Rogue Element

They had made good time. Fifteen minutes plus or minus two minutes until pick-up, Wilkes calculated. Enough time for a little defensive work, especially in their rear. He gave the appropriate instructions quietly into the boom mike and directed the core of his group — Joe, Suryei, Curry, Coombs and the Indonesian soldier — to the protective cover of a dense copse of trees. Ellis and Beck crouched, removed their rucksacks and extracted a stack of slim, curved grey claymores. Robson trotted in, took four of the mines, then the three soldiers left in different directions to position them for the greatest defensive effect.

‘Have I got time for a brew-up, boss?’ asked Robson over the comms. Wilkes glanced up at Mac and gave him a quizzical look. And then he realised what Robson was about and gave him the thumb’s up, shaking his head with a half-smile.

Mac quickly checked his pack to ensure he had everything he needed, then dashed to the trail they’d hacked into the bush.

Wilks surveyed the clearing from behind an ancient, half-rotted hardwood. It was not quite as spacious as he had remembered, but big enough, he hoped, to get the V22 in. The wait was making him edgy. They weren’t here for a picnic, after all. He observed that there was fuck-all cover out in the middle of the RV. Withdrawing to the aircraft would be a tricky exercise if the Indons had their shit together. Wilkes’s men could easily be surrounded here and cut down. A couple of well-placed snipers would do the trick. They’d be firing from the dark into the light and they’d be virtually invisible. If the positions were reversed, he wouldn’t think twice about it. He looked up at the sky. Dusk. The night would come down fast.

Was there anything good about this place? Wilkes turned around slowly through 360 degrees, considering their position. Well, at least they didn’t have to make their way back to the crash site of the Qantas plane, as originally planned. The Indon soldiers would have to find them, and that wouldn’t be easy; the jungle was some of the thickest he’d ever seen. It would be helpful if the Indons took the easy way and wandered up the track they’d slashed in the jungle. The claymores Robson was positioning would provide a warm welcome, and alert the Australians to any advance in their rear.

Also, there would be enough room in here to launch grenades from the M203s, without worrying about the ordnance being deflected back at them. Again, thinking negatively, if the Indonesians had grenade launchers, the open space would work for them too, and for exactly the same reason. Wilkes frowned. The more he thought about it, the more this place was bad news.

He sighted down his Minimi machine gun, resting the short barrel against the tree. He had an unobstructed field of fire across the clearing and into the trees on the opposite side. He had two other Minimis in the group. He’d keep one back for roving fire. The other he’d position twenty-five metres along the tree line, providing a wider field of fire than if just one of the Minimis had been employed. Morgan could rove with his H&K sub-machine gun, pitching in where needed.

Wilkes wondered whether he was being paranoid but decided that he was just being careful. He was still alive and kicking after all these years of soldiering and he intended to stay that way. Furthermore, something told him that this mission was perhaps the most important of his career. He was going to get these two civilians back in one piece, even if it killed him. He smirked at himself for his own poor choice of words.

Beck caught Wilkes’s eye away to the left and gave a nod. The sergeant held up seven fingers. Seven minutes till pick-up.

Robson returned.

‘Mac, take your Minimi down there,’ he said, pointing to another large tree.

‘Easy, boss.’ Robson checked his weapon and sprang through the jungle, avoiding clear space. He lay down on his stomach behind a rock and scanned the tree line.

Automatic fire cracked unexpectedly from the edge of the clearing opposite, and the tree beside Wilkes’s face exploded in a cloud of pulverised wood. He turned to look quickly over his shoulder and saw Coombs go down, shot, then Curry. The woman, Suryei, was next. She spun on her heels and fell over Joe, who was lying on the ground. The copse of trees provided absolutely no cover from gunfire directly opposite. It happened so fast. Wilkes dropped to one knee. He watched for the muzzle flash amongst the black and raked the area with a quick burst to see if it would be returned.