“But it has become a single nation battle,” she pointed out. “Since Admiral Alexander assumed command of Echo Six on behalf of the United States Navy. Maybe he’ll come back to head up NATFOR. He’s a good man.”

  “I doubt that. He’s a carrier commander, and that’s one of the best jobs in the world. But he’ll always be there when we need him. We need his knowledge and experience. And to borrow his carrier from time to time,” he joked.

  “Amen to that.”

  “Ten minutes,” the jumpmaster intoned. “Check your oxygen, ramp is going down.”

  Then, “Red light is on, form up by the ramp.”

  “Copy that. Final commo check, people.”

  “Five minutes, stand by. I say again, five minutes to jump.”

  Cate was bundled up like the rest of them in MARPAT camo kit, armored vest, Gallet half helmet, and carrying a SCAR assault rifle. Once more, he was reminded of a kid playing with guns. Except that she was a trained and deadly soldier, one who was no stranger to killing. Domenico Rovere stood next to her, and he dismissed a pang of jealousy. They were at high altitude in a C-130, and about to jump into enemy territory. This was no excursion to a nightclub. He nodded at Guy Welland, standing behind them, silent and watchful as ever.

  “Two minutes, winds are holding steady. Skipper says to tell you, ‘good luck’.”

  “He can always come with us if he fancies a new experience.”

  The jumpmaster smiled. “I’d sooner he stayed to fly the aircraft, Sir. One minute to go.”

  “Copy that. Move forward.”

  They edged towards the ramp, cumbersome in their array of armor, weapons, equipment, and parachutes. The man counted down, five, four, three, two, green light, “Go, go, go!”

  They stepped out into space, and once more Talley experienced the adrenaline high he always felt at that start of a mission when jumping over enemy territory. It was Iraq below them, not exactly enemy territory, but near enough. They would glide down across the mountainous border to land in Turkey. And Turkey was a NATO ally. But Turkey wasn’t his target. The Kurd Ismail Gul was down there, inside what was once Kurdistan, and was for them effectively enemy territory. Intelligence suggested he employed at least a score of bodyguards to guard his house; there could be more. Whatever the number, there was going to be action and bloodshed. Someone had to pay the butcher’s bill for the men who’d been killed. Talley was just the bill collector. He pulled on the cord, and the chute opened perfectly, as it should. Their chutes were always checked meticulously, over and over. It was the only way to stay alive. Failing to make regular checks was the fast track to end a career, a permanent end.

  He checked his wrist GPS for speed and direction, noting the other factors of temperature and most important, altitude. The plan was to drift across the mountains and land unnoticed just outside Cucurka. It was pitch black, the night dark and cold. They had to finish the mission before dawn. It would not do to be seen inside a supposedly friendly country. After mission completion, they’d aim for the mountains. There was a pass nearby, and when they were back inside Iraqi territory, two Marine Black Hawks would be sent to make the exfiltration. It was a good plan, well thought out, using the latest satellite intelligence. Talley’s job was simple. He had to make it work.

  He checked and rechecked the glide angle, made some adjustments, and was satisfied he was on course. The mountains were visible now, glistening white, even though it was night. The white snow-capped peaks seemed almost near enough to touch in the clear night air. He made another course correction and worked out he was now over Turkey. Several minutes later, his instruments told him he was close to the ground and on course. He prepared for the landing, let his body relax, and touched down with just a couple of steps to regain his balance. Then he stowed his chute and began looking around for his men. One by one, they landed; all close by, and formed up around him.

  “Any problems?”

  A shaking of heads.

  “Good. Final commo check. Remember, these mountains can cause problems with radio gear, so make sure you stay in contact. Gul’s house is less than two klicks away. Let’s move out. It’s time to pay him a visit. Vince, take the point. You’re designated Echo Three, and watch out for sentries. This guy is known to be careful.”

  “Copy that.”

  “Jerry, you’re back marker, designate that Echo Four. Roy, how are you holding up?”

  The tough sergeant gave him a confident look. “All good, Boss. The leg is fine.”

  Talley smiled to himself. He knew that Reynolds had jumped through hoops to get on this mission. No way was his leg one hundred percent. But the man had lost people too, good comrades. He was entitled to his shot at payback. Together with Cate, there were eleven troopers under his command. Any more was considered to be too large a force, and too much of a risk inside a NATO country. Virgil Kane was alongside him, another veteran of Mogadishu. Like Reynolds, he was looking to square accounts with Gul. As they all were. Talley made a final check. They were ready.

  “Let’s go find this guy.”

  At first, the going was hard, and they stumbled through deep snow. They were wary for Turkish patrols, too. The area was a hotbed of PKK activity. The PKK, the Kurdistan Workers' Party, was a guerrilla movement that had been fighting the Turkish state for an independent Kurdistan for decades, ever since 1978. They were a fierce warlike race, and a tough enemy to fight. As a result, the Turkish army patrolled the area regularly, and the Turks were no slouches themselves in the art of war. As the Brits had discovered when they invaded Turkey in 1915. They were repulsed with heavy casualties, and it became clear that ‘Johnny Turk’ was anything but a pushover.

  They marched down a mountain path, using their night vision goggles to follow the route. They encountered no one on the mountainside, and it took them an hour to reach their objective. A hundred meters in front of the Gul estate, they waited in a deep gully that kept them out of sight of the enemy. It was something like a First World War trench, and Talley shivered as he thought of the men who died in the trenches at Gallipoli; battered by shells and machine gun fire, sent out to die in neat long lines. Lions led by donkeys, so it was said at the time. The large house was almost in darkness, but there was one light burning in a downstairs room. Inside the grounds were four smaller buildings. Two looked like they were used for storage. There were no windows. Another was a garage, large enough for a half dozen vehicles. The fourth a barracks, and clearly the living quarters of Gul’s guard force.

  “I can see sentries, Boss, one on the roof of the main house, and one at the gate. That’s all.”

  He thanked Jerry. The sniper had carefully quartered the ground around the estate with his night vision scope to look for hostiles. Two sentries didn’t sound like many men to guard such a wealthy and influential figure as Ismail Gul. He turned to Welland, waiting nearby.

  “Guy, I want you to go forward and take a closer look. It seems too easy.”

  The Brit SAS man nodded and moved out. Through his night vision gear, Talley saw him drop to a crawl and snake fifty meters to the house on his belly. He stopped just short of Gul’s residence.

  “This is Echo Two. They have an alarm system in place. I nearly ran into it. It’s triggered by a beam of infra red light and placed about eighteen inches above the ground.”

  Eighteen inches, so it isn’t triggered by small animals, Talley reflected.

  “Can you leave a marker so we can get past it?”

  “Affirmative, Echo One. I’ll position two white stones. There are plenty of them around the yard, and they’ll be right underneath the beam. Drop down to your bellies when you reach them, and you’ll go underneath.”

  “Copy that. Guy, I’m concerned about the sentry on the roof. If one of the snipers hits him, he could go down with enough of a crash to wake the house. Any ideas?”

  “That’s affirmative, Echo One. Leave him to me. I’ll take him myself.”

  “Understood. We’ll wait until we see him go down.”

  They saw Guy Welland shin up the side of the house. He was as quick and agile as a monkey, but much quieter. He reached the top by climbing up a drainage pipe and edged over the parapet onto the flat roof. He crept toward the sentry, who was smoking as he surveyed the area around the house. Guy almost reached him, but suddenly the man looked around to check around the rear. He saw the Brit instantly and raised his assault rifle. It was no contest, Guy had his sound suppressed Sig Sauer in his hand, and the quiet ‘phut, phut’ of the two shots barely reached the waiting men. Guy ran the few steps to the man as he fell and gently lowered him to the floor. Talley keyed his mic.

  “This is Echo One. Snipers, you’re clear to take down the guy on the gate.”

  Each sniper fired a single shot. The Arctic Warfare rifles were fitted with effective sound -suppressors, and the noise of the shots carried no more than a few meters. The man crumpled to the ground just inside the gate. Talley crawled forward under the beam, and the rest of the squad followed. When he was clear, he stood up and ran to the main door. It was unlocked.

  “I’m going in. Cate, Domenico, come with me. The rest of you, wait outside and form a defensive perimeter. If they find out we’re here, we’ll have to hold them off until we can get out.”

  He slipped through the door without waiting for an acknowledgment. Cate and Rovere followed close behind. They were in a lobby, fortunately fitted with thick carpet that deadened any sound their boots made. Talley could see the light they’d noticed from outside, and it came from a room further into the house. He crept slowly forward, stopping outside the door where the light spilled out. It was closed, so he had no choice but to open it, step inside, and confront whoever was in there. He slung his rifle and drew his silenced Sig Sauer. It was a spare weapon he’d brought especially for the mission. Rovere and Cate were still right behind him and gave him a nod. They were ready. He turned the handle, put his shoulder to the door, and pushed hard. He almost fell into the room, a richly furnished study. The desk alone, rich, carved wood with a deep sheen that could only come from years of polishing and care, would have cost him a year’s salary. A man sat behind it. He’d been studying a document on the desk, and he looked up sharply.

  “Yes? Who are you, what do you want?”

  It was Gul. He wore reading glasses, and behind the glass lenses, Talley could see no fear in his eyes, only outrage and anger. His hand strayed towards a call button on his desk. Talley fired a single, silenced shot that buried itself in the expensive wood paneling on the wall behind him.

  “Leave it, Gul. You touch that and you’re dead.”

  He glared at Talley. “I know you. You’re the American. Lieutenant Abe Talley.”

  “It’s Captain Talley now.”

  He looked stony. “You cannot arrest me. You know that I have diplomatic status. I suggest you leave here, right now, before I call the authorities and have you and your men arrested. Turkish prisons are not pleasant places to be, Captain.”

  Talley ignored the threat. “Rafe Mulligan.”

  Gul looked puzzled. “Eh?”

  “Brad Ryman. Raoul Velasquez. Mean anything to you?”

  He shook his head. “Not a thing, why?”

  “They were my men. Your people had them killed.”

  “Killed? You must be mad. I’ve never had anyone killed.”

  He reached up to remove his glasses with his left hand, but Talley was ready for the right hand edging again toward the call button. His Sig made a small sound, a faint, ‘phut’. Gul shrieked in agony; the shot had punched a hole clean through his hand.

  “You’re crazy,” he screeched. “I’ll have you put in prison for life for that. You can’t shoot a senior United Nations Commissioner. I need medical attention, help me!”

  The last word was shouted out loud, and whoever was in the house would have heard it.

  “Brad, Rafe and Raoul. This is for them.”

  He pulled the trigger, and a red hole appeared on Gul’s forehead. His eyes froze in a gaze of astonishment, and he collapsed onto the desk, falling on the call button. Immediately, a siren wailed outside.

  “Shit, that shouldn’t have happened. Time to go!”

  He rushed over to Gul’s corpse, removed the sound suppressor, and put the gun in the dead man’s hand.

  “Forensics will have a field day with that,” Rovere pointed out. “They won’t believe he shot himself in the hand first and then killed himself. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s too bad. They’ll have a job on their hands finding out what really happened. It’ll have to do. Besides, it’s the convenient solution. When his involvement with the Somali pirates becomes public, they’ll want to sweep it all under the carpet.”

  “This is Echo One, we’re coming out. Fall back to the gully. We’ll hold them from there.”

  He looked at Cate. She was stuffing paper documents into her pack, as well as a laptop and memory stick.

  “We have to go. Let’s move.”

  “I just need a minute,” she exclaimed and resumed searching for documents. Talley looked at Rovere.

  “Domenico?”

  The Italian nodded. He swept Cate up in his arms and carried her out of the study, squealing with rage. When they were in the hallway, she turned angrily to Talley.

  “You can’t do that to me. I only needed a…”

  She was interrupted by a burst of gunfire. Shots buried themselves in the wall, six inches from her head. Talley glared at her.

  “We’re leaving now. Both of you, head straight for the gully.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll be right with you, but I need to see if the Hakim family is here.”

  “In here? Inside this house?”

  He nodded. “It would make sense. It’s a remote part of the country. Get moving. We’re running out of time. You have to take command and hold them off.”

  Rovere nodded, put her down, and they ran out of the house and across the yard. Talley paused just inside the main door, waiting for the shooter to show himself. He heard the man come clattering down the staircase and dashing along the hallway. He rounded the corner into the lobby, and Talley stepped out to confirm the target, his SCAR assault rifle aimed ready. The guy was some kind of paramilitary, wearing a camo jacket, plain, ethnic pants, and high-laced boots. He carried an assault rifle, an American M-16. Talley fired twice. The double tap took the man in the chest and head, sending him toppling over to the floor.

  “Welcome to paradise, my friend,” he murmured. He started running back through the house, flinging open doors. He reached the rear of the hallway and put his hand on a heavy oak door that was locked. He put his ear to the woodwork and heard faint noises coming from inside. He stood back and snap-kicked the area around the lock. The door sprung open. Inside were a man and a woman with two young children, a girl and a boy. They were Middle Eastern in appearance, Arabs. And the woman bore an uncanny resemblance to Hakim.

  “Ma’am, are you Colonel Hakim’s family?”

  She nodded. “Yes. They took us prisoner. Are you here to rescue us?”

  He nodded. “That’s right, but hurry, we’re leaving.”

  “Thank God,” the man blurted out. “When I saw you come into the room, an American, I thought you were here to kill us.”

  He stared at him and felt a surge of anger. “No, Sir. It was your Muslim friends who planned to kill you, to slaughter the innocents. We Americans concern ourselves with killing the guilty. You want to come with us, or take your chances with these people?”

  He looked away. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I didn’t mean…”

  “Whatever. Let’s go.”

  He led them out the door and into a hail of gunfire. The guard force was fully alerted, and they were hunting for targets. The paramilitaries saw the American officer leaving the house with the prisoners, and he heard someone shouting, “Kill them. Kill them all!”

  He urged them to run, but the enemy gunfire increased in intensity as bullets kicked up the ground nearby. He pushed the children down behind a small hump of ground, protected from the gunfire, shouting at the parents to keep their heads down. He looked around desperately for better cover, but they were in the center of the front yard. It was flat and smooth, with little to hide them from the incoming fire. He felt a heavy punch as a bullet struck his armored vest, then another, and a third strike took him on the helmet. He felt himself blacking out. The armor stopped the bullets getting through to his body, but it was like being punched by a professional heavyweight boxer. He knew he couldn’t take many more hits like these; he’d be unconscious and easy for them to kill or capture. He crawled forward slowly, shouting for the Hakim family to keep low. He had to reach his men, or they’d all be dead. Then the firing slackened, and he heard a chorus of shouts. He looked up. Incredibly, he saw his men charging at the enemy, crossing the open ground at a run, firing from the hip in a full-scale frontal assault. He blinked several times.

  Have I been hit so hard that I’m hallucinating about the trench warfare at Gallipoli?

  But it was no dream. Rovere led the charge with Guy Welland right beside him. Back in the trench, he caught a glimpse of a small soldier firing a heavy weapon. He blinked again; Cate had set up the Minimi, the 5.56mm ‘mini machine gun’, on a bipod on the edge of the parapet and was blazing away at the Kurds. Either side of her, Vince and Jerry were keeping up a deadly accurate fire with their Arctic Warfare Super Magnums. They’d removed the sound suppressors for maximum effect, and it gave their shots increased velocity. The ‘crack’ of the gunfire as the bullets sped unerringly toward their targets was calculated to cause the maximum terror in the enemy.

  The Kurdish paramilitaries kept returning fire, but more and more of their number were thrown back by the onslaught from Echo Six. The survivors measured their situation, looked at the heavily armed troopers running straight at them, supported by snipers and the machine gun, and made their decision. As one man, they turned and ran, some dropping their weapons as they raced for the shelter of the distant hills. Talley felt strong arms pick him up, and he looked into the face of Domenico Rovere.