Home again Home again...

The first thing Holden had noticed when he came around was the antiseptic smell, it had been strong and unpleasant but in its own way reassuring. The stories he’d read about Al Qaeda torture centres didn’t leave him with the impression cleanliness would be a major concern so the strong smell of lemon assaulting his nostrils along with the familiar underlying smell of stale blood had immediately made him think hospital.

The second thing which occured to Holden only after he opened his eyes and tried to sit up. He had a headache from hell and a real and very immediate need to throw up. This is how the Marine Corpsman found him lent over the side of his bed throwing up his breakfast.

Over a bowl and a wet flannel, the corpsman had told Holden he and von Junzt were been extremely lucky to be alive. A marine patrol, probably the one Holden had seen while waiting outside the compound had heard the shooting and had come to investigate, the initial fire fight had been swift and brutal, but the marines had quickly dominated the fight. A Marine Corpsman had patched up their wounds at the scene and then both Holden and von Junzt had been evacuated to the Marine’s Forward Operating base at Camp Baharia.

Holden thought the Corpsman could have spared some of the detail, but the Corpsman had gone on to tell him with some relish that the surgeons at Camp Baharia’s aid station had taken out 18 pieces of shrapnel from Holden’s legs his feet, and his arse or as the Corpsman preferred to call them his Butt-ocks. Only one piece of shrapnel had been considered serious and this was the one which had made such a mess of his foot. The Corpsman told Holden he was going to be walking with a limp for a while, then added with a grin he'd probably want to carry something soft to sit on for a while as well.

Von Junzt on the other hand had sustained far more serious shrapnel wounds and had been losing a lot of blood so rather than waste time they’d simply flown him out by helicopter straight to Ibn Sina, the US run Hospital in the Baghdad Green Zone. If things went OK they'd probably fly him back to Germany so he could be cared for by a hospital back home.

Holden's mood lifted somewhat as his head cleared, the Corpsman had explained it was a common after effect of the anaesthetic. Two hours after waking Paddy walked into the makeshift ward he looked stressed and not a little disheveled. Holden's good mood crashed, Paddy was an experienced ex soldier but his job in Iraq was almost wholly office bound. For Paddy to get himself and an ad-hoc team made up of other office staff up to Fallujah to sort things out meant only one thing everyone in Holden's team was dead or injured.

Paddy smiled "Malingering bastards I just talked to the quacks and they say your good to leave"

Holden smiled, grunting with pain as he swung his feet off the bed."Just wanted to see whether your fat arse was actually glued to the office chair..."

Paddy didn't ask how he was or offer a hand, he simply passed Holden a pair of tan cargo pants and a faded t-shirt."They're the only clean clothes I could find in your room, typical bloody officer, despite all the time and effort I spent making you a proper soldier your personal admin is still shite, you do know how the washing machine works don't you. I had to put my hands in among your dirty grollies and all sorts"

Holden pulled on the clothes, the medics had give him pretty much, as much as he wanted in the way of painkillers, but now he was moving he could feel every cut and bruise on his body. He stood up as he buttoned up the trousers. Looking at Paddy he asked Paddy the one thing he new the big man wouldn't otherwise volunteer."what about the rest of the team?"

Paddy hesitated for a second then shrugged.All dead mate. Pat and Jock when they triggered the ambush as you know, the others got away clean but then got hit by one of the cutoffs as they were heading for the emergency RV. It was well planned whoever put it together, I'll give them that, even if it wasn't brilliantly carried out.

The image of charred corpses hanging from the bridge over the Euphrates flashed before his eyes, but he asked the next question anyway.What about the bodies?

For the first time a look of relief passed over Paddy's face.The marines got all of them, seems the Iraqi's were putting all their effort into finding you and Junzt to spend any time pissing about with the others. The rest of the lads are making arrangements for getting them back now.

It was clear they had been both thinking the same thing, as soldiers and now contractors death and injury were accepted risks, part and parcel of their job. On the other hand, it was one thing to be killed doing the job it was something else to know someone was going to be fucking about with your corpse after you'd been killed. For Paddy as the man in the office who had the most contact with the families and loved ones back home, it would have been especially distressing.

They walked back to the car in silence. Paddy held the door open to the 4x4 so Holden could climb into the back, pushing him down like a policeman with a drunk, so he didn't crack his head against the door jam as he got in.

Holden smiled up at Paddy from the seat relieved to be sitting down again after the exertion. The look on Paddy's face however soon wiped it away."Look Holden, there's something else I need to tell you; we've lost von Junzt.

Holden shrugged.No real surprise mate, the Corpsman, said he was in a bad way

If he'd simply karked it, I wouldn't have his insurance company chewing my arse. The helicopter dropped him off at Ibn Sina, they took him in for triage decided he was a serious bleeder, so they rushed him to the top of the list and wheeled him up to surgery. Thing is somewhere between triage and surgery they lost him. When they came to wheel him into the operating theatre the gurney was empty. If the sod wasn't in sucg a critical condition when he arrived, I'd say he fucked off on his Jack Jones. His insurance company are giving the company hell, they reckon we're responsible for getting him kidnapped.

============

Holden spent two days at the team house before Paddy managed to book him onto a civilian flight direct to schipol in Holland. When he arrived Paula and the kids had been waiting for him at arrivals, they spent a weekend in Amsterdam, which wasn't as relaxing as might be expected considering the number of awkward questions the boys asked, in the end he was happy to take an Easy Jet flight home.

Being home was a strange experience, apart from the obvious lack of danger, life back at home simply seemed less real. The doctors called it transitioning, apparently Holden wasn't very good at it. He noticed he'd become uncomfortable around crowds, unfortunately nearly everywhere he went there were crowds, he'd start to feel uneasy. Holden wasn't entirely stupid he recognised the symptoms of PTSD.

He worked hard trying not to dwell on the events in Fallujah, tried to avoid thinking about the the ambush, the firefight, what had happened to the rest of the team. He spent time at the physio's trying to sort his foot out. More time at the gym simply beasting himself into shape. He spent as much time as he could playing with the boys. To Paula's imense pleasure he completed all the unfinished DIY around the house. None of these things ultimately did much to take his mind off the past. In the end he started to drink, not vast amounts but he and Paula would share a bottle of wine after dinner and most evenings he'd go to bed comfortably numb. He knew Paula worried about the drinking but she made efforts to keep her concerns to herself.

Holden's preferred solution would have been to get back to Iraq, to get back in the saddle. Paddy knew why he was asking but he still refused, Armburst's insurance company had sent Holden off to a Harley street Doctor shortly after he'd got back. Paddy was adamant, until the doctor gave Holden the all clear he wasn't going anywhere. Paddy made sure Armburst kept Holden employed, but mainly doing close protection work in London. Looking after the spoilt rich simply didn't provide the distraction which Holden needed.

It was nearly three months after he'd returned home when he got the phone call. He had been in the Harrods basement. Standing just inside the door of the barber's shop while his client got his his daily grooming when he got the call on his mobile. Holden looked around making sure everything was clear before he reached for the phone vibrating in his pocket.

"Holden"

"Mr Holden, are you bored?"

The voice was familiar, but not instantly recognisable.

"Who is this?"

"You don't know, I am a little bit upset, we shared so much together I thought you would recognise my voice"

"Von Junzt? where the fuck have you been we got a right bollocking from your insurance company when you fucked off from Ibn Sina. How did you get out anyway?"

"Herr Holden, the hows and the whys are hardly important at the moment, I am going somewhere where I may need some protection. Your efforts to keep me alive the last time impressed me, I would like to employ you again. What do you say?"

Listen, I've no problem with this but you need to speak to the office they can make the necessary arrangements

Nein, No I do not want to tell others my business this was the problem in Fallujah to many people knew my business, I wish to hire you directly, I am willing to double, no we shall triple your usual rate. I cannot tell you much about the job, but I can tell you it will not be an unduly onerous one, there is little risk and you will not have to return to Iraq. I will need to know your answer by the end of the week.

Holden tried to answer but in his typical fashion, Von Junzt had already hung up.

Holden closed the phone and placed it back in his pocket as the client walked past waving at Holden to bring the bags, Holden determined to talk to Paula tonight and see what she thought.

It would be several weeks before Holden wondered how Von Junzt had got the number for his personal mobile phone.

10,000

Thus ends the first part of the story apparently I've knocked out over 10,000 words, which means I suspect the first draft of the whole story will be complete in about 30,000 words or about a 1/4 of what it should be....Oh well, must keep reminding myself first draft, first draft.

Escape

Going up the street towards the rendezvous point was a surreal experience, best case scenario Holden had expected lots of shouting and screaming from the locals, lots of shouting, threats and wild gun waving from him. Worst case scenario had lots of shouting and screaming from the locals, lots of shouting, threats and wild gun waving from him rapidly escalating to gunshots and ten minutes later their burning corpses hanging from a lamppost, while some local waved his genitalia in front of a TV cameraman from Al Jazeera.

But he was completely unprepared for what happened after he pushed the German through the doorway. When they'd been waiting for von Junzt to come out of his meeting with Sulemein Sabawi, the locals had made a point of ignoring them, turning their backs or looking away if they realised Holden or another member of the team were watching them, but as Holden dragged the German up the street to the rendezvous point it was as though they simply weren't there. So determined were the locals to maintain this pretence the owner of a small vegetable stall almost walked right into them as stepped out into the road in order to check out a display of fruit on his stall.

As Holden reached the junction he felt a surge of relief the teams second SUV was parked just by the petrol station forecourt, the sense of relief didn't last. There were bullet holes all over the SUV, windshield, sides, everywhere, one wheel was up on the kerb and the passenger door was open with an arm hanging out. Holden looked closer and realised he could see a figure slumped over the wheel and lots and lots of blood.

Holden thought about going over and checking to see if anyone was alive, but the thought was fleeting, even if there was someone in the SUV they were obviously seriously injured there would be no way he could get them out. Holden realised he'd been standing in the middle of the street, he'd been pulling von Junzt across it when he'd realised there the SUV was not going to be their salvation.

They needed to get off the street, find somewhere to hole up, perhaps wait for dark. Holden turned to von Junzt to get him moving off the street only to find the German bent double, one hand wrapped around his stomach as though he had bad cramps his other pressed against his face. From his face a thickening stream of blood, bright red arterial blood leaked between the fingers to splash on the dusty road.

Assuming the worst Holden quickly pushed the German across the street and into a doorway then scanned the surrounding area looking for a threat while trying to get an answer from him,

"von Junzt you injured...you OK".

Satisfied there was no immediate threat or at least one he could see, Holden lent over so he was face to face with the German. Closer he realised the German was no longer praying but sobbing. Holden prised the hand away from von Junzt's face and turned his head so he was looking directly at Holden. There was blood, everywhere streaming from his nose over his lips, small dark tears of blood at the corners of his eyes and his eyes, his eyes looked unreal, so awash with blood Holden wondered whether he hadn't been blinded. He bit back the "fucking hell" which came to his lips, the last thing the German needed to hear was the shock in his voice.

"Junzt, where you hit?"

Von Junzt was obviously panicked even if Holden had been so blind he couldn't read it in the Germans bloodied face his normally impeccable measured English was rushed and flavoured with a thick German accent.

"I'm sorry, scheisse, zer pain I could not keep saying the words, it was like chewing glass, I felt as though my head it would explode!"

"Yeah alright mate Just try and keep it together shall we, can you tell me where your hit?"

"fair-piss dish not hit, just the words"

Despite von Junzt's repeated protestations he was not hit Holden scrambled to check the German out for injuries, as he did so he slowly became aware of a change in the street sounds. The typical murmur of a street going about its daily business had changed, now there was more shouting, the sounds of people running, and a very definite change in the streets tone.

Holden looked up, they weren't being ignored now a small crowd had gathered around them, although they were keeping a respectful distance. Holden watched as a small boy as he bent to pick up a stone, Holden caught his eye, gave the lad the same sort of look he'd have given his own boys if they were about to do something naughty and the lad sheepishly dropped the stone. Holden smiled to himself and wondered how long stern looks and perhaps a stiff telling off were going to be effective.

Glancing up the street Holden could see three heavily armed men passing the wrecked SUV and heading in their direction, a quick glance back the way brought no relief whether they were Islamists, Mujahadeen, Al Qada, Bathists or simply irate locals didn't really seem to matter at the moment whoever they were they were pouring out of the woodwork in droves.

With the appearance of armed men the attitude of the crowd changed again, irate murmurs changed to angry shouts, the next young lad was not dissuaded by a stern glare and a stone bounced off Holden's helmet followed shortly afterwards by another which struck his left knee and made him want to stand up and hop as the pain went shooting through his leg. The crowds fervour only worsened when Holden threatened them with his pistol and the doorway where Holden and von Junzt had taken cover was soon being showered by thrown stones.

Holden debated about shooting at the crowd but in the end the "bad guys" solved the crowd problem for him as the trio passing the SUV opened fire, firing from the hip on full automatic meant the the shots were far from accurate but the long bursts of fire meant the muzzles of their AK's rapidly climbed ensuring their rounds passed harmlessly overhead.

Handing his pistol to von Junzt with instructions to cover down the street, Holden swung the Demarco around off his back and into his shoulder, he hurried his first two shots firing even before he had a propper sight picture. His third shot however dropped one of the shooters or at least came so close he was scared enough to throw himself to the ground.

Holden continued to fire at the remaining two gunmen, who had now taken cover behind the shot out SUV, he took deliberate shots dropping the first as he jumped out to fire, the second as he leant forward from behind the SUV to drag him friend back into cover. Holden exchanged rounds with more gunmen moving down the street in twos and threes, he wasn't sure he hit any of them but he certainly drove them to cover and gave them a sense of caution.

Rounds started to strike the wall just above Holden's head, making him realis he'd forgotten the gunmen coming up behind them, he turned on his heels, there was a momentary sensation of standing only inches away from a passing train then a loud clang as something hit the metal doorway they were hiding in front of and bounced back out into the street. Holden Looked out to where the now spent war head of an RPG slowly rolled across the broken pavement away before dropping out of site into the open sewer. Holden didn't spend long wondering why the RPG hadn't exploded, his attention was drawn across the street where the stunned owner of the RPG was reloading. Holden was less hurried this time killing the man with two well placed shots.

For about five minutes Holden and von Junzt kept the gun men at bay then their luck changed, another RPG was fired at them and while it missed the doorway where they had taken cover it explode only a few feet away, stunned by the blast, neither Holden or von Junzt saw the two gunmen rush towards them, the first shooting his AK from the hip as he ran stopped short as his gun jammed, but his friend took more care priming and throwing a small egg shape grenade which landed on the pavement directly in front of their doorway.

Holden tried to pick himself up off the floor, but his left leg wouldn't hold him, glancing down he wondered why his boot looked so torn up and where all the blood was coming from, a stunned brain slowly put the facts together he'd been injured, Paula was going to be so pissed with him. His back against the door he tried to push himself to his feet again only to slip back down again. As he started to drift in and out of consciousness he absently noticed the tempo of the gunfight was picking up. Unusual he thought considering up until a moment ago he was the only one shooting back.

Apologies - again

Been very busy at work and then off to Boston (Massachusetts USA, not Lancashire, UK) on business so progress on this little project has slowed somewhat. However I will do my best to try and churn out the next chapter by the end of this week.

Ambush II

Outside in the street people were beginning to leave their houses. Crouched in the shadows just inside the doorway to the street Holden looked at von Junzt, it was clear from his face, he could clearly hear the same shouts of "Allahu Akbar" as Holden. The shouting was a sure sign the mob had started to work itself up into a frenzy.

Prior to seeing the news story which lead to landing the job with Armburst Holden hadn't been interested in the war in Iraq, apart from observing when his old regiment appeared on the television. One story had attracted his attention though and as he hid in the house the details came flooding back. In 2004 a security team for an American company called Blackwater had been ambushed by insurgents in the town of Falluja, the details weren't clear but after the ambush they'd been overwhelmed by the mob. The men were killed, their burnt and mutilated bodies hung on a bridge on the towns outskirts, Holden tried not to think about it but decided if he couldn't shoot his way out, he'd shoot himself before he let the mob get their hands on him.

Ideally Holden thought the mob would simply not to know they were around, sad as it was the fact Pat and Jock's bodies were still in the car would probably prove a distraction. Even so they simply couldn't risk being seen, opening the door just a crack Holden maneuvered himself so as to be able to look up and down the street, reassured the only people he could see had their backs to them and were at the far end of the street he told the von Junzt to keep close then sprinted across the road through an open gateway and into a walled garden.

steps up the side of the house gave access to its roof, an old faded settee, cushions and blankets and a battered television typical of most Iraqi families they would sleep on the roof, trying to escape the summer heat, Holden was grateful the summer heat now kept many people inside allowing them to use the rooftops to quickly put some distance between them and the site of the ambush before using another set of stairs to descend into a another walled garden

Holden didn't stop to look around but quickly made his way to the far end of the garden where he clambered onto what looked to be a rabit hutch before he hauled himself onto the wall, he stopped straddled it long enough to pulled the wheezing von Junzt up behind him then swinging his other leg over and dropping down into the next garden, he caught sight of an attractive young Iraqi woman standing in the open doorway to the house, a child perched on one hip a basket of washing in her other arm, the expression on her face didn't change, she simply stepped back into her house and shutting the door quietly behind her.

Preffering to think the woman was simply ignoring them rather than ringing some friends with the guns, Holden moved over to what had once been a ornate garden gate in three quick strides. The gate had long ago been reinforced through the simple expedient of welding a thick steel plate to it. Holden pressed his face upto a small gap between steel plate and the gate to look out onto another street almost as empty as the first, either people were hiding inside or everyone was busy at the ambush site.

Holden lent back against the wall trying to think. At the top of this road should be the rendezvous point where if he was lucky the rest of the team would be waiting for them, he honestly didn't hold much hope of that, it was unlikely the rest of the team would have escaped the ambush without injury and they'd want to get to somewhere they could get medical attention probably the nearest American base and they'd certainly want to keep clear of the mob.

Going to the rendezvous point would mean going up to what passed for a busy main road, it had been lined with shops which meant lots of people. The rendezvous point had been the forecourt of an apparently derelict petrol station, there would be places to hide but he and von Junzt would be incredibly exposed, it didn't make Holden feel much better when compared to the prospect of running through the streets of Tikrit chased by the mob.

Holden wiped the sweat from his face and turned to see how von Junzt was holding up. Holden wasn't happy by what he saw, extremely red faced and breathing heavily the German squatted next to him, his face seemed slightly vacant. Looking at the German now, noticed his lips moving and when he lent closer Holden could make out the same whispered Latin prayers repeated over and over again. Holden had hoped the adrenalin rush from the last few minutes might have shaken him out of the daze he'd been in since they'd taken cover in the house immediately after the ambush, but apparently that was not to be.

Momentarily, Holden wondered whether he shouldn't simply abandon the German in the courtyard and make a run for it on his own but the German had friends here in Tikrit and there was the faintest chance he'd get out alive without Holden in which case Holden's career would be over, although he wasn't sure wasn't sure a career change wasn't in order anyway. There weren't many choices really

"Enough deliberation" thought Holden as he grabbed the German under the arm and hauled him to his feet and pushed him out of the gate. Outside, almost had an air of normalacy about it, there was no evidence of the violence which had occurred only a few hundred meters away; people were simply getting on with their everyday life. Holden wondered how long it would take before they were noticed, he slung the Demarco over his back and drew his pistol he held it down by his side then grabbed the still mumbling von Junzt by the shoulder and started pulling him along

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.