Rafah. I should explain that the entire beach area here though used by Palestinians for leisure is also a no go area. Israel has a blockade on the entire coast. Khalil’s group took me out on more than one occasion and they set booby traps on the beaches for any unsuspecting Israeli marines that come ashore. On some nights if they weren’t triggered we would go out and reset them elsewhere.”
Hutchinson was horrified.
“Did they kill anyone?”
“Not in the time I was there. I went out with them every night for a week.”
“Doesn’t that make you a terrorist as well?” Hutchinson asked.
“In the eyes of Israel maybe, or maybe our own governments, but at the end of the day I’m a journalist and I will do what is needed to get my story out.”
“I suppose so,” the American said.
Natalie just smiled at Dennis. She had gotten to understand with him that the story always came fist. No matter the risks.
“Come on,” Dennis said, “Let’s see if either of you can shoot a gun.”
Khalil Al Massri led them to an area away from the main road where there were sand bags piled higher than a man. Here, driven into the ground were wooden posts on top of which were targets. Some were roughly drawn outlines of people. Others just circles painted with a bullseye. Dennis was up first and he took aim with his AR-15 and splattered the body of a drawn target with a clip of bullets. He then let his machine gun drop to his chest, held by the straps, and pulled out the Sig-pro handgun from his thigh holster and holding it with both hands he emptied a clip into the target’s head.
Al Massri watched on, a little impressed.
“I see you have forgotten nothing,” he said as Dennis holstered the handgun.
“It’s just like riding a bike.”
“You,” Al Massri gestured at Hutchinson.
The American stepped up to where Dennis had stood. He raised the AR-15 to shoulder height, sighted down it and fired. He wasn’t prepared for the powerful kick it produced and it caused him to miss the target. Small puffs of sand erupted from the sand bags. Hutchinson stopped firing. Al Massri moved to him and put a hand on the gun.
“Hold it here like this. Tighter. That’s it. In closer to your shoulder. That’s better. Now sight down the barrel, line up with the sight at the tip. Now fire.”
The first bullet hit the target in the shoulder.
“Aim a bit lower, to the left. That’s it. Fire.”
Hutchinson hit the target in the chest.
“Good,” Al Massri said, “That would kill your opponent. Try again.”
This time Hutchinson hit the target easily. He emptied the clip into the chest. Then when the bullets ran out he turned to his companions with a big, beaming grin.
“Your sidearm,” Dennis said.
“Oh yeah right.”
Hutchinson reached down for the Sig-pro, brought it up and in his haste shot the target in the throat.
“Ouch,” Dennis said, “That would do the trick.”
Hutchinson aimed higher with both hands and emptied the gun into the targets face.
“Nasty,” Dennis said, a little impressed.
“You,” Al Massri said to Natalie.
Natalie stomped up to where the other two had stood, leaned her AK-47 over at an angle, flicked the safety switch to semi-automatic fire, levelled the gun at waist height and fired single shots at the target. Every bullet found its mark. Then she flicked the safety to auto, raised the gun to shoulder height and emptied the rest of the clip into the wooden target. She then lowered the gun again and turned to Dennis who was watching her open mouthed.
“Any good?” she asked.
Dennis got up and approached the target, still open mouthed. He examined the bullet holes she’d made then turned to look at her.
“Where the hell did you learn to shoot like that?”
“Believe it or not I do listen to what you say.”
“Yeah but even so,” Dennis looked back at the target.
Then Natalie laughed. Then he laughed. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her close.
“Seriously baby. Watching you fire that gun was fucking hot!”
He was about to snog her when he remembered that Al Massri and his men were present and that such an outward show of affection in public would not be appreciated. Then he was letting go of her and they all spun around and everyone was looking up into the sky as a Hercules transporter plane roared past very low. On its wings were red crosses but there was no mistaking the death’s head skull on