They each made small adjustments to their line of sight as the Imam raised two hands and the others prostrated themselves before him. Danny focused the sights of his rocket launcher at the broad side of the Land Rover. He could just hear the Imam’s chant drifting across the silent desert, flooded red by the setting sun.

  ‘Are you on target?’ he said.

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘Take the shot.’

  They fired in unison. The aimed round from Caitlin’s assault rifle found its target instantly. The RPG took a couple of seconds longer. The double retort from the two weapons echoed violently against the mountainside. Danny lowered the launcher just in time to see the sudden devastation they had wreaked on Al-Zafawi’s group. Caitlin’s target was flat and motionless on the ground. The RPG fizzed towards the Land Rover and slammed accurately into its side. Danny saw the explosion before he heard it: a great cloud of black smoke burst from the vehicle, with a hot heart of orange flame somewhere at its centre.

  It took the targets several seconds to realise what was happening, and to react. Al-Zafawi was the fastest. He rose to his feet and sprinted towards the cave mouth, past the Land Rover that was burning ferociously. He looked over his shoulder and seemed to shout an instruction at his two remaining guards. One of them ran towards the Imam, who had fallen to the ground from the impact of the blast. The second sprinted to the second Land Rover on which the comms satellite was mounted, to find cover. Caitlin released two rounds in quick succession, trying to put him down. She was unsuccessful. The guard covered the ten metres of open ground and hid himself behind the front of the Land Rover. His companion had the Imam on his feet now. He had pressed a handgun to the old man’s head and was manoeuvring him towards the Land Rover.

  ‘Put them both down!’ Danny barked, as he rid himself of the rocket launcher and grabbed his own assault rifle. Before Caitlin could take another shot, however, there was a burst of automatic fire from the direction of the intact Land Rover. Shards of rock exploded from the front of their firing position, forcing them to take cover.

  ‘Get another RPG on target!’ Caitlin shouted. ‘We need to take out the other Land Rover!’

  ‘You reload it,’ Danny said. He had other plans. The shooter had their position. He knew he couldn’t fire another RPG immediately without presenting himself as a target. Instead, he reached for the remote detonator. He peered through the rocks towards the targets. No sign of the shooter, but the other guard was still dragging the Imam towards the Land Rover. Distance: five metres.

  Three.

  The Imam’s arms were flailing as the guard dragged him behind the cover of the Land Rover.

  ‘Do it!’ Caitlin shouted.

  Danny flicked the switch on the remote detonator. Another explosion split the air. Danny didn’t watch its effects. He knew the Imam would be dead, but he needed to be certain about the other two guards. ‘Give me the launcher,’ he said. He grabbed the reloaded weapon from Caitlin, mounted it on his good shoulder, breathed deeply and re-established his firing position. He saw tendrils of smoke drifting up from behind the Land Rover, which was clearly partially damaged because it was sinking towards the rear left-hand wheel. There was no sign of either militant, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. He got the launcher on target and quickly released a second RPG, before ducking quickly back behind the firing position. He heard, rather than saw, the fizz of the projectile’s trajectory and the sudden boom of its impact.

  Then, silence. The desert air reeked of cordite and burning.

  Danny was breathing heavily, and sweating. Caitlin too. They had their backs to the rocks.

  ‘Al-Zafawi’s still in the cave,’ Caitlin said.

  ‘Roger that.’

  ‘What do we do? Wait till dark?’

  Danny shook his head. ‘That gives him a chance to regroup, hide, send for help, set up a firing position, whatever he wants. I’m going to advance to target. You’ll have to lay down covering fire. You can do that?’

  She gave him a look, then arranged several full magazines in a row and took up her firing position again. ‘Try to stay alive, Danny Black. I don’t want to be extracting from this shithole by myself.’

  Danny discarded the launcher and grabbed his own rifle. ‘Open up,’ he said.

  Caitlin fired two bursts of covering fire across the open ground in quick succession as Danny swung round the edge of the rocks and, crouching low to present a smaller target, ran thirty metres to his 10 o’clock towards the position where the late Imam had parked the Hilux. This gave him a moment’s cover. It also meant that he could approach the cave mouth from an oblique angle, giving Caitlin a free line of fire towards it and ensuring that the first burning Land Rover presented an obstacle to anyone firing from the cave mouth.

  It was almost dark now, but the two Land Rovers burned ferociously like beacons on either side of the cave mouth, the heat distorting the appearance of the space between them. There was a burst of automatic fire from Caitlin’s position every five or ten seconds. Danny didn’t linger in the cover or the Hilux, but altered his trajectory to close in on the cave mouth. As he ran, he could just make out explosions of dirt as the rounds hit the ground between the two burning vehicles.

  He started to feel the heat of the nearer burning Land Rover from a distance of approximately twenty metres. A greasy diesel stench permeated the air, and the smoke and heat haze seriously compromised his vision. At ten metres – where the abandoned prayer mats lay, one of them covered by a bloodied corpse – it was too hot to get any closer, and the ferocious noise of the burning almost masked the distant bursts from Caitlin’s assault rifle. Danny went to ground. He took a flashbang from his ops vest. Then he skirted round the back of the Land Rover. There was a gap of approximately five metres between the burning vehicle and the mountain face. Distance to the cave mouth: fifteen metres. Danny took a deep breath and followed the line of the mountain face, keeping as far from the heat source of the vehicle as possible. He reached the opening to the cave in five seconds. Stood with his back to the wall. Primed the flashbang and hurled it inside.

  There was a three-second pause. Then, from inside the cave, a deafening, ear-splitting explosion and a sudden blinding flash of light. As it happened, Danny was engaging the NV tubes of his helmet. And the very moment the effect of the flashbang had subsided, he swung round into the cave, weapon engaged.

  The cave was large and deep, but Danny couldn’t establish its precise dimensions because his eyes were immediately drawn to another vehicle, parked about fifteen metres into the cave, facing out. In the green haze of the NV, he caught the outline of a figure behind the steering wheel, but a second later he was completely blinded as the headlamps switched on and the light burned into his NV goggles. Danny clamped his eyes shut just as he heard the roar of an engine starting up. He sensed the vehicle surging towards him. Instinctively he lowered his weapon a little. He fired a blind burst, panning left and right. Opening his eyes, he saw that he’d been on target. The headlamps were blown out. He could see again. But the vehicle was accelerating towards him. Distance, seven metres. The driver was going to run him over . . .

  Quickly, Danny raised his weapon and released a single round into the centre of the windscreen. The retort echoed round the cave and the window shattered noisily. He jumped to the left, only just in time to avoid the impact from the vehicle. His wound shrieked with pain as he rolled on the ground, but he managed to put down two more rounds, each of them slamming into the front and rear right-hand tyres. The vehicle swerved heavily to the left and came to a sudden halt.

  Danny advanced.

  Distance to the driver’s door: six metres. He crossed it with his weapon engaged and pointing directly through the side window. He could see the figure behind the wheel. He looked like he was desperately trying to knock the vehicle into reverse to straighten it up, but without success. As Danny reached his target, he lowered his weapon, opened the door and, gritting his teeth against the pain in his bad shoulder, manhandled the driver out of the vehicle and threw him heavily on to the ground. He landed on his back and for the first time Danny was able to positively identify Al-Zafawi, with his distinctive black beard and camo gear. He pressed one heel hard against his target’s chest and aimed his rifle directly at his head.

  ‘Your guys are dead,’ Danny said. ‘You and me – we’re going to have a little talk.’

  He bent down, pulled Al-Zafawi roughly to his feet again, then pushed him forcefully towards the cave exit, closely following with his rifle pointing at his target’s back.

  CHAPTER 18

  Al-Zafawi wasn’t in the mood to come quietly. The Taliban leader was rigid and unyielding as Danny forced him out of the cave. The two vehicles were still burning ferociously. From this angle, Danny could see the remains of the Imam and the two guards. The guards’ corpses had ignited. The Imam’s body parts were scattered around the area. Looking through the heat haze back towards their firing point, Danny could see the refracted silhouette of Caitlin advancing across open ground. He turned his attention back to Al-Zafawi, who was having trouble keeping his eyes off the sight of his burning guards. Danny pushed him further in that direction, but didn’t follow. When Al-Zafawi was about four metres from the blazing Land Rover, Danny shouted: ‘Get to your knees.’

  Al-Zafawi turned. He took a step in Danny’s direction, obviously keen to get away from the intolerable heat of the blaze, but stopped when Danny raised his rifle a couple of inches as if about to shoot. ‘To your knees!’ he repeated.

  The Taliban leader did as he was told. He stared up at Danny with a look of absolute arrogance. Within seconds, however, his face contorted with pain. He raised his hands and tried to protect the back of his head from the heat, but it clearly scorched his hands too. Unable to bear the heat any longer, he curled himself up into a little ball, roaring with pain.

  Danny let him sweat for another ten seconds. Then he approached, grabbed him by one arm, pulled him away from the blaze and threw him to the ground again. His clothes were almost too hot to touch, and there was a scent of singed hair.

  Caitlin ran up to them. She was drenched in sweat. She took in the scene with one sweeping look. ‘Should have brought some shrimps for the barbie?’ she said.

  Danny ignored her. He knelt down so that he was face to face with Al-Zafawi. The Taliban leader spat in his face. He was rewarded with a solid thump on his right cheek.

  ‘Who are you?’ the Taliban leader demanded fiercely. He had to speak loudly to be heard above the crackle of the flames.

  Danny pointed at the burning bodies. ‘I’m the guy who’s going to do that to you,’ he said, ‘unless you tell me exactly what I want to know.’

  Al-Zafawi gave him a look of absolute contempt. ‘English?’ he said.

  ‘You don’t need to know who I am. You just need to answer my questions unless you want to go the same way as your old mate the Imam.’

  ‘You are English,’ Al-Zafawi spat. ‘I will not answer anything. I do not fear death.’

  ‘It’s the bit that comes just before you need to worry about.’

  But before Danny could threaten him with his weapon, Al-Zafawi stood up and spread his arms wide. ‘Go ahead!’ he said. ‘Torture me, shoot me, blow me up like you did my old friend – and answer to the Americans!’

  Danny stared at him.

  ‘Go on!’ Al-Zafawi shouted. His English was very fluent. ‘I said shoot me! Then we can wind back the clock by ten years. Your friends can kill my friends, my friends can kill your friends! We shall wipe out innocent families across Afghanistan! It will be back to the bad old days!’

  He sounded to Danny like he was raving. Danny strode forward, intending to strike him again on the cheek with the butt of his rifle. But he felt Caitlin pulling him back.

  ‘Wait,’ she said sharply. Danny was going to argue, but her expression silenced him. ‘You’re in bed with the Americans?’ she shouted over the crackle of the flames.

  ‘British fool,’ Al-Zafawi spat back.

  ‘Aussie fool, actually.’ She held a handgun to his head. ‘Answer the question, fuckwit.’

  Al-Zafawi clearly didn’t like being addressed by a woman. His arrogant demeanour didn’t leave him as he directed his reply to Danny. ‘The Americans need me,’ he spat. ‘I am the only reason their men are not dying in Helmand Province by the thousand!’

  ‘Why?’ Danny demanded. And when Al-Zafawi didn’t immediately reply, he grabbed him by the throat and started pushing him back towards the flames. ‘Why!’

  ‘Because I distribute their bullion, British fool!’ Al-Zafawi shrieked. His eyes were wild.

  Danny yanked him away from the flames and pushed him to the ground again. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Their bullion,’ Al-Zafawi said. ‘Their gold. How else do you think they stop Helmand descending into all-out war again? So go ahead! Shoot me, and answer to the Americans. You stupid British have already been stealing from me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Al-Zafawi spat on the ground.

  Danny hauled him to his feet again. This time he dragged him to where one of his guards lay burning. He forced him to kneel, grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head closer to the melting face. Al-Zafawi retched from the sickening stench. ‘What do you mean?’ Danny repeated.

  ‘Last night,’ Al-Zafawi rasped. ‘Three soldiers. They killed my man. They stole my money.’

  There was a pause, then Danny said: ‘Do you still have the footage?’

  If Al-Zafawi was surprised that Danny knew anything about any kind of footage, he was in no position to show it. His hair was smouldering, his skin burning. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes!’

  Danny dragged him away again. ‘Where is it?’

  Al-Zafawi pointed towards the cave.

  ‘Get in there,’ Danny told him.

  It was fully dark now, and the cave was only partly illuminated by the burning vehicles. As they entered, Caitlin raised a high-powered Maglite and shone it around. The cave was well equipped. A thick cable ran in from the satellite dish, leading to a steel rack with two chunky laptops. There was military gear scattered all around: boxes of ammunition, firearms, body armour; the works. One area to the left was set aside for sleeping – a mess of blankets lay on the ground. To the right, there was an electrical generator. In the middle, a fire pit. An area deeper in the cave was for eating – there was a table with the remnants of a meal. Danny sensed that Al-Zafawi had been here for weeks, maybe months.

  ‘There?’ he demanded, pointing at the laptops.

  Al-Zafawi didn’t reply, but he staggered towards the laptops with Danny bearing down on him.

  ‘Show me,’ Danny instructed.

  ‘Do it yourself,’ Al-Zafawi rasped. He plainly hated being ordered around. But Danny only had to give him a dangerous look for him to back down. The Taliban leader powered up one of the laptops with obvious reluctance. It took nearly a minute to boot up. He navigated to a folder and double clicked on a video file. It opened up and started to play. Danny watched intently.

  He recognised the scene. It was the room in Target Blue’s compound, viewed from the covert camera in the air-con unit. The footage was grainy and monochrome, but with a degree of night-vision capability that showed Target Blue still alive but asleep in his bed. The wardrobe was in the centre of the screen, but closed.

  ‘Get to the money shot,’ Danny said.

  ‘What are you talking about, British fool?’

  ‘Move it on.’

  The Taliban leader scrubbed forward. There was sudden movement in the recording as a dog burst into the room. It jumped on to the bed where Target Blue was lying and sank its teeth into the target’s leg. Three men entered. Their heads and eyes were covered by helmets and NV goggles, but Danny instantly recognised them as Tony, Dexter and Cole. They moved swiftly, dragging Target Blue, who was naked, from his bed and on to the floor. Cole stuffed his mouth with a rag. Tony bent down to take a retina scan and DNA sample. Dexter aimed his rifle at the target’s head while the dog took up position by the door.

  Target Blue was writhing badly – worse than Target Red had done. He seemed to be pointing at something: the wardrobe.

  Tony raised one hand, apparently to tell Dexter not to perform the execution. He moved to the wardrobe and tried to open it. It was locked, so he looked round the room, disappeared from the camera’s field of view for a moment, and returned with an object Danny couldn’t make out. He used it to force open the wardrobe. He looked inside and removed a small suitcase. It was obviously heavy. Leaning over the suitcase, with his back to the camera, he appeared to open it up. He examined the contents for about half a minute, then closed the suitcase and turned to his mates. He said something – Danny couldn’t make out what – and there appeared to be a moment of hesitation among them. Tony spoke again. The two others nodded.

  Tony looked around the room. His eyes obviously fell on the fake camera. He moved out of shot. When he came into view thirty seconds later he was carrying a tape. He said something to the others. Cole took up position above the prone Target Blue, weapon engaged. Tony and Dexter left, with the dog.

  ‘I don’t need to see any more,’ Danny said. He turned his back on the screen.

  Caitlin was just behind him. ‘I don’t get it,’ she said. ‘We should watch the rest. What the hell happened?’

  ‘It’s obvious. Target Blue was guarding a stash of Al-Zafawi’s bullion. He’s not going to keep it all in one place. When Tony and the boys turned up, he made the obvious call and offered them the bullion in return for his life. The guys decided to rip him off, but they didn’t want me in on it.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Danny shrugged. ‘Tony probably said I’d rat on them. Real reason? A three-way split’s better than a four-way split. So they order me out of the compound, killed the family and make out that I’d lost it. Gives them an excuse to put me out of action, arrange a casualty evacuation, then pretend they’re off chasing Target Blue. In fact they probably nailed him somewhere nearby, then went off and cached the bullion somewhere they can come back to and retrieve it in a year or five, when this has all died down.’