The Sixth Martyr, page 21
part #1 of Alpha Squad Series
Sara stayed with Junior, and Javed elected to guard them and watch Pazira. He stood next to the door, with the barrel of his AK constantly sweeping the passage, looking for possible threats. Tyler wasn't in any doubt he'd pull the trigger if necessary, and any man who tried to get to Junior were in for a world of pain.
The men raced through the building and emerged on the other side. Parked several hundred meters away, tucked into a narrow alley, they spied the hood of a white SUV.
"That has to be it. According to the Pazira, Akram and Maryam are inside, but we’ll have to approach carefully. Javed says Akram is a fully-fledged convert to the cult of death. Given half a chance, he’ll hit the button. If he dies, Maryam dies. If we’re close, so do we."
They ran toward the Lexus, keeping flat against the side of the buildings so the occupants would be unable to see their approach, until they were twenty meters away. If they went any further, Akram would see them.
Murphy came up with the solution. "If the buildings are the same as the ones we came through, they'll all have gaps knocked through the walls. With any luck, we can get through and come out behind the Lexus."
Tyler glanced around, and so far there was no sign of the enemy. He nodded. "Okay, we’ll retrace our steps into building we just passed, and see if you're right."
They entered what appeared to have been a government building, and sure enough they found the first of holes smashed through the walls. He started through, crossed the room to the next wall, and crawled through.
He poked his head slowly around the ragged edge of the hole, and the Lexus was just a few meters away. Akram and Maryam were sitting in the rear seat, their bodies displaying the bulky bomb vests. He ducked back inside the room and looked at the others.
"This is going to be tough. The easy way to play would be to put a bullet through his head before he gets a chance to hit the button. The problem is that Javed would never forgive us for not trying to save him. Besides, if he happens to be holding the trigger button at the same time, he could press it when the bullet strikes as a reflex action, and we lose the girl."
They discussed various options, but in the end, there was just one. "We need Javed, see if he’ll listen to his pal. Chris, go back for him, and then stay with Sarah and Junior."
"I'll do that, but didn't Javed say that guy was sorry for what he'd done, and the whole business of killing children disgusted him? Which means if he's one of Ahmadi's senior men, we could bring him here to try to persuade Akram to give it up. There must be something he could say to convince him."
"Okay, do it. But stay with Sarah and Junior, whatever you do."
He ran off, and they waited, occasionally darting looks out through the hole in the wall, but nothing changed. It was as if the two children inside the vehicle were frozen in time. More likely frozen in fear. Nothing changed, nothing moved. Ten minutes later, Javed arrived, pushing Pazira ahead of him with the muzzle of the gun. He poked his head out through the hole in the wall to take a look and sucked in his breath. He glanced at Tyler. "What you want me to do?"
They listened while he explained it all to them. “It would be best to persuade Akram to allow Maryam to move away from him, just in case. Remember, we need to get her at least two hundred meters away from him. Any closer, and if he detonates, he’ll take her with him, as well as anyone else inside the blast radius."
Like us.
"Yes, I understand."
He spoke quickly to Mahmud, who at first looked taken aback at the prospect of entering into discussion with a human bomb. In the end, and left with no choice, he agreed. He looked directly at Tyler and said in heavily accented English, "Yes, I do my best."
"You do that, pal."
Javed led Pazira back through the building. They approached the Lexus slowly from the front, walking in full view of the occupants. Fifty meters away, they stopped and waited. Still inside the lethal range, but if he detonated, they might stand a chance.
"Akram."
The shout echoed up the street, and both heads in the vehicle jerked around to look at him. Tyler was watching with Hammett from the gap in the wall, and he had his M4 aimed at the boy's head. If anything went wrong, he’d take the shot. He'd have no choice.
At first the boy didn't respond, and then the door opened. He spoke to Maryam, probably a warning to stay put, and stepped out into the street, but he stayed next to the vehicle. "What is it? What you want?"
"I want you to stop this. It is all for nothing. Listen to what this man has to say. You know him, Mahmud Pazira. He is very close to the Mullah. Hear him out. At least see what he has to say."
"There is nothing to say!" he shouted back, "We are charged with a holy mission, and we will carry out our duty."
Pazira tried, shouting in loud, persuasive tones. As if his life depended on it, which it almost certainly did. He argued and harangued. Afterward, they discovered he'd revealed the full extent of his doubts about the cruel, Islamist cult of death as preached by Ahmadi. He told him the Mullah was wrong. That he was a power hungry psychotic madman who’d stop at nothing, including killing infants, to further his personal agenda. He told him about the order to kill Junior before they left the city, and how it demonstrated the depths of evil to which he would stoop.
It made no difference.
"No." The single word was emphatic, and yet Tyler felt there was something in the tone of his voice, some tiny measure of uncertainty. Javed must have felt the same way, for he spoke again, "Please, Akram, you are my friend, and Maryam is my sister. Please will you let her go?"
"No, her life is dedicated to God."
"Her life is dedicated to a madman, surely you must know that. Even those closest to him," and he indicated Pazira," know this to be true. They realize he is nothing but a curse upon this land. Please, let Maryam go!"
"No, she must fulfill her destiny.
"Then I will take her place."
He cocked his head. “You will? Are you serious?"
"I'm serious. Let her out of the vehicle, and I will put on her vest."
Joe wanted to shout out and tell him not to do it. But Akram was not in his right mind, and he was liable to detonate the moment he heard him. He also knew if they revealed their presence, Akram was likely to seize the chance to take them all out in a massive explosion, a final, desperate act of self-immolation.
A moment later, the door opened, and Maryam stepped out. The boy helped her out of the vest, and they held their breath, waiting for a booby trap to detonate it. Nothing happened. When she was free, he still gripped her arm.
"Javed, come here, you will put this vest on like you agreed."
Something in the tone of his voice alerted Joe, and he couldn't tell what it was, only that his words carried a false note. In a moment of clarity, he knew whatever he planned, it wasn't to keep to the agreement. Javed got close, and Akram dropped Maryam's vest on the ground. When they were only three meters apart, his hand moved across to his chest, and Joe saw the wire hanging down with a small plastic button fastened to the end. In that single, sickening moment, he knew what the boy intended. He'd totally lost it, unable to retreat from the act of suicide and murder to which he’d dedicated his life.
It was almost like in slow motion, the hand reaching for the button, and he had a split second to take the shot. If he left it too late, the boy would detonate the vest. Javed and Maryam would die. But if he was wrong, his bullet could almost be an act of murder.
But he wasn't wrong, and he put the foresight on the exact center of the boy's head, and squeezed the trigger. The bullet cracked out of the muzzle, smacked into his forehead, and the force flung him to the ground. He lay there, spread-eagled, unmoving, and Joe knew he was dead. The single round had torn through his brain, killing him before he could press the button. Javed looked stunned as Maryam ran to him.
He stroked her hair as she dissolved into floods of tears, but his gaze at Tyler was hard and accusing. As if in the last few seconds, he'd aged ten years. "You didn't need to kill him. I could have talked him out of it."
"No, I'm sorry, Javed, but he was reaching for the detonator. Another second, and he'd have blown you and Maryam into little pieces."
The boy stared at him for a few seconds longer, and it was clear he wasn't convinced. Tyler consoled himself with the fact the boy was alive, even if he didn’t believe him. Maryam said something to him, and he nodded.
"She says she's sorry Akram is dead, but she also saw him reaching for the detonator. She said for me to thank you."
He didn't reply, just watched brother and sister in the street, hugging each other now it was over. Knowing they would live.
Javed spoke. "It's not over yet." The boy was staring at him, and the expression on his face was savage. He looked at Pazira, and they exchanged some words, and then he turned back to Joe. "This man knows where I can find Mullah Ahmadi. I want him. Joe, will you help me?"
"You’re going to kill him." It wasn’t a question.
"I'm going to give him a taste of his own medicine."
He shrugged. He didn’t like it. They should have left the war-torn city right away, but the cleric had put him and his sister through hell.
He sighed. "Okay, tell me what you want."
A minute later, Pazira led the way, and Hammett had a hold of his collar, with the barrel of his gun pressed into his neck. They reached a small, non-descript building, and a sign outside suggested it had once been a small hotel or guesthouse. The front door was closed, but when Mahmud put his hand on the knob, it opened. He led them into the gloom, and they were in the front lounge with a reception desk in the rear. Ahmadi was sitting in an armchair, and on the low table in front of him, he had a zipped sports bag. He was going through the contents, and Tyler couldn't fail to notice that those contents were bundles of notes.
He didn't see them at first, and he gave Mahmud a quick glance. "Is everything ready? You killed the boy, and the martyrs are prepared?"
"Mullah…"
"Don't tell me something has gone wrong."
"Mullah, things have changed."
He sensed something was wrong. The bearded head came up, and he stared at each of them in turn. Mahmud, his trusted man, Javed, the boy he'd condemned to die, and next to him, Maryam, the girl he'd ordered to die in his place. Tyler and Hammett, and they were hard, tough men. Americans. In that instant, he knew he was in the worst trouble of his life. Still he tried to bluff it out.
"What is this interruption? I am a holy man, a messenger of God, yet you come in here and threaten me with guns."
Tyler stepped forward. "You’re finished, pal. Your cozy little plan has failed, and the men you intended to kill are about to lead their troops into a smashing victory over the Taliban scum you claim to represent."
He glared back at him. "You cannot beat our brave warriors. Many have tried, and all have failed. With the help of the Sheikh, Osama bin Laden, this country will once again be the Islamic Paradise Allah intended."
"An Islamic shithole is all it's ever been, and that's the way it’ll stay if psychos like you are left in charge."
He looked wary. "What are you going to do with me?"
"He's mine!"
They turned and looked at Javed. The way he'd spoken left no room for argument.
"If he hadn't filled Akram’s head with lies, he would still be alive, and still be my friend. This man must die.”
They looked at each other, uneasy. Listening to a young boy spitting out words of revenge on the cleric was uncomfortable, although Tyler didn't argue with the principle. After all, this was Afghanistan.
"What do you plan to do with him?"
"The same as he intended for me, Maryam, and the other children."
He understood then, and he nodded. "Okay, do it."
They dragged the shrieking and protesting man back to the Lexus. Akram's body lay on the ground, and flies had already settled over the exit wound in the back of his head. Close to him lay the bomb vests, and Javed picked up the first one. While they held him, he began fastening it around the Mullah’s body. He collapsed to his knees, imploring them for mercy, but the boy was deaf to his pleas. When he'd strapped on the first vest, he began fitting the second one over it.
"Mullah, when you explode, we need to make sure you do a good job of it."
"Please, please, I'll do anything. In the zip holdall there is a large sum of money. Cash, American dollars, you can have it all.”
He tied off the last of the straps, and double-checked to make certain they were secure. Then Javed reached out and patted the cleric on the side of the face.
"Think yourself lucky, you now have the opportunity to do the thing you said was required by your God. We will select a target, Mullah, and send you to destroy it. Only it won't be the target you wanted. If you want to win a place in Paradise, you will need to attack the evil at its root. And that means the men who spread the message of lies and hate. Where is Ghulam Samar?"
He glanced up the street at a tall building with a narrow forecourt set behind a black painted iron ornamental fence.
Javed smiled. “Good. Start walking."
He took one step and stopped. "You don’t need to kill me. I have information, information that will save hundreds of American lives."
Tyler intervened. "Hold it. Javed, we need to hear him out. What information?"
His face took on a cunning expression. “As the armies retreat from the east of the city, they have been given an assembly point where they will regroup ready to make a counterattack as soon as night falls. I can give you their exact position, if you don't force me to do this."
Tyler nodded. "Very well, tell me."
He listened to the information, and then looked at Javed. "You know this place?"
The boy nodded. "It is a deep valley about four kilometers outside the city. Yes, I think it would be perfect for an ambush. If the Taliban are there in strength, they could turn the tide of the battle. The high, overhung cliffs would make their positions most difficult to attack."
He was satisfied, and he nodded to Ahmadi. "Okay, we have the information. Start walking toward that house."
“You don't have a remote detonator?"
"No."
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He looked relieved. "Very well. I will tell no one I have passed the information to you, so you can kill them with impunity."
"Yeah, you're one of the good guys, the kind of leader who doesn't care about sacrificing his men to save his own skin. They must be proud of you."
He flushed, turned away, and started walking. Plodding along the rubble-strewn street, step-by-step toward the house set a few hundred meters away, behind the black iron fence. When he was halfway there, Tyler began checking his M4. Making sure he was loaded, and then he lay on the ground. The butt of the stock nestled against his shoulder, and he began to sight in on the explosives on Ahmadi's vest.
"You told him you didn't have a remote detonator," Hammett murmured.
"That's because it's true. I don't have a remote detonator. But I didn't say anything about not putting a bullet in him. And if that bullet happens to hit the explosives, and they go bang right next to Taliban Command HQ, that's tough."
"Yeah, it’s too bad. Treacherous bastard, he deserves everything he gets."
Javed watched, still hugging his sister. Ahmadi reached the building and put his hand on the gate latch to open it. He walked through into the tiny front yard and reached the front door. His hand reached out to open it, and that's when Tyler gently squeezed the trigger. The bullets flew in a flat trajectory, hurtling toward the target, and they slammed into a single block of C4. The result was instantaneous. Both vests detonated in a huge explosion. Smoke and flames soared high into the air, and they felt the massive shockwave punch into them a second later.
When the dust cleared, the line of houses had changed. Where the large house with the iron fence had been, there was just a huge gap, like a row of teeth where one has been extracted. Javed smiled, and even Maryam, beginning to recover, managed a faint grin.
“Job done," Hammett said, “We just collect Sarah, Junior, and Murphy, and then we have some interesting information to hand to General Pike. We’ll see what he makes of it this time."
Sarah was still hugging Junior tightly. Javed gleefully described the demise of Ahmadi, along with the Taliban commander, Ghulam Samar.
“His plan was to kill the army commanders, to cut off the head of the enemy.” He smiled with satisfaction, “The idea was sound. We cut off the head.”
The tautness fled from her face, replaced with an expression of relief. She looked at Joe. "Can we go home now?"
He didn't like to remind her she had no home to go to, but he just nodded. "It’s over for us. Take Junior home."
They walked toward the American lines, and their American uniforms, helmets, and passes allowed them through without too many problems. General Pike was on the radio, issuing orders to one of his units.
He looked up and sighed when Tyler and Hammett appeared in the doorway. “The last time I saw you guys, I told you to get out and leave me alone to conduct the war."
"We have information, General. It’s important."
He stared at Hammett, and he didn't look pleased. "Whatever it is, I’m busy right now. Give it to my clerk. We’ll make a note, and deal with it at the right time.”
"The right time is now, Sir. A lot of the Taliban fell back, and they've started to regroup for a counterattack. I have their exact position for you."
He scowled. “Not again. I just told you, pass it on to my clerk, and we’ll run it past our Afghan Army allies. Now if there’s nothing else, I have a war to run.” He turned his back on them and went to examine a huge map pinned to the wall.
Hammett glanced at Tyler in exasperation. “What do we have to do to convince him? It’s like he doesn’t want to listen to anything other than keeping to his fixed plan. Running it like a training exercise, while there are real men out there, and they’re bleeding and dying.”
“You could ask me to help.”
