Pirate - Duncan Falconer [11]
‘What the bloody hell was that?’ Hopper called out.
Whatever it was, Stratton didn’t like the look of it.
A sudden loud bang came from the direction of the two Suburbans. Not so much like a gun going off, more like the muffled burst of a tyre. Stratton and Hopper watched as the headlights of the leading Suburban bounced hard before turning sharply to one side like the vehicle had lost control. It came to a dusty halt and the second Suburban behind slid to a stop.
Stratton quickly took up the thermal imager and saw several figures running from a fold in the ground where they had obviously been hiding. There were four of them in total and they split into pairs as they went towards both vehicles. He could hear popping sounds as the figures reached the Suburbans. Then he heard a shot.
The red tail lights of the 4×4 flared as it came to a hard halt on the stone track right in front of the Suburbans. The sound of men shouting carried across the night air, the language impossible to decipher.
Hopper stood to get a better look but also out of mild shock. ‘Is what I think I see going on what I think is going on?’
Stratton couldn’t think what else could be going on.
‘Someone’s beaten us to them,’ Hopper said.
Stratton didn’t ask the question, who was carrying out the attack? All he could think of was what he needed to do about it. His team wasn’t equipped for any kind of major firefight against numbers. They only had a pistol each. This was all now about coming up with the right reaction.
The 4×4 carried out a u-turn, its headlights pointing back the way it had come. They heard more shouts accompanied by the slamming of the vehicle’s doors.
Stratton watched through his imager at what appeared to be the original ambush party: four or five men running across the rocky ground in the direction of the coast. The 4×4 accelerated along the track back the way it had come – towards Stratton and Hopper.
‘Pull the claws!’ Stratton shouted.
Hopper hesitated, looking for confirmation. He’d had the same concerns as Stratton – they weren’t equipped for a firefight beyond a handful of pistols.
‘They’ve got our target,’ said Stratton. ‘We’re gonna take him back.’
Hopper yanked on the wire and dragged the multi-barbed snake out of its housing until it was stretched across the full width of the track.
‘Nothing’s changed other than we have just the one vehicle to take on,’ Stratton called out. ‘We also have surprise. They won’t be expecting us.’ He looked behind him and back up the mountain track hoping the Gurkhas would be ready to react as they had originally planned.
The 4×4 came fast along the dusty, rocky track, skidding on the bends, its lights bouncing violently over the ruts. Whoever was driving it was at the limit of his abilities. Stratton and Hopper pulled on their gas masks and braced as the vehicle closed on them. The driver was reckless, Stratton could see, the guy could easily skid into the wadi after hitting the claws. He hugged the edge of the riverbed, crouched below it as the headlights came on.
The vehicle shot over the claws, the teeth biting into the rubber and the links then wrapping around the front wheels as they were designed to, shredding the tyres. The driver fought to keep the SUV under control but he couldn’t and slewed off the track opposite the wadi, the wheel rims gouging the ground. As the car stopped, Stratton and Hopper strode up and out of the wadi, pulling the pins from their grenades as they walked.
The front passenger door opened as Stratton arrived. He tossed a grenade inside. But as the cap fired with a loud pop and smoke hissed loudly from it the passenger climbed out. The man was wearing a gas mask. He was reaching inside his jacket. Stratton had several distinct thoughts in the space of half a second. Going for his own pistol could be the wrong move. The guy could be anyone. He was kidnapping a bad guy so he wasn’t necessarily a bad guy himself. Stratton kept his forward momentum. He rapidly closed on the man, whose pistol came into