road towards the British encampment before anyone could do anything about it.
Come on, come on.
But then, what if there was an obstruction, a burned-out vehicle, or a deliberately constructed roadblock? They’d find themselves stuck. Andy decided, on reflection, that the young officer’s caution was well-placed. But time was against them, the sun was breaching the horizon now, and even from this side of the bridge, he could sense Al-Bayji was beginning to stir, perhaps readying itself to face a second day of sectarian carnage.
Lieutenant Carter raised his arm once again, balled his fist and stuck a thumb upwards.
‘All clear ahead,’ said Westley, translating the hand signal for them.
And then the officer patted the top of his helmet with the palm of his gloved hand.
‘Follow me.’
Carter’s vehicle lurched gently forward with a puff of exhaust, off down the pitted tarmac road towards the bridge, and one by one the convoy of vehicles revved up and followed on.
‘Here goes,’ said Mike, winding his window down and racking his AK, ready for action. The American looked comfortable with the assault rifle in both hands. But then, Andy reflected, Mike was probably the kind of guy that had a display-case back home in Texas full of interesting firearms.
Andy noticed a look of unease, perhaps anger, flashing across the face of Amal, and a subtle gesture from Farid, placing a calming hand on the lad’s arm.
CHAPTER 14
6.57 a.m. local time Al-Bayji, Iraq
Lieutenant Carter’s Land Rover rolled off the end of the bridge and into the outskirts of the town, with the convoy following tightly behind.
Up close, the signs of yesterday’s chaos were apparent. Splashed across the side of the road, Andy spotted a dark, almost black, pool of congealed blood and a long smear leading away from it towards the doorway of a nearby building; no doubt the body of some poor unfortunate dragged back home to be mourned in private.
The lead Rover picked up speed as it rumbled down a relatively wide, but scarred, road, flanked with a few single-storey buildings. They approached an open area that Andy recalled passing through about this time yesterday, a market square full of traders preparing their stalls for the day ahead. This morning it was deserted.
Travelling through this open and exposed part of the town, he felt they were a little less vulnerable. The doorways, the windows, the roof terraces from which an opportunistic ambush might be launched, were far enough away from them, beyond the area of the market-place, that most of the shots would go wide, and they’d have a chance to react. However, up ahead the road that they were cruising along at a fair clip, punishing the suspension of each vehicle with every pot-hole, carried on towards the centre of town, and vanilla-hued buildings, one or two storeys high, encroached on either side. To Andy’s inexperienced eye, the way ahead looked dangerously constricted and overlooked.
‘Keep yer eyes peeled lads,’ said Westley, his cocky demeanour now subdued and replaced with a flinty wariness.
Mike exchanged a glance with Andy.
‘Rooftops an’ garden walls,’ Westley added. ‘They don’t like firing off from inside the buildings, like . . . it leaves ’em vulnerable to being bottled up.’
Mike seemed to understand that. ‘Gotcha,’ he replied.
Lieutenant Carter’s Rover led them into a shaded alley, and as the sun flickered and disappeared behind the rooftops overlooking them, it felt disturbingly like driving into the gaping jaws of some menacing beast.
‘Shit,’ muttered Andy.
Let’s do this quickly.
The road bent round to the right, a tight corner that had them slowing down to a crawl as they weaved their way past a van parked inconveniently on the bend.
And then Carter’s Rover came to an abrupt halt.
Amal responded quickly enough so that they slewed to a halt only a foot from the Rover in front.
‘What’s going on?’ asked Mike. The van and the corner were obscuring Carter’s vehicle from view.
Westley put a hand to the ear of his PRR - personal role radio - headset. ‘CO says the road round the corner’s blocked. We’ve got to fuckin’ well back up and find another way through.’
Andy turned in his seat, and saw the rear-most Rover, with Sergeant Bolton up top, reversing already.
And that’s when he heard the first crack of gunfire.
‘Ahh shit, someone’s firing already,’ growled Mike.
Turning to face forward again, he saw a flicker of movement from the balcony of a building directly ahead and above them. The squaddie on top cover in the Rover just in front of them spotted the same movement,