Firefight

When he had finished, he spoke a single word to the other men and they released her, but by now she was too agonised and frightened to do anything other than curl up and sob.

Wordlessly, the men filed out of the hut. They closed the door behind them and, of course, locked it before walking away.

* * *

'You'd better give me the low-down on these guys,' Will told the CO as they walked along the corridors of Credenhill HQ towards the briefing room.

Elliott nodded. 'RWW, all three of them,' he said.

'Good,' Will grunted. RWW — the Revolutionary Warfare Wing, or the Increment to anyone in the know. A secretive group of crack troops, taken from the SAS and the SBS, deployed around the world to train terrorists — or 'freedom fighters,' as the British government preferred to think of them — and carry out hypersensitive, top-secret operations. The Afghan mujahideen, the Khmer Rouge in Cambodia and any number of other bands of guerrilla fighters had been turned into highly effective fighting forces thanks to the skills of the RWW.The Revolutionary Warfare Wing was also used to carrying out politically sensitive operations that would always be officially denied — a roundabout way of saying assassinations. When the head of MI6 had recently gone on the record saying that to his knowledge none of his people had ever carried out an assassination, he'd been telling the truth, because the Increment did their dirty work for them. These guys got deployed all over the world: Iraq, Afghanistan, South America. You name it, if it was a hot spot, the RWW would put in an appearance and its men were among the best the Regiment could provide.

There were other good reasons, though, for drawing his talent from the RWW and he suspected that Pankhurst had specifically asked for them. These soldiers would have undergone the most rigorous vetting of anyone in the British military. Their bank accounts would have been watched; their phones would have been tapped; Will had even heard that there was a policy of entrapment — putting temptation in the way of these guys or trying to trick them into revealing sensitive information to a supposed stranger who was really working for the military. If Pankhurst was worried about a leak, then giving Will a team from the RWW was a neat way of lessening the risk — they were as close to watertight as you could get.

'Frank Anderson's the most experienced,' said Elliott, interrupting Will's thoughts. He recognised the name and a face vaguely popped into his mind. 'Thirty-one years old. Frankly, I don't think he'll be thrilled taking orders from someone who's not currently in the Regiment, but he'll do it.'

'Are you sure?' Will demanded. 'I haven't got time to start breaking people in.'

'If I give him an order, he'll follow it,' Elliott said, confidently. 'And you could do with his experience. He's led a number of expeditions into the mountain regions of Afghanistan, so he knows the country and what you might be up against.'

Will nodded. 'OK. Good.'

'Mark Drew's a bit of a Regiment golden boy. Fucking quiet, fucking fit — endurance levels like I've never seen. Good behind the wheel of a car — not that you'll have much time for sightseeing.'

'Has he been deployed in Afghanistan?'

'No. But several operations in southern Iraq and South America. Trust me, he'll be an asset.'

'And the third one — what did you say his name was?'

'Kennedy. Nathan Kennedy. Popular, bit of a smart-arse. Geordie lad. Got a mouth on him and likes the sound of his own voice, but fucking sharp. He's been in and out of the Congo several times in the last couple of years.'

'The Congo? I didn't know the SAS was there.'

'There's a lot of things you don't know about the SAS, Will,' Elliott said pointedly. 'You've been otherwise engaged, remember? Anyway, Kennedy's very good — at least as good as the other two.'

'Anderson has a family, doesn't he?' Will asked, as nonchalantly as he could. He was hotly aware that two years ago he would never have asked that question. You go in, you do the job and you look after your mates, no matter what their personal situation.

'Does it matter?'

Will sniffed. 'No,' he lied. Truth was, his attitude towards such things had changed. The idea of taking a family man into the field of war was one that he suddenly had difficulty with.

'A young daughter. He wouldn't want me to know that I told you that, and he certainly doesn't expect any special treatment because of it. It's a strong team. For my money, there's just one thing about it that doesn't add up.'

Will raised an eyebrow. 'What's that?'

The CO stopped walking. 'You, Will,' he said bluntly. 'You've been out of it for two years. God only knows what your fitness levels are. You've been part of the Regiment for long enough to know that if you don't keep yourself sharp — '

'Don't worry about me, boss. I'll be fine. 'Will tried to sound confident, but he knew there was truth in what the Colonel was saying. He'd kept in shape, but there was nothing to guarantee that this would be enough. Christ, he hadn't even held a gun for two years. All the more reason to have a good team around him — he hoped that Anderson, Drew and Kennedy were as good as they sounded.

Elliott led them to a briefing room at the far end of the administrative building, one of several secure areas where operational details were discussed. Will knew that these rooms were padded with a soundproofing material and they had no windows to ensure that there was no line of sight into the room. Elliott nodded at the soldiers standing guard outside as they approached and the doors were immediately held open.

There were four men waiting inside. One was in camouflage trousers and shirt; the other three wore civvies. They were sitting around a large table, but all stood up as Elliott and Will walked in.

'At ease,' Elliott said, before turning to the man in military uniform. 'Major Hughes, this is Will Jackson. Will, Major Hughes has been briefed by Five to put your team together.'

Hughes shook Will's hand, before introducing the three men. He was a tall man — taller even than Will — with heavily greased hair combed over in a side parting. He looked almost old-fashioned, like a soldier in a black and white photograph from the First World War. 'Frank Anderson, Mark Drew and Nathan Kennedy.'

Will nodded at each of them in turn. It would have been surprising if he hadn't recognised three members of the Increment by sight and sure enough now that he was in the room with them, their faces were familiar. None of them were clean-shaven and Will understood why: a lot of the Regiment boys had taken to growing beards, as it helped them blend in to those parts of the Middle East where they were regularly deployed. Frank Anderson was broad-shouldered and square-chinned. His hair, clearly balding, was cropped short. No one could say he was a good-looking man. Mark Drew was smaller but just as stocky, with blond hair and flat, blue eyes. Nathan Kennedy was the most severe-looking of the three. His skin was tanned, his eyes brown and he had a gleam in his eyes that would have been cheeky had Will not known that he was a trained killer. Will had a vague recollection of a night a few years back when a few Hereford locals had been riling Kennedy in one of the town's pubs. Nathan Kennedy wasn't the type to let it pass and the civvies — four or five of them — had ended the evening with broken noses. Not exactly a guy with a long fuse, but useful in a fight.

'Can't get enough of the old place, eh, Jackson?' Kennedy asked, laconically. 'What's wrong — not getting enough skirt on civvy street? Thought you'd come and spend a bit of time with some real men, see if the pheromones rub off?'

Drew and Anderson smiled at Kennedy's comment, but Elliott didn't. 'Shut it, Kennedy,' he instructed.

'Right you are, boss,' Kennedy replied with a twinkle. He settled back in his chair and the three of them sat there, evidently reserving judgement on the man who was supposed to lead them into one of the most dangerous places in the world.