The Operative

beamed as he took his cut before handing some to Seaton and the rest to Stratton. ‘Never a doubt,’ Jack said. ‘Beer?’ he asked both Seaton and Stratton.

‘Beer,’ they agreed. They broke into laughter as they headed for the house, Jack and Seaton putting an arm around Stratton.

The sound of a beeper going off filtered through the laughter and conversation as people discussed the feat. Every man heard it but Sally was the first to react, looking up from Josh, her smile fading as her gaze met Jack’s.

Smiv pulled his pager from his pocket. ‘It’s me,’ he said as he read the slender information bar on the top of the device.

Sally sighed, looking relieved. ‘If there’s one sound I hate it’s that one,’ she said to one of the wives beside her.

Another beeper then sounded off, followed by another. Within a few seconds there was a chorus of them and practically every operative was reading his pager.

Sally went instantly sullen. ‘They’ll be gone in about five seconds,’ she said.

Jack looked across at his wife, his expression saying it all. ‘Sorry, Sal. We have to go.’

She nodded.

‘Anyone need a lift to the camp?’ Jack called out. No one answered and Jack took Sally in his arms. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I know what’s happening.’

She nodded, trying to hide the disappointment on her face.

Jack kissed her and headed for the house. ‘You not been called or you left your pager at home?’ he asked Stratton as he passed him.

‘I just got back.’

‘When has that ever stopped ’em?’ Jack said.

‘Someone’s being considerate for once,’ Stratton replied.

‘Enjoy the party,’ Jack said as he disappeared into the house.

‘I will,’ Stratton said as Seaton strode past him.

‘Don’t bet on it,’ the American said as he followed the men inside.

Stratton watched him go and took his beeper out to see if it was operating. Within seconds the men had all gone, except for him and Bob. The wives and children stood around, looking as if they had just been mugged.

‘Where’s Dad going, Mummy?’ Josh asked.

‘I don’t know, Josh. He’ll be back soon.’

‘It could be an exercise,’ Stratton offered, aware of how limp it sounded as soon as he’d said it.

‘When’s the last time the lads had an exercise? You’ve been doing the real thing for so many years now you don’t need one.’

She was right to a certain extent. Stratton was only trying to make it easier for her to bear, although he didn’t know quite why he needed to. It wasn’t as if the lads died like flies every time they went away. Yes, it was a dangerous job but the number of fatalities over the years was low, considering the nature of the work. The wives had been complaining lately about the amount of time their men had been spending away from home. Most were bored with being left alone so much while others suspected that the men had too much of a good time when they were away. Stratton wouldn’t have put Sally in either category and knew that for the past year or so she’d been experiencing genuine fear about Jack going away. She had mentioned it to Stratton more than once and although she knew that it was silly to take any notice of what was, at the end of the day, just her imagination she couldn’t help how she felt.

Sally smiled at Stratton, trying hard not to be a wet rag. ‘I’ll go get you that beer,’ she said. ‘You’re not leaving this house until you and I are drunk, John Stratton. Understood?’

As she stepped towards the house a beeper cut through the air. Sally stopped in the doorway and turned to look at Stratton as he pulled his pager from his pocket to check the readout.

‘I’d better hurry and catch a ride,’ he said as he approached her. He opened his arms and she wrapped hers around his body, resting her cheek on his chest.

‘I know it’s what you all do,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’ll just never get used to it, that’s all.’

Stratton released her as Josh came up to them. ‘You going too, Stratton?’ the little boy asked, adjusting the oversized pakol on his head.

‘Yes. I have to go with your dad. You have a happy birthday, and look after your mum.’

Stratton bounded up the steps to the kitchen balcony and as he went inside the house Sally called out his name. He popped back out and looked down on them.

Sally had picked Josh up and was holding him in her arms. ‘Take care of him,’ she said, suddenly looking quite worried.

Stratton nodded and she smiled bravely. But all Sally could hear were the voices in her head warning her that she would never see Jack alive again. Even though she had heard them before, this time they seemed more compelling. She wanted to tell Stratton her fears but knew it would only make her feel stupid and put him in an uncomfortable position.

She watched him disappear and was suddenly filled with the urge to run through the house, out onto the street, and see Jack one last time before he went away. But she took control of herself.

‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Josh said.

‘I’m not,’ she lied and held him tightly in her arms.

2

Stratton and Jack stepped in through a doorway cut into a large grey metal sliding door that was closed across the entrance to what, from the outside, looked like a small aircraft hangar. It was one of the Special Boat Service’s operational squadron hangars inside their sprawling headquarters on the edge of Poole Harbour. Gathered in the hangar were the men from Jack’s party plus half a dozen others. Most had some kind of facial hair: a moustache, a goatee, or simply a few days’ growth of stubble.

The door to the operational offices that were constructed on a suspended platform above the floor of the hangar opened and an officer and the squadron sergeant-major stepped out. They were wearing desert-camouflage uniforms. The sergeant-major led the way down a metal staircase where he stopped halfway to address the men.

‘Listen up,’ he barked. ‘Teams Alpha, Bravo and Charlie should all be here. Team leaders speak only if there are members who are not present, otherwise your silence will be taken as affirmative.’ His stare scanned the group and paused on Stratton and Seaton, the only two men who were not assigned to teams. He nodded to them and looked back at the officer. ‘All present, sir.’

‘Thank you, sergeant-major,’ the young officer said, looking up from a clipboard that he was reading from and scribbling notes on.

‘I’m sorry about the call-out,’ the officer said in his well-bred accent. ‘I know that most of you are on local leave but we’re the standby squadron for fastballs such as this. There’ll be a detailed brief on the plane but the location is Iraq. One of the deck of cards has been located. Mohammad Al-Forouf. He’s a Sunni cleric from Ramadi and quite an important force behind the resistance movement within the Sunni Triangle. He’s also the man behind the UN and Red Cross headquarters bombings in Baghdad as well as numerous others. He’s recently been using the dilapi dated but still functional rail system to move ordnance around the country. This has been working for him quite well, mainly because trains are so rare and somewhat autonomous about their movements that co alition forces have been lax with stop-and-searches. Sources have revealed that Forouf will be travelling from Mosul in the north and heading south towards Tikrit and Baghdad in the next twenty-four hours. He’s very elusive, obviously, since he hasn’t been caught yet. Coalition forces have made three attempts against him since the war, all without luck. He’s rumoured to be heavily guarded and goes nowhere without serious protection. This is the first time we’ve had int that he’s actually on one of his trains. If it proves to be true, then that gives us a tactical advantage insofar as he and his men will be in a confined location, on a predictable route, and out in the open. The source is apparently very reliable and quite valuable to military intelligence who want him left in mint condition and – this is