PRIMAL Mirza (A PRIMAL Series Novella) (5 page)

CHAPTER
7

Colonel Aslam sat on the edge of
his bed lacing a boot when a burst of automatic fire echoed down the valley. He
glanced at his watch. 0510 hours, too early for weapons training.

As he finished with the other
boot, another volley of gunfire joined the first along with a series of loud
explosions. He grabbed the satellite phone from his desk and sprinted toward the
camp’s headquarters. As he ran, tracer sliced through the air above him. A
massive fireball lit up the morning sky as one of the trucks exploded. His
scanned the area honing in on the incoming fire. The chatter of automatic
weapons sounded from high above the valley up on the ridgeline. It was a raid!

He
burst through the door into the headquarters building. The watch officer
greeted him with the muzzle of an AK. “What, what’s happening?”

“The
fucking Indians have grown some balls. We need to alert higher.”

“Indians? I–“

He shook the dazed watch
officer. “Radio HQ. Sound the alarm! Gather the training team. We’re going to
withdraw!” He raced down to the basement and tore the maps and photos from the
walls. Stuffing them in a metal trashcan, he lit a piece of paper with his
lighter and dropped it in.

An
explosion rocked the building, chunks of mud dropping from the roof. The single
light bulb flickered and died. He continued to rip paper from the walls,
feeding it into the flaming trashcan. Another explosion rocked the building.
The far side of the basement collapsed, engulfing him in dust. He fumbled his
way up the stairs to the pitch-black operations room.

A
light flashed in the darkness and Aslam rushed toward it.

“Sir,
here!” the watch officer yelled from the exit.

His
men had assembled in front of the building. The watch officer handed him an AK.
“Everyone’s accounted for except the transport supervisor. HQ’s been alerted.
They’re trying to scramble air support. The response company is at least an
hour away.”

“And
the trainees?”

“They’re
moving to defend the mosque.”

“And
those willing to sacrifice?”

“Most
of the vests were destroyed when the armory was hit.”

A
rocket screamed overhead. It smashed into the medical center covering them in a
cloud of dust. Machine gun fire sprayed the headquarters compound, sending them
diving for cover. “The fucking Indians will pay for this. Jahiz will make sure
of it,” the colonel spat. Thankfully, the suicide attack team had already deployed.

“We
need to move now, sir!” yelled a sergeant. A veteran of the Kargil War, he had
witnessed Indian commando raids first hand.

The
colonel checked the magazine on his AK. “We’ll withdraw down the creek line to
the road. Marry up with the response company and fight back.” He waved them
forward. The handful of men dashed for the creek that ran down the valley.

In
under a minute, they had escaped the deadly weight of fire raining down on the
camp. Allah was with them. The faint glow of dawn provided just enough light to
traverse the bank of the rocky waterway.

“Keep
moving,” whispered the colonel as they neared the end of the valley. The
veteran sergeant was leading the group. He crouched beside the creek, examining
the exposed ground to their front. The creek’s banks broadened offering them
little cover.

“What are you
waiting for? Go!”

The
sergeant shook his head and moved as quickly as he dared while still scanning
the high ground.

The
group was halfway across the exposed area when he spotted something up on the
cliffs. His instincts kicked in and he dropped onto his stomach.

Behind
him the colonel skidded to a halt. His eyes widened with fear as he realized he
had condemned them to death.

Automatic
gunfire echoed off the walls of rock. The ISI training team was caught in the
open. Bullets lashed the canyon floor and riddled their bodies spraying blood
and flesh across the gravel.

The
colonel was shot through both legs and the chest. He crawled for the safety of
the creek line while pulling out his satellite phone. He managed to punch in a
few numbers. As he lifted it to his ear, a round split his head like a
watermelon blowing the phone to pieces.

***

Mirza and the lead platoon
commander hunkered down behind a mud brick wall, taking cover from the intense
gunfire. “Any casualties?”

“Two
with minor wounds. But the fight’s not over yet. A bunch of fanatics are
defending the mosque.”

Himesh
appeared from the shadows. “And it’s blocking us from the headquarters
building. We’ve been on the ground for thirty minutes. Got to wrap this up or
pull out.”

The darkness had started to lift
and Mirza knew that dawn was not far away. “I’m going forward.” He crouched and
worked his way along the wall, his rifle at the ready. He dashed across a gap
to the next building. A squad of para commandos were in the compound pouring
fire into the mosque. The enemy returned fire with equal ferocity.

“What’s
the situation?” he yelled at the squad leader.

Bullets
snapped through the air above them. “I’ve called for an anti-armor team. We’re
going to try and blow a way in.”

Mirza
stole a glance over the top of the wall. Rounds kicked up dust beside him and
he dropped back behind cover. “Buggers can shoot,” he murmured as the
anti-armor team arrived in the compound.

“Not
looking good,” the squad leader said. “We’re down to our last HE round for the
84.”

“Do
you have any explosives?”

“We’ve
got demo charges.” The para commando called for them.

Mirza
took the explosives and bound them together. He pointed at the anti-armor
gunner who was carrying an
84mm Carl Gustav
rocket launcher.
“You’re going to hit the mosque with the 84 and breach the wall.” He pointed to
the squad leader. “And you’re going to cover me so I can use these explosives.”

The
anti-armor gunner gave him thumbs up and shouldered his rocket launcher.

Mirza checked the fuse on the package. He gave
the anti-armor gunner a nod. Positioning himself at the end of the wall, he
yanked the igniter. The smell of burning black powder filled the air.

The
para commando squad increased their rate of fire. The
84mm
belched flame,
unleashing its rocket from above the compound wall and into the side of the
mosque fifteen yards away. The warhead failed to detonate, but smashed a
basketball-sized hole in the building.

Mirza
sprinted to the mosque. He reached up and stuffed the burning charge through
the ragged hole and dropped to the ground.

The
blast escaped through the structure’s doorway and windows sending a cloud of
smoke and dust billowing into the sky. The return gunfire stopped. The para
commandos stormed in.

Himesh
appeared and pulled Mirza to his feet. “Nice move.”

Once
the para commandos secured the mosque, they seized the antenna decked compound
that served as the camp’s headquarters. The two SPEC-B operatives waited until
the squad leader declared the building secure, then set to work.

Himesh
shone a flashlight around the battle-damaged room. “It’s taken a few direct
hits.”

Mirza
lifted the battered communications stack out of the remains of a desk. “Not
much in here apart from the radios.”

“Over
here.”

Mirza
joined him and they descended to what remained of the underground room. Part of
the ceiling had collapsed. The air was thick with the stench of smoke.

Mirza
pulled a partially burnt document from a crushed trashcan. He shone his
flashlight on it. “It’s a map of New Delhi.”

“Is
there a target marked?”

“No,
half of it’s burnt.”

“Damn.”

Another
light flashed in the stairwell. “Sir, you need to get up here and see this.”

They
rushed upstairs.

“We’ve
found something you should look at.” The soldier led them out of the
headquarters into another battle-damaged compound. They stepped over dead
bodies to reach what appeared to be the remains of an armory. He pointed to the
pieces of four scorched vests that were laid out on a rug. “We thought they
were body armor. They aren’t. Their magazine pouches are full of bang.” He tore
open one of the pouches to reveal a slab of military grade high-explosives
embedded with ball bearings.

Himesh
inspected the vests. “Fucking brain-washed jihadists. Do we know if we killed
the guys these were meant for?”

“It
could have been any of them,” the soldier replied.

“There’s
one way to find out,” Mirza said. “Where are you holding the prisoners?”

“Over
by the medical center.”

“Show
us.”

There
were four captured militants and a single uniformed Pakistani corporal lying in
front of the camp’s medical center. All were bound, blindfolded, and face down
in the dirt.

Himesh
headed straight to the corporal. “We won’t get anything from the extremists.
But this guy we can work with.” He grabbed the prisoner by the collar and
dragged him to his knees. Shining his flashlight, he tore off the blindfold and
pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the young man’s forehead.

The
soldier’s bottom lip quivered and he shut his eyes.

“A
group of terrorists were supposed to attack New Delhi, where are they?”

Tears
streamed down the corporal’s cheeks and he shook his head. “I don’t know. I
don’t get told things like that.”

“YOU’RE
FUCKING LYING TO ME!” Flecks of spit hit the man’s face.

Himesh’s
loss of control surprised Mirza. Usually, his voice got softer, lower the
madder he became. “You hear that?” He canted his head and listened, hearing the
beat of rotor-blades in the distance. He grabbed his partner by the shoulder.
“Extraction’s inbound. Let me have a go.” Their orders were clear. No
prisoners.

Himesh
lowered his pistol. “Fine.”

Mirza
crouched in front of the prisoner and looked him in the eye. “Look, if you
don’t tell us something, my friend here is going to shoot you.” He paused. “We
don’t want that, do we?”

The
soldier shook his head.

“How
about you tell me what your job was and we’ll start from there.”

“I’m
in charge of transport. I don’t have anything to do with training.”

The
chatter of a heavy machinegun echoed off the valley walls. The thud of the
helicopters grew louder. “You look after the vehicles? So you would know about
the van that left last night?”

The
Pakistani looked terrified but held his tongue.

“We’re
running out of time,” Himesh interrupted. “We need to get rid of this lot.”

Mirza
held up his hand. “The van.”

“Yes,
five men. They were going to the border.”

“Mirza, we’re out of time. Choppers are two minutes out.
Paki reinforcements have reached the end of the of the valley. Cutoff is
pulling back.”

Mirza
nodded. “What did the van look like? What were the number plates?” He took a notepad
from his pocket.

“I,
I can’t remember. White I think.”

Mirza
looked him in the eye. “Don’t lie to me.”

At
that moment two para commandos dragged a wounded terrorist from the medical
post out to the square. One of them shouldered his AK and shot the prisoner in
the head.

The
transport supervisor’s eyes widened in terror. “The van was grey. The van was
grey.” He rattled of the registration number as the commandos executed the
other militants.

“Mirza,
we’re out of here,” Himesh yelled as the para commandos started moving out of
the camp.

“Right
behind you.” He turned to the prisoner. “Wait here and you’ll be OK.” He
grabbed his rifle and followed Himesh down to the riverbed.

They
scrambled down the bank as the first two Mi-17s appeared, flaring hard and
dropping onto the tiny landing zone. Para commandos piled into the idling
helicopters. Moments later, they powered into the air and beat their way back
up the valley, making room for the next two airframes.

Mirza
and Himesh ran toward the closest chopper, marrying up with the squad which had
executed the ambush at the bottom of the valley.

“How
long till the Pakis get here?” Mirza screamed over the noise.

“We
slowed them down with a landslide.” The squad leader gave a thumbs up as they
climbed into the chopper.

Mirza
passed Himesh his notebook as the captain pulled on a headset. Using the
helicopter’s radio, he relayed the details of the van to headquarters as Mirza
sat next to the door gunner.

The
loadmaster slammed the rear clamshell doors shut and the engines screamed as
the helo lurched into the air. They banked hard, soared over a ridgeline and
gained speed as they dropped into the valley that led back to Indian airspace.