Good, it’s the way to stay alive. Concentrate.

  “One minute.”

  He stared out into the night. This was the mission that would either prove to be the very apogee of his career, or the death of it, in both the literal and metaphorical senses. He made a last check of his gear, but it all looked good. Cate was almost touching him.

  “Green light, go, go!”

  They stepped out into the dark night and the maelstrom of the downdraft from the V22’s huge props. The descent had begun. There was no way to check on Cate’s progress. He had to concern himself with navigating the ten kilometer glide that would take them across the outskirts of the city, over many of the built-up areas, and finally to their target. A patch of ground no more than a hundred meters square, the neat, tended grounds of the UNHCR Commission for Somalia. In effect, Jamal Osman’s back garden. He looked around him and below. A few lights were visible on the ground, and occasionally, a deeper shadow showed the path of the parachute of one of his men. He checked his GPS and made a slight adjustment to his course. He’d been dropping too fast and too far to the east. He looked at the display again after a few minutes and was satisfied he was on the correct glide slope. Night HAHO drops were tricky, but over a city the varying degrees of turbulence, due to differing air temperatures and physical structures, made them even trickier. Then again, the knowledge that a mistake could result in getting your throat cut did concentrate a man’s mind. He looked down and saw he was directly over the city. Another check of the GPS, a slight alteration to the glide path, and he could see the dark area of the UN Human Rights Commission less than three hundred meters below him. Earlier reconnaissance had established there were no lights on inside the yard, and he clicked on his night vision goggles. The green shapes of the ground rushed toward him, and he readied himself for the landing. A slight crosswind almost took him over the wall, but he was ready for it, and he corrected at the last moment. Talley dropped lightly into the center of the target area and began stowing his chute. He glanced at his wristwatch, it was 2330. They had less than seven hours until daylight. Less than seven hours to locate and question Jamal Osman, and deal with him. Then they had to to return to Barre’s compound, free Delta Six, and bring a swift and cruel justice to the Somali warlord.

  It promises to be an interesting night.

  “Abe?”

  He looked around. Cate was right behind him; her chute stowed, and her SCAR rifle held ready in her hands. She was uninjured. It was a good omen. He nodded a greeting and keyed his mic.

  “This is Echo One. Sound off.”

  One by one, the troopers of Echo Six called in. They had all landed without mishap. Another good omen, maybe. Less than eighty meters away was the UNHCR Residence. Inside, unless there’d been a major hiccup in their intel, they’d find Jamal Osman.

  Talley made a final check, but the area seemed deserted. There were a couple of lights on in the building on the second floor. Probably the bedrooms, so they’d need to move fast and silently, before Osman awoke to sound the alarm.

  “Echo One, this is Rovere. I’m taking one of the men. We’ll cover the front gate. There’s also a small gate at the rear, and I’ve sent another man to cover it.”

  “Copy that.”

  Domenico was working out just fine. He looked for Guy Welland. The SAS man loomed up to his left, as if he’d anticipated the call for his services. The man moved silently and almost invisibly.

  “Guy, the doors will be locked. I want the rear door opened as quietly as possible. You’ll need to disarm the alarm systems.”

  “Got it, Boss.”

  He ran silently toward the back of the building. Talley looked around for his snipers.

  “Jerry, Vince, keep us covered. Can you see any problems?”

  “There’s a vehicle parked outside the front, maybe waiting for someone. But other than that, no movement we can see,” Jerry replied.

  “Understood. Remember, this guy is a real fifty-caliber sonofabitch. I don’t give a damn about the United Nations. This place is just the local office of Al Qaeda. If you see anything that looks like a threat, waste it. Don’t take any chances. We’re too deep inside enemy territory here.”

  “Copy that, Echo One.”

  They froze as something made a noise from the top of the building. Talley looked up. There was a guard standing close to the edge of the roof, looking out over the city. He had a cigarette in one hand; with the other he held his dick while he urinated over the edge. Jerry’s voice came through on the commo, and Talley could hear the smile in his voice.

  “What do you want us to do, Echo One? Shoot it off?”

  “Take him down, a headshot will be fine. But make sure he falls backward. I don’t want the noise of him crashing two stories to the ground.”

  “Check.”

  They watched and waited. They heard the shots from the silenced AWMs, the Arctic Warfare Super Magnums. The guard was flung back with one hand still clutching his dick, and the burning cigarette was all that fell to the ground. It was fine shooting at such an awkward, upward angle.

  “Outstanding, men. Guy, how’s that door going?”

  He waited a few seconds for the reply. “Almost there, Boss. The door is made of toughened steel, and the lock is a high security job.”

  “Can you do it?”

  The last thing he wanted was the noise of a forcible entry.

  “Just give me a few more seconds.”

  They waited. It took thirty seconds. “I’ve got it. We’re in. There are no alarms that I can see. That means there could be a sentry somewhere.”

  “He was on the roof.”

  “Was?”

  “Was.”

  “Copy that.”

  They ran around the back and through the opened door into the house. They were in a small reception hall, and there was a cubicle at the side where an armed and uniformed Somali guard lounged in a chair, asleep. Talley shot him with two rounds from the silenced Sig. The guard lounged back even further in his chair, locked in the everlasting sleep of the dead. He looked around, Guy was right beside him, and Cate was nearby with the rest of his men.

  “Guy, take two men, check out the first floor. I’ll go upstairs and check that out. Remember, if you find Osman, we need him alive. He’s our passport to General Barre.”

  “Understood.”

  He ran along the hall with two men, and they started checking the rooms. Talley went for the stairs with Cate and two more of his men right behind him. On the landing, a long corridor led to what looked like the main sleeping quarters; thick carpet, solid oak doors, expensive metalwork, and original artworks on the walls. Light showed through under the end bedroom door. He gestured for one of the men to mount guard on the stairs, and they crept forward to check it out. He put his head to the door and could hear voices; then a shout of anger, followed by a scream. It sounded like an argument between a man and a woman. He heard the sound of leather on flesh. It didn’t require too much imagination to work out that inside the room a young woman was being beaten and abused by Jamal Osman. So the noise of the beating and the screams would cover any noise they made as they entered. He made certain he had a round chambered in his Sig, turned the doorknob, and went inside the bedroom. The sight that greeted him was extraordinary. He’d been wrong, totally wrong. It wasn’t Osman beating a young woman. In front of them was a four-poster bed. The Somali Commissioner for the UNHCR was tied face down to the bed, his arms and legs spread-eagled and fastened to each corner. A naked girl of no more than twelve years of age was energetically whipping him on the buttocks. She turned quickly, startled by the entrance of the three heavily armed soldiers. She put one hand across her groin and the other across her breasts, in an almost laughable attempt at modesty. The man on the bed snarled a question at her.

  “What? Why have you stopped?”

  When she didn’t answer, he looked up. It was Osman. He was an Arab, aged about fifty, almost bald, and with an enormous belly. Before he realized who was in the room besides the girl, the jowls of his face wobbled with rage, and his pencil-thin mustache twitched in indignation. Then he saw them, and his eyes widened in terror. His mouth opened in a wide ‘oh’, before he attempted to regain control of himself.

  “Who are you? What are you doing? Get out of my bedroom before I call my guards.”

  Talley ignored the bluster. He nodded at the girl.

  “Get your clothes on, now.”

  “Are you going to kill me, Master?”

  “Not if you hurry and get your clothes on, no.”

  She ran to a heap of female garments on the floor and started throwing them on. Talley stood over Osman. He was struggling at the ropes tying him to the bed, as if somehow he could free himself.

  “You know who we are?”

  “Yes, of course, you’re the Americans from the aircraft carrier. I did not expect you here so soon. When General Barre’s men find out you are here, they will hunt you down and kill you all.”

  “You expected us?”

  Osman scowled but remained silent.

  “What has Barre done with the soldiers he took prisoner last night?”

  “I know nothing of any soldiers,” he muttered hoarsely.

  Talley picked up the whip the girl had dropped. He lifted it high and swung it hard on Osman’s buttocks. It was a hard blow, delivered by a fit, tough soldier, not a young girl. The Arab jerked with the pain and screamed.

  “Tell me about Barre,” he continued quietly, “and the soldiers.”

  “I cannot, I know nothing. I work for the United Nations.”

  Talley nodded and took out his silenced Sig.

  “I’m going to shoot you in the knee, Osman. If you scream, they’ll think it part of your kinky game. I’ll give you three seconds. What happened to those men?”

  “No, I cannot, I don’t know. I can’t tell you anything.”

  “Three, two,” he pulled the trigger, and Osman screamed a piercing shriek of agony.

  “You said you would count to three!”

  “I lied. It’s the other knee next time, Osman. As it is now, you’ll still be able to walk with a stick. When I blow off the next kneecap, you’ll be unable to walk for the rest of your short life. It’ll be a wheelchair for you, my friend.”

  “No, no!” the man sobbed, tears of pain and humiliation running down his cheeks. “I’ll tell you everything. Release me first, and I’ll tell you.”

  “No, that’s not the way it works. Tell me everything first, and then I won’t shoot the other kneecap. Three, two,”

  “All right!” he screamed out in terror. “He has them in the compound, and he expects you to come back to try to free them. He has prepared an ambush.”

  “Go on.”

  “That’s all I know, I swear.”

  “I don’t think so, my friend. Where in the compound are the prisoners?”

  Osman looked away then. “I don’t know.”

  His voice was sulky, frightened.

  “I asked you a question. Where are they? Or maybe I’d better shoot off your balls next time. You won’t be any use to women, but at least you’ll still be able to walk.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!”

  Talley moved the gun barrel to stick it between his legs, the end of the barrel pushed up against his penis.

  “It’s the last time. Where are they?”

  “All right, I’ll tell you. He had them stripped and tied to the trees inside his compound.”

  “Go on. Why did he do that?”

  “So that his men could abuse them and flog them.”

  “And they’re still there?”

  “Yes.”

  He spent another ten minutes questioning the Commissioner. When he was satisfied he knew as much as Osman knew, he glanced around at the girl. She was huddled in a corner where Cate had her covered. She saw his glance.

  “She hasn’t done anything! We should let her go.”

  “We will, but not yet. Tie her up. We can’t leave her to raise the alarm.”

  “What about him?” she gestured towards Jamal Osman.

  “We’re taking him with us. He could be useful.”

  “How did he know we were coming?”

  “That’s something I’d like to explore with him later, when we have the time.”

  She nodded and started to tie the girl with pieces of cloth cut from one of Osman’s shirts. Talley freed the Commissioner and fastened a rough dressing around his wounded knee to stop the bleeding. The man dressed in his pants, shirt and shoes, making a bad job of it. He was trembling with shock, pain and terror. When he was dressed, Talley fastened the man’s hands behind his back and gagged him with a strip of cloth cut from a dark suit. He smiled when he saw the label showing at the front of the gag, Armani. The man was now outfitted in a designer gag.

  “Okay, is the girl tied?”

  Cate nodded and glanced at the bed. The girl was fully dressed, her hands and feet firmly tied at each end. It wouldn’t be comfortable, waiting to be freed, but at least she’d live.

  “Good. We need to get going. Commissioner Osman, how many cars do you have here? Three?” The man shook his head. “Four?” Another shake of the head. “Five?” A nod. “That’s enough for all of us. We’ll rejoin the others and find the keys for those cars. If we turn up with Osman’s official limo in the lead, it could give us the drop we need on Barre. Let’s go.”

  Guy Welland was waiting for them on the first floor. He grinned when he saw the bound and limping figure of Jamal Osman.

  “He doesn’t look much, does he? Did he give you anything useful?”

  Talley told him about the men of Delta Six, and the SAS man winced. “The bastards, I’ll be more than happy to repay Barre’s hospitality. I can’t wait to meet him again. Are we ready to leave?”

  “Yes, we’re…”

  His earpiece crackled. “This is Jerry. We have movement at the gate. It looks like a local cop. Okay, I see him clearer now. It’s someone high-ranking, lots of braid. What do you want me to do?”

  Talley’s reply was immediate.

  “Take him down.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Guy, locate the keys for the cars. We’re taking them all and paying an official visit to Barre. The Commissioner here is going to be our way in.”

  The Brit smiled. “That’s very helpful of the gentleman. I already found the keys. They were in a key cupboard inside the reception hall.”

  “Good, round up the men and get the cars loaded. Take Osman with you. He’ll be traveling in the lead car, in style. You can take off his gag. If he tries to warn anyone, shoot him in the balls.”

  Guy smiled, and Osman shuddered as his gag was removed.

  “Sure thing, come on, your worship. Let’s get moving.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” the Arab spluttered. “General Barre will kill you all. Let me go, and get out of Mogadishu while you still can.”

  Talley ignored him, and the Commissioner yelped as Guy’s boot connected with his ass.

  “I said get moving, so stop bleating about it and go!”

  He followed the prisoner out through the rear door and headed for the vehicle garage. Talley keyed his mic.

  “This is Echo One. Jerry, how’s it going out there?”

  “We took out two cops. There was one senior officer and his driver. There was no choice. They were about to come inside.”

  “Are the bodies out of sight?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Good. We’re leaving shortly. The Commissioner has several cars here doing nothing. We’ll use them to leave in style and pay a visit to General Barre. Meet us in the garage in five.”

  “Copy that.”

  He looked around and thought about the abortive raid on Barre’s compound.

  Is there anything I’ve forgotten? The safe!

  He called Welland. “I need to know the location and combination of the Commissioner’s safe, and I need to know now.”

  “I’ll ask him. Wait one.”

  A half minute later, Guy got back to him. “It’s in his bedroom. There’s an ornate gold mirror on the wall. It’s right behind, and the combination is three, one, zero, one, nine, five, seven.”

  “Well done. I take it he didn’t give it willingly?”

  “He’ll have a sore set of balls for the next month.”

  “Good. I need five minutes. Make sure the vehicles are loaded, and we’re ready to leave. I’ll take Cate with me, and we’ll look for Osman’s documents. They could be vital to our intel people.”

  “Copy that, we’ll be waiting.”

  He looked around for Cate. “Back up to the bedroom. We need to empty the safe and take the documents back with us.”

  She nodded, following him as he raced up the stairs. On the wall of the bedroom he found a beautifully ornate mirror. He pulled at the side of the frame, and it opened on well-oiled hinges. There was a small safe built into the wall behind with a digital combination lock. Talley put in the numbers, and it clicked open. Cate watched him.

  “That combination, was it three, one, zero, one, nine, five, seven?”

  “Yes, why do you ask? Does it have a special significance?”

  “Yes, it does. The Tenth of March, 1957. That’s the birthday of Osama bin Laden. It says a lot about his loyalties.”

  “Christ, I’d say it confirms everything. So Osama is Osman’s hero? That’s very interesting. And so is this.”

  “Jesus!” she exclaimed. “US passports.”

  “Yep, together with driving licenses and a heap of other documents. It’s a complete setup for terrorists planning an attack on the US.”

  He stashed everything in his pack, including a mass of currency, American dollars, Euros, and a USB data stick.

  “That’s it, we have it all. Let’s go.”

  He looked at the girl tied on the bed. Then he handed one of the bundles of Euros to Cate.

  “This is for her, for her trouble. Tuck it inside her clothing somewhere. She’ll need it later. Maybe she can buy herself a good life.”

  Cate’s eyes looked uncertain, and he shrugged, “It’s not my money.”