‘Check out the brain on Campo.’
‘You shits did some reading instead of playing
‘Anyone noticed there’s no enemy fire?’
‘Now you mention it.’
Colonel Jafari nodded again as the bank rose up above the surrounding buildings, a marble monolith that appeared to be unmarked by either the bombardment or the earthquake.
‘T-90!’
As they rounded a corner they came face to face with the tank.
‘The fuck. .’
Brady was screaming at the convoy over the radio.
The Colonel buried his head in his lap.
Black saw the turret rotate towards them. He jumped out of the vehicle and rolled into a heap of putrid garbage. He felt the air shake as the Humvee took a direct hit, flinging it up into the air and down again on its roof. He rolled over the garbage and on to the sidewalk as a suspension arm with a wheel still attached slammed down inches from his face.
His hearing was shot, just a fine buzzing. He felt a hand on his shoulder, rolling him further away from the blast. Campo.
‘How did you—?’
‘Followed your example, chief.’
Montes was beside him, grinning. Half his sleeve gone and a patch of blood on his shoulder.
‘Brady?’
They only had to look and they knew.
‘Like it came straight though his windscreen.’
It was hard to imagine. Brady behaved like he was bullet-proof.
‘Nothing left of the Colonel either.’
The tank jolted forward in the direction of the reversing convoy. Montes and Campo dropped behind the mound of garbage. As it loosed off another shell they ducked until it rumbled out of view.
Black, on his feet again, ran half-crouched to the opposite side of the road, where a van was parked. The others followed. From there they scanned the building. There were no lights, and there was no sign of movement outside. The tall metal doors were shut, the small windows fortified with thick steel bars. It had been built like a fortress. Blackburn turned to the others. ‘Okay. Let’s finish this. Let’s do this bank.’
29
It must have been a close one. Dima thought he could remember the muzzle flash of Hosseini’s pistol. He definitely recalled thinking that using Gazul as a human shield was probably not going to work. And he was right, inasmuch as the bullet entered Gazul’s forehead and passed straight though his skull, brain and more skull and out the other side, clipping the top off Dima’s left ear as it did so. Why, he wondered, as he lay under the headless body, had Hosseini not simply fired a second shot straight into his target? He could only put it down to Hosseini’s horror at having blown the head off the PLR’s Chief of Intelligence, his own ultimate boss.
Anyone might be forgiven for thinking that Dima too was very much dead, squashed under Gazul’s lifeless corpse, his face covered with the other’s brains. It was hitting the marble floor with such force that had knocked him out.
He awoke to bright light blasting his face and Vladimir peering at him, torch in one hand, a piece of bloodied cloth in the other. There was a powerful smell of antiseptic. The world seemed to be lurching and rolling around him.
‘Hold still.’
‘What’s happening?’
‘Just cleaning you up.’
Dima tried to look round. A flash from somewhere lit up Zirak close by, watching the procedure.
‘Where am I? Where are we going?’
Vladimir turned Dima’s head back again.
‘I said hold still. The Chief of Intelligence has very sticky brains, congealed I suppose from lack of use.’
His eyes started to focus. He recognised the khaki interior of the Rakhsh they had hijacked. Suddenly the life surged back into him as he realised where he was.
‘We’re in the fucking APC. We should be in the bank. What the fuck are you all doing?’
He pushed Vladimir away and sat up. A massive thudding pain spread out across the left side of his head. For a few seconds he blacked out, then he collapsed back to where he had been lying. He felt the dressing on the side of his head.
‘You’re going to have a very interestingly shaped left ear,’ smirked Vladimir, closing up the first aid kit. ‘Something that may make a good conversation starter with the ladies.’
The Rakhsh slewed to a stop. Gregorin was at the wheel, Kroll beside him. The whole vehicle rocked madly as the wash from a huge blast hit it. Then they were reversing, gears whining madly.
‘How long have I been out?’
‘Twenty, thirty minutes. You missed a good firefight. Some of Hosseini’s henchmen came back into the bank when they heard his shot, so we had to deal with them. Then a whole lot more surged up from the floor below. All got a bit much.’
You retreated. You’re pathetic.’
Dima tried to lift himself again. Vladimir held him down.
‘Hey You’re alive. We got you out of there. Break the habit of a lifetime and show some gratitude.’
Two massive explosions rocked the vehicle. Kroll leaned forward.
‘Oh yeah, we forgot to mention: Uncle Sam’s in town. That’s the tank having a go at them.’
Dima pushed Vladimir’s hand away and raised himself, more slowly this time. ‘We had a clear fix on the nuke: we were right in the PLR’s lair.’
Kroll craned round. ‘It moved.’
‘What moved?’
‘The nuke.’ Kroll patted the device in his lap. ‘Told you it worked. Looks like we’ll be heading back into the mountains.’
The APC rocked as Gregorin spun the wheel to avoid an obstacle. Flashes of blue and red came through the windscreen.
‘Uh-oh. US Humvees ahead. They’ve just blasted a PLR technical.’ He stamped on the brakes and slammed into reverse, sawing at the wheel. ‘Fuck, they’re moving our way.’
He never completed the manoeuvre. A second later a white flash lit up the inside of the Rakhsh and the front end reared skywards, as if a giant hand had scooped it up and then dropped it on its roof. For a few moments there was silence.
‘Out, out. Now!’
‘Where the fuck’s the door on this?’
‘US approaching on foot. Forty metres. Go go go.’
Flames from the smashed front end spread through the windscreen.
‘Why the fuck do they make these things so hard to get out of?’
‘So you’ll stay at your post and fight like a good soldier of the revolution.’
‘Well they can fuck their revolution.’
Zirak got the side door open. They spilled out on to an expanding pool of fuel from the wrecked APC. As they rolled across it a bullet from the Americans ricocheted off the pavement and it became a lake of fire.
They were saved by a yawning gap in the street, opened up by the earthquake. A whoosh of flame and heat and the APC became an inferno. They watched their transport disintegrate in front of them. A couple of Marines dismounted from the Humvee and circled the burning Rakhsh.
‘We fucked that up good.’
‘Yeah, right. Fried Iranian anyone?’
