Screams came from the middle room. Dom swung round. He got some footage through the half-closed door as women, young and old, huddled on the floor with the children. The other RMP jabbered away in Arabic, trying to calm them as she opened the mailbag and handed the kids little day sacks. Bad cop, good cop.
The Rifleman guarding the door pointed at Dom's camera. 'Not here, mate. Just let her do her stuff. Leave the women alone and they'll tell you more than these cunts.'
Flashes from Pete's camera bounced into the hallway from the third room. I went with Dom to see the body of another man of fighting age, a bit older than the last, stretched out on the floor. His blood soaked the carpet and had splattered over a pile of what looked like mud bricks wrapped in heavy polythene in front of the TV. Tom and Jerry kicked the shit out of each other on screen. An AK lay in the corner. There was a pistol tucked under the waistband of his jeans. Muqtada Al-Sadr, sunbeams radiating from behind his head, gazed down at him from a massive poster on the wall.
Terry stood over him, waiting to see who he'd dropped.
A corporal with a set of picture cards was down on his knees, inspecting his handiwork. 'Yep, you got him. One of the bombers.'
Dom was examining the pile of brown blocks. 'And what looks like half Afghanistan's heroin output for a month.'
The lad's face lit up as he took slaps on the back from the lads.
Pete did the same. 'Well done, mate – and still alive to tell your old man the tale. Good news.'
Our PRRs sparked up. 'One dead, one lifted,' the company commander said. 'They've confirmed, we've got them both.'
A mobile phone rang the Nokia tune and its display flashed in the dead man's jeans.
Dom and Pete filmed the AK and the polythene blocks of heroin being placed in clear-plastic evidence bags. Kingsmen took digital pictures of notebooks, photographs and anything else evidential before it, too, was bagged up and taken away.
Terry nodded down at the body. The mobile was still ringing. 'Wonder if it's his mates warning him there's a patrol.'
Pete smiled back. 'Nah, it's the neighbours telling him to turn the fucking noise down.'
Our PRRs sparked up once more as Dave now took control from the street. 'OK, listen in. Barney, your snipers set?'
'Set.'
'Wagon commanders, set?'
'Yeah, all set.' The Fijian sounded as if he was ordering pizza.
'Strike team, crack on and finish the search. I want this done quickly before we're taking incoming.'
They lifted books from their shelves, flicked through all the pages, and pulled drawers from an antique sideboard that might have been looted from Basra Palace.
We moved back into the other room. Dom filmed the live body again. The guy was still on his knees, but his plasticuffed hands were now covered with a clear-plastic bag to preserve any explosive or weapon residue on his skin. He also had a set of defenders over his ears, and a white markerboard hung round his neck on a loop of paracord upon which the name SADIQ had been written in marker pen. A yellow cyalume stick was taped to the board to help with ID in the confusion and darkness. The interrogator stood over him, taking digital pictures.
Dave came into the building and got on his PRR. 'All call signs, stand to. They'll be here soon.'
He grabbed a squaddy in body armour moving past him. 'Where are the women and kids?'
He was directed to the middle room. He knocked on the door. 'OK, girls, let's get them out.'
The kids were playing with colouring books, plastic toys, the sort of stuff they hand out on long-haul flights. The women were totally covered. Evidence bags containing three mobile phones and a couple of notebooks lay by their feet. The RMPs were scribbling details.
The search teams had unearthed more weapons. A couple of AKs, some pistols and ammunition were being bagged up, together with some DVDs. According to the crude photocopies on the covers, they were of Western hostages being decapitated, Algerian soldiers having their throats slit, and IED attacks on American Humvees. Dom filmed it all with the IR.
The RMPs and a couple of Riflemen escorted the women and kids to a Bulldog. They would sit out the next couple of hours in cover while the rest of us waited for the inevitable.
The search team entered the newly vacated room and started to