The Becket Approval by Falconer Duncan (interesting books to read TXT) 📕

the convoy, concentrating their fire into the cabs. Gunnymede was stunned. It was an ambush.

Saleem had been seated in the front passenger seat of the rear Toyota, staring out over an uninteresting landscape of brittle bushes, rocks and sand. It’d been a similar view all the way from the Kazakhstan border. He was still cold. The driver, Ibrahim, had asked him if he minded not turning on the heater because it made him sleepy. Saleem had no problem with that. The man had fallen asleep once already while driving. They were crossing Turkmenistan at the time. Saleem had to grab the wheel to prevent what could’ve been a disaster. If he had died, the operation would’ve been cancelled, or at least, just as bad for him, given to someone else. Since then, Saleem didn’t sleep while Ibrahim drove. Saleem was the most important item on the convoy as far as he was concerned.

Saleem and Ibrahim had no knowledge of the black Ford heading towards their convoy. With the dust being kicked up by the lead Toyotas they could see little beyond the vehicle in front. Ibrahim kept pretty close to the tail of the other Toyota. That particular habit had irritated Saleem from the start of their journey and after the first few hundred miles he asked Ibrahim why he drove so close. Ibrahim said he had a fear of another vehicle cutting in to try and separate them. Saleem accepted that as a sound strategy on a busy road. But when Ibrahim continued to do it on narrow dirt roads in the middle of nowhere where the chance of someone cutting in was zero, Saleem asked him again. Ibrahim’s excuse in that case was the concentration helped keep him awake. Saleem philosophised that any help in that department was welcome. He’d more chance of surviving a collision with the back of a vehicle than driving off a cliff.

The Toyota in front stopped suddenly on the packed sand. Ibrahim hit the brakes and skidded into the back of it. They never wore seatbelts and so both men slammed into the dashboard, Saleem hitting his head on the windshield. Neither was badly hurt. Just stunned. But what followed was unexpected and far worse.

Machine-gun fire.

Ibrahim froze as his brain struggled to process what was happening. It was the same for those in the other Toyotas. Saleem, however, was a veteran of vehicle ambushes. The majority of his experiences had been from the air but he’d survived a few ground attacks. Despite being in the drug smuggling business, Ibrahim and the others had never experienced anything like it. Saleem had learned that in a vehicle ambush, if the vehicle you’re in isn’t moving, then get the hell out of it because it’s the vehicle that’s attracting the bullets. And you’d better move really fast!

Saleem barged open the door. Bullets slapped through the Toyota in front as the attackers, on the other side of the vehicle, blasted it on full automatic fire. Saleem saw blood literally spurt out of the metalwork and shattered windows as the driver and passenger were riddled. The attackers would soon be upon the last vehicle. Saleem had seconds. For half of one he remembered his shoulder bag on the floor that contained his personal effects. But even the time spent grabbing for it would likely mean his end. As it was, he probably wouldn’t make it.

Ibrahim was still in his seat as he looked over at Saleem climbing outside. For a slender moment he realised he should be doing the same. Then bullets shredded his head and torso. Those same bullets flew within inches of Saleem who took off with all his might and ran as hard as he could between rocks.

More bullets splattered and ricocheted to his sides as the shooter saw him run. Saleem changed direction as another burst smashed into stones around him. He scrambled up a short incline, rolled over the top and down the other side as bullets flew above him.

Silence fell as the shooting appeared to stop but he continued to run as hard as he possibly could. He would keep running and scrambling until his heart failed him. If there was one thing members of Daesh had learned over the last few years in Iraq and Syria when under attack it was how to run, and run and run.

Gunnymede watched the ambush unfold before his eyes. In less than a minute all three Toyotas were neutralised. One of the attackers looked like he was pursuing someone. He gave chase for a short distance before giving up.

When the firing ceased, the men moved in to open the doors. A shot rang out as a survivor was executed. Silence descended except for the wind gently blowing through the brittle foliage.

Gunnymede processed the situation as he watched the attackers ransack the vehicles, opening up the backs and hauling boxes onto the ground. To do absolutely nothing and stay completely still was his initial choice. Safest. Wisest. Smartest. Stay put until the attackers had gone then get out of there.

He considered the implications of the unfolding incident, the positives and negatives. Lamardi had suggested there was a significant component in the convoy connected to Saleem’s threat against the homeland. Worst case scenario, it could be a bio-chemical substance or dirty bomb material. A nuclear bomb was a distant possibility. There had been rumours for years about a few old Russian miniature suitcase nukes running about from the Cold War. It wasn’t worth thinking about. If there was anything, it was going to be bio-chem. If so, it was now in the hands of a bunch of unknowns. But then, on a positive note, GCHQ would be able to track the MINs and eventually put faces to the men. On the other hand, that might not happen until after they’d handed the device over to other players.

Gunnymede didn’t want to face what was