then.’ Rosemont raised the M4 carbine on his lap and clicked off the safety. Cross did the same with his own weapon. They were meeting friendlies, but those at the sharp end of intelligence work in the CIA’s Special Activities Division preferred to be ready for any eventuality.
Arnold brought the Toyota in. The point of orange light was revealed as a small campfire, figures standing around the dancing flames. All were armed, the fire’s glow also reflecting dully off assorted Kalashnikov rifles. To Rosemont’s relief, none were pointed at the approaching vehicle.
Yet.
The 4×4 halted. The men around the fire stood watching, waiting for its occupants to make the first move. ‘All right,’ said Rosemont. ‘I’ll go meet them.’
The CIA commander opened the door and stepped out. The action brought a response, some of the Ma’dan raising their guns. He took a deep breath. ‘Kerim! Is Kerim here?’
Mutterings in Arabic, then a man stepped forward. ‘I am Kerim. You are Michael?’
‘Yes.’
Kerim waved him closer. The Ma’dan leader was in his early thirties, but a hard life in the marshes had added a decade of wear to his face. ‘Michael, hello,’ he said, before embracing the American and kissing him on both cheeks.
‘Call me Mike,’ Rosemont said with a smile.
The Arab returned it. ‘It is very good to see you … Mike. We have waited a long time for this day. When you come to kill Saddam’ – a spitting sound, echoed by the others as they heard the hated dictator’s name – ‘we will fight beside you. But his soldiers, they have tanks, helicopters. These are no good.’ He held up his dented AK-47. ‘We need more.’
‘You’ll have more.’ Rosemont signalled to the two men in the Toyota. ‘Bring ’em their toys!’
‘You’ve got the intel?’ asked Cross as he got out.
‘Show of good faith. Come on.’
Cross was aggrieved by the change of plan, but he went with Arnold to the truck’s rear. Each took out a crate and crunched through dead reeds to bring it to the group. ‘This fire’ll be visible for miles,’ the Virginian complained. ‘Stupid making it out in the open, real stupid.’
Kerim bristled. Rosemont shot Cross an irritated look, but knew he was right. ‘You should put this out now we’re here,’ he told the Ma’dan leader. Kerim gave an order, and one of his men kicked dirt over the little pyre. ‘Why didn’t you set up in those ruins?’
The suggestion seemed to unsettle his contact. ‘That is … not a good place,’ said Kerim, glancing almost nervously towards the waterlogged structure. ‘If it had been up to us, we would not have chosen to meet you here.’
‘Why not?’ asked Arnold, setting down his case.
‘It is a place of death. Even before the water fell, all the marsh tribes stayed away from it. It is said that …’ He hesitated. ‘That the end of the world will begin there. Allah, praise be unto him, will send out His angels to burn the earth.’
‘You mean God,’ snapped Cross.
Kerim was momentarily confused. ‘Allah is God, yes. But it is a place we fear.’
With the fire extinguished, the ragged ruins were discernible in the moon’s pallid light. They were not large, the outer buildings and walls having crumbled, but it seemed to Rosemont that the squat central structure had remained mostly intact. How long had it been submerged? Centuries, millennia? There was something indefinably ancient about it.
Not that it mattered. His only concerns were of the present. ‘Well, here’s something that’ll make Saddam fear you ,’ he said, switching on a flashlight and opening one of the crates.
Its contents produced sounds of awe and excitement from the Ma’dan. Rosemont lifted out an olive-drab tube. ‘This is an M72 LAW rocket – LAW stands for light anti-tank weapon. We’ll show you how to use them, but if you can fire a rifle, you can fire one of these. We’ve also brought a couple thousand rounds of AK
Arnold brought the Toyota in. The point of orange light was revealed as a small campfire, figures standing around the dancing flames. All were armed, the fire’s glow also reflecting dully off assorted Kalashnikov rifles. To Rosemont’s relief, none were pointed at the approaching vehicle.
Yet.
The 4×4 halted. The men around the fire stood watching, waiting for its occupants to make the first move. ‘All right,’ said Rosemont. ‘I’ll go meet them.’
The CIA commander opened the door and stepped out. The action brought a response, some of the Ma’dan raising their guns. He took a deep breath. ‘Kerim! Is Kerim here?’
Mutterings in Arabic, then a man stepped forward. ‘I am Kerim. You are Michael?’
‘Yes.’
Kerim waved him closer. The Ma’dan leader was in his early thirties, but a hard life in the marshes had added a decade of wear to his face. ‘Michael, hello,’ he said, before embracing the American and kissing him on both cheeks.
‘Call me Mike,’ Rosemont said with a smile.
The Arab returned it. ‘It is very good to see you … Mike. We have waited a long time for this day. When you come to kill Saddam’ – a spitting sound, echoed by the others as they heard the hated dictator’s name – ‘we will fight beside you. But his soldiers, they have tanks, helicopters. These are no good.’ He held up his dented AK-47. ‘We need more.’
‘You’ll have more.’ Rosemont signalled to the two men in the Toyota. ‘Bring ’em their toys!’
‘You’ve got the intel?’ asked Cross as he got out.
‘Show of good faith. Come on.’
Cross was aggrieved by the change of plan, but he went with Arnold to the truck’s rear. Each took out a crate and crunched through dead reeds to bring it to the group. ‘This fire’ll be visible for miles,’ the Virginian complained. ‘Stupid making it out in the open, real stupid.’
Kerim bristled. Rosemont shot Cross an irritated look, but knew he was right. ‘You should put this out now we’re here,’ he told the Ma’dan leader. Kerim gave an order, and one of his men kicked dirt over the little pyre. ‘Why didn’t you set up in those ruins?’
The suggestion seemed to unsettle his contact. ‘That is … not a good place,’ said Kerim, glancing almost nervously towards the waterlogged structure. ‘If it had been up to us, we would not have chosen to meet you here.’
‘Why not?’ asked Arnold, setting down his case.
‘It is a place of death. Even before the water fell, all the marsh tribes stayed away from it. It is said that …’ He hesitated. ‘That the end of the world will begin there. Allah, praise be unto him, will send out His angels to burn the earth.’
‘You mean God,’ snapped Cross.
Kerim was momentarily confused. ‘Allah is God, yes. But it is a place we fear.’
With the fire extinguished, the ragged ruins were discernible in the moon’s pallid light. They were not large, the outer buildings and walls having crumbled, but it seemed to Rosemont that the squat central structure had remained mostly intact. How long had it been submerged? Centuries, millennia? There was something indefinably ancient about it.
Not that it mattered. His only concerns were of the present. ‘Well, here’s something that’ll make Saddam fear you ,’ he said, switching on a flashlight and opening one of the crates.
Its contents produced sounds of awe and excitement from the Ma’dan. Rosemont lifted out an olive-drab tube. ‘This is an M72 LAW rocket – LAW stands for light anti-tank weapon. We’ll show you how to use them, but if you can fire a rifle, you can fire one of these. We’ve also brought a couple thousand rounds of AK
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