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“I'm gonna die.” Gaz groaned and, without taking off his heavy backpack, fell to the ground.
“You're never satisfied.” Soap replied wearily but mockingly, sitting down next to his friend. “You complained about the cold in London and at the base, and now we're in a place where winter doesn't exist, and you're still whining.”
“I wanted warmth, not this fucking heat, humidity, and bloody jungle where literally every blade of grass is trying to kill you!” Garrick exclaimed indignantly and began to wriggle out of his backpack straps.
TF141 had been walking through the jungle along the Kwanza River for three days. As support for this mission, Captain Price had been given a small unit of local Special Forces, whose members were well versed in the jungle in general and in this area in particular. The main task of the mixed combat group was to disrupt a large deal involving the sale of illegally mined diamonds and their removal from the country and to detain all participants, alive if possible. It sounded simple enough for both the British and the Angolans, but this was one of those cases where getting to the mission location was much harder than actually completing the mission itself. They had to move on foot; firstly, so as not to reveal themselves to numerous enemies earlier than necessary, and secondly, because no transport could pass through here. That is why, in addition to the usual military equipment and weapons, each soldier carried a large backpack, which was evenly distributed with supplies, tents, sleeping bags, and other items necessary for survival in the wild.
“Some people pay a lot of money to be here.” MacTavish said, following Garrick's example and taking off his backpack, which was aching from its weight and his tired shoulders.
“I'd pay a lot of money to get out of here.” Gaz grumbled, groaning as he sat down and then stood up.
The grueling jungle trek was over for this day, but there was still a long way to go before they could rest. Angolan special forces have already begun setting up tents and establishing a camp, while the members of 141 had to secure the perimeter to protect themselves not only from people but also from wild animals. On the first evening, Price handed over command of this process to Ghost, while he and the commander of the Angolan unit checked the maps, marking the way they had covered and studying the route for the next day.
Lieutenant Marcos Silva commanded a dozen soldiers who were elite by local standards. His ancestors had arrived in these lands in the distant 16th century and had fought for generations against the indigenous population, which resisted the relentless colonization process. As part of the colonial army, the men of the Silva family advanced deep into the Black Continent, unaware of how the local culture, traditions, and bizarre beliefs were intertwining with their own, creating a new identity. These lands became more native to the lieutenant's ancestors than distant and almost forgotten Europe, so when the time came for Angola to rise up against colonial oppression, the Silvas joined the liberation struggle. Perhaps they believed that after victory, after gaining their long-desired independence, they would finally be able to lay down their arms; instead, they had to fight again, this time in a bloody civil war. Even after its formal end, peace didn’t come to Angola, and Marcos Silva didn’t stray from his family's centuries-old tradition, joining the army and starting his own battle.
Now there are very few people like Marcos left in Angola. Many descendants of the proud colonizers returned to Europe after the colony became an independent country. And those who remained mostly chose to live peaceful lives. In Lieutenant Silva's unit, there was only one other white man besides him—a young but very promising guy named Andre. The other nine were native Angolans, and sometimes this ratio of whites to dark-skinned people in army units was a source of conflict, but not here. Lieutenant Silva's subordinates respected their commander, just as he respected them and their culture. That was enough to reconcile the descendants of former enemies.
Something loud banged where the Angolan Special Forces were setting up camp, distracting Lieutenant Silva from his thoughts. He realized that Captain Price had just said something to him, or perhaps asked him a question, but he had missed it.
“Excuse me, Captain, could you repeat that?” Marcos asked, angry for allowing himself to be distracted.
“This place.” Price nodded calmly, without showing the slightest irritation, and pointed to the map. “There's a big detour marked on the route, but why? There's nothing there.”
“Actually, there is.” Silva said. “There are several illegal settlements scattered around the river in that area. Those snake pits should have been burned to the ground long ago, but the authorities never have the resources to do it. We can't be seen there if we want to maintain the element of surprise, so the route has been changed.”
“We'll lose a fucking lot of time.” Price sighed heavily, already imagining how tomorrow they would have to fight their way through the jungle instead of walking along the riverbank.
“There will be a couple of places further on where we can cut across.” Silva ran his finger across the map, pointing to what he was talking about. “We'll catch up with our schedule there.”
Price nodded silently in agreement. Although he was the commander of the entire operation, at this stage, the best key decisions should be entrusted to those who had already traveled through this wild area many times and knew all its peculiarities, namely Lieutenant Silva and his men. Incidentally, the latter had already set up camp and were busy preparing a simple dinner while their commanders discussed the route. Looking more closely, Price noticed three of his sergeants among the Angolan soldiers, which meant that they had already finished securing the perimeter.
Suddenly, the huge figure of Ghost appeared in front of the unit commanders, and it looked as if he had simply materialized there, rather than, for example, coming out from behind the large tree on the right. Price was already used to the lieutenant's manner of movement, but Silva flinched in surprise and reflexively grabbed the handle of his pistol. However, he quickly realized his mistake and cursed in Portuguese with a mixture of irritation and relief.
“We've finished securing the perimeter.” Ghost reported calmly to Price. “But there's a problem. He won't save us from the snakes, and there are a lot more of them here than at our previous campsites. I killed three while we were working.”
The demon fell silent but, catching the captain's very expressive glance, turned his head toward Silva.
“I'm sorry, Lieutenant.” He said. “I didn't mean to scare you.”
“I just don't understand how a man of your build can move so silently.” Silva shook his head, and the three of them approached the fire.
The Angolans surprisingly quickly and without question accepted the fact that one of their allies was so mysterious that he didn't even eat in their presence. A portion of dinner was set aside for Ghost, and the plate stood next to him while everyone else devoured their simple camp food. Some of the soldiers were too tired even to talk, but one of the Angolans, a cheerful young man named Mbilu, who had grown up not in the city but in a small village far from civilization, still had the energy. He entertained his British comrades with stories about specific local delicacies made from fried termites or crickets, which made the Angolans, even white Andre, laugh, while Sergeant Garrick seemed to have lost his appetite completely.
Neither Silva nor Price intervened, understanding that such conversations were part of establishing friendly relations between members of the two units. The captain, moreover, was thinking about the night shift schedule, because tonight the safety of the entire team's sleep rested on the shoulders of 141. Last night, Lieutenant Silva's men had been on duty one at a time, which was quite enough in such a remote area far from any settlements or roads, but they knew the local conditions well, unlike the British. Besides, Garrick seemed to have real problems with the Angolan fauna, especially the numerous reptiles. In the end, Price decided to discuss the matter with his men later, without outsiders.
Immediately after dinner, the soldiers dispersed to their tents. Marcos assigned those responsible for breakfast, pointing them out to Price so that his guards would wake them up before the rest, and then went to bed too. The members of 141 gathered near their tent, and, making sure there were no Angolans nearby, the captain spoke quietly.
“Soap, you'll take the first watch with the lieutenant.” He said. “Then Roach. Then me.”
“What about me?” Gaz asked in surprise.
“You'll rest today and help with breakfast tomorrow.” Price explained diplomatically, not wanting to reveal the real reasons for his decision.
The fact that Ghost would be on duty all night was not even discussed. First, he did not object, and second, it would be difficult for him to squeeze into a cramped tent designed for a maximum of four normal people. The Angolans had tents like this, but none of them were giants like Ghost. So Price, Garrick, and Sanderson climbed inside, making sure there were no snakes, spiders, or scorpions, while MacTavish and Ghost stayed outside.
The lieutenant and sergeant walked around the camp for a while, but then, when everyone was asleep, they returned to their unit's tent. Ghost didn't need to patrol the area to hear or see any approaching danger, so he and Soap positioned themselves so that they couldn't be seen from the camp. Johnny sat closer to the demon, who this time was not warming him but cooling him, and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket.
“It's actually pretty nice here, if you don't count the insects, snakes, poisonous plants, and other crap.” Soap said thoughtfully, leaning his shoulder against Ghost's. “If it wasn't so secret, you could take your camera and get some amazing shots.”
This assessment was completely sincere and objective—the first roll of film he shot revealed his true talent for this art. Ghost's photographs were not only high quality but also very interesting from an artistic point of view, regardless of what he was shooting. He managed to print one copy of each image in 8x10 inch format before 141 left for Angola, but each of his comrades ordered additional copies for themselves.
Gaz and Roach asked for photos that captured moments from the unit's life—training, hanging out in the break room, caring for weapons and equipment. Gary also wanted a few images of cats to send to his mysterious partner, which he told Ghost in secret from Kyle and Johnny.
Price also wanted photos from the base, as well as those taken during the rest at his hunting cabin. Among them were not only the captain and Soap, captured on camera while hunting, fishing, and cutting and preparing their catch, but also the amazing night sky with myriads of bright stars that cannot be seen not only in the city but even at a base far from civilization.
Soap's order was the largest, partly because it included not only his own wishes but also photos for his parents and sisters, some of which were duplicated. For example, Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish were to receive two copies of sets of pictures taken in front of the Christmas tree in their home to give one to Marion. In addition, Johnny added one portrait of his younger sister and one of himself, as well as a couple of images from the base. He also planned to send Aileen all her photos, a few of his, and several of cats and kittens. For himself, Soap, like the others, wanted group photos of the unit, all with him in them, as well as a portrait of Aileen, the one where she shows off her piercing.
“You know what picture you have to take?” Johnny squinted slyly at Ghost.
The lieutenant was scanning the jungle around him, but when he heard himself being addressed, he looked at the sergeant, tilting his head questioningly.
“You have to take a picture of the two of us together.” Soap said. “I'd like to carry a photo like that in my wallet or in the pocket of my tactical vest.”
Ghost thought that he'd like that too. This idea was even better than a photo of Johnny alone or his self-portrait, which the demon now had with him. He could print this picture without buying small photo paper, using what he had and then simply cutting off the unnecessary white margins.
“For that, I'll need to buy a self-timer lever and a tripod.” Ghost said thoughtfully. “If you help me, we can find and order them from your phone when the radio silence is canceled.”
“Of course, I'll help!” Soap rejoiced and, glancing at his watch, stood up. “Let's go and do another round.”
Closer to dawn, when the sky was already beginning to lighten, a leopard approached the camp. It silently emerged from the morning mist and froze directly opposite Ghost and Price on the other side of the perimeter, which, however, was unlikely to hold back the powerful predator. The beast was probably heading for the river to drink, as it had done hundreds of times before, and didn’t expect to encounter an obstacle in the form of humans who had set up camp in this very spot.
The scene that unfolded before Price's eyes seemed almost unreal. The tropical forest, filled with strange, eerie sounds and shrouded in mist; the tents immersed in silence, seeming so insignificant against the backdrop of boundless wilderness; and the powerful and agile predator, its strong muscles rippling beneath its bright, spotted fur... For a few long seconds, the captain also froze, as if not daring to disturb the solemnity of the moment, but then shook off his stupor and slowly reached for the pistol in the tactical holster on his belt. However, he didn't even have time to grab the weapon. Ghost gently squeezed his wrist and, when Price looked at him, shook his head. The demon's gaze was fixed on the beast's eyes, and it slowly, with dignity, backed away, then turned and disappeared into the misty jungle.
The captain didn't ask anything. He stared for a few seconds at the spot where the leopard had disappeared, then tapped the lieutenant lightly on the shoulder, and they continued along the perimeter.
The path through the jungle proved to be more difficult than along the river, not only because the soldiers often had to literally cut their way through with machetes, but also because they had to be very vigilant. The illegal settlements mentioned by Lieutenant Silva were not close to the planned route, but the risk of encountering one of their inhabitants was still quite high. In this case, the best thing the soldiers could do was to kill anyone who saw them, because disappearance and death in the jungle would raise far fewer questions than a large, by local standards, group of well-armed and equipped men.
Another factor complicating today's journey was its length. Price and Silva decided that their unit must reach the bank of the Kwanza again before stopping for the night, but this proved to be no easy task. For the last hour or so, the soldiers walked in the dark, lighting their way with flashlights, and when they finally heard the splashes of water ahead, even the Angolans were so tired that they could barely manage to set up camp.
Realizing that the British were having a harder time than the locals, Lieutenant Silva ordered his men to secure the perimeter, but to his surprise, Lieutenant Ryan was still ready to lead the way. Then Marcos simply sent three of his soldiers with him: Mbilu, who had become the good comrade of the British; Kwekenge, who had spent his entire childhood in the ports of Lobito; and a native of Luanda who was a descendant of the indigenous people but had the Portuguese name Davi. Soap and Roach, meanwhile, helped to quickly heat up the MREs, and Silva assigned guards from his men for this night.
“We know you're all tired.” Captain Price said, and the Angolan lieutenant sitting next to him nodded in agreement. "But tomorrow is a crucial day. The road ahead will be difficult, and we must reach our destination in time, or all your suffering will have been for nothing. The good news is that if we do everything right, we won't have to walk back—the helos will come for us.“
"It's worth rushing!" Someone from the Angolans shouted, and everyone, including the members of 141, laughed wearily.
In fact, the helicopters were supposed to pick up the mixed combat group in any case, so the next day when they approached the first section where Marcos planned to cut the road, the soldiers left most of their heavy marching gear behind. Now they needed to overcome a cascade of several not very high but almost vertical rocks, cross a flat plateau overgrown with bushes, whose flexible, intertwined branches caught their feet at every step, and descend. There, for many miles in all directions, stretched an impassable swamp. Fortunately, the soldiers didn’t need to cross it completely, only to walk along the edge, taking advantage of the temporary dry spell and the fact that Lieutenant Silva knew a relatively safe route.
The journey was difficult even without backpacks containing tents, sleeping bags, dishes, and other items necessary for setting up camp, but no one complained. Everyone understood that this was the only way the combat group could make up for the time lost bypassing the illegal settlements. Returning to their planned route, the soldiers had a quick snack on the go, and those who wanted had smoked their last—before the mission was complete—cigarettes. Shortly thereafter, Price checked the map and declared combat readiness. Less than an hour later, the mixed unit reached the road—long abandoned but not forgotten by those who wanted to keep their movements secret. It was here that the meeting for which the soldiers had traveled such a long and difficult journey was to take place.
There was little time left before the mission targets appeared, so preparations under Captain Price's command began immediately. During the briefing at Strickland's base, 141 had received detailed satellite images of the meeting place, so the captain had plenty of time to think everything through and plan the upcoming battle in advance. Now all he had to do was direct all the men under his command.
First, Price divided the mixed unit into four combat groups. The first consisted of Ghost, Soap, and Roach. In battle, it would be led by the lieutenant, but now their task was to mine the road, so command was temporarily transferred to Sergeant MacTavish.
The second group included two Angolan snipers who were supposed to coordinate their actions and respond to requests from their comrades. After checking their radios, they scattered in different directions, looking for places to set up their firing positions. Watching them walk away, Price thought gloomily that he would have been better off assigning the task to Soap, but the sergeant, as always, had to play the role of mediator between Ghost and the rest of the team. Once again, the captain promised himself to discuss this issue with the stubborn demon and then dismissed these thoughts, which were useless now.
The third and fourth combat groups were led by Lieutenant Silva and Price himself. They were the most numerous and would be the main force in the upcoming battle. They positioned themselves so that they could attack the enemy from two sides, and now the soldiers who had joined them were carefully camouflaging their positions, which was not so easy in this territory. Meanwhile, Ghost's combat group finished setting the explosives and lay in wait somewhere between Price and Silva, with orders to act as the lieutenant saw fit.
When all preparations were complete, the road became deserted and once again looked as if no human foot had touched it for many days. Everything around was silent; the soldiers were frozen, and the only movement that disturbed the calm of the scorching African day was the gusts of hot wind. Each member of the mission had been trained for long and exhausting waits in all conditions, so no one complained, broke radio silence, or even sighed too loudly. Only the commanders kept track of time, and in about an hour, the voices of the snipers finally rang out in the radio headsets.
“Visual contact from the west.” The first reported.
“From the east too.” The second added a few seconds later.
This meant that both sides of the criminal agreement were approaching the meeting place without delay. Representatives of the as yet invisible third side focused and brought their weapons closer, ready to make their amendments to the deal as soon as their commanders gave the order.