Read Online Kill or Capture by Craig Simpson - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Craig Simpson
Ads: Link
him, and the lives of many good men it had cost.
âRoadblocks have been set up around Kandahar, sir. According to reports, many escapees have headed into the old town. The Afghan National Army have Colonel Khalid on the ground there. He intends searching house-to-house.â
Patterson stared at his reflection in the small, cracked shaving mirror, and groaned. Heâd suddenly aged a decade. Colonel Khalid was on first-name terms with the Afghan president. Worse, he was fuelled by ambition. Despite being a fine soldier, it made him reckless and dangerous. Patterson knew on this occasion Khalid was out of his depth. The local garrison of ANA recruits under Khalidâs command wasnât yet ready to undertake such a major operation. Their training was patchy, and theyâd only ever managed to weed out a handful of Taliban sympathisers. Patterson closed his eyes and cursed. âSergeant, weâre going to have to intervene with a show of force. Get Alpha and Bravo Company off their butts and ready to move out in one hour. Call Khalid and request that he secure the area, but not to start the search until our guys arrive to support him. And tell Major Connor I want to see him, now.â
âYes, general.â
âDeltaâs skills may be called upon. And Connor understands the way Jabir thinks.â
CHAPTER THREE
Into the old town
Kandahar’s old town
Mid-morning, Major Nathan Connor and his team arrived in their modified GMV at the outskirts of Kandahar’s old town. It was chaos. Dozens of armoured vehicles were parked up close together. Groups of ANA soldiers stood around at road junctions, while others pulled razor wire across the road to form a barricade. Black Hawk helicopters roared overhead, circling at low altitude. In the searing heat, dozens of US marines in body armour and full kit were standing around clutching their weapons, sweating and waiting nervously to move out; others were running to and fro as final preparations were made. General Patterson’s parting orders rang in Connor’s ears — find Jabir and this time I don’t give a damn whether you kill or capture him! Connor jumped out of the GMV and headed over to Sergeant Baxter from Alpha Company, US Marines, who was holding a map and yelling orders.
“What’s happening?” asked Connor.
Baxter saluted. “Major, we’re preparing to go in. All platoon leaders have been issued with hand-held fingerprint scanners linked to the ISAF prisoner database. Our orders are to check every adult male. If they’re in there, we’ll find them.”
Nodding, Connor snatched the map and studied it. The ancient old town occupied a rectangle covering over a square kilometre. The area was divided by four main streets converging at a central square. Low-rise brick and concrete houses were crammed in with shops and bazaars.
“Where’s Colonel Khalid?” Connor asked Baxter.
The sergeant shrugged. “Not seen him, sir. I’d heard he’s already gone in with a small ANA team. Something about receiving a tip-off and wanting his unit to have the glory of recapturing Jabir Hassani themselves.”
“Just like Khalid,” Connor muttered. “It’s bound to be a trap. Jabir’s no fool. I figure he’ll be long gone by now. OK, carry on. But when you move out, for God’s sake keep your wits about you and make sure CENTCOM gives you constant aerial updates from our drones.”
“Yes, sir.” Baxter strode off, got his men into line, and then moved beyond the barricade.
While travelling into town from Camp Delta, Connor had texted some of his contacts, unscrupulous shopkeepers in the bazaar who sold the most precious and expensive of goods — information. Replies confirmed his suspicions that Jabir had most likely fled the city. But to where? None of his contacts knew. Connor had only one option left — to hang around in the hope that Baxter located one of Jabir’s men who might have the answers they needed.
Connor returned to his GMV and
âRoadblocks have been set up around Kandahar, sir. According to reports, many escapees have headed into the old town. The Afghan National Army have Colonel Khalid on the ground there. He intends searching house-to-house.â
Patterson stared at his reflection in the small, cracked shaving mirror, and groaned. Heâd suddenly aged a decade. Colonel Khalid was on first-name terms with the Afghan president. Worse, he was fuelled by ambition. Despite being a fine soldier, it made him reckless and dangerous. Patterson knew on this occasion Khalid was out of his depth. The local garrison of ANA recruits under Khalidâs command wasnât yet ready to undertake such a major operation. Their training was patchy, and theyâd only ever managed to weed out a handful of Taliban sympathisers. Patterson closed his eyes and cursed. âSergeant, weâre going to have to intervene with a show of force. Get Alpha and Bravo Company off their butts and ready to move out in one hour. Call Khalid and request that he secure the area, but not to start the search until our guys arrive to support him. And tell Major Connor I want to see him, now.â
âYes, general.â
âDeltaâs skills may be called upon. And Connor understands the way Jabir thinks.â
CHAPTER THREE
Into the old town
Kandahar’s old town
Mid-morning, Major Nathan Connor and his team arrived in their modified GMV at the outskirts of Kandahar’s old town. It was chaos. Dozens of armoured vehicles were parked up close together. Groups of ANA soldiers stood around at road junctions, while others pulled razor wire across the road to form a barricade. Black Hawk helicopters roared overhead, circling at low altitude. In the searing heat, dozens of US marines in body armour and full kit were standing around clutching their weapons, sweating and waiting nervously to move out; others were running to and fro as final preparations were made. General Patterson’s parting orders rang in Connor’s ears — find Jabir and this time I don’t give a damn whether you kill or capture him! Connor jumped out of the GMV and headed over to Sergeant Baxter from Alpha Company, US Marines, who was holding a map and yelling orders.
“What’s happening?” asked Connor.
Baxter saluted. “Major, we’re preparing to go in. All platoon leaders have been issued with hand-held fingerprint scanners linked to the ISAF prisoner database. Our orders are to check every adult male. If they’re in there, we’ll find them.”
Nodding, Connor snatched the map and studied it. The ancient old town occupied a rectangle covering over a square kilometre. The area was divided by four main streets converging at a central square. Low-rise brick and concrete houses were crammed in with shops and bazaars.
“Where’s Colonel Khalid?” Connor asked Baxter.
The sergeant shrugged. “Not seen him, sir. I’d heard he’s already gone in with a small ANA team. Something about receiving a tip-off and wanting his unit to have the glory of recapturing Jabir Hassani themselves.”
“Just like Khalid,” Connor muttered. “It’s bound to be a trap. Jabir’s no fool. I figure he’ll be long gone by now. OK, carry on. But when you move out, for God’s sake keep your wits about you and make sure CENTCOM gives you constant aerial updates from our drones.”
“Yes, sir.” Baxter strode off, got his men into line, and then moved beyond the barricade.
While travelling into town from Camp Delta, Connor had texted some of his contacts, unscrupulous shopkeepers in the bazaar who sold the most precious and expensive of goods — information. Replies confirmed his suspicions that Jabir had most likely fled the city. But to where? None of his contacts knew. Connor had only one option left — to hang around in the hope that Baxter located one of Jabir’s men who might have the answers they needed.
Connor returned to his GMV and
Similar Books
