‘Why didn’t Tony just kill you? We know what he’s like – he’d have done it.’

  ‘Wrong call. If I come home in a body bag, the Regiment starts asking questions. This way, I’m the bad guy, Tony’s the hero. He gets into bed with the RMPs. He knows they’re looking for any excuse to pin one on the SAS so they’re primed to believe him. And it’s no skin off his nose if he discredits the Regiment, because he’s got a stash of American bullion sitting in a hole somewhere in Afghanistan that he can come and collect whenever he needs it.’

  ‘If I was Dexter or Cole,’ Caitlin said, ‘I’d watch my back.’

  Danny nodded grimly, then turned back to Al-Zafawi who was still staring at the footage. The image hadn’t changed: Cole was standing over Target Blue, occasionally looking towards the doorway. Danny pulled the Taliban leader away and threw him to his knees again. ‘Do the Americans know about this? Do they know your bullion was stolen?’

  ‘Of course not, British fool.’

  That made sense to Danny. ‘Because you don’t want them to start thinking that they need to find someone else to do your job.’

  Al-Zafawi spat on the floor. ‘They will not need to, British fool. I intend to get my gold back.’

  Danny snorted. ‘Good luck with that,’ he said. He turned to Caitlin. ‘I’m going to make contact with Hereford. Give me the sat phone.’

  ‘You sure that’s the right call?’ Caitlin said. ‘We’ve got no hard evidence that you didn’t do what Tony’s accused you of. This whole thing’s turning to shit. It would be convenient for Spearpoint if you disappeared. Me too, now I’m involved. I wouldn’t put it past Cadogan to make that call. He’s not just the pompous git he likes to pretend he is. He wouldn’t think twice about shutting us down.’

  Danny shook his head. ‘Maybe. But I’m going to bypass Cadogan. Go straight to Hammond. Say what you like about him, he sticks by his guys. Throw me the sat phone and keep this charmer quiet.’

  Caitlin removed the sat phone from her pack and threw it to Danny, who took it outside. The burning vehicles had subsided a little – more smoke now, than fire – and the corpses were shapeless, blackened forms. He positioned himself twenty metres clear of the cliff face to ensure the sat phone made a connection. Then he switched it on and dialled the emergency access number into Hereford.

  The call was answered immediately. An emotionless, unrecognisable voice: ‘Go ahead.’

  Danny stated his identification codes. There was a brief silence, then a new voice came on the line. Danny instantly recognised Ray Hammond’s voice. ‘What the fuck . . .’ he blazed, ‘what the actual fuck, is going on?’

  Danny told him. Everything. Hammond let him speak. When Danny had finished there was a crackly silence on the line. Hammond broke it with two words: ‘Cole’s dead.’

  ‘How?’ Danny demanded.

  ‘We’re having trouble getting details out of Holroyd. From what we can tell, he topped himself this morning.’

  Another silence.

  ‘It was Tony, boss. You know that, right?’

  ‘We can’t be—’

  ‘It was Tony. I’m telling you. Someone needs to warn Dexter. He’s tying up loose ends . . . boss, I know how he operates. He’s a fucking psycho.’

  ‘You think you know how he operates,’ Hammond barked back. ‘What’s to say Al-Zafawi’s telling you the truth?’

  ‘I saw the footage,’ Danny said.

  ‘Did you see bullion, Black? Actual bullion, with your actual eyes? Did you see Tony and the others kill the family?’

  A beat. ‘No,’ Danny conceded.

  ‘Then right now, you’re just a guy with a theory. Stay by your sat phone. I’m going to try to find out what the hell’s going on.’

  The line went dead. Danny swore. He looked back towards the cave. He could just discern the outline of Caitlin holding Al-Zafawi at gunpoint. He looked around. The burning vehicles were a beacon in the thick darkness of the Helmand night. Staying here was dangerous.

  ‘Get a fucking move on, Hammond,’ he breathed.

  Cadogan’s personal mobile rang. He looked at the screen. Number withheld. He answered it anyway, without identifying himself. ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘It’s me. Hammond.’

  Cadogan looked around the Spearpoint ops room, where his team were working hard as usual. ‘My dear chap, you have a line direct into Spearpoint—’

  ‘I have two operators in Helmand currently pressing gun barrels into the skull of a Taliban commander called Al-Zafawi. You sure you want to discuss this with all your Spearpoint team listening in?’

  Cadogan fell silent.

  ‘I’m waiting,’ Hammond said.

  ‘Hold on,’ Cadogan said. He limped towards the exit, all eyes on him, the phone pressed to his ear with one hand, the other leaning heavily on his stick. He stepped out of the ops room into the reception area, where the young man with the blond beard covering his burned face, who seemed to be on duty at all hours of the night and day, watched him head to the main exit and step out into the open air. ‘Tell me Al-Zafawi is still alive,’ he said.

  ‘You seem pretty concerned for the welfare of a Taliban leader,’ Hammond said.

  ‘Is this Caitlin Wallace? I gave that girl distinct instructions not to follow up her lead on Al-Zafawi.’

  ‘Turns out she’s got a mind of her own. That’s why we put her in the field in the first place.’

  ‘Who else?’ Cadogan demanded.

  ‘Danny Black.’

  Cadogan fell silent. Stared towards the trees that surrounded the Spearpoint base. ‘What the bloody hell,’ he said, ‘is Black doing with Al-Zafawi?’

  Cadogan listened as Hammond explained. How Black had escaped Camp Shorabak. How he’d hooked up with Caitlin Wallace and moved on the Imam. How he’d suspected that Target Blue had a link to Al-Zafawi and that the Imam and Al-Zafawi had known each other back in the UK. How he’d laid siege to Al-Zafawi’s hideout. How he’d worked out what had really gone down with the kill team two nights ago. ‘Just tell me,’ Cadogan said as Hammond drew to a close, ‘that they haven’t killed Al-Zafawi.’

  ‘Is it true?’ Hammond said. ‘Have the Americans been paying off the Taliban?’

  ‘It’s a good deal more complicated than that,’ Cadogan snapped.

  ‘Since I have two operatives in the thick of it, why not take the time to explain?’

  Cadogan hesitated. Gathered his thoughts. ‘The American money goes to Al-Zafawi and people like him. They distribute it among the warlords and regional leaders however they see fit. The idea is that it keeps the warlords happy and more inclined to peaceful activities.’

  ‘And you trust Al-Zafawi to do that?’ Hammond said.

  ‘Most certainly not. This is the Americans’ strategy and it’s a damned foolish one. Who knows where that money really ends up? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re following a different strategy, eliminating high-value targets and doing what we can to reduce the Taliban’s power and influence. The Americans know what we’re doing, we know what they’re doing. There’s tension. It’s a messy, stinking compromise that somehow maintains the status quo. Neither of us like it. But it means that for us, certain targets are off limits. Al-Zafawi’s one of them. If our people kill him, it’ll cause a diplomatic incident between us and the CIA that’ll take months to clear up. Black and Wallace cannot kill Al-Zafawi. If they do, we’re all for the chop. Do you understand?’

  It was Hammond’s turn to fall silent.

  Cadogan breathed deeply, trying to calm himself down. ‘Do you believe Danny Black?’ he said finally.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hammond said. ‘That kind of work affects people in different ways. Maybe Black did crack on the job. Maybe Cole did kill himself.’ He paused. ‘But on balance, yes, I believe him. However, we don’t have a scrap of real evidence against Wiseman. Even if we did, in court it would involve us admitting we’re party to illegal operations in Helmand Province. And we can’t do that.’

  ‘And in the meantime . . .’

  ‘Holroyd’s got Tony and Dexter in his pocket. He’s going to use them to discredit the Regiment. It’s what the RMPs have wanted for years, but it’s personal for Holroyd. Some kind of crusade. If he plays it right, it could be the end of 22. And it’ll suit Wiseman down to the ground. The RMPs will give him immunity, and he knows he’s got his bullion stashed away.’

  ‘Options?’ Cadogan said.

  ‘We have to get Caitlin back to Panjika,’ Hammond said. ‘If it gets out that she’s had contact with Black, Holroyd will go in for the kill and then we’ll have the Aussies to deal with too.’

  ‘Agreed. What about Black himself?’

  ‘He’s wounded and ill equipped. He needs support. My team is in transit from Kabul to Helmand as we speak. We’ll get them to coordinate so Black can stay under the radar for now.’

  ‘Do we know Black’s current location?’ Cadogan asked.

  ‘We have a lock on the sat phone he used. There’s a village ten klicks to his south-east that took a basket of Hellfires a few years back. It’s still a bombsite, and unoccupied. We’ll get them to RV there. Right now, we need to make contact with Dexter.’

  ‘Why?’ Cadogan said.

  ‘Because if Black’s right, he’s in danger.’

  ‘It’s too high risk. If Holroyd gets a sniff Wiseman’s off the rails, it’s more strength to his arm.’

  ‘We can’t afford not to,’ Hammond stated. ‘If we can make him see that Wiseman’s a threat to him, maybe we can turn him.’

  ‘And if he doesn’t buy the Wiseman line?’

  ‘There’s leverage. Dexter has a family in Northern Ireland. Couple of kids. But all this is above my pay grade. I have to refer it up.’

  A pause. ‘Do it,’ Cadogan said finally. ‘And for Christ’s sake get them away from Al-Zafawi.’

  But he didn’t know if Hammond had heard him. The phone line was already dead.

  The sat phone rang. Danny answered it immediately. ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Tell me Al-Zafawi’s still alive,’ Hammond’s voice said.

  ‘Last time I looked.’ Danny glanced towards the cave mouth. He could still just see Caitlin holding their hostage at gunpoint. ‘Not going to lie – he’s probably felt better.’

  ‘He stays that way.’

  ‘Boss—’

  ‘He stays that way!’

  ‘That’s insane, boss. You know who this guy is, right?’

  ‘I know who he is.’

  ‘Terrorist atrocities, hundreds dead, Red Unit—’

  ‘I know who he is,’ Hammond repeated.

  ‘And you want me to turn my back on him and leave him here? He needs a bullet in his head for a hundred reasons – and one of them is so that he doesn’t come after me and Caitlin.’

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘No I fucking haven’t finished. What is this, hug a terrorist day?’

  ‘That’s enough, Black. I understand what you’re saying. I want him dead too, but you have your orders. If we put Al-Zafawi out of play, we have the Yanks to answer to, and nobody needs that. Understood?’

  Danny took a moment to calm himself. ‘Understood,’ he said.

  ‘Good. Now listen: you need to destroy that footage of Tony taking the bullion.’

  ‘Jesus, boss, that’s my alibi.’

  ‘You don’t need an alibi. We know you’re clean.’

  ‘But does Cadogan? I don’t trust him.’

  ‘Cadogan isn’t our biggest problem. That footage getting into the hands of the Americans is. I have a team en route from Kabul. They’re heading to a derelict village ten miles to your south-east. RV with them there. Caitlin needs to head back to Panjika.’

  ‘Boss—’

  ‘Don’t argue, Black. This is fluid and fast moving. Hook up with the team and keep a low profile. Am I clear?’

  A beat. ‘Clear, boss,’ Danny said.

  The line died.

  Danny headed back into the cave. Caitlin gave him an enquiring look and Danny knew what it meant. Shall I do him? He shook his head imperceptibly.

  ‘It’s true?’ Caitlin asked.

  Danny nodded. Al-Zafawi spat at the ground in front of him. Bad move. His unshakable arrogance made Danny flip. He stepped forward, pulled Al-Zafawi up by the throat and smashed him across the cheek. The Taliban leader glazed over and collapsed, unconscious.

  ‘Well that’s one way to go about it,’ Caitlin said. She lowered her weapon. ‘So what’s the crack?’

  ‘We leave him here. Alive.’

  ‘What the fuck?’

  ‘I know. Hammond won’t change his mind. Your orders are to head back to Panjika. I’m to RV with a Regiment unit coming in from Kabul. There’s a derelict village ten klicks south-east.’

  ‘I know it,’ Caitlin said. ‘I’ll drive you there.’

  ‘No. We get you back to Panjika first.’

  ‘Spare me the fucking chivalry, Danny. Your unit will have vehicles. I want to keep the Hilux in case I need to get Tommy and Gabina out of town. Gabina especially. She’s a good kid, I need to look after her. I’ll drive you.’

  Danny didn’t argue. He strode up towards the laptops, unplugged them and tucked them under his arm. Then he looked round the cave one final time. Walking out of here with Al-Zafawi still alive felt like leaving a loose end, and he didn’t like it.

  But they had their orders. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. He led Caitlin out of the cave. As he passed one of the smouldering Land Rovers, he chucked two laptops into the heat. Their cases instantly started to melt.

  He and Caitlin scanned the area one final time, then jogged side by side to the Hilux.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was 19.00. The sun had set. Dexter was still sleeping.

  It was time for Tony to move.

  He put on his ops vest. Double-checked its contents. Retrieved the spare pack of chicken curry from his rucksack, along with a pencil-thin torch, a pair of plastic SOCO gloves and a clear ziplock bag. He stepped outside the Portakabin.

  The fierce daytime heat had subsided, but it was still warm and muggy. The base was lit with floodlights and vehicle headlamps. There was activity in the direction of the airfield, the medical centre and the accommodation blocks. But the path towards the dog enclosure was clear.

  As expected.

  Tony covered the ground unseen in the darkness. As he approached the gate to the enclosure, he ripped open the packet of chicken curry. Dexter’s favourite. And the dog’s favourite. Tony had seen his unit mate feed it to his animal enough times.

  He entered the enclosure. As he crossed over to the dog crate that housed Baron he looked around for a suitable stone. He selected one about the size of a grapefruit with a sharp flinty edge, then proceeded to the crate. He couldn’t immediately see the animal, which meant it was in the covered kennel area at the back.

  He entered the crate. Shut the door behind him and dropped the stone. Almost immediately he could hear a low, throaty growl. A black shape appeared at the entrance to the kennel.

  Tony grabbed a fistful of chicken curry. Held it low and approached the dog. The growling didn’t die away. He stopped a metre from the entrance to the kennel. Better to let the dog come to him, than to encroach on its territory. He crouched, holding out the fistful of meat. Held his ground.

  The dog emerged slowly. The growl was replaced by a snuffling sound. It approached Tony, its eyes fixed on the food. Its tongue was warm and sticky as it ate the curry and licked his hand clean.

  Tony ripped open the remaining MRE. He put it on the ground in front of Baron. The dog, suddenly at its ease, continued eating.

  Slowly, so he didn’t spook the animal, Tony positioned himself by its side, facing in the same direction.

  He attacked quickly. The slightest delay would give the dog a chance to fight back. If that happened there would only be one winner. Tony knew what it was capable of.

  He curled his right arm tight around the dog’s neck, squeezing hard. The animal went into a sudden seizure of panic. It bared its steel-capped teeth. Its legs went into a frenzy. It tried to bark, but Tony was throttling it hard enough to stop any noise. The dog was strong, though. Muscular and lithe. It wriggled like an angry snake. Tony knew he had to finish this quickly. He used his body weight, falling heavily on to the dog’s barrel chest while keeping his arm firmly round the neck. He felt the dog’s ribcage crack. Its movements became more panicked, but weaker. Tony tightened his grip around the neck while keeping the body smothered. Thirty seconds later, the dog was still.

  Tony cautiously released his grip. The dog lay motionless on its side. He moved quickly. Dragging the heavy animal by its legs, he pulled it back into the kennel area. He positioned it with its legs pointing against the back wall, then moved to an opposite corner where he emptied the items from his ops vest. He pulled on the SOCO gloves, then stripped himself naked. He bundled his clothes and stowed them outside the kennel where they couldn’t become contaminated by what was about to happen. Naked, he retrieved the stone he had dropped at the entrance and returned to the kennel. He lit his torch and approached the dog.

  The stone was a good weight in his hand. He held it with the sharp edge down. Kneeling, he raised it about thirty centimetres above the dog’s head and slammed it down hard. There was a flat, splintering sound as the skull cracked. Tony bludgeoned the head several more times. With each strike it became more disfigured and bloodied, until it was little more than a glistening, meaty mess. Tony moved back and examined his handiwork by the light of his torch. He was satisfied that anyone who saw it, especially if they had a strong emotional attachment to the dog, would be sufficiently distracted by the sight not to notice anything else untoward with its corpse.

  He retrieved the explosives from the far corner of the kennel. Crouching back down by the dog, he unpacked the two blocks of C-4. He squeezed them together, then moulded the plastic explosive into a sausage about twenty centimetres long. He tucked this underneath the dog’s ops vest, along the belly. Invisible, unless you were looking for it.