Chapter 34

"Prime minster, we need to leave now." His head of security strode into the conference room where he still sat, awaiting news on the victims of the latest terror attack to strike the United Kingdom. There was no denying it now after the second bomb detonated.

"I'm not leaving," He shook his head, staring at one of three screens across from him. One was set to the national news channel on mute whilst the other two were tapped into the drone footage in real time. He was transfixed by the aerial footage of someone being dragged along the ground, his chest near bursting with the pride he held for his armed forces.

"Sir," His bodyguard began to protest, "Everyone else has been rounded up and moved to a secure location-"

"-I said no," He raised his voice, turning to look at his six foot four protector, "No terrorist is going to make me run and hide. Those-" He pointed to both screens where the new channel was replaying footage of civilians running from a train station and a small group of soldiers outnumbered and alone in the desert, "-are the people that need protecting, not me. I am perfectly safe here. Why don't you go and see what you can do for them instead?"

The head of security shifted uneasily on his feet. He had never been faced with this dilemma before. His duty was to protect the prime minster at all costs but he was also obligated to follow his orders when given them so he simply turned around and walked to the door. But instead of walking out he shut the door, leaving them alone in the room. Turning back around, he removed the gun from his holster before holding it in front of him and remaining by the door.

"My men will help the others, but I shall stay by your side." He stared straight ahead at the wall, ready for any attack should it arise.

"Thank you," The prime minister sighed before he rose to his feet and approached the screens to gain a closer look. It had been a while since Truro had contacted him with an update. Perhaps he should ring him to find out what was going on? Unless nothing was going on and his niece was still trapped, surrounded by insurgents, or she was- He couldn't think about it.

"You were in the military weren't you Richard?" He asked his bodyguard.

"Yes, sir, Army," The man replied, his chest inflating a little but his eyes never shifted from the wall.

"I suspect that you yourself were in similar situations as these men are now," He nodded to the screen with the drone footage. The bodyguard's eyes flickered across to the screen for a second before returning them to the wall. His military career had ended unwillingly, an injury that prevented him from serving.

"How would you proceed in this situation?" The prime minister asked, "My niece is down there so my decision making is somewhat impaired. I could use a fresh perspective on it from someone on the outside."

Richard swallowed as he looked at the screen again. He wasn't impartial though, he thought. He worked for the prime minister and despite the fact that he knew he was a decent man he couldn't be sure that he wouldn't be fired or replaced if he gave an answer that he was different to the one he wanted.

"Come on," the prime minister coaxed him, "What would you advise if you were stranded with no way out-"

Richard turned to his boss, "They're not stranded."

The prime minister frowned at him, "Well what would you call it? They're in the middle of the desert, outnumbered and with no way out."

"No, sir, what I meant is-" Richard stared at the prime minister's blank expression and realised that he didn't know, "You haven't been told."

"Been told what?" His hands found their way to his hips.

"Intelligence picked up a call thirty minutes ago from Commander Ridgeway to a US base in Afghanistan," Richard divulged, feeling awkward at telling him something he should have been told by someone else much higher up the food chain, "Three aircraft have been sent from that US base to retrieve them, one of which is a medical aircraft." Richard turned to the screen, "They should be arriving at their location any minute."

The prime minister's frown deepened as he heard the news from his bodyguard before he spun and grabbed the phone from the middle of the table. Waiting for his assistant to answer, a young man with a Glaswegian accent, the prime minister didn't let him get a word out before he relayed his request, "Get me the director of MI5 immediately."

"Yes, si-" The assistant automatically replied when the line went dead. Martin forgave him instantly as he thought about what was currently happening outside Downing Street in London. As he typed in the requested number, he found himself looking over his shoulder at the door which led into the Prime Minister's office where the call had originated from and wondered what the PM had just learnt to make him so frustrated.

"Yes?" A polite female voice answered at the other end.

"Oh hello," Martin turned back to face the front, "This is the prime minister's assistant calling on behalf of the PM for the director of MI5. Is she available?"

"One moment," The pleasant voice replied before she was replaced with some classical musical. Vivaldi, Martin believed.

"The director is available. Please wait whilst I connect you. Thank you."

"Thank you," Martin replied as he reached out and pressed a button which linked him to the PM's office where he informed his boss that he had the director of their countries intelligence service on the line for him. The PM thanked him and picked up the receiver. Martin could hear him and the director exchange short pleasantries and Martin knew he should put the phone down, that they were speaking of something far above his clearance, but his curiosity got the better of him so he turned the bottom of the receiver away from his mouth so as not to alert them with the sound of his breathing and kept the line open.

* * *

Climbing over the rubble one handed Jules jumped down into the compound and allowed herself a small breath of relief as she rested her uninjured shoulder against the wall as they finally reached some measure of safety for the moment. Looking up she saw that Marc had been placed on the floor in the middle of the room as two of Ridgeway's agents inspected her handiwork. Looking at Marc's face Jules nerves were eased slightly when she saw that his eyes were open and looking at her as his chest rose and fell in accordance with his breathing. Turning away to look around her Jules noticed that the room was a lot emptier than when she left.

Straightening up she turned back around to face Ridgeway, "Where are Twitch and Carlos?"

Ridgeway's look hardened as she accused him, "They left on their own volition to try and circle around the back of the insurgents," Ridgeway told her, "That McAndrew woman went with them."

Jules looked back across the room to the door which led into the corridor and out the other side of the compound. Carlos and Twitch had gone out there?
Crossing the room in four large strides she reached out her hand to open the door when it suddenly swung violently open in front of her, nearly hitting her in face. Jumping back a step she reached for her weapon out of habit when she remembered that she had left it outside on the ground. Ridgeway's two remaining agents on the floor beside Marc turned on their knee and trained their rifles upon the door instead as three figures pushed their way in, one holding the other.

"Help! We need help!" A voice was shouting from behind them.

Staring at them in shock it took Jules a second to recognise who it was. "Twitch!" She exclaimed as she saw the flash of his bright red hair under the other man's arm who, when she looked up, she saw was Hasan.

"What happened?" She asked as she crossed in front of the agent's line of fire and took Twitch's other arm, helping him into the room as best she could. Looking down she saw the way he was limping, the tourniquet and the amount of blood that stained his trouser leg.

"He got shot in the leg." Hasan puffed from exertion, sweat covering his brow as MacAndrew hurried in front of them, laden down with Twitch's rucksack on her shoulder.

"Lay him down here," The male agent told them, indicating to the spot beside Marc.

As they lowered Twitch down to the ground, wincing as he straightened out his injured leg out in front of him, he turned and saw Marc. "Boss?" His gut twisted painfully and his eyes widened as he saw his CO led out next to him. His skin was as pale as wax and the rag around his neck as dripping with blood. Panicking he began to look around for his medical supplies when he remembered that they were in his rucksack.

Jules turned and looked behind them at the door which slowly clicked shut. She watched it for a second longer when she realised that no one else was coming. Turning back to look at Twitch and Hasan she asked, "Where's Carlos?"

Twitch swallowed around the lump in his throat, his lips parting to speak when his rucksack was dropped to the ground suddenly causing a loud thud and he reached for it frantically. Everyone turned to look where it came from and they saw MacAndrew stood above him. Twitch looked away as his leg twinged painfully and turned back to find what it was he needed.

"He stayed out there," MacAndrew declared to them all, "Him and another man have driven off in a jeep. We tried to circle around the back of the insurgents but they had us pinned down and-" Samantha trailed off as her eyes lingered on Jules, "Sorry but do you- do you realise you've been shot?" She pointed at Jules.

"Oh really?" Jules rolled her eyes, "Where is Carlos now?"

Samantha stared at her strangely for a moment before she shook her head a little and ignored the gunshot wound, "I told you, he's still out there." Samantha waved an arm towards the wall on her left and motioning to the space behind it as the sound of distant gunfire reached their ears.

Carlos.

Before the others could react Jules reached down and took the rifle that the Ridgeway's female operative had left lying beside her as she tended to Marc's next. She turned back around to grab for it as Jules picked it up but she was too late.

Clicking the rifle into place, gritting her teeth as she added weight to her injured arm, she looked down at the two operatives, "Keep them alive until I get back."

"Where are you going?" MacAndrew asked.

Ridgeway muttered with a bored sigh, "Where do you think?"

"No, Jules-" Twitch exclaimed as he looked up at her as his fingers closed around the medical object he needed.

"You can't go out there," The female operative glared up at her, "I covered Ramirez when he went out earlier and I saw what it was like out there. You can't do it on your own."

"I'll be fine," Jules told her, "Just look after those two until I get back."

Wright opened her mouth to try and persuade Jules from not going out there alone when the gunfire grew louder and the Sergeant hauled ass towards the door.

"Leave them!" Ridgeway's voice carried across the room, stunning them into silence. Jules froze with her hand around the door handle as she heard him continue, "They only need to ride it out for a few minutes longer."

"We never leave a man behind," She spat back at him vehemently, their eyes locking across the room, "But I guess that's something you never learned."

Ridgeway's cheek muscle twitched and his blood pressure spiked as he had that incident thrown back at him. He could tell her until he was blue in the face that he had no part in the decision making that day when half of his miracle team had been blown to shreds and she still wouldn't believe him. Reynolds - as she was called been back then -Ramirez, Evans and Jackson had been the 'it' group of all field operation teams. They had the skills, dedication and comradeship rarely seen. Each member brought their own dynamic and expertise and the things they went through together moulded them into more than just a team, they were a family. It made them indestructible and they would go further than anyone to keep each other safe. To Ridgeway's they were his children and it hurt just as much when he lost Evan and Jackson, and nearly Reynolds too.

Jules shook her head and started to open the door.

"STOP!" Ridgeway shouted, "As your commanding officer I order you to halt!"

Reynolds's entire body tensed as everyone in the room apart from Twitch turned to look at her. Twitch laid a hand on Marc's shoulder, holding him down as he tried to stand, his eyes glaring up at Ridgeway across the room.

"We will all be out of this in a few moments," Ridgeway cleared his throat, "We just need to stick tight for a few more moments and I wouldn't worry about Ramirez, he knows what he's doing."

"What do you mean?" Wright asked.

Julia turned around and stared at Ridgeway in confusion, "What have you done?"

"A made a call," Ridgeway confided in them, "At this moment three aircraft are on their way here from a US base. They should be here momentarily."

"A US base?" Jules repeated as she walked towards Ridgeway, bending down and laying the rifle on the ground as she went, "There isn't a US base around here where they could arrive in a matter of minutes, so when did you make the call?"

Ridgeway's stodgy face froze but he didn't answer.

"When!?" Julia shouted as she drew nearer, her fingers curling into a fist by her side as her chest broiled, "Was it before me and Marc even went out there to face Abbas, alone!? Did you know all along that we weren't stranded!?" Pulling her arm back ready to swing Jules shouted out in annoyance as someone grabbed her by the waist and dragged her back.

"No, come on, don't do this," MacAndrew's voice told her, "You'll regret it later."

"Pretty sure I don't care right now," Jules barked, shoving MacAndrew's arms away from her and turning to look at her, "You're lucky I don't hit you as well with all the snooping you've done into my life."

"Hey," MacAndrew raised her hands into the universal sign of surrender, her voice turning soft as she tried to calm her down when Twitch called her name and it instantly made her turn around and forget everything else. She had been with him years now that she knew what every tone of his voice meant, and it wasn't good.

"What is it?" Jules asked as she raced over and collapsed to her knees behind Marc's head where Twitch was holding a thick gauge against his neck. Jules watched as the blood seeped through the t-shirt she had packed into the wound and was soaking the gauze in Twitch's hand.

"What's happening?" Jules frowned as she stared down at Marc and saw his eyes rolling slightly into the back of his head, his hair wet from sweat and stuck to his face, "Marc?" She called his name and his shoulders gave a soft jerk but he was otherwise unresponsive and her hands started to shake.

"Twitch?" She looked to her friend but he could only give her a small shake of his head as he pressed a second and a third gauze against the wound to try and stop the bleeding but nothing was helping and Twitch could do nothing but watch his friend slip further and further away.

"Twitch, do something!" Jules shouted as she cupped Marc's face from behind, running the pads of her thumbs over his cheeks as she stared into his eyes that lolled towards the back of his skull. Her chest filled with pain and fear as she raised her head and looked towards the door behind which Carlos was outside without any back up. She had to choose between going to Carols and staying with Marc and it felt like she was being torn in two.

She hated it and hoped Carlos would understand as she turned back to Marc. Please let them both be okay, Jules silently prayed as it was the only thing left that she hadn't done.

"He needs a blood transfusion but I don't have the equipment with me," Twitch hit the floor with his fist before he turned to look at Ridgeway, "If you've still got that phone I'd get onto your rescue team and get them here ASAP!"

"Hold on Marc," Jules lowered her lips to his forehead and whispered, "Just hold on."

*

Curled up in the back foot well of the jeep Carlos covered his head with his arms as they came under heavy fire. The windows had long since been shot out, covering them in glass, as well as the tyres, and he was sure he had heard a wing mirror being blasted off the framework a few moments earlier.

"Any ideas!?" Kazeem shouted from the front where he was crouched in front of the driver's seat, the steering wheel pressing into his head.

Carlos could barely hear him over the pinging of bullets against the cheap metal. It sounded like popcorn going off in a microwave only a billion times worse. When there was a lull in the firing Carlos raised his rifle into the air, keeping the rest of his body on the floor of the truck, until the nozzle was pointing out the window and he squeezed the trigger. Moving the rifle back and forth in a sweeping motion he kept firing until they fired back.

As he tried to curl himself into a tighter ball Carlos looked down past his feet at the opposite passenger side door when a line of bullets suddenly hit the outside of the door and caused small craters in the metal. His eyes widened as he saw it and he knew the car wouldn't take much more.

Holding his rifle flat against his chest Carlos looked straight up at the roof and said a silent prayer before he raised his head a little and caught Kazeem's eyes through the gap in the seats. Kazeem looked back at him with the same knowing look when shots fired from the front of the vehicle hit the engine which caused the hood to come flying up on its hinges, blocking the front windscreen.

Over the ear deafening noise Carlos began to lay out the plan to Kazeem using hand signals when the firing stopped. Seeing it as an opportunity both Carlos and Kazeem began to extradite themselves from the floor of the jeep when Carlos reached out and touched Kazeem's shoulder.

"What is it?" Kazeem shouted loudly.

Carlos pointed to his ear and then outside, telling him to listen. A few moments later he knew that Kazeem had heard it too as he scrambled up onto the driver seat to peer over the edge of the window and up at the sky. Carlos did the same as he went to the other side of the vehicle, his eyes wide as he looked for any signs of helicopters above him. He would know what the sound of a chopper was a hundred miles away and this didn't sound like just one either.

"Are they ours?" Kazeem asked as the noise of rotating blades grew closer, wondering if the approaching aircraft were friendly or hostile.

As Carlos saw the large silhouettes descending from the blackness of the sky, his head peering more and more over the window ledge, another round of gunfire sounded around them. Dropping to the floor Carlos prepared for the rush of bullets to tear through the metal sheeting of the jeep but when none came he opened a single eye and realised that the bullets weren't pinging off of the vehicle. In fact, none of the bullets were hitting the vehicle. Either the terrorists suddenly got really bad at aiming or they were firing at the helicopters that had just arrived.

Sitting back up cautiously Carlos peered outside and saw that he was right, the insurgents had turned their aim onto the aircraft and there was no way they would be firing at their own helicopters.

"There's your answer Kazeem!" Carlos cheered as he reached through and patted him on the shoulder, "The cavalry is here!"