Soft Target (Major Crimes Unit Book 2) (4 page)

Thomas had decided that the
only way to be together was to quit the Army.  Surprisingly, Sarah had been
more than happy to oblige.  The thought of playing homemaker was unexpectedly
appealing to her.  She gave her notice to leave the British Army, while Thomas
was almost out of his contract with the United States.  Their future was set in
motion.  Soon they would begin a life together in sun kissed Florida.  The only
thing Sarah had left to worry about now was informing her CO that she
’
d gotten pregnant in the line of duty.  It was frowned upon, to say
the least.

“
Eyes on,
”
said her Glaswegian corporal, Hamish Barnes.  The
hulking lad, with the beaten face of a regimental boxing champion, had the
wheel of the Land Rover Snatch-2.  Sarah sat beside him.  In the back were
three privates still in nappies, and Sergeant Ernie Miller.  The Helmand
village of Larurah lay ahead.  It was a confirmed
‘
friendly
’
village, but that meant very little out here in the desert. 
Allegiances seemed to shift overnight in Afghanistan.

They were on their way to meet
with a village elder and his wife, who had potential information on an
influential Taliban leader, Al Al-Sharir.  Sarah had been sent as the liaison
because she had a knack for sorting out the lies from the truth.  She was to
meet up with the female engagement squad at the far side of the village.  The
engagement squad would be accompanied by a couple of patrol squads to keep them
safe.

Female soldiers couldn
’
t go anywhere in the desert without an escort.  Strictly speaking,
the British Army didn
’
t like sending women into the field, but Sarah had a way of
interacting with the locals, prodding at them subtly and making them drop their
guards.  Fortunately, her CO, Major Burke, was enlightened enough to break
protocol and treated Sarah based on her ability, not on her sex.  She was often
allowed to travel alone with only her squad as protection.  She guessed her
father
’
s name had a lot to do with the special treatment.

Little was known about
Al-Sharir, but the native Afghan had taken responsibility for a host of recent
attacks against British and American personnel.  He hadn
’
t claimed association with the Taliban, yet he
’
d been spotted with several known members in the region.  One week
ago, Al-Sharir had commanded a small insurgency that had resulted in an
American transport truck being flipped by an antique soviet RPG-7.  Three servicemen
had died and a fourth had gone back to his family without his left arm. 
Finding Al-Sharir had become one of the campaign
’
s
biggest priorities after finding Bin Laden himself.

Up ahead, several villagers
gathered in front of a banged-up Toyota Corolla.  The vehicle
’
s white paint had rusted and the front wheels were missing.  The
villagers were using it as a place to sit and spectate.  With little means of
entertainment, it was something for them to do.  Having been liberated from the
Taliban, the village was now unoppressed, but many still felt the constraints
of fear.  The Taliban was a looming presence over the country and many feared
reprisals.  The people here still weren
’
t
free, even after being liberated.

Ahead, there was an overturned watermelon cart
in the middle of the road.  A lone woman ran about, trying to pick up the
spilled fruit, tripping over her burkha.  No men were offering to help her,
because she was a woman.

“Halt here,
”
said Sarah.
“
We
’
re going to help.”
 

Hamish glanced at her uneasily.

“Just do it,
”
she snapped.  She hadn
’
t
fought her way to Captain only to watch ignorant men ignore a woman in need.

“
Is
there a problem, captain?
”
Sergeant Miller stepped out the back of the Snatch and joined up with her.  He
looked concerned.

“
Help
me get this fruit cart back on its wheels.
”

“
Do
we have the time?
”

“
We
’
ll make time,
”
Sarah snapped. 
“
Now come on.
”

Miller nodded and moved up beside the cart,
taking hold of one side, waiting for Sarah to grab the other.  Men and women
watched from a dozen nooks and crannies, but there were no children running
about, which was strange.  The local kids were always interested in soldiers
arriving.

The woman in the burkha bowed
and stepped out of their way, moving over by an old well.  As Sarah glanced at
the woman, she noticed the missing left hand.  Sarah wondered which man had
taken it from her: her father, her brother, or some random male who felt he had
the right to maim a woman?

“
You ready?
”
asked Miller irritably. 
“
This
thing looks like it weighs a shit-ton.
”

Sarah nodded and grabbed the
other side of the watermelon cart.

Miller started a countdown. 
“
After three, ready?  One
…
two
…”

Sarah glanced at the woman standing
by the well and noticed her eyes narrow and crinkle at the edges, almost as if
she were smiling.  Or even laughing at them. 

“
Three!
”

Sarah leapt back, but before
she had chance to warn her sergeant, Miller lifted the watermelon cart. 

Something clicked, and then
exploded.

Sarah felt herself take
flight.  Her body was weightless.  Her senses merged into a confused blur.  
She didn
’
t know which way her body was facing when she hit the dirt, but she
knew that she didn
’
t want to get up.

The world came rushing back in
a maelstrom of colour and sound.  The first thing she saw was the watermelon
cart ablaze.  The second thing she saw was Miller, lying dead less than a dozen
yards away, both his legs missing and a pool of blood soaking the ground
beneath him. 

The sound of gunfire filled
the air.

Suddenly Sarah felt weightless
again.  Her body left the ground and flew backwards.  At first she thought she
’
d been captured and was being taken away to some nightmarish fate,
but then she heard Hamish
’
s reassuring voice. 

“
You
’
re gun be right, Captain.  Everything
’
s
gun be right.
”

“
Miller?
”
Sarah managed to mumble.

“
He
’
s gone.  We need to bolt.
”

Hamish dragged Sarah over to
the Snatch where the three privates were providing nervous covering-fire.  This
reminded Sarah that she was in charge.  The men needed her to take them to
safety.  It was her fault they were in this situation
.

“
Everyone, back inside the Snatch,
”
she
commanded, back in control of herself. 
“
We
’
re getting out of here, now.
”

The three privates fired off a
short burst of gunfire from their SA80s, then threw themselves into the rear of
the armoured Land Rover.  Hamish took the wheel and Sarah pulled herself in
beside him.  Before he started the engine, however, the corporal gave her a
worried glance, examining her.

“
Everything
’
s going to be fine,
”
she said. 
“
We
’
ll be sharing a pint down the NAFFY before the day is through.
”

Hamish nodded, but his craggy
face was pale.  His thick bottom lip quivered.

Sarah thumped the dashboard. 
“
Sodding move it!!
”

Hamish gunned the engine and
shot them into reverse.  He pulled on the handbrake and spun the vehicle
around, but by the time he
’
d shifted into first, ready to speed away, insurgents had lined the
road, blocking their exit.  They fired their AK-47s and bullets hit the Snatch
’
s reinforced windscreen and front grill like a swarm of hornets.

Sarah clenched her fists. 
“
Shit!  They
’
re going to rip us to pieces.  Turn us around!  We
’
ll head through the village.
”

Hamish spun the Snatch around
again, giant tyres crunching over watermelon and splintered wood.  From the top
cover, the three privates returned fire. 

A cloud of dust coughed up
behind the Snatch as they picked up speed.

“
Watch the well,
”
Sarah shouted as Hamish drove within feet of the
crumbling brick reservoir.  The woman who
’
d
tricked them was now firing a hunting rifle at them with careful aim.  She used
the stump of her left arm as a rest for the barrel. 

The woman faded into the
distance as Hamish brought the Range Rover up to sixty.

Sarah
’
s
hands were cold and shaking.  Blood dripped down her shirt and onto her arms.
 
She
reached forward and pulled down the Snatch
’
s sun
visor and mirror.

A wounded stranger stared back
at Sarah.   The left side of her face was blackened and bloody.  Muscle and
tendon glistened within a deep crevice of flesh.  A shard of wood lay embedded
in her cheek, but was too deep to extract.

Sarah fought back revulsion
and tried to stay focused.  It was a nasty wound, sure to leave at least a
small scar, but it wasn
’
t as bad as it could have been.  She could have died.  Miller had.

The thought of death made
Sarah woozy.  Her hand shot to her belly as overwhelming horror took over her;
fear for her unborn child.  Hamish
’
s voice managed to
bring her back from the brink of panic.

“
Which way?
”
Hamish asked her, his usually gravelly voice now
high-pitched and overwrought. 
“
Captain, which way?
”

Sarah looked around.  The
village was a maze of alleyways and crumbling, flat-topped buildings, each one
a hiding spot for an RPG or high-powered rifle.  Death could come at them a
dozen ways. 
“
Go
…
.go
…
go left.  Left, damn it!
”

Hamish spun the wheel and whipped
the Snatch around to the left, slotting the vehicle into an alleyway between a
mosque and a two-story domicile.  Villagers leapt into doorways, yelling out
insults as they avoided the giant tyres of the Range Rover.  Some threw stones,
bouncing off the bonnet.  Hamish put his foot down.

The gunfire faded behind
them. 

The three privates pulled
themselves back inside the Snatch
’
s rear cabin and sat
down, panting and gibbering with relief.  The battle was over, they were home
free. 

Sarah put her fingertips to her face and winced
at the pain.  Now that the danger was over, she started to freak out. 
Miller
is dead and I
’
m hurt.  I need to know that my baby is okay. 
Sarah
clutched her stomach and began to sob.

Hamish glared at her. 
“
Get your shit together, Captain.
”

Sarah choked back a sob and nodded. 
“
I
…
I screwed up.  This
is all my fault.
”

Hamish kept his eyes forward, concentrating on
the dirt road. 
“
Way
I see it, the witch with the watermelons is to blame.  I don
’
t know about you,
but I
’
m coming
back here with the Second Royals to flatten this place into dust.  Focus on
that, not on what you could have done.
”

Sarah nodded.  He was right.  There was nothing
to be done now, but respond to the situation.  She needed to get back and
report.  She needed to check on her baby.  Camp Bastion awaited, less than two
hours away. 

“
Step on it,
”
Sarah said, gritting her teeth as shock gave way to
lucid pain and rising agony. 
“
The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can come back and rain
hell down on this goddamn village.
”

“
Amen to that,
”
said Hamish, flooring the accelerator.  He pulled
right, putting the village behind them.