‘Yeah, you’re right.’
Raynor put his helmet back on.
‘Bravo One to Neptune. I’m afraid I cannot give assistance. Our orders were clear. We’re mop-up only. Over.’
‘Bravo One, this is Neptune. We have a Black Hawk Down. I repeat. Black Hawk Down. Hawk two has had to land outside of the compound. We need cover and possible supressing fire. Over.’
‘Shit.’ Said Raynor as he covered his microphone once more.
‘We have to help Bushy. They’ll be sitting ducks.’
‘Your call Nate, but I’d still stay here. It’s not our war. We’re state-sanctioned mercenaries. We shoot anyone who leaves the compound and we get back to Jalalabad in time for breakfast.’
Raynor thought for a moment. If the Americans blew this opportunity, bin Laden would disappear for ever. He couldn’t take that risk.
‘Neptune, this is Bravo One. Awaiting orders. Over.’
‘Bravo One, Neptune would like to express his gratitude for your support. Please make your way to Hawk Two. Assist in compound breach and supply cover fire. Over.’
‘Copy Neptune. Bravo Out.’
‘Move Out!’ Raynor shouted. ‘Cover the SEALs. Do not put yourselves in the line of fire.’
Raynor, Bush and the remaining six men of Bravo Team crouched and started the walk toward the Black Hawk that had landed outside the perimeter wall. Raynor could make out the SEALs setting up shaped charges on the compound wall, while others were firing grappling hooks over the top of the seven foot high wall.
As they neared the American soldiers they heard a shout.
‘Hostile spotted. Roof.’
Raynor looked toward the building which could be seen over the compound wall. Three men had climbed, one by one, through a trap door onto the flat roof. Two were carrying automatic weapons and started firing toward the SEAL team. The third had an RPG, a rocket propelled grenade launcher that he aimed toward Bravo Team. He fired. The projectile looked like it had fallen from the end of the tube before the rocket fired and accelerated it straight at Bravo Team.
‘Get down!’ Raynor shouted. But he was too late. He suddenly found himself weightless. Flying through the air. His ears were ringing. He landed heavily smashing his head on a rock and passing out.
He woke up twelve hours later to discover that only he, Bush and one other member of his squad had survived.
Chapter Forty-Nine
‘And that is why the mission comes first. That’s why I don’t deviate from the brief.’
Sam was sitting up. Listening. But not really hearing. This was too much. Raynor was part of Operation Neptune’s Spear? That was astounding. Raynor had stopped concentrating on Sam. He’d actually sat on the steps as he told his story. Sam almost felt sorry for him.
‘But the worse thing.’ Raynor said. ‘Was how we were treated when we got back. The CIA were really pissed off, but the British government had no idea we existed, so continued to deny all knowledge. The heat was starting to get to the men in charge. I had no idea who they were, but they simply cut us lose. I got the message from Saunders. They stopped our money, told us to walk and turned away as if we’d never existed. Fuckers. I couldn’t blame Saunders, it wasn’t his fault.’
Sam started to stand. He clutched his side and was almost bent over double with pain.
‘Raynor, listen. This time the mission has to fail. You need to come with me to Thames House.’
Raynor laughed.
‘Thames House? Are you fucking joking? All I have to do is tap an icon and that place goes up in smoke.’
Sam mustered every ounce of energy he had and grabbed Raynor by the collar.
‘Come on, mate. Time to call it a day.’
‘You really are something else, Sam.’ Raynor said before planting an uppercut on the other’s chin. Sam flew for a couple of feet before landing on his back. Out cold. Raynor walked to his bike. He got on the bike and put his helmet on, then started the engine and pushed himself off the stand. He sped off into the night.
Chapter Fifty
Sam opened his eyes, grateful for the dark of night and the soft glow of the street lamps. His head hurt. What the hell had happened? Raynor. Where was Raynor?
How long have I been out?
Sam patted himself down, trying to find his phone. He swore when he realised it was in his car. He stood and swayed. His head was spinning. Concentrating like his life depended on it, he attempted to walk to his car. It felt like it had taken hours, but eventually he made it to the Lotus, a parking ticket placed under his windscreen wiper. He swore again, grabbed the ticket and threw it in the street. He unlocked the car and climbed in. His phone was on the passenger seat. His earpiece bleeped to let him know it had reconnected with the phone.
‘Fucking hell Sam, talk to me, where are you. What’s happened? Talk for Christ sake.’
‘Dave, Dave, it’s me.’
‘Jesus, Sam, where have you been? It’s been about fifteen minutes since you last checked in. What the hell’s been going on?’
‘Apart from getting a beating, oh and a bedtime story, from the same man, not much.’
‘Shit, are you okay?’
‘I’ll live, Dave. Where is he? I’ve got a score to settle.’
‘Are you fucking insane? He’s just beat the crap out of you and you want some more?’
‘Where is he Dave? I’ll kick the shit out of you if you keep stalling. It has to end.’
‘Alright, take a chill pill for fuck sake. He’s… hang on. He’s in the river.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Sam started the engine and attempted a three-point turn. Seven manoeuvres later, he was facing the way he’d come.
‘What the hell do you mean? He’s in the river?’
‘I don’t know Sam, his GPS is showing up in the bloody Thames. Maybe he’s thrown his phone away?’
‘And you think his phone would work at the bottom of the Thames?’
‘No, didn’t think of that. Then he must be on a boat.’
‘A boat? He was on a bike last time I saw him. He’s not a bloody super villain. He’s not going back to his lair built into a volcano in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.’
‘Alright mate, take it easy.’
If there were five worse words for Dave to have said, he would have struggled to find them. Sam erupted. He slammed on the brakes and stopped in the middle of a junction. A taxi braked hard and stopped just in time. The driver got out and walked towards the Lotus. Sam looked at him; the cabbie turned around, walked back to his cab, and managed a successful three-point turn, which Sam would later attribute to the turning circle of a the cab more than the skill of the driver. The cab sped off
‘Calm down? Fucking calm down? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through tonight, Dave?’
‘Well, um.’
‘Don’t fucking mumble, Dave. Tell me. Have you been beaten? Close to being blown up? Traipsed across town to take on a psychopath?’
Sam heard Mickey in the background.
‘Sociopath.’
‘Shut up, Mickey. You’re not helping. Dave, where is Raynor? And if you say the bloody river, I’m going to forget about him, drive to Newbury and beat you senseless.’
Sam heard Mickey again.
‘Someone’s got the hump tonight.’
‘Mickey. Shut up!’
Dave came back on the line. He was obviously thinking hard before giving an answer. He’d never known Sam to be like this. Sam was usually so meek and unassuming, putting it down to his martial arts training. But they were mates. When this was over they’d have a laugh about it in the pub. Eventually he spoke.
‘It looks like he’s stationary. But he’s definitely in the river.’