Alan McQueen - 02 - Second Strike by Mark Abernethy

said a word as they went through their drills, steadied their breathing, psyched themselves, Mac trying to envisage a successful outcome.
    The Dr Khan connection had come as a shock. After Khan was stung by the Yanks and Israelis, his operation had been partially shut down. But questions had remained within the IAEA, including the identity of Khan’s intermediaries. Who in the Pakistani military was protecting Khan and were there really elements in the ISI who worked for the Khan set-up? It was a time when Pakistan was being protected by the Americans, and the British were bringing Colonel Gaddafi in from the cold. Western intelligence was supposed to play along, but the Russians, Indians and Israelis despised the deal. They wanted Khan’s apparatus shut down, not just a few guys at the top paraded for the media.
    So what was the story now? Mac wondered. The Sari bombing was a nuke? That’s how they got that crater? There was something so strange about the idea that he just couldn’t digest it.
    Ari coasted the Camry down the gentle rise between single-level warehouses and parked trucks and vans. As it got darker, Mac’s heart rate increased and his senses became heightened. He could smell Ari’s aftershave, smell the nicotine in his sweat. Up ahead, the Vitara swung right and disappeared. As Ari put his foot down they were overtaken by the squealing of engines. Mac fl inched and turned his gun at the driver’s side window. Ari shouted and swung the Camry to the kerb, raising his gun.
    They both winced, waiting for the hail of lead, but it didn’t come.
    Two black LandCruisers, with what sounded like souped-up engines, screamed past with the high-pitched wailing of transmissions and drive shafts. Mac gasped for air and looked through the rear winds creen. Nothing. Ari took his foot off the brake and followed the LandCruisers.
    Mac didn’t like it. ‘Mate, let’s hang back.’
    ‘We’re here now, McQueen, yes?’ Ari fi red back.
    They accelerated and, turning the right-hander, came to a waterfront street. A gunfi ght was underway between the men around the two black LandCruisers and the Hassan crew behind the Vitara, which was another fi fty metres away. It was assault weapons on full-auto, tracer rounds fi lling the air, lead whistling and splatting against concrete warehouse walls. One round shattered a LandCruiser’s windscreen and Ari fl oored the accelerator to get behind the LandCruisers, which were parked in an arrowhead.
    Leaping from the Camry, Mac ran doubled over to where Freddi Gardjito was shouting into a hand-held radio. Protected in a blue Kevlar vest, Freddi was crouching behind the hood of the left-side Cruiser, an M4 carbine assault rifl e standing on its butt beside him.
    BAIS used LandCruisers with tricked V8s and armour plates in the doors and fl oor pans and Mac was glad of the extra cover.
    From the right-side Cruiser the BAIS operators returned fi re at the Vitara, their M4s spewing brass cases, the static yell of voices sounding over the radio system. The fi re came back at the LandCruisers like hail, before slowing.
    Putting his head up, Mac saw the Vitara’s tyres had been blown out and Hassan’s crew were running for the piers behind.
    Freddi gabbled into the radio and the BAIS team stood and assessed the ground. The throb of what sounded like a helo grew closer and Ari bolted for the Camry.
    ‘Ari, what’s up?’ yelled Mac as the BAIS operators fi led around the Cruisers and moved across the ground and down to the pier. Ari didn’t respond, just opened the boot of the Camry, put his hands in, and then walked towards Mac with a large black assault rifl e in each hand, a Kevlar vest hooked over each barrel.
    Handing one of the vest/gun sets to Mac, Ari threw on his own black vest. Mac’s weapon looked like an American M16 but heavier, and with a grenade launcher under the main barrel.
    ‘Safety is off,’ said Ari, fastening his vest. ‘Just cock and fi re.’
    Mac put on the