Spider Shepherd 11 - White Lies by Stephen Leather Read Free Book Online Page B

smiled. ‘The weapon is called an Igla, and has the designation 9K38. You are never to refer to it that way. In all communication it is to be called “the parcel”. That applies not only to phone and email conversations, but even when you think you are talking to a brother in a secure location. Do you all understand that?’
    The six men nodded. One of them raised a hand to ask a question. His name was Rafiq, a British-born Pakistani who had proved himself an enthusiastic and diligent student. He was one of the men wearing Western clothing. The men who ran the training camp had high hopes for Rafiq, and the other jihadist who had come from Bradford, a twenty-year-old mechanic called Naseem. Like Rafiq, Naseem dressed in Western clothing and was of Pakistani heritage. Naseem was clean shaven but Rafiq had a thick, neatly trimmed beard.
    ‘Why is it blue?’ asked Rafiq.
    ‘It is a practice model, it cannot be fired and there is no warhead,’ said Hammad. ‘We will be using this practice model so that you can familiarise yourself with the components. Tomorrow you will be shown a working version and eventually we will be conducting live firings.’
    ‘Will we be shooting at a plane?’ asked Naseem.
    ‘Let’s leave the questions until the end,’ said Hammad. ‘Now, you will hear it called by several names. The Russians call it Igla, which means needle. The Americans call it the Grouse. There is an earlier version the Americans call Gimlet. And a new version, introduced to the Russian army in 2004, is called the Grinch by the Americans. The versions we have are all the Igla. You train on this and when we are ready, you will be firing one.’
    ‘Wicked,’ said one of the Birmingham men. He was known as ‘KC’ or ‘Casey’, Hammad wasn’t sure which. His parents were Kenyan but KC had been born in England and had a strong Birmingham accent. In contrast to his problems with the Glaswegians, though, Hammad had no trouble understanding KC. KC was enthusiastic, perhaps too much so. He was the fittest of the group, and a fast runner, but he tended to speak without thinking, and while there was no doubting his devotion to Islam he was not a good student of the Qur’an.
    Hammad’s jaw tensed and he gave KC a hard look but didn’t say anything. KC looked away, realising his mistake. ‘Sorry,’ he muttered under his breath.
    Hammad made a soft snorting sound through his nose as he stared at KC, then addressed the group again. ‘This version of the Igla has been around for more than thirty years, and is tried and tested,’ he said. ‘It has a probability-of-kill ratio of between 0.3 and 0.5 against unprotected moving targets. That means that when fired at a fast-moving plane, the missile will miss at least half the time. That ratio falls to one-in-four if the target is able to employ countermeasures.’
    Rafiq frowned. ‘You mean, most of the time it misses its target?’
    ‘When fired at military jets or helicopters, yes,’ said Hammad. ‘But at static targets, it is much more accurate. Also, planes landing or taking off are much easier to hit.’ He smiled. ‘Sitting ducks, as they say.’
    He ran his finger down the barrel. ‘There is a lot of technical information that you don’t really need to know, but I will run through it with you now,’ he said. ‘The missile has an operational range of a little more than three miles and can hit planes as high as eleven thousand feet after travelling at twice the speed of sound. Once fired the missile heads for the heat signature of the target, usually an engine. The missile uses a two-colour infrared guidance system which improves accuracy. The missile is designed to alter its course at the last second so that it hits the fuselage rather than the engine, which is guaranteed to do more damage. The warhead weighs two and a half pounds but the missile also incorporates a delayed-impact fuse and an extra charge that ignites any remaining fuel.’ He smiled. ‘One