CHAPTER 1

Captain Robert "Rodent" Wolfe

22. Special Air Service / Task Force 105

1755 Hours

Winter, 2004

Jalalabad Outskirts, Afghanistan

The city of Jalalabad in Afghanistan was not a safe place, especially during nighttime. Thugs were here and there, looters went through the city's war-torn suburbs, scavenging merchandise from dead bodies that now, had decomposed and became only a stack of arranged bones and rotten flesh. But on one night in the winter of 2004, not only looters and thugs were crawling amongst the rubbles of the great housing suburb. In 2004 the War on Terror was at its peak: The Coalition faced heavy fighting against both insurgents and the Iraqi army in Iraq, while continuously fighting the relentless Taliban in Afghanistan. And this evening, the two asymmetric forces would clash yet again in this particular suburb.

A detachment of five men under Captain Robert Wolfe, mostly known by his colleagues as 'Rodent', were landed by helicopter two days ago in the outskirts of the city of Jalalabad to intercept a very important, if not a dangerous, meeting held by the enemies of the Coalition. They have been briefed that their targets, three important men to the terrorist cause, were to meet up tonight, in the ruins of a hotel that went bankrupt decades ago when the Russians invaded the country. Their intent, according to the briefing of his team, Alpha Six, was an arms trade involving an Iraqi Ba'athist, a Taliban cell leader, and of course, an official of Al-Qaeda. And there was a large possibility, that it involved Weapons of Mass Destruction.

Weeks ago, US Navy SEALs had intercepted and taken captive a supposed-Taliban messenger, who, after a long and tiring questioning process told his American captors that there was a meeting in this particular ruin of a hotel complex in the outskirts of Jalalabad. He was supposed to bring this information towards a man known by his colleagues as Omar Ataf, an obvious essential and high-ranking member of Al-Qaeda. The team's purpose of coming here was to observe whether this meeting was true or not, and if it was, a Quick Reaction Force consisting of men from the US Army Rangers and Navy SEALs would be called in by Captain Wolfe. The QRF, along with Alpha Six, were tasked to capture- or if it was impossible, kill- the three members of the meeting. It would be another triumph for the Coalition if another essential 'terrorist' was killed or captured, and if there really was this Ba'athist, Rodent thought, it would be proof that Iraq had WMDs at hand, and they were not only keeping it to themselves, but also, distributing it to their 'allies' (most importantly, enemies of the coalition).

Rodent and his team set themselves up in observation posts within two five-story buildings, ranging one hundred meters from each other with a large courtyard set between it. Rodent was posted with the two American members of Alpha Six, namely Velcro and Chuc, while his 2IC, Sergeant Gaz Hemingway, was posted with Ark on the other building.

Rodent put his back on a wall in a room where he and two of his men had hid, slept, ate, and observed for the last two days and nights. There was a large breach in the wall that overlooked the entire courtyard. Other than the large breach in the wall, the room still had a sufficient bed and discolored curtains and walls which were now plagued by dust and sand. He relaxed as he saw the fading sun, and it reminded him of his villa in Kent.

Earlier that day there were two suspicious-looking men entering the area without escort or weapons and stupidly they spoke loudly enough for Rodent to hear it. They said that the three targets were to come tonight; What time, Rodent did not know, so he told his men to rest.

For when night fell, the enemy would come.

"We'll need a great deal of looking tonight, so I want you lads to get some shut eye." He told his men via radio.

He led five men. His Second-in-Command, Gaz and Ark, were sniper and spotter respectively. Both hailed from the British Special Air Service and were hidden neatly in the other building. The two men with him, SFC 'Chuc' Lewis and SFC Steve 'Velcro' Ewart, were both delta operators and were absolutely masters at their fields. Sergeant Lewis, preferably Chuc by his friends, was a combat medic, and undoubtedly one of the best in the army. He enlisted for Delta Force after serving four years with the 75th Rangers, and when he went in he quickly gained promotion from a mere Sergeant to Staff Sergeant and finally, Sergeant First Class, mostly due to his skills as a medic and gallantry in combat. He had served countless times for his country, sabotaging Iraqi defences before the invasion, taking down insurgent cells in Kandahar, and was too present during the epic Battle of Takur Ghar in Operation Anaconda along with his close friend SFC Ewart.

Ewart was Velcro to his friends, and he could be described as a short, robust, man with perfect-sighted eyes, a straight nose, and blond hair. His looks make up for his height, which was roughly five foot six, that made him barely pass the height test get into Delta. He was the combat engineer in the team, and whenever anybody needed something being blown up, he would easily jump into fire, run, slide, and put in whatever explosives he had at his disposal to ruin the enemy. The reason of him being called Velcro was that he admired the new very sticky piece of fabric that was used for arm-patches on the new combat clothing known as 'Army Combat Uniforms'. It also had a new pattern, which was a gray-sand oriented pixilated camouflage that didn't really work anywhere despite being called the Universal Camouflage Pattern.

Rodent himself was from the SAS, and he, was chosen to lead these specially chosen men probably into their own deaths.

Around 1800 Hours that day the Muslim prayer calls began to be heard by the five operators. The azan was called out via the mosque's tower for it was time for maghrib; the fourth prayer of the day in the Muslim prayer cycle. The azan was a beautiful set of prayers and callings towards the Muslims to pray, like bells on Sunday churches. The difference was the azan was done five times a day and it was done by a specific person chosen for the task called the mu'azin. While they wondered what the words the azan said, Rodent was watching the wrecked entrance of the once-hotel complex, which was bordered by the gray sky that summed up that afternoon.

The sun began to set; and it caused the sky to become a gradient of gray and orange. The late afternoon winter sky in Afghanistan was gray, and the orange came from the large, raging sun that was setting down on a very slow but beautiful pace. As he looked out into the gray-lined sky his radio beeped. He pressed a button on the radio and his commander's voice broke the beautiful voice of the azan and breathtaking sight of the sunset. "Alpha Six, this is Warlord. How copy, over?" his commander's solid voice came out of his headset, and weirdly gave Rodent a surge of sudden relief.

"Warlord this is Alpha Six, Solid Copy, over." Rodent was a London Englishman, and therefore had an English accent.

"Six, SitRep, over." The commander, A.K.A Warlord, replied with the usual static in the background.

"Six is sitting on their arses on the same position as two days before. Nothing has changed, but I could confirm that the man who came here earlier said that it was tonight."

"Roger that. Just in case, Six, QRF is ready anytime. Warlord out."

C/Sgt Nolan "Gaz" Hemingway

22. SAS / Task Force 105

1900 Hours

"We've been here for two days. You think intel messed up again?" Ark asked, as he observed the courtyard, and Gaz slept with his helmet on. Gaz had been restlessly on watch for the last twelve hours and what he needed now was a good, cozy, three-hour sleep with his rifle off his shoulder. He hated being on watch, and he just wanted to do the shooting; Ark could do the watching and waiting, and Gaz the killing. And he would surely kill, for killing was an essential part of his life. It was simply business for Gaz, and by business it meant that, like the other operatives, what he did for work was killing.

He was a man of six feet with a robust build and a well-kept black, beard and was probably known for his union jack-strapped hat that he wore nearly all the time, except now because he wore his issued helmet.

Gaz Hemingway came from London, and joined the army when he was eighteen. Long story short he got promoted faster than usual into a sergeant and passed SAS Selection and became an SAS Trooper. Years serving as a sniper and marksman with the Parachute Regiment and SAS had made him a hard man, and a cold killer. There weren't many killers in the forces as cold and calm as Sergeant Nolan Hemmingway, and that was why he was here. That was why he's in this Task Force, to kill important enemies of the state. He had his eyes closed and tried not to reply Ark's question with words, instead he did with a grunt. He tried to sleep.

His M24 sniper rifle was set next to him, put on a wall as he rested. The rifle was a part of him, and when he rested, so did the rifle. But then an arrangement of small stones fell onto his tan Kevlar helmet and the simple notion woke him up. He walked up to Ark, who was observing the courtyard between the two buildings. "What the hell happened?" and Ark turned away from his rangefinder binoculars. "Oh so you weren't sleeping."

Rodent joined. "You're getting jumpy, Gaz. Nothing's happened." His voice could be heard from his headphones. He seemed to have heard the conversation because Gaz's radio was constantly on.

"You should turn off your radio when you sleep."

Gaz turned his head, rifle in his hands, towards Rodent's building, but he couldn't see the man. He was so well hidden, not even his friends could see him. "Roger that, Rod. You got confirmation on when they're gonna come?"

"Negative. The hajji that came here was saying that they're coming later tonight. Just to remind you, today's Saturday, so we'll give them a Saturday night beating."

Gaz chuckled. "Shame it's not Friday. They won't be saying TGIF."

Gaz turned, only to hear Ark say "Thank Allah it's Friday. Bloody Hajjis."

Rodent replied with a small laugh. "Keep your guard on."

But then, not more than a minute later, Rodent came up on the radio with a rush on his voice, with the sound of engines and moving trucks in the background. "Shit, We've got badguys passing through my backdoor. Two armed trucks with armed militants and one SUV. Seems like that's our guy."

And Gaz heard something that sounded like multiple car engines and wheels going over dirt. He picked himself up and slid under another window. He peeked out of that window and he saw three vehicles: Two armed pickup trucks with Light Machineguns attached on their backs with armed militants manning them, and then a single, white sedan between the pickups. The sedan was being escorted by the two trucks, and the two trucks brought a load of more than a dozen heavily armed insurgents. They were moving quickly towards the courtyard. "I've got visual on another one. White sedan, two techs with mounted LMGs. Approximately fifteen insurgents on their backs. These are our guys."

"Roger I got eyes on it." Velcro, the American Engineer, said over the radio.

Rodent joined. "So our guys are here. I'm contacting command."

"Warlord, Warlord, this is Alpha Six Actual. We have visuals of enemy technicals with approximately a combined force of over fourty militia. Tell QRF to go now. We'll be going hot in a while. Over."

"Roger that, Six. If condition is impossible for them to be captured, execute Plan B. QRF's callsign is Dagger. ETA is Fifteen Mikes. Out."

And Plan B, was to kill.

"You heard 'em Gaz. If the shooting starts before the QRF comes," Rodent's voice came via his headphones. "You're to shoot."

"Roger that." Gaz grinned, for he was a cold killer with a cold and dangerous gun. And he knew he did not need a silencer for this, because the sound of the rifle would echo all around the hotel complex. Gaz turned to Ark. "Spot 'em for me, mate."

"Roger." The spotter nodded.

The two now lied down next to each other. Gaz with his sniper rifle, and Ark with his laser rangefinder.

Gaz pulled the bipod on his rifle and set up his position on one of the many breaches in the building walls. He went onto his scope. Wind was nill that evening and that would make his job easier; he browsed the courtyard with his scope.

Militants were dismounting from the trucks but some stayed to man the machineguns. They wore all kind of desert garments, which had straps of magazine-placeholders and grenades on their bodies. Some militants wore camouflage pants and hats but most wore their desert cowls and keffiyehs while carrying their famed weapon: the AK. Though not all carried AKs, it was a weapon of preference for AQ and Taliban fighters. Some carried civilian MP5s or Uzis, some even carried 'ancient' weapons like the Lee Enfield; but most had their AKs ready on the long leather straps that were slung around their shoulders. There were a total of fifteen men from those first two vehicles alone, and who they were guarding, Gaz thought, must be someone important. Someone very important. "They've stopped. You seeing this, Rod?"

"Roger." Rodent said. "All sights on the bad-guys, lads."

"They're going in your area, Gaz. Eyes open." Rodent said. Another convoy rolled and it was the convoy Rodent saw earlier. It seemed to bring more men since there were no machineguns on their backs. The Black SUV in the middle stopped, and soon after, its doors opened and a man, very westernly dressed, went out of the car with two escorts- both in suits- walking behind him. They carried more 'black' weapons- MP7s, Gaz could see through his scope, and this guy, must be someone really goddamn important dressing all-black in suit and tie like that.

"Rodent, I need an ID on the one with the suit." He zoomed in with his scope and could see the man's scarred face. He had black hair and a large nose, with a seemingly sinistral look that was caused by his thick Arabic eyebrows.

"That's Abdul Razak… Our Ba'athist." Rodent said as the black-suited man was halfway through the courtyard. The two parties were supposed to meet at the 3-way intersection at the end of the two buildings, and the three HVTs would be target practice for Gaz if it was an assassination mission. But it wasn't.

"If I could just take him out, all our worries would be over in seconds." Gaz said.

"And how in bleeding hell do you suppose are we going out of this complex? City's maybe ours but the suburbs and villages? That's AQ territory, Gaz." Rodent's voice was mixed with radio static.

"QRF?"

"QRF would pull out on the first sight of failure."

"Thanks for reminding me, Rod." Gaz said.

"Shift your scope to the white car. They're going out."

Gaz shifted his scope towards the white sedan. Two able-looking fellows, both in desert garments and thick beards, unarmed, walked into the middle of the courtyard to talk with the suited man, Razak. Gaz couldn't see their faces for they faced the other side, but he could see the Ba'athist's face large and clear.

"We've got a possible ID for Omar Ataf and Abu Youssef" Rodent said. Omar Ataf was the AQ man, while Abu Youssef was the Taliban. The team had seen that the Taliban and the AQ were closely associated, and that the AQ were spread wide across the country.

Rodent went on to command. "Warlord, Warlord, Alpha Six. We've got a possible ID for Razak, Omar Ataf, and Abu Youssef. How copy, over?"

"Solid copy, Alpha Six. Good work."

"What's the ETA on Dagger? Over."

"Five minutes, over."

"Roger that, Warlord. Tell them to hurry up I think these guys are brokering a deal."

As Rodent and Warlord had their conversation Gaz could see that the two sides had met and were having a conversation. They seemed like good friends, and when they had reached a certain part, Abdul Razak raised an arm and one of his men opened the back of the black SUV. Razak's vested men in desert garments scrambled to take a dozen in-suitcase packages and put it next to Razak, while one of Razak's bodyguards was given one. The conversation continued, with Gaz obviously unable to hear it, and Razak told his man to open the suitcase and show what was inside it. And so he released the double locks and opened it.

And Gaz, seeing through his scope, was shocked.

"You seeing this, Ark?"

"Yeah." The spotter replied.

What Gaz saw was not just a set of high-tech, military-level high-explosive bombs; it was a small tank that had the designation of WP. White Phosphorus or Willie Pete as it was usually called, was a type of smoke that could cripple and burn human skin and decimate the person into a burning body. If WP was set in an IED (Improved Explosive Device) along with a high explosive bomb or simply released, could burn an entire block of human beings. Gaz imagined if it was put into a civilian environment and its death-bringing smoke was released - the casualties would be immense. And Iraq had this; and the team, he thought, had to stop it.

Gaz could see the Iraqi Razak raise his arm again, and a man handed over another suitcase. And this suitcase was colored green. A black-suited assistant opened the suitcase and revealed its hold: a green-white tank. Gaz did not know what it was, but it seemed like having a corrosive stamp on it, and that, surely was, something worse than Willy Pete. Gas, perhaps? Still! Even a simple bomb could kill hundreds of civilians, especially things that were traded in secretive circumstances such as this.

"Velcro, you seeing this?" Gaz asked Velcro via radio, for he was the team engineer. "Willie-fucking-Pete, mate."

Velcro, as the team engineer and explosives expert, replied. "Roger. I'm seeing it too. They crazy or some sort? Trying to release Willie Pete on civilians?" Velcro was American so his accent was different. He had a handsome voice and too, handsome looks.

"They took down WTC, and tried to crash a plane on the Pentagon." Rodent joined. "Two-thousand plus were killed. According to my experience we're supposed to expect they'd do this to their own civilians. Or worse, our bases. I'm warning command. Gaz, Ark, take camera shots. This is getting fucked up."

"Roger that." Ark said, and took out a digital camera out of his pocket as he maintained prone position. He took his camera behind his binoculars so that it could zoom in, and took pictures of what he could get from the exchange: the WP, the unknown Gas tanks, the Iraqi, the Taliban…

"Warlord! This is Alpha Six! Code Red! I say again, Code Red!" Rodent warned over the radio. "They've got Whiskey-Mike-Delta, I say again, they've got Whiskey-Mike-Delta!"