An Enemy Within by Roy David

tears, she nodded.
    ‘The guy thinks they should be paid for having their picture taken,’ the interpreter said.
    ‘Tell him the US budget doesn’t stretch that far,’ McDermott said. ‘And tell him to mind his manners or we’ll be back to press charges.’
    Checking Alex was indeed okay, he ordered his men to move on.
    They turned into al-Rasheed Street and on to a narrow stretch of unmade road, tall paint-flaked buildings either side. Some façades flaunted pock-marked masks of crumbling stucco. Alex stepped in behind the sporadic line of the lieutenant’s group, rattling off a few pictures of the backs of the men, theshutter speed set to take in the whole of the vista to give the frames more depth.
    ‘I don’t like the look of this, too quiet. Stay close,’ McDermott half-whispered to her, scanning the vicinity.
    Suddenly, a shot rang out, ear-splitting in the confines of the street. Then another two in quick succession. The rounds whistled off nearby walls, creating splintered puffs of cement dust. Alex froze. Engulfed in panic, she stood stock-still not knowing what to do, where to turn.
    McDermott glanced back, saw her. A standing target. Taking half a dozen measured running strides, he launched himself at her, grabbing her jacket and dragging her backwards into a doorway. A second later, another two rounds hit the ground where she’d been standing. She saw the mud dancing where they hit the earth.
    ‘Stay here, don’t move,’ he said firmly, shielding her.
    ‘A fix, anyone,’ he shouted.
    Fear choking her, she gasped for breath in short bursts, pressing backwards into the opening. He was up against her, so close she could smell the faint musk of his deodorant, could see the droplets of sweat that ran down his shirt from the nape of his neck. Squinting with one eye closed, she was able to follow the line of sight of his rifle as he scanned the buildings opposite. Now, she hardly dared breathe.
    Suddenly, she was aware of his hand reaching behind him. It touched her. Jesus, what was he doing? She shrieked.
    ‘Alex, I’m searching for a door knob – see if you can open this door.’
    ‘I’ve tried already – there’s nothing there,’ she said.
    Over his shoulder she could see the men had fanned out, two of them crouching against a wall, several more in doorways, another lying prone behind a refuse bin. Bunching together would have given the perpetrator the best chance of a hit. Worse still, a grenade would have taken several of them out.Her knees began to tremble at the vision of the dust flying off the ground. McDermott had saved her life.
    He took several steps forward, glanced back at her. She gave him a thin, nervous half-smile as he radioed Bobby-Jo to bring the Bradley round to the far end of the street. And to ‘stop at nothing’.
    ‘Anyone hit?’
    ‘Negative, Lieutenant,’ came back several replies in ragged succession.
    Sgt Rath jogged backwards from his forward position to join McDermott. Alex noticed the consternation in the sergeant’s face. What a picture .
    ‘I’d say the source was over there, Lieutenant,’ he said, pointing to an old building with a brown door, a shop front now boarded up.
    McDermott gestured to three of the men closest to the building to rush it, two others to mount a covering position. Leading the way, P.J. barged into the door, lunging with a hefty shoulder charge to finally force it open. Alex just caught sight of him disappearing through the doorway followed by the rest.
    Several minutes passed. She could feel her heart thumping as she tried to suck in air. She braced herself. There could be more shots any second. Was she still a sitting duck?
    ‘Stay here,’ McDermott said, making a dash for the building.
    She tried to protest, but only a weak, cracked mumble came out of a throat seared dry with terror. Now facing the open street, a dull, aching dread took over. A feeling of desolation grabbed at her, tormenting her insides. For a moment, she had