Chapter 8
When he heard about the briefing, Marcus instantly clicked into professional mode and headed for the Command tent.
Making his way to the front, Marc stood next to the table and stared down at the image that met him.
Marc instantly knew it as a reconnaissance photo, it was about the only images they saw nowadays, but he didn't linger on that fact for more than a few seconds.
His eyes shifted from the brown buildings and settled on the focus of the photograph; an Afghan national photographed, most likely, leaving the building he was stood outside of.
Whoever took the photos must have thought all their Christmases had come at once. Stood outside in the middle of the day, wearing a dark orange colour turban and clothes, he could have been spotted a mile away.
He seemed to be looking across the street at something, causing his face to be fully exposed. His eyes seemed to be a black bottomless pit, with a crooked nose and a small mouth.
His hair was hidden beneath the turban but the lower half of his jaw was covered in a thick, scraggly beard the colour of rich dark coffee, which reached the top of his chest.
Marc looked up then and saw the same image was being spread around the tent and he realised that this was going to be a snatch-and-grab mission.
"The man you are looking at is Abdul-Azim Farhat, terrorist and an old friend of Osama Bin Laden." The Commander walked into the tent, his voice shouting for everyone to hear.
The response was instantaneous; the conversations in the tent stopped immediately and everybody stood to attention.
Commander Strong made his way to the front and stood before everybody, motioning for them to relax as he continued with the background, "Responsible for five organised suicide bombings, that we know of, this man is accountable for a one hundred and thirty five lives."
The commander's voice turned sad as he said, "Including the lives of ten servicemen and nearly fifty children when one of his suicide bombers targeted a school in the capital."
Marc shuffled as he heard the news, the air in the tent growing tense as everybody soaked in the information that had just been given to them.
The Commander sensed what was occurring but he carried on, feeding on their determination, "And he has just been spotted. Information is still coming in but I have been tasked with leading the mission."
The Commander turned and rested his hands on the desk, looking out at them all, "Our objective is to bring him in."
Marc looked over his shoulder to the others in the back. Jules was whispering to Carlos, he knew she wouldn't like that.
"If possible," Commander Strong back-stepped slightly, "However, if you get a positive ID and you are unable to bring him in, everyone in this room had been granted permission to shoot on sight; we cannot afford to let Farhat loose, we do not know what he may be planning next."
Reading between the lines, if somebody accidentally lost their temper and killed the man that killed ten of their own, no questions would be asked.
Marc liked those orders.
"Right," He tapped the desk and turned back towards the board where a large scale map of the city had been posted, "The information we have tells us that Farhat and his convoy will be coming from the north and stop here," He tapped against a building on a corner.
"How many in the convoy?" Jim Ricardo asked from beside Marc.
"As I said, information is sparse. It could be ten, it could be hundred." Commander told him truthfully.
YOU ARE READING
Seven Years (#3 in Military Series)
Action*Prequel to '12 Seconds'* Seven years from now, Sergeant Julia Reynolds will be caught in an explosion in Afghanistan that costs her her memory. She will lose the memories of the man she loves and of the person she had become. But unbeknownst to th...
