Dead Centre - Andy McNab [79]
All well and good, but Awaale’s dad, very sensibly, was eight thousand miles away.
I ran over the sand gap and grabbed Awaale, pulling him into a doorway. A dog went ballistic the other side of the steel. I gripped Awaale to make sure I had his attention. If the crews wasted much more ammunition and Lucky’s didn’t, this wasn’t going to end well.
‘You can fight them whenever you want, mate. I need to see my friends. I need to pay you some money. That’s why we’re here, remember? We’ve got to move on.’
Awaale was too busy playing field commander. ‘Yes, yes. Soon.’ He got straight onto his radio. Fuck knew if anybody was listening.
The air was suddenly full of ringtones. The lads reached for their mobiles. Four of the crew were running from the left of the junction. They must have been from the third technical. They were carrying a body. It was a waste of effort. Even from where I was, I could see he was dead.
8
A COUPLE OF guys loosed off more RPGs down the road. They weren’t exactly aiming with pinpoint accuracy. They had them on the shoulder for less than a second. They just stepped out of cover and pulled the trigger.
The 12.7 had now moved into the open and was static at the junction. The gunner couldn’t control it. Tracer rounds started horizontal, then shot into the air, arcing towards an imaginary Black Hawk.
More of Awaale’s boys took up positions behind the vehicle. If the general had taught them all they knew, no wonder he was dead: that just concentrated fire; the enemy had something to aim at. If these jokers reckoned 10mm of steel was going to stop them, then the khat must be even stronger than I’d thought. Vehicles give cover from view, not cover from fire.
More rounds ripped up the road towards the technical, striking the buildings around the junction. An RPG followed, this time much higher. Its smoke trail was three metres above the technical. Then another. No one took cover. I watched it bounce and skid across the road before exploding just out of sight.
Our technical decided to come back into cover. I didn’t have a clue where the other two were. I gripped Awaale again. This was a Mexican stand-off, but without the Mexicans. ‘Awaale, are we going to stay here until we run out of ammunition? Or we’re all dead? How’s it work, mate?’
He gobbed off into his radio yet again. No one answered. The dog was going ape-shit behind the door. His claws scrabbled at the steel like a maniac’s. A radio playing Arabic music was turned up to full blast.
‘Awaale, mate. Stop. Look at me. I can help you. Do you want to show what a great fighter you are? Like your father?’ I didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Let me take a machine-gun up there.’ I pointed behind the house, to the high ground beyond the Black Hawk Down site. ‘I’ll go and find out exactly where Lucky’s crew are. I’ll tell you – then I can give you covering fire so you can move round and get to them. OK? So we can get this over. You can slot them, then we can move on.’
His radio moved down to his chest.
‘Come with me.’ I got on my knees. Now we were level with the dog, it went berserk. ‘Look, this is how we can do it.’
‘How – how?’
I smoothed out a patch of sand and traced a cross with my finger to show the junction. I jabbed it at the left-hand end of the horizontal line. ‘That’s where we are now, yeah?’
‘OK.’
‘And Lucky’s somewhere up here …’
‘Sure. We’re going to kill him.’
I outlined my plan of action and explained how we should each stay out of the other’s arcs of fire. He looked at me like I’d shown him the secret of the universe. ‘Mr Nick, this is so good.’
I nodded. ‘But we must go before it gets dark. Give me a radio that works. Give me that one. You grab another one off one of the guys. Bring the technicals here. Tell them I’m in charge of this one, OK?’
‘OK, OK.’ He sprang up, ready to swing into action.
I grabbed his leg. ‘Do the drivers know where to go next? I need to get