The Kill Zone (35 page)

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Authors: Chris Ryan

BOOK: The Kill Zone
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‘They’ll be looking for me,’ she spluttered. ‘Any minute.’
‘Then you’d better be quick if you don’t want to take a round in the crossfire. What’s Khan doing in there? And what are
you
doing
here
?’ He put a little more pressure on her twisted arm.
A sharp intake of breath. ‘I work for him.’
‘Doing what?’ No reply. More pressure on the arm. ‘
Doing what?
’
‘I advise British Intelligence.’ There were tears in her voice as the words tumbled out. ‘You’re going to break my arm—’
‘I’ll break a lot more than your arm if you don’t keep talking. What do you advise Five on?’
‘Chemical . . .’ She could hardly speak through the pain. ‘Chemical and radiological warfare.’
‘Dirty bombs?’
‘If you like.’
His mind flashed back to Helmand.
‘The flight case in the cave. What was it?
What the hell was it?
’
‘Radioactive material.’
‘A bomb?’
‘Just the materials.’
‘And Khan knew about it?’ Jack felt like he was piecing together a jigsaw without knowing what picture it was supposed to make.
‘Of
course
he knew about it,’ Caroline said with contempt. And then, as Jack yanked her arm again, suddenly the words started to flow through her gritted teeth. ‘What are you, Jack? A novice? You know that to hide something you have to show something. We
let
military intelligence find that place.’
‘Why?’ The arm was at breaking point. He yanked it a bit further.
‘To put them off the scent,’ she hissed. ‘To make them feel like they were sitting comfortably. You really think that if they wanted to keep something a secret, they’d construct it under the noses of Coalition forces in Helmand Province? You really think they’re that stupid? The Helmand cave was a distraction to get the British and Americans to take their eyes off the ball, make it easier for the
real
device to pass over the borders.’
‘And
you
passed on details of the cave raid. That’s how the Taliban knew we were there.’ Images in his mind of the Black Hawk going down. Of Red. It was all Jack could do to stop himself from nailing her right now.
Siobhan’s voice from behind. ‘Jack, what’s going on? What are you two
talking
about?’
Jack just kept the pressure on Caroline’s arm. ‘What’s going on in that building now? Why are you here?’
No answer at first. But then, when the pain grew too bad: ‘A device,’ she breathed. ‘A dirty bomb. The real one. Khan’s brought me out here because he needs to know it’s properly constructed and primed.’
‘What does this bomb do?’
‘A small explosion,’ she whimpered. ‘It’s what’s in the bomb that causes the harm.’
‘Enlighten me.’
‘Let go of my arm first.’ Her voice was barely audible.
Jack did nothing of the sort. He yanked the arm sharply.
‘
Caesium-137
,’ she gasped. ‘Enough to infect several thousand people.’
‘What does it do?’
‘Kills a tenth of them within a month, half of them after a year . . .’
‘And it’s in there? In that building?’
‘I’ve just examined it,’ Caroline said. ‘It’s ready.’
‘What’s his target?’
‘He hasn’t told me.
He hasn’t told me!
’
Silence. Caroline’s body was shaking with the pain.
‘Who’s in there?’ Jack demanded.
Her breathing was heavy. Fast. ‘Khan,’ she spat. ‘His guards.’
‘What about the people constructing the device?’ But he answered his own question before Caroline had a chance. ‘The gunshots . . .’
Jack’s words seemed to give the professor a new surge of contempt. ‘The bomb’s made. And don’t sound so disgusted, Captain Harker. Khan’s men are only doing what you did in Helmand.’
Jack didn’t even bother responding to that. His head rocked with this new information. He’d come out here on Siobhan’s wild goose chase, but what they’d stumbled upon was something quite different.
‘Jack?’ Siobhan sounded scared. ‘Tell me what’s happening. What’s this got to do with Lily?’
‘Sounds like your friend Habib Khan’s involved in more than hookers and heroin,’ he spat. He turned his attention back to Caroline. ‘How many people in there?’ he demanded.
‘I’m not telling you.’
Jack didn’t waste any time. He relieved the pressure on the twisted arm, but the respite was only temporary. Covering Caroline’s mouth again, he felt for her little finger. It was sweaty, but that didn’t matter. One good yank and he heard the little bones splinter and snap. Jack allowed five seconds for the silent scream, then put his lips close to Caroline’s ear. ‘You’ve got nine more fingers,’ he whispered threateningly. ‘One for each time you fuck around with me. How many men has Khan got?’
‘Ten.’
‘Armed?’
She nodded vigorously. Tearfully.
‘With what?’
‘I don’t know. Guns.’
Immediately Jack started doing the calculations. Ten men plus Khan. If he had the element of surprise, he could down them with his assault rifle – the Colt Commando could spit out ten to twelve rounds a second. But the moment he stopped putting the pressure on Caroline, she would raise the alarm. He glanced up at Siobhan. She was competent with a weapon, no doubt about it. But stick her in the middle of a firefight like that? She’d agree to it, but he didn’t want to put her in that kind of danger.
‘Siobhan,’ he hissed, ‘you got the Makarov?’
‘Sure.’
‘Press it against the back of the professor’s knee.’
She did as she was told.
‘Right, ladies. Here’s what’s going to happen. If Caroline makes a fucking sound, you kneecap her.’
‘Painful,’ Siobhan observed in a bland voice.
‘That’s the idea. I’m going in. Listen for shots. If I’m not back out thirty seconds after they start, put one in her head and fucking swastika it back to the Land Rover. You need to get to Markus as fast as possible and tell him what’s happening. He’ll get you out of here, and he’ll know what to do.’
‘What about you?’
‘If I’m more than thirty seconds, I won’t be needing a plane out,’ he said.
Jack stood up and Siobhan immediately took his place by Caroline’s shivering body and gouged the barrel of her Makarov deep into the back of the woman’s knee. One thing Jack could be sure of was that if it came down to it, Siobhan would act.
He checked his weapon, then squinted at the building. The main entrance was the only visible way in. If he slid the door open, they would assume it was Caroline and as he’d be standing in the dark he’d have a momentary advantage. If everything went to plan, the occupants of the building wouldn’t realise he was hostile until he started firing, and by then it would be too late.
He turned to Siobhan. She was looking up at him, anxiety in her face. ‘Be careful,’ she whispered.
‘Remember. Thirty seconds.’
He stood up again and prepared to cover the fifteen metres of open ground between them and the building.
But the preparations didn’t last long.
If Jack had hit the ground two seconds later, he’d have been dead. Two technicals suddenly skidded round from the far side of the building, their machine guns pumping randomly into the air; above the sound of the weaponry, the vicious shouting of the shooters. Only when they’d come to a halt did they switch their headlamps on, and by that time Jack was hugging the dirt as several rounds ricocheted with metallic sparks off the rusted vehicle.
Silence.
There was another burst of random fire that missed them only by chance. Jack realised they’d been seen. ‘
Shit
,’ he hissed. Their options were limited. Emerge from behind the vehicle and they’d be lit up like bunnies in a headlight. Jack could try to pick off the top-gunners, but he’d be blinded by the lights, and to fire a gun would just reveal their position.
A loudspeaker. Through it, an African voice. Deep. Resonant. ‘
Show yourselves. If we see weapons, we will fire. You have twenty seconds.
’
Jack and Siobhan looked at each other. She still had her gun pressed to Caroline’s knee.
‘
Fifteen seconds.
’
‘If we show ourselves, they’ll shoot,’ Siobhan said.
‘Maybe,’ Jack replied. He was desperately trying to think of a way out. But he could read the situation well enough. There wasn’t one.
‘We could use her as a hostage,’ Siobhan suggested, desperation in her voice, but Jack shook his head.
‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘They’ll just kill her.’
‘They won’t kill
me
,’ Caroline interrupted with scorn.
‘Shut the fuck up or I will.’
‘
Ten seconds.
’
Jack thrust his rifle and the canvas bag under the vehicle. ‘Hold on to your weapon. I’ll go out first. If they start shooting, use the rifle.’
‘
Five seconds.
’
He stood up. Then, with his hands in the air, he stepped out into the beams of light.
It was almost a surprise that there was no gunfire to mow him down; just two silhouettes, approaching from in front of the technicals. Jack was able to make out their bandoliers and rifles. By the time they were no longer silhouettes but actual figures that he could see and smell and fear, Siobhan had joined him, her hands in the air too.
And only then did Caroline start to scream. Half pain, half fury – a million miles from the woman Jack had spent the night with, what seemed like a century ago. ‘Tell Khan to kill them!’ she yelled, as the Somali guards held them at gunpoint. ‘Tell Khan to damn well
kill
them!’
The inside of the iron building was a contrast to the outside. There was no proper flooring, so the ground was still little more than dusty earth, but the bright white lights powered by the rumbling generator made the place seem strangely modern. Along one side of the wall were crates of bottled water; and just beyond them, a couple of low mattresses and a rusted old refrigerator. On the opposite wall were jerrycans of fuel, presumably to replenish the generator, and the pungent smell of the fumes penetrated the air. In the middle of the room, scientific instruments that meant nothing to Jack were laid out on metal tables, and a silver flight case, no different to the one he’d seen in Helmand, lying on its side.
And at the far end of the building, by the wall, were a number of bodies. It was impossible to say quite how many because they had fallen in a mangled heap, but Jack estimated nine or ten Africans. It was obvious that they’d been lined up before being shot. On the wall above them was a poster. The one concession this place had to homeliness. It showed Emmanuel Adebayor, in his Manchester City strip. The African footballer smiled brightly over this scene of unspeakable carnage. In the wall beyond the corpses, to the right of Adebayor, there was another door. It was through there that the guards must have exited to get their technicals.
Standing by the flight case was Habib Khan. His dishdasha was pure white, apart from a splash of red across the chest that looked as if someone had flicked paint at it. Two men stood on either side of him – heavily armed Somalis, each of them a good head taller than Khan himself.
There were other guards, too. Ten of them in all, as Caroline had said. Six had hustled Jack and Siobhan into the building and even now were forcing them up against the left-hand wall and telling them to keep their hands on their heads before retreating. Two more stood on either side of the main door, and just in front of them was Caroline. She cradled her broken finger in her good hand, her face was even paler than usual and her eyes contained more venom than Jack had ever seen.
There was an ominous silence in the building. Khan removed his little round spectacles, buffed them on the material of his robes, then replaced them on his nose and peered, owl-like, at them.
‘I already know Miss Hoskins of course,’ he said in quiet, precise tones, ‘but I imagine that is an assumed name. I will require you to tell me who you are, and for whom you work.’
Jack didn’t say a word. Nor did Siobhan. They just stared defiantly at him.
Khan raised an eyebrow. ‘It would be boring if I had to force this information out of you,’ he observed.
‘You don’t need to.’ It was Caroline who spoke, through gritted teeth as she tried to master the pain in her hand.
Khan looked sharply at her. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I know him. We met in Afghanistan. His name is Captain Jack Harker and he’s a member of the SAS. He was part of the unit that shut down the other operation.’
Khan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Indeed . . .’

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