrel boys would be lucky to find your arses using both hands.’

Parker ignored Jimbo and passed the sheet of paper over to Shepherd. ‘They pose an immediate, serious threat to the safety of the sheikh. You will need to take a closer role in his protection until the situation is resolved.’

‘I’m not sure that’s necessary,’ said Shepherd. ‘We’ve trained the sheikh’s PES for exactly this kind of eventuality. They’re well-armed, well-motivated, and well-trained, and they’re well on top of the situation. I’d back them against a Chechen rabble any day. We should be returning to the UK, not staying to nursemaid them when they don’t need it.’ There was a rumble of agreement from the others.

‘Be that as it may, you will be required to remain here for the time being,’ said Parker. He took the sheet back from Shepherd and put it in the briefcase. ‘The safety and security of the sheikh is of vital importance to HMG’s interests and influence in the region. I shall be remaining here as well.’

‘That’s all we need,’ Jock growled.

‘And I will keep you updated on any additional intel we receive,’ Parker said, as if Jock hadn’t spoken. Parker stood up and walked away. Shepherd swore. It was clearly a fait accompli and they had no choice in the matter.

A couple of days later Shepherd received a summons to the sheikh’s palace.  He was ushered into a marble-pillared receiving room and a few minutes later the sheikh appeared, alone.  They sat together on a large overstuffed sofa. ‘I’ve been contacted by my cousin, who wants to meet me to talk over our problems,’ said the sheikh. ‘He wants me to meet  him alone at a remote location in the desert where we will be safe from prying eyes and can maintain secrecy from the various tribal factions.’ He held up his hand as Shepherd began to protest. ‘A reconciliation or at least an arrangement with my cousin would bring great benefits to my country,’ he said. ‘It would unify our nation and also neutralise the greatest potential source of threat to my rule. So it is a prize worth risking much for.’

Shepherd shook his head. ‘You will be putting your life at risk, Ya Seedee. Out on your own, in the desert? It’s asking for trouble.’

‘My cousin has guaranteed my safety on his honour,’ said the sheikh.

Shepherd wanted to tell the sheikh that a man’s word counted for nothing when imaginable wealth and power were at stake, but he held his tongue, not wanting to appear disrespectful.

‘If I reject his offer, my own honour will be impugned, so I am morally obliged to meet him and have agreed to do so,’ the sheikh continued. ‘We are to meet alone without any advisers or bodyguards.’

‘Ya Seedee, with respect, this breaches every rule of bodyguard training that we have instilled in your men. If they are not with you, they cannot protect you.’

‘Nonetheless that is my wish.’ The sheikh’s tone was that of a man whose word was law and Shepherd knew there was nothing he could do to change his mind.

Shepherd returned to base and briefed Parker and his SAS team. ‘We can’t allow him to do this,’ said Shepherd. ‘But I don’t see how we can stop him.’

‘He can be stubborn,’ said Parker.

‘Can’t you explain how stupid he’s being?’ asked Shepherd.

‘He’s an absolute ruler,’ said Parker. ‘Western educated, but he’s not going to let me tell him what to do.’

‘But you can tell him how dangerous it’ll be.’

‘He knows that already, I’m sure. But he thinks he can trust his cousin, obviously.’

‘Then you need to tell him that he can’t trust him. Come on Jonathan, the cousin wants to meet the sheikh alone in the desert. How is that going to end well?’

‘It seems to me that our option is to follow him covertly,’ said the MI6 man.

‘So you’ll be coming with us, will you?’ asked Jimbo, his voice loaded with sarcasm.

Parker swallowed. ‘Actually yes, I will.’

Jock scowled. ‘Do me a favour, You’ll be more of a hindrance than a help; we’ve no room for passengers or dead weight.’

‘I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,’ said Parker. ‘I was given the responsibility of ensuring the safety of the sheikh, and my neck is on the line if anything goes wrong.’ 

‘All right,’ Shepherd said, after a lengthy pause. ‘But if anything kicks off, do as you’re told and keep out of the way. This isn’t a job for amateurs. Right, we need vehicles. Jimbo, what can we get our hands on before sunset tonight?’

Jimbo uncoiled his lanky frame. ‘There’s nothing armoured, the best we can do at this notice is a couple of 4 x 4s - Toyota Landcruisers.’

‘Then they’ll have to do,’ Shepherd said. ‘But because of the risk of IED’s, we need to reinforce the floors with sandbags.’

‘Sandbags?’ said Parker.

‘It’s pretty rudimentary protection but it’s better than nothing,’ said Shepherd.  ‘Jimbo and Geordie, you get that sorted, and Jock, you take care of the weapons. I doubt that the Chechens won’t have any armour, but a couple of GPMGs will take out their vehicles if it all goes tits up.’

At sunset that night, they took up positions from where they could observe the two main entrances to the sheikh’s palace. Shepherd, Rusty and Parker were in the lead vehicle, and Jock, Geordie and Jimbo in the other. Just after midnight, with the capital’s streets deserted, Shepherd saw a nondescript black car drive out of the rear gates of the palace. The way the guards on duty snapped to attention told him that the driver was the sheikh. Shepherd passed the word to Jock’s group over the net and they began to track the sheikh as he drove across the city towards the desert.

They followed him without difficulty until he left the tarmac road and set off across the desert on a graded track.  Away from civilisation, they were forced to switch off their vehicle lights and resort to using night vision goggles.  That slowed them down and the sheikh’s car began to pull away from them. Shepherd saw the lights of the sheikh’s car disappear from view as it breasted a rise and dropped down the other side. He accelerated, driving on the limits of visibility through the NVGs, and as he crested the ridge he saw the black car stationary in the distance ahead of them. It was surrounded by a group of armed men who were dragging the sheikh out of the car.