‘What we expecting, sir, walk in the jungle or a shoot-out?’

  ‘Shoot-out. And the area has mines and claymores, so you watch where you walk.’

  I left a few men looking worried, to get ready for what they might face in the morning. Inside, I alerted Swifty to get his Wolves ready as I studied the map, tracing the road east from where Nicholson sat observing the hostages. I called for a Chinook, but was offered two French Pumas instead, they were on duty.

  I pointed out the road to Swifty. ‘I want you spread along in pairs, half a mile apart, good vantage points to observe the road and to shoot out the tyres of a convoy if needs be, around midday tomorrow. You and the lads sleep in rotation tonight. Check supplies, helos are inbound. Land a few miles south, walk in, split up.’

  He nodded and folded his map, putting it in a plastic bag, and ten minutes later the Pumas loudly announced their arrival, lights on. As they lifted off, five or more men in each helo, I called together the Wolf recruits at the tree line, a raging fire throwing up some light, lamps on, faces orange from the flickering flames.

  ‘The veteran Wolves have just gone north to get 24hrs eyes-on, a target road just north of the border. Earlier we sent out a four-man team to get eyes-on above a camp with hostages, just across the border with Guinea. Those men in the camp assume that we’ll try and rescue the hostages so they’ve set mines and claymores for us.’

  The recruits exchanged looks as I swatted a large moth intent on landing on my nose.

  ‘But we’re not dumb enough to fall for a trick, and tomorrow should see some fireworks up north, you may be involved. Instructors, make sure they get a good night’s rest, might need it. And don’t worry, you’re way better than the men you face, you just need to believe that.’

  Back in the building I updated everyone, but I had to be vague about the plan.

  In my room, with Moran and Mitch, we got ready for some sleep, and I grabbed Swifty’s green mat. My phone trilled so I eased closer to the window. ‘Wilco.’

  ‘It’s Nicholson, and you won’t like it.’

  ‘Like what?’ I asked as Moran and Mitch listened in.

  ‘They have a white mercenary advising them.’

  I sighed. ‘Hardly a surprise around here. How’s he dressed?’

  ‘Civvy clothes, but Henri thinks he recognises the man. Guy has a clever sat phone.’

  ‘Do you have a clear view?’

  ‘I’m up a tree with Tomo, like forty metres up, need a fucking parachute to get back down. They have the lights on in the huts, we can see every detail. We counted twenty four armed men, and nine hostages. We can also see wires in the trees over there, up high, the light is shining off them.’

  ‘Place is wired to blow, so don’t get close.’

  ‘We have our perch for the night, Boss. Hope it don’t rain.’

  I called Tinker. ‘You awake?’

  ‘In the office, it was my rota, but a few people in, panic on.’

  ‘There’s a French mercenary in the target camp. Call Nicholson, get him to call you back, get his position, camp is two hundred yards north. Try and track back that mercenary, he’s probably in touch with Amadov in the Congo.’

  ‘That makes it easier, we can look for specific data.’

  ‘Hostages may be moved tomorrow, American helos will go for them, we wait for final intel.’

  I stepped out onto the roof and reassured the Engineers on duty, but I told them to stay sharp, Sambo keeping them company.

  At dawn I was up and checking supplies, an early breakfast, a check of the FOB’s defences just in case. Swifty called in just as the mist was lifting from the trees, his men in place, and he suggested that they would have a good view - when the mist up there had lifted.

  Nicholson called in as the sun threatened to break through the mist. ‘Boss, we got company.’

  ‘Patrol looking for you?’ I wondered.

  ‘Not sure, is the simple answer, because beneath me is a patrol of like twelve blacks, but these guys are well trained.’

  ‘Well trained blacks? That would be a first.’

  ‘They have a sergeant leading them, they’re reading the ground, covering pairs, tail end Charlie walking backwards and covering the rear.

  ‘Now I am worried. That fucking French mercenary has been training them!’

  ‘Funny thing is, they came from the south, I spotted them moving stealthily across a stream, and they’re avoiding being seen by the men in the camp.’

  ‘OK, now I’m confused. Do they have any insignia?’

  ‘Not that we can see, but they move like soldiers, not the usual rabble.’

  ‘Have they found your tracks?’

  ‘We left false trails, went around the tree, climbed one tree and came across just because it was easier, not because we wanted to fool anyone. They’re glancing up, but they’d never spot us or hit us.’

  ‘But you can’t sit up a tree for a week.’

  ‘We got rope and cord, we can get to the next tree, maybe even unseen.’

  ‘And Henri and Smitty?’ I pressed.

  ‘They’re not as high, but the patrol missed them already.’

  ‘Leave the patrol alone, stay quiet, observe the camp, let me know if the hostages are moved around midday.’

  ‘You psychic or something, Boss? How’d you know they’d be moved at that time?’

  ‘I have my sources. Oh, Swifty and the Wolves are east a few miles, could get to you if needs be, and I’m going to bring a team up, I’m curious about that patrol, and if there’s more of them.’

  I stood thinking for ten minutes, maybe longer, recruits having breakfast, other men using the mess tent as the day warmed up. Chinook called, I rallied most of Echo, the Seals and 1st Battalion, all soon kitted out as if off to war. Crab and Duffy would have to train the recruits with the American NCOs, the rest of us to be tied up for a while.

  Thinking, I had Sasha’s team remain, to train the recruits; Casper liked to teach.

  Parker approached me. ‘You want me on this, Boss?’

  I stopped to consider that. ‘No, stay with the Wolves, because one wrong footstep and you could trip a mine, you don’t have jungle eye yet, so work on that jungle eye, don’t be in a hurry to get your legs blown off.’

  ‘I’m in no hurry, Boss,’ he assured me.

  Greenie asked, ‘You want me in on it?’

  ‘Yes, because you should know how to move in the jungle. Are you ... confident?’

  ‘Of moving through the bush? Yes.’

  ‘Stay close to your partner, in your team, move as one.’

  The Chinook loudly disturbed the wildlife half an hour later, Echo running aboard, the others to follow us. We flew off low level, skimming the trees, a sea of green glimpsed through the windows, a short ride to an excavated area of red dirt a few miles shy of the border.

  Down from the helo, weapons cocked, the men spread out in teams, positions taken in the tree line. And we waited as it fell quiet, radios tested, no locals around.

  The Chinook returned less than half an hour later with the Seals and 1st Battalion, men down and out, knelt as the Chinook roared off, and I stood over them with my facemask off.

  ‘Listen up. North two miles is the border with Guinea, but there’s no fence, just a stream. We’re going to move north and then split up. Four miles north of the border is a camp with hostages, a village, a small airstrip. Job is to get the hostages, then kill every black holding a gun.

  ‘Somewhere ahead of us is a platoon of well-trained black soldiers, no idea who they are or what they’re up to, but they were sneaking about and avoiding the hostage camp, so they could be Guinea soldiers. We don’t want to kill them. Also ... there’s a French mercenary advising them. Try and take him alive.’

  I faced 1st Battalion. ‘You may wound him if you like.’

  ‘We like, yes,’ their troop sergeant told me with an angered expression.

  ‘Seals, follow on behind Echo, 1st Battalion follow them, slow and quiet, eyes everywhere, fingers off triggers till you want to kill someone. Senior men, get on my radio frequency.’

  When they had my frequency I called in Echo and we moved off north, into the tree line and soon following a stream heading the right way.

  In the midday heat we all warmed up quickly, sweating within facemasks, then settled into the routine, our jungle-eyes adjusting. I had trained my eyes to ignore the bushes and branches in front of me, and to look at trees and contours. I read the contours, not the bushes.

  I would look ahead twenty yards, plan a route, note the available cover, then move. Halting, I would assess the ground ahead, another mini-route planned out for my boots, sniffing as I went, listening for disturbed birds up ahead – birds disturbed by someone other than us.

  An hour in and I called a break, a wide stream of cool water enjoyed by many men as the birds above us shrieked their annoyance at being disturbed. Moving on, my phone trilled, an odd number. I called a halt, everyone kneeling.

  ‘Da!’

  ‘It’s Steffan.’

  ‘And what have you found out?’

  ‘That those above me do not always share information.’

  ‘Moscow ordered the trap?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘A bad move, because the CIA know about it.’

  ‘They must be light on evidence...’

  ‘Probably not enough evidence to take to the White House, no, unless they grab Amadov and make him talk.’

  ‘He has been recalled. As to your suggestion, we have asked the hostage-takers to move the hostages east around midday to a town some twenty miles away, to be met. What ... will happen to them?’

  ‘I’ll tip off the French, they grab the hostages, a good story for the newspapers.’

  ‘Why ... the French?’

  ‘I kill people for them around Africa, they get me good fake papers, keep Interpol off my arse.’

  ‘By using you ... they’d avoid blame, and most likely we’d get the blame, since you are Russian.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And I thought my bosses were sly...’

  ‘Are you sure the hostages will be moved?’

  ‘The request has been sent, but I can’t speak for these blacks. Oh, our man in Freetown says there is FBI there now.’

  ‘Yes, but I have a man or ten there that will screw with them and have some fun.’

  ‘And the CIA..?’

  ‘Will be disappointed.’

  ‘I see. Well good luck to us both today.’

  ‘Luck is not needed, just motivation and good timing.’

  Phone away, Moran was studying me through his facemask. ‘Well?’

  ‘The game is afoot,’ I told him.

  ‘Sherlock Holmes?’ Moran queried.

  ‘Nope. Try again. Probably you came across it in an Arthur Conan Doyle book, but it was Shakespeare, King Henry.’

  ‘You know Shakespeare?’ Moran laughed.

  ‘Fuck no, it was written on a beer mat in a pub.’ I called Swifty. ‘It’s me. Leave two men west down that road, group the others ready for an ambush of vehicles around midday heading east, detail to be supplied by Nicholson. You got his number?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Call him, get the signal on when those trucks and jeeps leave, warn me, Seals to grab the hostages by helo. After they do, you walk due west to meet Nicholson, but watch out for well-trained black soldiers-’

  ‘Well-trained blacks?’

  ‘Might be regulars from Guinea, and they’re switched on, so watch yourself, the game is afoot.’

  ‘Your foot is what..?’

  Next call was Admiral Jacobs, a call he was waiting for. ‘Sir, we’re still a go for midday, should be able to time it well enough. At the moment all I can say is nine hostages and up to twenty black gunmen. I’ll get better detail later on. Your LZ will be a few miles due east of the target camp, say eight miles, to be confirmed, I have men on the ground.’

  ‘OK, we’re ready.’

  I called Nicholson. ‘Swifty will call you soon, you call him back when and if the hostages are moved, get him a description of the trucks and jeeps so he stops the right vehicles.’

  I heard a yawn. ‘Right, Boss.’

  ‘Rough night?’

  ‘I just woke up, a few hours sleep on a hard branch, rope around me, and this small fucking monkey wanted a punch-up during the night. Seriously, I punched it.’

  ‘You punched a monkey? Fuck sake, soldier, use a knife!’

  ‘Didn’t want to make too much noise, or kill it, it was cute. And we fed it.’

  ‘If you fed it, why’d you punch it?’

  ‘Kept tugging at me, trying to pull my facemask off.’

  ‘Get a brew on and wake up, be ready after 11am. Wilco out.’

  Moran said, ‘He punched a monkey?’

  ‘A small one that was annoying him.’

  ‘A bit unfair, punching a little monkey,’ Moran complained as we stood. ‘I’ll fine him for that.’

  Smiling, I led them on around tall trees and under huge bushes, leaves that were three feet wide.

  At 10am I was stood on a high ridge, a break in the trees, the valley below shrouded by dense trees and bushes, and 800yards across the valley sat a tall tree, Nicholson and Tomo sat up it, radio contact established.

  I called up the Seals to my position. ‘That tall tree, that’s about 200yards south of the camp with the hostages, but we think the hostages will be moved within hours, and we have an ambush on the road east. Between that tree and the camp is a valley full of claymores and mines, so don’t go near it.

  ‘I want you to go left and around, at least 600yards from that tree – use it as a reference point, keep going till you see the road, village or airstrip. Your target is the airstrip, to damage any aircraft or helicopters, no close-up fighting. And if you come across a patrol of blacks, call me, no heroics.

  ‘Once the shooting is over, back the way you came, back to this position to meet us. And when you get closer, avoid tracks, look for wires. Off you go.’

  They quietly moved off west. I called up 1st Battalion so that they could get a look, and I repeated much of the detail, but they were to go east 600yards and around, and to enter the camp and kill the blacks, maybe to get the French mercenary. They quietly moved off east.

  I faced north, and sniffed. Smiling, I waved up Mitch and Moran. ‘Smell it?’

  ‘Cooking,’ Mitch said.

  ‘No,’ Moran countered. ‘Five men smoking cigarettes.’

  ‘That’s cigarette smoke, African cigarettes, like those horrid French cigarettes,’ I told Mitch. ‘Remember the smell, your life may depend on it someday.’ I pointed down and to the right a little. Heads nodded as I led them off. I transmitted, ‘British Echo, listen up, we have company, patrol ahead of us two hundred yards, due north. Dead slow, eyes everywhere, surround them, no lethal shots unless I say, they could be soldiers from Guinea – on our side.’

  Moran transmitted, ‘And the government here will be well pissed off with us if we shoot their men.’

  Ginger transmitted, ‘Could be their version of the SAS.’

  ‘You might be right,’ I told him. ‘So watch out for bitchy men led by an uneducated troop sergeant with an inflated ego.’

  Laughing quietly, we moved down very slowly, every step measured, and I could still smell the cigarette smoke. Finding a large fallen tree I peeked over it, sights adopted, a man spotted. He was hidden, alert, but smoking.

  I transmitted, ‘They’re fifty yards due north of this fallen tree. Slider, go right. Rizzo, go left. Get eyes on, no risks, no shots fired yet. Don’t get close. Dead slow, dead quiet, and we don’t want to move on them till after the hostages are moved, so that’s ... more than an hour.’

  Moran, Mitch and Ginger took position left and right of me, rifles aimed north as the small teams moved off slowly bent-double. I remembered my phone, and so I set it to vibrate not to ring. Stood there, a black soldier in sight, I called Nicholson.

  Whispering, I began, ‘We’re about 500yards due south of you, and that patrol of blacks is here, taking a break, looks like they’re cooking or camped out. If the shooting starts here, you aim at that camp and get the guards. Seals are left of you 600yards, heading to the airstrip, French are right of you and moving around to the camp, to enter the camp, so check your fire.’

  ‘OK, we’re ready. And Swifty called. There’s a truck being worked on in the camp, big enough to get all the hostages in, kinda grey-green Mercedes.’

  ‘I need to know the minute the hostages are loaded.’

  ‘Right Boss. But it might just get a mile before breaking down!’

  ‘Understood.’

  I eased down and sipped my water.

  Moran eased down. ‘We wait?’

  ‘We wait till the hostages are moved, then ... then I go chat to these blacks.’ I swiped away a huge millipede.

  ‘Bit reckless, they could be anyone! Could be looking for you, price on your head!’

  ‘Nicholson said a patrol, eight men. I think, Captain, that anyone wanting to capture me would send more. Or I’d be insulted.’

  He took off his facemask and wiped his brow. ‘Would seem a bit cheap, just eight men. And there’s always thirty of us, so who’d send eight men against thirty? Eight men is a recon patrol.’

  I nodded. ‘To recon what, and for who?’

  ‘Recon that camp.’

  I shook my head. ‘They avoided it. Now they’re sat back here, no line of sight.’

  ‘Like they’re waiting for someone, or something to happen,’ Moran noted, a boot placed down on the huge millipede.

  I sighed. ‘Could be a whole fucking company of them around here someplace. This is their country, remember.’

  ‘Do they have a good company of soldiers?’ Moran challenged.

  ‘Fuck no. They expect us to patrol their borders for them.’

  In the sticky heat we took it in turns to observe the static black patrol, waiting in dense bushes as the patrol itself waited for something. Slider reported that the patrol had flysheets up, men resting underneath, alert guards posted, but obviously not that alert.