THE PLATOONS STAYED IN THE CAMP AN EXTRA TWENTY-FOUR hours, searching ceaselessly but hopelessly for Martyn on the hillside. Then the order finally came to return to Sin City.The men looked back before they jumped into the wagons. A few gazed at the hillside for a moment, as if Martyn might suddenly emerge from behind a bush shouting: ‘Wait for me! I was only having a crap!’ Most just took a quick glance around at the desert they had scarred with their wire, trenches and sandbags.‘We leaving all our wire and stuff here for the Taliban to help themselves?’ asked Mal.‘The engineers are coming to take the camp down,’ the boss told him. ‘I’m glad we don’t have to.’‘Goodbye, fucking Jackpot,’ Finn said. The name seemed stupid now. It was a strutting name. It reminded you of the way Martyn swaggered around the camp with his misplaced, brash confidence.‘Jackpot, shithole, lost spot, dead loss . . .’ Bacon muttered under his breath.The journey back was oppressive. It was not only the heat that kept the men still in their seats but their sense of failure. They had agreed often enough in the last twenty-four hours that Martyn never should have gone outside the wire like that. But, inside, every man took some responsibility for what had happened, and the higher his rank the worse he felt. Major Willingham, Dave thought, looked ten years older than when they had arrived here.The men on top watched as the huge jagged teeth protruding from the earth became the Early Rocks. A carload full of pilgrims, mostly women in bright headscarves, was crossing the desert towards the shrine. And then they were gone too and the empty desert rolled on and on before them.When the convoy arrived back at the FOB it was getting dark. The doors of the wagons opened and Emily was first out, followed by the engineers. Saying nothing, their faces still pinched with shock, they quietly trooped off towards their isoboxes.The men jumped out, grateful for the silence, the stillness and the evening air, but they were immediately surrounded by the rest of the company, eager for an account of Martyn’s kidnap.Boss Weeks opened the door at the front of the wagon but he did not dismount. He looked hopefully for Asma among the faces surrounding the Vectors. Jean and Iain Kila were already locked in conversation. But Asma was nowhere to be seen. His eyes searched the base for her. No Asma, but he could see evidence of the news they’d received that Sin City had come under heavy attack today. There was damage everywhere. Sandbags were ragged. A sangar had collapsed in one corner. He hoped Asma was safe. Even if she wasn’t speaking to him.He heard the 2 i/c greeting Major Willingham.‘So, sir, do you think there’s any chance we’ll get Topaz Zero back?’Weeks listened intently to the OC’s answer.‘No, I don’t. God, what a fucking catastrophe. Nothing happened to us and then everything happened in five minutes. So my career’s pretty much a T4.’He was aware that someone was standing in the Vector’s open doorway. He glanced down. Asma! He could not stop himself smiling broadly.Weeks jumped out and she smiled back.‘I’m sorry you’ve had such a hard time,’ she said.‘Asma, I want to apologize.’‘You don’t have anything to apologize for, Gordon.’‘I didn’t really listen to you, but I’ve had all week to think about what you said. And yesterday proved you right. I’m sure Martyn’s kidnapping was cold, calculated revenge. As cold and calculating as the way we took out their man.’‘But we heard he walked right up to them! They didn’t plan that bit.’‘They were certainly planning something. There was evidence that they’d been watching us and perhaps gathering in numbers ready for some kind of ambush.’‘Shit, Gordon, I want to say I’m sorry too. I’m sorry about all the shit I gave you. I’ve been feeling fucking awful about it.’‘Don’t apologize for being right,’ he said. They smiled at each other again, more awkwardly this time.‘When I saw the mess and no sign of you . . .’ Weeks gestured around at the damaged base ‘. . . I was worried that you’d been injured.’‘Yeah, well, we had an interesting time today. Even Jean had to get out there with a weapon and she could barely remember which end to fire from. The second i/c was just about to ask the cook to get on the .50 when it all stopped.’Weeks laughed at the thought of the pan-wielding Masud behind such a heavy weapon.‘Taking Martyn has turned the local Taliban into a bunch of cocky bastards,’ Asma said. ‘The way they were gloating on their mobiles. I just wanted to tell them all to fuck off. Anyway, we can expect a lot more attacks like that now.’The men sorted out the ammo and the wagons and then began to cluster in the cookhouse. Dave tried to call Jenny but the phones had been taken out of action while relatives were informed of a fatality at another base.He went to the ops room and found it a hive of activity. Most of the officers were there and Iain Kila was passing around steaming mugs.‘Second i/c’s too busy to make a brew!’ he explained. ‘I never thought I’d see the day.’‘What’s going on?’‘All hell’s let loose over Topaz Zero. He’s an international news story now.’‘So the OC isn’t going to remember that he told me I could get online as soon as we were back to look at the new baby . . .’Kila, who could carry four mugs of tea at once, plonked them down without finesse and went straight over to the 2 i/c. After a hurried conversation in undertones, the officer got up.‘Congratulations, Sergeant. But don’t be too long, will you? I’m waiting for an urgent email from the Foreign Office.’Dave went straight to his inbox and found that Leanne Buckle had sent three sets of pictures. The earliest email said:
