to look into the car. And they never knew what hit them.
The suppressed Sigs made the dullest, deadest of sounds as Luke and Finn shot each guard once at point- blank range in the face. The rounds entered and exited in a split second, blood spattering the two gunmen as their victims’ faces instantly dissolved into a mash. The guards crumpled to the ground. It happened so silently that the remaining Red Berets didn’t even notice what was going on until Luke and Finn had stepped out of the car and raised their M4s. But by then it was too late.
The firefight was strangely quiet. Very few shouts from the enemy and none from the other drivers, who didn’t exit their vehicles. Just the hum of car engines and the chugging of the M4s and AKs. Finn fired bursts towards the opposite side of the road while Luke dealt with the two remaining guards on his side. They were standing about twelve metres from his position, readying their weapons at the sound of gunfire. It took him a couple of seconds to down them — single chest shots for each man — before he turned ninety degrees to add his fire to Finn’s. By now Finn had dropped three men, but there were two more standing behind a civilian vehicle, distance twenty-five metres, their weapons resting on the top of the car and ready to fire.
‘Go left!’ Luke shouted.
A spark from one of the enemy rifles, and a round hit the side of the Toyota, just forward of Finn’s door. Luke kept calm. He lined up his cross hairs with the head of the man who had fired and took the shot quickly. He knew as he squeezed the trigger that his aim was good, and he immediately switched his attention to the last guard. Finn had taken a shot but instead of hitting the final Red Beret, he’d shattered one of the windows of the car they were using as a shield. Another incoming round, inches above Luke’s head. But then he fired, and as he did so he heard a crack from Finn’s rifle at almost the same time. Impossible to say which of them had hit the last man, but one of them had.
Nobody left the vehicles behind them as Luke and Finn jumped back into the Toyota. Abu Famir’s eyes were wide. ‘No violence… I gave you my instructions!’ Luke didn’t answer. He floored the pedal and the car roared away.
‘You cannot just kill men like that!’ Abu Famir shouted. ‘I will have you reported…’
Finn looked over the back of his seat and pointed his Sig directly at Abu Famir. ‘If you don’t shut up, I’ll do you too.’
For once the pomposity seemed knocked out of the old man.
They sped down the highway for a minute. Luke felt the sticky blood of the guards drying on the skin of his face, but he ignored it and kept one eye on the road, one on the mirror. Nothing chasing them yet. How long before the shooting back there was reported by one of the civilian onlookers? Impossible to say. Minutes, probably.
‘Turning in 500 metres,’ Finn said.
Luke nodded. Once they were off the road, they could get out the NV and drive to their covert border crossing. But when they were 100 metres from the turn-off, it became clear that it wasn’t going to be so easy.
‘Vehicles,’ said Finn. ‘They’re offroad — looks like border control.’ He was right. The desert off to the left — which had been all but empty the previous night — was now dotted with headlamps. To make matters worse, another chopper — or perhaps the same one — had turned up. It was hovering over their escape route, only this time it had a searchlight illuminating the road they needed to follow.
‘They’re looking for us,’ said Luke.
‘If we head down there, we’re fucked…’
Finn was right. That route was closed to them. No doubt about it. They sped on past it.
‘How far to the border?’ Luke asked after a moment.
‘Twenty klicks. If they don’t see us heading that way, they’re going to twig pretty soon that we’re taking a different route… We should start thinking about Plan B.’
‘Plan B?’ Abu Famir piped up, his voice nervous. ‘What is Plan B?’
Neither of the Regiment men answered, but Luke glanced in the rear-view mirror at the slumped, burka-clad figure of Amit.
Five minutes passed. Ten. Options and alternatives tumbled around in Luke’s mind, but no other solution presented itself. They were heading straight for the Iraqi border. It would be well guarded, with God knows how many soldiers and how much military equipment. Certainly they were insufficiently equipped to break through.
They saw it from a couple of klicks. The road ran downhill to the border post, so they had the advantage of height. The checkpoint itself was illuminated in the darkness. There were two sections — the Iraqi and the Jordanian — separated, Luke estimated, by about 200 metres of open ground. Even if they could break through the Iraqi side — and given the large number of vehicles and lights and movement, that was hardly a straightforward prospect — it would be open season on them as they crossed that patch of no-man’s-land. The Iraqis would have artillery covering it, especially now. Attempting to cross that border by vehicle was out of the question. Retreating to find their covert border crossing was also off the menu because the chopper and border-control vehicles had eyes on. They had only one option: to ditch the Toyota, travel by foot and try to find a weak point in the border fence. With border control on high alert, that was a dangerous call. They’d find it tough enough with Abu Famir in tow. There was certainly no room for any more stragglers. Especially wounded ones.
A kilometre from the border, Luke pulled over. There was no cover in the vicinity, and he was forced to ditch the car among the brush just four or five metres from the road. He looked at Finn, his face grim, and nodded.
‘Get out!’ he told Abu Famir.
‘What is happening?’
‘
‘I refuse to…’
Luke held his Sig up against the Iraqi’s head.
‘I’m not fucking around, old man. If you want to shoot the shit with Allah, stay where you are. Otherwise, get out of the car. Now.’
Abu Famir stared at the silenced Sig, his eyes bulging. His hand felt for the door lever and he quickly scrambled out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He went and stood about five metres away, close enough for Luke to keep an eye on, far enough away to be out of earshot.
There was a moment of silence. And then, from behind the veil of the burka, Amit spoke. ‘You’re going to… to kill me now?’ His voice was thin and shaky. It was clearly a struggle for him to say even a single word.
‘We have to go cross-country,’ Luke said. ‘You’re too weak. You won’t make it.’
Amit’s body was trembling. ‘Take this thing off my head,’ he said.
Luke pointed his weapon at Amit and nodded at Finn to do as the man had asked. Even in the darkness of the car they could tell that Amit was on the way out. His eyes were glazed, his skin corpse-white. He appeared to be staring into the middle distance, every breath an effort, and for a moment Luke thought the delirium had returned. He became horribly aware of the cars passing them, just five or six metres from their position. Each time one went past, the interior of the Toyota lit up, then faded into darkness. It would only take one of them to stop and see if they needed help, and then…
Amit spoke again.
‘Abu Famir has to get out.’
‘That’s the plan, buddy,’ said Luke.
‘You’re… you’re British special forces, right?’ Neither of them replied. It didn’t seem to bother Amit. ‘Can you do it? Can you get him across-country?’
‘We can try.’
A passing car slowed down, but then sped up again.
‘I’m going to die, aren’t I? Of my wounds, I mean.’
A pause.
‘You’re in bad shape, buddy.’ Luke glanced at Finn, then back at Amit. ‘You want me to end it now? It’ll be quick.’
Amit swallowed. His breath became a bit shorter, and he shook his head. ‘It’s my job to ensure Abu Famir is safe.’
‘Who are you working for?’ Luke demanded. ‘You might as well tell us, mate. Seems we’re both trying to do the same thing.’
Amit closed his eyes. ‘For the Institute… Mossad. For Israel.’
Luke’s mind began to click through the gears. Israel was top of Saddam’s hit list. He’d demonstrated that
