There was nothing here left to kill.
Court had seen the first decayed body the moment he climbed onto the other BMP and sat down next to the turret. Just off the broken road, inside a shelled storefront, a cadaver lay with most of its clothing still intact. He saw more bodies, some lying out in the open, over the next few minutes.
He found himself confused by the placement and disposition of the corpses. They weren’t blown to bits; they were just lying around, either in rubble or out on the sidewalks and streets.
Saunders was seated at Court’s shoulder and answered the question before Court posed it by leaning into his ear to speak over the big engine and grinding tracks below them. “Chlorine.”
“What’s that?”
“Gas attack. From the look of the bodies it happened a couple weeks ago. The Syrian Air Force dropped barrel bombs on the town. Looks like they used conventional bombs first, and a lot of them, and then just said ‘stuff it’ and dropped some chlorine. Killed anyone left who was out in the open. Bet it sank down into the bunkers and tore up some lungs and throats in there, too. Some of these poor buggers probably came running out of their holes to try to find air, but there was no air to be had.” Saunders sniffed. “Yeah. The gas is gone, but the stink of dead flesh is bloody obvious.”
“Right,” Court said. And then, “This doesn’t bother you at all, does it?”
“Said the bloke who nicked somebody’s baby.”
Court turned away. “You guys are pure evil.”
“You’ll catch up, mate. The day isn’t done yet, and tonight’s gonna be a horror show.”
* * *
? ? ?
Two hours before sunset the unit had made it to the southeastern side of the village and found an overwatch on the top floor of a five-story apartment complex. Court sat in a corner bedroom filled with trash strewn around amid the broken masonry. Through a window to the east he could see the next town, and through a window to the south he could see desert, with low rolling hills.
Anders sat nearby in the same room, and he scanned the south with his binos. “Wonder who’s hiding up there.”
Court had been thinking the exact same thing. While all day long he’d been hearing reports of fighting in the hills to the north, the hills to the south loomed much closer and more ominous to this little town.
Van Wyk assembled the men in the living room of the apartment a few minutes later. He held his radio in his hand, and he was in comms with a Desert Hawks major back at the command post. The two men spoke in Arabic for a minute more before the team leader addressed the eleven men. “Right. Here’s the plan. The Hawks have finished their work in the northern hills and they’re on their way back here. Ali is linking with them ten klicks out of town in the open desert, and at sunset they’re surrounding the next town on the highway.
“I am told they believe there might be some FSA elements in there from the force they encountered in the hills. They are going to start shelling after sunset, and you can expect the Hawks to pound that town with rockets, tanks, and mortars for a few hours. This is the outer edge of the security perimeter they’ve been asked to establish, and they don’t want any enemy forces remaining.”
“What about us?” asked Anders.
Van Wyk said, “We’ll go into the town behind the main element.”
“More room clearing?” Broz asked, a grumble in his voice telegraphing his feeling about it all.
Van Wyk said, “There is a mosque in that town that has supported anti-regime forces in the past. The Desert Hawks don’t feel great about flattening the mosque, so we’re going in to clear it.”
Saunders mumbled, “Pussies.”
Court said, “ROEs?” He was asking about the rules of engagement, and there was a snicker from one of the mercs in the back of the apartment’s living room.
Van Wyk said, “If they are in that mosque, they are considered hostile. No quarter given.”
Court wanted to hear Van Wyk point-blank say he was ordering his people to kill unarmed civilians, but he decided he wouldn’t press it. The insinuation was clear, and anything else Court did to reveal that he was uneased by what was happening around him would just detract from his cover.
Anders said, “Boss, can you ask the TOC about those hills to the south? We’re sitting ducks from any indirect fire positions up there.”
Van Wyk looked out the window at the hills, and then he spoke into the radio. The major replied and the South African translated. “He said those hills are outside the security perimeter, but SAA intelligence says it’s a heavy opposition presence, so use caution. Still, he’s not worried about an attack from the south.”
Anders said, “Of course he’s not, because he’s back at the fucking command post in the refinery.”
Court asked, “Is it FSA or ISIS?”
Van Wyk looked at Court. “The major said it was terrorists, which is the word they use for any opposition.”
Saunders chimed in. “Wade, the only thing you need to know is that it’s a bunch of hatey, beardy blokes who will pull the trigger as soon as they can get your melon in their gun sights.”
Court let it go.
Anders pushed the issue of their isolation here. “There’s a dozen of us total in this little town. If somebody attacks across that strip of desert from those hills, they could be on us in minutes.”
Van Wyk said, “All right, Anders, I hear you. Just stay out of the windows on the south. Do not reveal your positions to anyone with long glass in that direction.”
* * *
? ? ?
The meeting broke up, and a few minutes later Court was back at his post by the windows to the east. He could still see out to the south, as well, but he was staying far back in the room so he couldn’t be sighted from that direction.
He was frustrated about the intel he had about Azzam and his inability to pass it on to those who could exploit it. He needed to get the hell out of here, and now. He’d done what he could to search the apartment for a cell phone while the team was settling in to their defensive positions, but he’d not found anything other than a dead wall phone that had been ripped from the wall when bomb shrapnel had destroyed most of the unit. But even though this one apartment was a dry hole, he figured if he had enough time to search the ghost town around him he would be able to find a phone, and with it he could contact Voland.
But he wouldn’t have the time because he was going to be posted right here till it was time to climb back aboard the BMP and hit the next town.
And getting back on mission wasn’t the only reason he wanted to get the hell out of here.
His stomach churned thinking about the attack to come.
The late-afternoon sun was low now in the west; looking to the east through binoculars, Court could see flickers of reflections from the few bits of glass still in the windows of buildings of the next town on the highway. He wondered if he’d find that this area had been hit with chlorine bombs like the one he was in now, and he also wondered if the Desert Hawks were going to utterly level it tonight when the sun went down.
He was all but certain they would, and then he and his colleagues would go in and eradicate any survivors hiding in the rubble.
With an entire battalion of militia raiding in the dead of night, along with a small team of shock troop mercenaries used to raid the mosque and kill anything that moved within, this was going to be a massacre; that much was clear.
Court lowered his binos, then crawled back over to the window to the south. Anders was in the room with him, but the Dutchman ignored him as he dug into a bag of rice and ate it with his fingers.
Court looked out to the southwest, into the low sun again, and then he looked out to the hills to the south.
And he got an idea, but it was not an idea that made him feel particularly buoyant. No, the sickening dread that he’d felt about taking part in this evening’s slaughter was replaced by a sickening dread about what he’d just decided to do.
CHAPTER 63
From his position on the floor in the corner of the apartment, Court looked around the bedroom a minute, searching for an item necessary to implement his plan. He couldn’t find what he was looking for here, so he told Anders to cover his position for a moment, then went out into the living room. A few men sat around at the windows looking east, and none paid much attention to him.
When he’d surreptitiously hunted for a phone earlier, he’d noticed a completely shattered boom box on the floor of the apartment, next to the overturned shelf where it had obviously stood. On the floor around the shelf were a dozen CDs, some in their cases, some lying loose.
Court checked the men around him, and when no one was looking his way, he knelt and snatched up three of the CDs, then dropped them into a cargo pocket in his pants and returned to the room in the southeast corner of the building.