Warning Order (A Spider Shepherd short story) (6 page)

‘Keeping it at arm’s length, I guess,’ Shepherd said. ‘HMG doesn’t want to be seen to be involved in the fighting here - maybe too many echoes of colonial times - so they hire some mercs to do the job instead.’

Jimbo scratched his head. ‘Which is?’

‘Who knows?’ said Shepherd. ‘Keep the government in power, overthrow the government - one of those, probably.’

‘If you ask me,’ Jock said. ‘This isn’t really about governments at all, it’s about minerals.’

‘Well we’ll have time to ponder that later,’ said Shepherd. ‘For the moment we’ve  got some unfinished business.’

Wearing their NVGs, they made their way back past the still smouldering ruins of the village and along the route they had scouted that afternoon. Even though it was the early hours, the rebels were still awake, high on a cocktail of drugs, alcohol and adrenaline.  The captured boys from the village were still herded together in a circle, with two rebels standing guard over them, dozing over their rifles. There was no sign of the girls, but the rebels standing around the doorways of the huts and the occasional cries and screams from inside, showed where they were and left no room for doubt about what was happening to them.

 Shepherd beckoned to the other three and in whispers they identified the initial target each would take, choosing the ones who looked like leaders from the way the others deferred to them. ‘On my signal,’ Shepherd said. They spread out, took up firing positions and zeroed in on their targets. Shepherd had chosen a powerful figure standing in a hut doorway, dimly illuminated by a lamp burning inside it, though through his NVGs, Shepherd could have seen him clearly even without the light. He squinted along the sight, focusing on the bridge of the man’s nose. He took a deep breath, took up the first pressure on the trigger then gave a slow exhale and squeezed the trigger home.

The first shots from the other three came within a heartbeat and all four targets crumpled to the ground. The SAS men were already zeroing in on other targets, firing three-shot bursts, cool and unhurried, picking the rebels off one by one. The rebels panicked, firing off wild bursts in all directions, uncertain even where the SAS fire was coming from. One rebel stumbled from a hut where he’d been raping a girl  and was cut down as he tried to haul up his shorts. Another, wielding an RPG, was hit by a burst from Shepherd a fraction of a second before he pulled the trigger. Smashed backwards by the impact of the rounds, the rebel’s dying shot sent the RPG round blasting straight up into the sky, where it detonated in a ball of flame as it reached the end of its programmed four and a half second flight time.

 The thunder of gunfire eased and then stopped as the remaining rebels scattered and fled, running blindly into the bush. The SAS men moved slowly and methodically forward, ensuring the rebels were dead and finishing off the wounded with a round to the head. They felt no remorse. In their eyes the rebels had already forfeited whatever rights the Geneva Convention might have given them by the slaughter of the villagers; anyone who could murder women, children and babies, and burn the bodies, deserved to die.

The village boys had remained in their huddle pressed flat to the ground their eyes wild with terror as they saw the SAS men approach. While Jock and Shepherd tried to reassure them, Jimbo and Geordie went from hut to hut, checking there were no rebel soldiers still hiding there and bringing out the girls. The clothes of all the girls were torn and their faces and bodies bloody and bruised.

 Shepherd gathered the children around him. ‘Anyone here speak English?’ There was no response at first, but when he repeated the question, one of the boys raised his hand. ‘I speak a little.’ He looked no more than nine or ten years old, but the look in his eyes spoke of things that no child should ever see.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Shepherd.

The boy hesitated again. ‘I am called Baraka.’

‘I’m Dan. Can you tell the others that there’s no need to be frightened now? The rebels have gone for now, but they may come back later, so you need to leave this area. Do you have anywhere safe that you can go?’

‘Can’t we go with you?’ There was a look of such desperate longing in the boy’s eyes that Shepherd felt a lump in his throat and found himself hesitating for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way they could get the children to safety, even though he knew it was futile. They were on active service and could not encumber themselves with refugees, no matter how desperate their plight.

‘I’m sorry. We don’t know where we’ll be going next. But we’ll alert someone who may be able to help you. There are people who can help you.’

The hope in the boy’s eyes faded. ‘No one will come.’

‘You don’t know that, Baraka. I promise you that I’ll try to find help for you.’

The boy shrugged, still unconvinced.

‘Where will you go?’ asked Shepherd.

‘Back to our own village. Where else can we go?’

Shepherd fell silent, unable to answer him.

‘Come on,’ Jock said. ‘One thing’s for sure, we can’t help them by standing around here.’

They began to move off, but Shepherd couldn’t stop himself from looking back and saw the boy’s young-old face staring after them, his eyes boring into him.

Back at the beach, as the sun came up, Shepherd contacted base on the radio, and sent in a contact report - standard procedure when a patrol had been in a firefight with the enemy. ‘There is a group of kids there. Their parents have all been murdered by the rebels, the girls have been raped, the boys are just as traumatised - some of them were even forced to kill their own parents. What help can we get for them?’

‘It’s not our job to nursemaid refugees,’ was the cold-hearted response.

‘I know that,’ Shepherd said, feeling his hackles rise but trying to keep the anger out of his voice. ‘I’m just asking that you notify the authorities or a relief organisation that may be able to help them.’

‘I’ll pass that on.’

Shepherd wanted to go on with the argument but Jock, listening in, laid a warning hand on his arm. ‘Wait one, base,’ he said, then covered the mic. ‘Spider, I know where you’re coming from, but you’ve more chance of being struck by lightning than you have of persuading base to help,’ he said, not unkindly. ‘Wait till we’re in Freetown and we may be able to contact one of the aid agencies ourselves.  I know someone who works for Medicaid International and they may be able to do something. Okay?’

Shepherd hesitated, then gave a reluctant nod. He opened the mic again. ‘OK base, job done,’ he said. ‘Request permission to leave the area. If you can get us a heli lift to Freetown, we can link up with the Operational Squadron.’

‘Negative, no air resources available. You’ll have to stay where you are until resources can be spared.’

‘We’re short of rations. We need to be lifted out.’

‘Nothing available. You’ll have to wait out.’

Shepherd broke contact and exchanged a world-weary glance with Jock. Geordie was on sentry at the edge of the beach while Jimbo was already working on his tan, sprawled on the white sand, still marked with the tank tracks from the landing the previous night.  He lay back, clasping his hands behind his head with a blissful expression on his face. ‘This is the life,’ he said. ‘People back home would pay good money to stay here. Sun, sea, sand, what more could you ask for?’

‘They’d probably expect to eat occasionally though,’ Jock growled. ‘Anyone bring a bloody fishing rod?’

* * *

Spider’s adventures in Sierra Leone continue in Hostile Territory, available in the UK at
http://tinyurl.com/neqrcfv

Hostile Territory is available in the US at
http://tinyurl.com/krbzdm5

Spider Shepherd left the SAS at the end of 2002 and joined an elite police undercover unit. You can read the first of his undercover adventures in Hard Landing, where he goes undercover in a high security prison to unmask a drugs dealer who is killing off witnesses to his crimes. The Spider Shepherd series continues with Soft Target, Cold Kill, Hot Blood, Dead Men, Live Fire, Rough Justice, Fair Game, False Friends and True Colours. You can read more about Stephen Leather’s work at
www.stephenleather.com

Hard Landing is available in the UK for 49p at – 
http://amzn.to/xxX2YU

And in the US for less than a dollar at – 
http://amzn.to/xWg1E7

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