Chris Hunter - Eight Lives Down

About the Book

SEARING HEAT

You have the most dangerous job in the worlds most dangerous place. You are responsible for bomb disposal in the British sector of Iraq. You are the last defence against oblivion. And its already a hundred degrees in the shade.

COLD FEAR

You are up against some of the most sophisticated bombmakers in the world. They dont play by the rules of the Geneva Convention. Nothing but your own wits will save you. Youre on your own.

SILENCE

Now is the moment of truth. All you can hear is the sound of your own blood pounding through your veins. This could be your last moment on earth.

ITS JUST YOU AND THE BOMB

Contents

This book is dedicated to the memory of those who made the long walk and never returned.

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to my editor, Bill Scott-Kerr, for his matchless vision, amity and stoic perseverance, and to all the staff at Transworld without whom this book would not have been possible. There are so many of you across the sales, marketing and publication disciplines to whom I owe a huge debt of gratitude, but I would like to thank the following for their unstinting support: Katrina Whone, Rebecca Jones, Stephen Mulcahey, Phil Lord, Stina Smemo, Laura Sherlock, Dan Balado, Sophie Holmes, Janine Giovanni, Larry Finlay and Zoe Howes. Your encouragement and enthusiasm has made writing this book a thoroughly rewarding and edifying experience and I am grateful to you all.

My special thanks go to Mark Lucas, my friend, mentor and literary agent. Your patience has been truly saint-like and you have shown me the perfect blend of encouragement and pressure necessary to allow me to get the book finished. For the hundreds of hours you spent working with me on Eight Lives Down, for your guidance and wisdom and for the email exchanges at three oclock in the morning, I am hugely grateful. I am also indebted to your colleagues at LAW and in particular to Alice Saunders for her characteristic efficiency and her perpetually infectious enthusiasm. Working with you both has been an inimitably enjoyable experience.

I must also thank the Ministry of Defence for its invaluable advice and assistance, particularly those at the Directorate of Defence Public Relations (Army) and my former colleagues at the Defence Intelligence Staff and across the Ammunition Technical Officer community, who offered invaluable advice and provided the necessary checks and balances to ensure I didnt inadvertently write something that could compromise the safety of our servicemen and women.

Additionally I must thank my team, especially Mick and Dan for allowing me to tell their stories, as well as those who cannot be named for obvious reasons. You know who you are, and for your stoic professionalism and devotion to duty I have nothing but admiration for you all. Serving with you was the single most enjoyable experience of my career.

I will for ever be indebted to my mother. You started the race, and you were there to greet me at the finish line. Thanks for your constant encouragement, for always being prepared to drop everything when Lucy and I have needed your help and for sharing your constructive thoughts with me on the initial drafts of the manuscript.

And finally my very special loving thanks are to my wife, Lucy. In spite of the loneliness and uncertainty, the disappointments and the stream of broken promises, you never lost your faith in me and you never gave up on me. Now its your time... the love that I have of the life that I have is yours.

Prologue

February 2004

Now I am in my other world. Outside sounds become muted and I am aware only of the sound of my own breathing and the drumming of my heart. This is the moment when I leave everything else behind. The moment when the drawbridge closes behind me and I am truly alone.

The long walk to the target seems to take for ever. Im carrying 90lb of equipment and wearing a bomb suit that weighs another 80lb. Sweat drips into my eyes and my visor is beginning to mist up in the fearsome tropical heat. The Colombian Jungle Commandos have taken up fire positions in the rainforests and mountains that tower above the ICP. Their job is to stand between me and a snipers bullet.

I try not to hold my breath as I take each step, but it isnt easy. Only 75 metres to go; Im halfway to the target vehicle. The twin-flex firing cable snakes out of my carrying case as I go.

Im struggling to see. My visor has completely steamed up now. I wipe away the condensation with a cloth. Twenty seconds later its steamed up again. The humidity in this place is outrageous.

I go over the threat assessment again in my mind. There are three options. Theres the timed IED, which could go off at any moment. Theres the command initiated device, usually detonated by wire or radio control; it requires an observer, and this terrain offers thousands of potential firing points. I hope to God its not RC: the Colombians dont have any radio jammers, and as Im here working with them, nor do I. Finally theres the VO, the booby trap. The Colombian police officers have walked all around the car, so theres unlikely to be anything buried in the ground, but theres still every chance of a VO inside it.

So, what is the terrorist trying to achieve? Does he want to get me? Trying to confuse as to intent is a classic Provisional IRA tactic, and I know theyve been here teaching the FARC boys some new tricks. Thats why Ive been sent here.

The sweat is pouring off me and my hearts beating like a drum as I finally reach the target vehicle, one of those 1950s grocery vans you only see in Tintin books. Its still; eerily silent. There are no tripwires and theres no disturbed earth, but I can see the improvised mortar through the windscreen. Its pretty much identical to the last PIRA mortar I saw in Northern Ireland, the barrack buster, a huge projectile which contains as much explosive as your average car bomb. This ones in a highly volatile state because its a misfire which means it could go live any second. And its pointing directly at the village of Espinal.

If it launches now Ill be engulfed by the blast. As it lands moments later, the fuse will kick into life and the 120kg of ammonium nitrate and sugar explosive will detonate, fragmenting the bomb into hundreds of supersonic pieces of molten metal. All windows within 200 metres will implode, wreaking havoc and causing massive casualties. Hundreds of pieces of shrapnel will smash through unprotected vehicles and structures. Shards of glass will sever limbs, and what little remains of the shredded bodies will almost certainly be destroyed by the napalm fireball that follows.

In May two years ago, three hundred people crowded into a small church in Bojaya, whispering prayers as they hunkered down on the cement floor, seeking sanctuary from the FARC gunfire outside. They thought they would be safe there. They were wrong. A PIRA-designed improvised mortar exploded on the church roof, which collapsed, killing 119. At least forty-five of the victims were children.

Ive been an operator for seven years and completed three tours in Northern Ireland. Ive studied the IRA obsessively and I know their tactics inside out. There could be any number of surprises lying in wait. I have to render this device safe. Now.

I begin clearing a safe area around the vehicle. Even if there is no secondary device this time, the bomber will still be watching me. Tracking my procedures and trying to second-guess me the next time we meet. This is only one battle in a very long war.

My body is starting to shake.

I check inside the van for alarm sensors, but there are none. Good. I carry a couple of pieces of ceramic with me Ive taken them from a broken spark plug. I throw one at the bottom left-hand corner of the side window and the glass shatters instantly. Its amazing what tricks you can pick up at school.