Ambush.

At the back of his mind Holden thought the attacker, whoever he was wasn't particularly well trained. Rather than firing short controlled bursts the shooter was simply firing one long burst and marching his fire up the street towards the car. Holden watched almost transfixed as tracers ricocheted down the narrow street, while others kicked up gout's of tarmac, dirt and concrete from the road each round getting closer and closer to the car.

The Ambush hadn't been particularly slick or well planned, they'd turned into a street which they hoped would lead them to a main road heading directly out of the town, but as the first car had made the turn two vehicles had pulled out to block their path a dusty red pickup and a battered white Mercedes, the shooting started as the drivers of both vehicles had jumped out and ran for cover.

Considering the accuracy of the ambushers in retrospect Holden thought it was probably a fluke the first burst of fire had blown out the windscreen, throwing Pat and jock back in their seats before Holden even had a chance to tell Pat to reverse.

Holden lent forward past the drivers seat to try and pulling Pat off the steering wheel where he'd slumped, Paddy's chest was covered with blood and Holden struggled to find a pulse, he gave up when the another round hit the car, it sounded like someone had just jumped on the bonnet. The second round blew the remainder of the windscreen out and punched a fist sized hole through Paddy's body, the drivers seat, and the rear passenger seat, filling the car with smoke, glass,dust and blood. Holden didn't have to to check on Jock he wasn't going to stay in the car, he grabbed von Junzt by his jacket and kicked the passenger side door open only to have it torn of its hinges moments later as it was struck by one of the large rounds pummeling the car.

Almost crawling on all fours the two of them piled out of the Hyundai, as they did so they felt it lurch almost tipping them out onto the kerb another heavy round had struck the front axle and broke it in two. Clear of the four by four they sat momentarily in the gutter.
Fifty metres down the road the other 4x4 had stopped, it was slewed across the road the with the remainder of the team using it as cover as they poured fire down the road towards their ambushers. He saw Dennis wave frantically trying to get them to run back to the rest of the team. He thought momentarily about grabbing the German and dragging him along the road to the safety of the others, but the car continued to be hammered by their unseen attackers another tyre blew out while they sat their. Holden decided they'd never make it they needed a safer route.

He hauled the German to his feet and pushed him towards the rusted iron door which marked the entrance to someones home. The door was locked or bolted but definitely not opening, they squeezed themselves into the doorway as their attackers continued to pour fire into the car behind them, distracted by the pyrotechnics their ambushers systematically shot it apart.

Suddenly the door was pulled open from the other side and Holden found himself staring into the face of a very startled Iraqi. The Iraqi started to shout and both fumbled to bring their weapons to bear, Holden slammed his shoulder against the door pushing it open at the same time dragging his Demarco around and pushing its muzzle through the now open doorway and burying it in the mans stomach before pulling the trigger. It wasn't like the movies the man wasn't thrown back he simply crumpled where he stood.

Pulling von Junzt through the door Holden found himself in a small courtyard, he put his back against the door and started pushing it closed. The second Iraqi came running out of the house just as the door was shut, he was struggling to load an RPG launcher as he went and was totally oblivious to Holden and von Junzt. Holden emptied his whole magazine didn't stop firing until he heard the dead mans click.

They were both careful to stepped over the Iraqi as they went through the doorway into the house.

Holden moved to stand just inside the doorway hidden in shadow, every so often he'd lean forward just enough, to scan the small courtyard; the two Iraqis they'd run into as they entered the courtyard, lay bleeding in the sun, the one with the rocket launcher was definitely dead, but every so often in the lulls between bursts of fire outside, he'd hear the first one crying softly to himself.

Outside the gunfire seemed to slacken and he could hear at least one of the team's cars driving away. He knew the team would be driving back to the last agreed rendezvous point, an alley a several hundred meters back along their route, he hoped conditions would allow them to wait there a few minutes so he and the German could get back to them, but if the team had other casualties they'd want to get back them back to the US base and proper medical attention, he and the German would be expected to hide or extract themselves an unlikely proposition.

Holden tried his radio handset again, he must have damage it as he pushed through the doorway as the handset had a large crack in it and all he could get out of it was the hiss of static. Behind him the von Junzt crouched in the middle of the doorway by the body of the second Iraqi; Holden thought he might be having a bit of a breakdown until he heard him muttering to himself, momentarily he wondered why Latin then realised he must be praying.

Noise at the back of the house made them both look up, Holden gripped the Demarco and shifted towards the corner of the room away from the doorway from where he could cover both the doors, he hissed at von Junzt trying to attract his attention, but the German simply held up a hand to silence him rocking backwards and forwards on his heels he reached forward and started to draw in the Iraqi's blood with his finger.

"Fuck he's flipped" Holden thought. standing, he took two steps to across the room, reaching out with one hand intent on grabbing the von Junzt by the collar and pulling him back into the corner, but as he did so he realised he'd made a serious mistake, the Iraqi who stepped into the doorway had his weapon already at the shoulder and instantly swung it to cover where the two of them crouched by the body. There was absolutely no way Holden was going to be able to bring his gun to bear before the Iraqi shot them both, unlike the amateurs in the street this man carried himself like a professional.

"Its alright mate, no need to get all hasty"

Holden laid the Demarco down on the ground, then held out his hands palm up.

"see mate no gun"
The Iraqi lent into the room checking the corners, he yelled in Arabic to someone out of sight behind him, somewhere from the the back of the house came a response. Holden continued trying to keep his voice level and not show any fear.

"We just all need to be calm about this, no reason we can't be friendly, we're worth more to you alive than dead eh."

The Iraqi ignored him, walked into the room and knelt down by the body quickly checking for a pulse, then frisking the body. Holden wondered whether he should try overpowering him but the Iraqis gun rested on his knees muzzle pointing uncomfortably at his crotch, unless he could overpower him straight away he'd likely wind up seriously injured after which the Iraqi's friends would likely arrive and kill them both.

"he was like that when we got here mate, we tried to save him but he was dead already".

Still the Iraqi ignored him Holden didn't think they'd have much chance unless they could get him to recognise them as human beings rather than some kind of irritation, yet nothing he said seemed to make any difference to the Iraqi fighter, who seemed to act as though they weren't there.

Holden made to start another overture, thinking perhaps he could offer him money. Just prior to the 2003 invasion of Iraq Saddam announced a general amnesty for virtually all the nation's prisoners, while some of these were political the greater part were common criminals most of whom were happy to shoot at Coalition forces in exchange for the money from any number of sources including Al Queda and Iran. Holden didn't think the offer would work, apart from not killing them both immediately this bloke seemed to be acting pretty professional, but even if he was, it didn't hurt to offer.

"We're worth a lot of money alive mate we..."

Holden stopped mid sentence the Iraqi had simply stood up and walked outside hadn't even given them a backwards glance, outside Holden watched as the Iraqi checked the body in the courtyard and then pulled the door to the compound open just enough to slip through and disappear out into the street.

In the house of Tikrit II

It was Holden thought akin to a scene out of a movie, as they stepped through the gateway two dozen assorted firearms were cocked and pointed in their direction. Scattered around what had had one time been the loading bay for the factory small groups of armed men about their morning chores, were now paying a great deal of interest in what Holden and the German did next.

Holden felt the sweat drip down the back of his neck and wondered if the German’s bulk would protect him from injury if he retreated back through the door. Before he could grab the Germans collar and drag him out he had stepped forward arm raised in greeting.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum, I seek Suleiman Sabawi Al-Tikriti if he is here could you tell him, his friend von Junzt is here."

Holden watched two dozen men shift restlessly rifle barrels didn't waver, the courtyard remained almost silent except for the sound of breathing. von Junzt tried again this time repeating himself in Arabic, Holden could really understand what he was saying past the names, but this time there was a result at the back of the courtyard two men conferred for a moment before disappearing through an open doorway. Most of the men returned to their chores but a number remained where they were guns while not aimed at them certainly still pointed in olden and the German's general direction.

Finally the man returned this time accompanied by a Flabbily fat man, red faced, with thick hair plastered to his head by sweat, his torso like some large soft egg, belly straining against the buttons of a pair of well worn combat trousers, the man reached into the pocket of a black leather waistcoat worn over a white cotton shirt both a size to small stretched to breaking over a spreading belly, thick pudgy fingers came out grasping a hand rolled cigarette which he stuck into his mouth. As he looked up at von Junzt and Holden he smiled.

"I know his type" thought Holden "the jolly fat man all benevolence, good humour and bonhomie on the outside twisted fuck on the inside". Holden looked at the mans eyes they were dark, made small by the puffiness of his face, they were the only part of his face which wasn't smiling.
von Junzt stepped forward hand outstretched.

"Assalam-o-Alaikum, Suleiman, old friend how are you"

Holden noted Suleiman took the time to draw deeply on the cigarette before taking von Junzt's in his own bloated hand allowing it to wave in the air for a few moments. Then he laughs.

"Welcome, welcome my friend, welcome to my humble abode, not quite my old home, I'm sure you'll agree, but the company is good."

Suleiman laughs and some of the assembled men closest to him join in, but then he stops laughing abruptly, he looks at Holden as though noticing him for the first time.

"I must have words with my nephew, I am sure I instructed him to tell you to come alone, yet my men tell me you are here with enough men to start a small war, I would be very upset if I thought it was because you did not trust me."

Holden notes for the first time von Junzt looks a bit unsure of himself. Holden wonders whether the German has over estimated his reception, he watches as von Junzt makes some excuses about the state of lawlessness caused by the presence of the Americans and how Saddam would never had allowed things to get so bad.

Suleiman waves a hand.

"The matter is forgotten, let us go inside and we will talk about the tablet over some tea"

He points his cigarette at Holden.

"But this one will stay outside"

Holden, made to protest but again found himself staring down the barrel several as men moved to block his path. von Junzt turned.

“Its OK Holden, I am among friends here. There is no need for you to worry about my safety, wait outside with the cars I will return shortly.”

Holden didn’t waste time arguing, just as he’d done at the museum the day before von Junzt didn't wait for a response but had simply turned his back and disappeared inside the building after Suleiman. Holden reached behind him for the door, making sure he didn't take his eyes of the occupants of the loading bay, with much searching he found the open door and pulling it open stepped through.

Outside he had to explain to the others what was going on, the teams response to this was universally negative and very vocal. von Junzt’s attitude had already made him unpopular with the rest of the team and his decision to leave the team while they stood around it what was one of Iraq's most hostile towns did nothing to improve their general feelings towards the man.

The team stood under an increasingly hot sun watching for activity among the growing number of local people on the streets. Fingers remained if not on triggers then very close, no one paced about and talk was limited to brief updates as each member of the team informed the others about what changed about the things they could see, as one they all fought boredom.

Holden watched the locals, they showed some interest in the team, a brave few waved but the majority of the adults turned their back on the team when they realise they were being watched, they weren’t particularly aggressive towards the team, some kids even ran up to them demanding sweets. Most simply seemed sullen which didn’t surprise Holden considering how much of their town lay in rubble. "Its a tough environment" he thought "they have little to be happy about."

An hour later Jock Grant reports a mixed patrol of US marines and police crossing a junction further up the road, several of them stopped and observed the team then moved on, fifteen minutes later they all heard the crackle and pop of gunfire, they listen to it following the progress of the ambush by the tempo of the gunfire and explosions. They all wonder wether they are going to get caught up in the Americans fire fight but eventually it quietens down.

After two hours Holden was just starting to wonder if he should go back through the gates and find von Junzt, then all of the sudden the man appeared, he said nothing as he went to the car withdrew his Samsonite briefcase from the car and started walking back to the compound. Holden rushed up, he wanted to tell von Junzt they were putting themselves at considerable and as far as he could see unnecessary risk, but he was to slow off the mark von Junzt was already back through the gate before Holden could reach him. Holden was standing outside the gate swearing to himself when the gate cracked opened and von Junzt's head appeared.

"Tell everyone to get ready I'll be out in five minutes and we will need to leave immediately"

Then just as quickly he is gone, leaving a fuming Holden to inform the rest of the team they are going to move in five minutes. Von Junzt is true to his word, five minutes later he returns; without the Samsonite briefcase but with what looked to be some kind of stone tablet wrapped in an old worn tea cloth. He almost runs to the car.

"Everyone in we go we go."

Holden is unsure wether to be amused or worried by the fact he notices von Junzt's German accent shows through when he is worried. He puts the thought out of his mind as the two 4 x 4's pull out into the road and accelerate out of town.

Apologies

For those few who are bothering, sorry no post today. I am coughing and wheezing and am generally full of snot, in simple terms feeling completely sh*t.

In the house of Tikrit

The ageing 4x4 raced through a gap in the slow moving traffic, rattling along the potholed roads of Fallujah, occassionally mounting the curb or crossing the central reservation to drive down the wrong side of the road. Paddy was driving one hand either glued to the horn, or making rude gestures to the other slower drivers on the road, occassionally he practiced his limited repetoir of Arab swear words, and the heated exchanges of Arab male voices would fill the car. All in all it was not a pleasant experience, but it was one Holden had grown to live with.

Their journey had been meticulously planned the route as well as possible alternatives mapped out the whole team had been involved - every potential threat had to be taken into account, which meant phone calls had to be made and intel gatherered they needed to know which roads the military were currently designating “red routes” because they were dangerous either, because of recent IEDs (improvised explosive devices, or roadside bombs), suicide bombings (by car or on foot) or attacks by gunmen. The list of possible threats changed on a daily basis and the team needed to get the most up to date information

Getting to Falluja had been remarkably easy, Holden had half expected, half hoped to be turned away by the military long before the they got anywhere near entering the town. But at each checkpoint Herr Junzt had got out of the car and after talking discretely with whoever was in charge they had been waived through, at the dozen Iraqi police checkpoints Holden had assumed Junzt was simply dropping bribes, but he'd done the same thing with the US Marine Captain who originally adimantly refused to let them through.

Under normal circumstances the Armburst close protection teams would drive around in armoured Hyundai Tuscon 4x4's. Holden didn't like them, while the Hyundais were able to go cross country they had no speed or acceleration due to all the armour they were carrying, his personal preference would have been for a Landrover or Rangerover but Armburst simply weren't going to fork out the cash.

By far the worst thing about driving the 4x4's was the fact they screamed "hey look I'm a westerner" and as they entered the slums of southern Fallujah that morning attracting the attention of the locals was the last thing he wanted.

Now as they drove through the near empty streets, Holden wondered just who Junzt was working for, he certainly didn't seem like a typical academic, his behaviour and his retisence to talk about anything he was doing made Holden and the rest of the team wonder wether he was involved with the intelligence community, but Holden couldn't help but think of him as an overweight and slightly criminal version of Indianna Jones.

Junzt had given them general directions for where to go in Falujah, but once within the confines of the town he started to give Paddy more detailed instructions, Holden noted he did this without notes which meant he either had a really good memory for directions or he had been here before.

The directions took them into South Fallujah through neighborhoods which were uniformly horrible, The houses here were smaller than anything he'd seen and far more decrepit. nearly every houses displayed some kind of battle damage, concrete walls stood apparently at random like some kind of tombstones, garbage and rubble in equal quantities. Holden was reminded of some kind of Mexican shantytown.

An American Marine he'd got chatting to at a bar in Camp Victory had told Holden there simply wasn't any real economy left in Falujah most businesses had simply up and left when all the fighting started and never came back; unemployment here was as high as fifty percent. It was no surprise he said that during periods of heavy fighting there were more insurgents in South Falujah than elsewhere in the city, not because the inhabitants held strong ideological or political views but simply because Al Qaeda was paying cash and they needed the money to survive.

Finnally Junzt indicated for Paddy to stop outside what looked to be a small factory. The second car pulled up some distance behind them and the team climbed out each man climbing out and taking up a pre arranged position besides or near to the car which meant someone was looking in every direction. The exception was Holden who stood next to Junzt, who now pulled open one of the steel the gates into the factory.

Broken Past - 3 months ago.

Baghdad had been a lot worse than Holden had expected, he'd been thinking Belfast during the cowboy years of the 1970's, wereas it was much, much worse. The day they arrived three car bombs were detonated outside the Buratha mosque in the north of the city leaving 90 people dead and over 150 injured.

Ethnic cleansing was ging on big time in Baghdad Shia and Sunni militias shot it out with one another over control of street corners, dead bodies in the street were a common site especially in the districts of the city with mixed Shia, Sunni populations. But if the militias were busy trying to murder one another you could rely on them along with the Baathists and Islamists to to find the time to try and kill foreigners.

Even being off duty wasn't particulalry restful, all of the Armburst teams working out of Baghdad were based in a large compound. The compound was a large and attractive villa on the banks of the Tigris. It had seemed a great location at first off duty teams would soak up the sun on the large patio or sit on the villas jetty with their feet in the river.

Under normal circumstances it would have been a beautiful place to stay and certainly the accomodation rivalled any hotel within the Green Zone. They stopped going down to the jetty after they found the first corpse, hands bound and gunshot wounds to the head and bearing the signs of torture washed up against the jetty.

It only took the locals a few days to work out who was staying at the villa and from then on they would take regular potshots at anyone sitting on the patio from the other side of the river. They screened off the patio and moved inside but the compound still regulalry came under fire, those members of management who'd argued Armburst's offices not be in the Green Zone, lest they be walled off, literally and psychologically, from the real world in Baghdad were soon regretting their decision.

Outside the compound contacts became an almost daily occurrence, just about every faction in the city seemed prepared to take a break from killing one another to try and kill the foreigners. It came as no surprise when after one particularly hair raising day their principle announced the climate in Baghdad was to risky and he was returning to the UK.

There was no chance Armburst were going to let them loaf around the compound and a contract for Convoy duty was soon assigned to his team. For three weeks they escorted convoys for the Iraqi electricity ministry bringing up parts by trucks for Baghdads powerstations, they were attacked nearly every day normally more than once as they rolled through the territories of different factions. It was exhausting work both physically and mentally, tempers frayed and they all talked about giving up and going home, but the money was good and nobody followed through with their threats.

Holden had been on a rest day sitting in the Armburst Control room, swapping war stories about Northern Ireland with Danny the watch keeper and former company sargeant major with the Ulster Defence Regiment. When Paddy had walked and sat down beside him on the desk.

"Hello mate, enjoying your rest day...got a job for you babysitting a Herr Junzt, here as a representative of the German government looking into the care and preservation of antiquities, I've told him in light of what happened to his last protection team Armburst will assume the contract and your team will provide his security"

"What happened to his last CP team then".

They're all dead mate, got a bit sloppy with their vehicle drills and an IED took them all out, luckilly for him Herr Junzt got out without a scratch. Not to worry though mate, you can use both the armoured wagons for this job they're just out of the shop and there's a pay bonus for the whole team to sweeten the pot. Compared to the convoy work it'll be a doddle you simply act as Herr Junzt's armoured taxi around to the museums and historical sights while he does whatever it is he does simple.

Which is why after three intense weeks of convoy duties Holden and half the team found themselves standing outside BIAP's arrival terminal waiting while the rest of the team went inside to pick up Herr Junzt. The airport was bustling with security contractors, businessmen and NGO's all under the watchful eye of ex-ghurkas employed by the Iraqi government.

The other half of the team came out of the airport terminal, with Pat pushing a trolley on which were two canvas holdalls and a camera bag, walking beside him ciggarette hanging from his mouth was the German Holden had last seen at the Hilton two months ago. When the German saw him a smile crossed his face, he stopped and took the ciggarette out of his mouth. "Aah the historian"

Junzt threw the camera bag into the back seat before climbing in himself and sliding across, Holden got in after him, while Pat threw the rest of his bags into the boot, as they pulled away from the Kerb Holden began to brief Herr Junzt on what to do if they were attacked while travelling to the hotel, however almost as soon as he started taslking the German interrupted him.

"I know all this my previous bodyguards they told me the same thin, however before we head to my hotel I have some business to conduct, I would like to go to the the Iraq National Museum I can give you directions if you do not know where it is."

As they drove to the museum, Holden thought about Her Junzt's previous CP team, wondered wether he'd listened to their advice, or dismissed it as easily as he'd just done Holden's. At the museum it was Pat and his half of the team which stayed outside with the cars while Holden and the others went inside, with the temperatures rising with the approach of midday Holden was glad to be inside the cool of the museum. As they followed the German into the museum the other two team members both former sargeants Jock Grant with the Black Watch, Dennis Johnson with the Parachute regiment took up positions front and rear, Holden as designated bodyguard walked beside Junzt He was surprised when the German started talking to him.

"When I came here, it was days after ther Americans liberated the city, the floor was litterally covered in pieces of broken pottery.The looters had simply gone from shelf to shelf, pulling down the statues, the pots the amphorae priceless antiquities of from every age Iraq's history. They were poor men they didn't understand some of those pieces were more valuable than the gold and jewelry they were looking for...of course they took the gold as well".

The German stopped for a moment taking in the exhibits he walked over to a half empty display case, small white cards were the descriptions of the items which had been looted. The German sighed.

"This was once one of the world's best collections of pre-Hellenic statuary, gold jewellery, and cuneiform writtings in the world. The Iraqis did this to their own history, when I arrived there were still no American soldiers or policemen to guard it, just the bullets cracking over our heads because the locals were fed up with the looters and had decided to take matters into their own hands." He paused "Look at this."

The German leant forward to pick up a massive hunk of pottery in both hands, he carefully tilted it so the delicate patterns catch the light.

"This was originally part of a jar, it was smashed... its Assyrian. they ruled 2,000 years before Christ. To a historian priceless, to the majority of those who looted this place it was simply old junk with no value"

The German placed the massive piece of pottery carefully back on the shelf then moved on. They walked together down a side corridor guarded by broken statues, at the end the German waved at Jock to lift a rope barrier to let them all past.

"To reach the storerooms, the mobs had to break through massive steel doors, which implies some planning on at least somebodies behalf. Some of the items stolen had never been on display, weren't mentioned anywhere and would only have been valuable to a small and very distinct group. It will take decades to sort through what they have left, the broken pots, the statuary, the treasures, the jewellery, the books."

The German stopped below a huge stone statue of a winged bull as a young Iraqi approached. The German and Iraqi clasped hands and exchanged greetings in Arabic.

"This is Abdul al-Tikriti, he was one of my students when I was proffessor of antiquities at Berlin University, now he is doing me a small favour in providing me with some information."

Holden and Abdul shook hands, then the German and the Iraqi turned their backs on the team and started talking rapidly in arabic, the conversation lasted several minutes at the end of which the two exchanged papers or more correctly Abdul handed Junzt a small slip of paper while recieving in return a brown envelope obviously full of cash.

They walked back through the museum in silence, the German obviously deep in thought occassionally slowing as he took time to glance at whatever was written on the piece of paper. As they stepped outside Herr Juntz stopped.

"We can go to my hotel now I will not need you again until tomorrow."

Glad to find his day was finally ending by the time he thought to ask what they were going to be upto the following day Junzt's was already climbing into the car.

"May I ask what the plan is for tommorrow sir, so we can make any necessary plans"

The german paused half into the car.

"of course, of course it will be a long day tomorrow, we must go to Falujah."

Holden could have sworn their was a hint of amusement in the tone of the German's voice.

Name

It seems in the early draft I did have a name, or at least I had a surname for the character - I hesitate to call him the hero, as I don't view him as heroic but this may change .

Anyway the surname was Holden. No christian name for him yet, but then he may simply be one of those people who is only referred to by their surname.

I guess I'll have to go through the existing chapters sometime and replace all those references to 'he' with Holden now.

Oh and the next chapter is coming tomorrow, I just have to do some research on BIAP.