He’d have given anything right now to be tucked away in that lab of his, feeding laughing gas to Roland Rat or whatever the fuck it was they did there. He gave me a brave smile. ‘Another day, another dollar, eh?’
‘Easier said than done, mate.’ I tried to sound upbeat for him. ‘Best not to worry about what you can’t change. It’ll give you a headache.’
Tony looked away, staring sightlessly through the side of the trailer as Bastendorf’s audience got right on with enjoying the show.
7
I didn’t particularly care which way this thing panned out. I was just looking forward to getting back to Hereford and the squadron. I was out of the Regiment in a couple of months’ time and needed to sort a few things. Not that I had much to organize. The Firm [Secret Intelligence Service] were going to do everything for me, sort out bank accounts, take control of my life.
Islamic fundamentalists had been on a slaughtering frenzy in Algeria ever since the army seized power in 1992. They’d unleashed a fierce terrorist campaign against a broad spectrum of civilian targets, including secular opposition leaders, journalists, artists, academics, and foreigners — especially oil industry foreigners.
A job looking after oilmen and rigs came up; the wages were three times what I was on, so there wasn’t much thinking involved. Why get out of the Regiment in five years’ time and start doing the same job? Why not start right away? I was out in five years anyway, whether I liked it or not. The army had wiped my arse for me ever since I’d joined at sixteen. They’d only used three sheets at a time — one up, one down, one to shine — but I’d still been wondering what it would be like to have to stand on my own two feet. And now I didn’t have to worry.
I handed in my notice and got approached by the Firm a week later. I still wasn’t sure why, but it didn’t matter. It meant not having to fill in tax forms or pay rent. And I’d find out what they wanted me for soon enough.
I was just about to suggest a stroll to the canteen to see if the queue had gone down when a series of loud crashes came from the compound.
‘
The negotiator went straight into monotone. Bastard and his crew quit their banter to listen. ‘Do not open fire. This is not an assault. We will not be entering the building. I repeat, do not open fire. This is not an assault.’
The line went dead. Almost at once, the loudspeakers on the armoured vehicles began to blare, in the same monotone as the negotiator, ‘This stand-off is over, do not fire any weapons. This is not an assault. This is not an assault, do not fire any weapons.’
Tony and I put down our brews and ran to the back of the cattle trailer to get a better view. Three combat engineer vehicles, tracked, armoured monsters with big battering rams out in front, were rumbling around the compound. One pushed straight through the wall like a finger through wet paper.
Searchlights and Nightsuns jerked around the target. Another CEV forced its ram into the far corner of the building and stopped.
‘Oh my God, oh my God…’ Tony couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. The searchlights were still dancing like dervishes as the third CEV half disappeared through a wall.
‘This is not an attack,’ the loudspeakers barked. ‘Do not open fire.’
Tony couldn’t believe what he was seeing. ‘If this isn’t an attack, then what the hell is it? Look, Nick, look…’
I was looking, along with close on two hundred law enforcers standing on the roof of every vehicle, trying to get a better view. Some of them even had their flash cameras out, getting a few snaps for the folks back home.
Tony scrambled over the trailer gate like an uncoordinated child. He hit the ground and started running towards Alpha Pod.
I followed. The structure was kept upright by air forced through inflatable tubes in the frames. A generator chugged away just outside. This being an American command post, there was also air conditioning. Warm air hit our faces. There was a strong smell of coffee. It was a smoke-free area, and there were signs up to say so. Health and safety initiatives in a war zone were always good to see.
Every table was groaning with TV monitors and computers. Cables trailed across the floor. Radio operators were hunched speechlessly over their sets. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screens.
The monitors showed all elevations of the target, apart from the rear. The two screens that had been covering the back were now just black and flickering. Two screens displayed aerial views from P3 cameras still circling at twenty-five thousand feet. The IR and thermal images looked like black and white negatives. Bright white light showed the heat coming from the exhaust of the CEV at the back of the building, then white flames as the driver changed gear before ramming into it.
Bastard stood in front of the screens, and he liked what he saw. ‘Get some!’ he yelled at the screen. He muttered a few asides to his cronies and gobbed baccy juice into his cup. The crew around him added their cheers.
‘Yo, Momma!’
Thirty seconds later, the vehicle reversed.
‘Hey, Koresh, how you like that new air freshener?’
‘Y’all find that tank’s ass stinks more than ours!’
I looked at Tony. ‘Gas?’
‘They’re injecting like mosquitoes.’
The FBI’s patience had run out. They’d gas them and then round them up as they staggered out, coughing and spluttering, fluids dribbling from every orifice. Next stop would be the back of a wagon or an ambulance, and downtown to the ER before they got arrested.
‘Good news.’ I grinned at Tony. ‘That’s you and me on a plane home.’
But Tony wasn’t smiling. He strode up to Bastard. ‘What gas are you using?’
Bastard just kept on staring at the screens. He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno, old bean. Just gas, I guess.’
Tony was flapping, looking around at the room for some kind of moral support. He didn’t receive it. A couple of Bastendorf’s men started to smirk, sensing fun. Tony pointed to the monitors as another CEV crashed into the compound. ‘Have they got respirators in there? What about the children? In those confined spaces you’re going to kill them! Why aren’t they already coming out?’
Bastard ignored him. Outside, the symphony of slaughtered animals returned and another CEV embedded itself in the building. It stayed put for about twenty seconds and then pulled out. Another mosquito injecting its poison.
Bastard just stood there, glued to the screens.
Tony grabbed his shoulder and spun him round so their faces were only inches apart. ‘This is going to kill them, do you not understand?’ His voice was choked with emotion. ‘They’re all going to die!’
Bastard sneered. ‘Not your party, son. Get out of my face, I got work to do.’
No-one else spoke.
I was standing in the doorway. First light was just cracking; visibility had improved.
A cheer went up from the onlookers at the edge of the cordon.
I scanned the perimeter, and the penny dropped.
Where were the ambulances to treat the casualties? Where were the reception parties to process the prisoners? Where were the wagons to take them away? Why were all these guys watching the attack, rather than being part of it?
8
