Personal Protection (A Spider Shepherd Short Story) Read Online Free Page A

He asked a few more questions and then began preparing to leave, but Shepherd had one further request to make. ‘Forgive me, Ya Sheikh, but we would also want you to wear a PLB - a personal location beacon - at all times so that, in the unlikely event of you ever being kidnapped or going missing, your bodyguard team will be able to locate you using their communications system.’ He saw the sheikh hesitate and reached into his pocket to pull out a tiny PLB, not much bigger than a penny. ‘As you see, it is very small and discreet,’ he glanced at the sheikh’s hand, ‘and could be fitted, for example, inside the gold signet ring you wear on your little finger. If you’re ever required to activate it, just a sharp tap on a solid object will start it transmitting.’
    The sheikh frowned for a second or two but then he nodded.  ‘Very well, if you feel it is essential, give it to me and I shall have it done.’
    The sheikh and his convoy set off back to the capital a few minutes later in another cloud of dust. As soon as he had left, Shepherd and the team started work. The Bedu tribesmen were indeed all illiterate, but far from stupid. They had no problems memorising instructions and were quick learners.
    Training began at five-thirty each morning, shortly after the Bedu had finished their dawn prayers. Throughout the day the men broke off to pray together, facing Mecca. They broke off training at midday and sunset to eat. The cooking facilities consisted of two Pakistani cooks using brushwood fires to cook Bedu food in large aluminium vats.  The SAS men joined the trainees, eating together from enormous aluminium platters about six feet in diameter. The ate with their right hands, either rice with vegetables or goat, and naan bread.
    The weapons training involved a lot of range work and the first session was a vivid demonstration of how much there was to do. When the first batch of trainees were issued with their weapons they immediately began firing them into the air.
    Shepherd yelled at them to cease firing. ‘You know what we say?’ Shepherd said, when he’d brought the firing to a stop. ‘When people start firing upwards, it’s time to get indoors because every round is going to obey the laws of gravity and come down again. If it hits you, it’ll kill you just as dead as if it had been aimed at you in the first place. It’s also a waste of ammunition, so that was your first and your last burst of celebration gunfire - understood?’
    Rusty translated and the men looked at the ground guiltily.
    There was more wild firing over on the range, with rounds spraying all over the hillside behind the targets.  This time Shepherd let them fire away because there was no danger of them hurting anyone. Once they had emptied their weapons, Shepherd gave them the lecture they needed. ‘That was terrible,’ he said. ‘You can see that from the fact that most of the targets are untouched.’ He waited for Rusty to translate before continuing.  ‘You will almost certainly be operating these weapons at close quarters in what will often be crowded areas, because where the sheikh goes a crowd will gather. So the aim is to kill the terrorist, not the innocent bystanders and that means aimed shots, double-taps, not bursts.’  Rusty translated again.
    Once the ground rules had been established, the Bedu proved quick and able pupils.  Jock, Geordie and Jimbo had built a Close Quarter Battle area, dug out of the face of a sand dune and divided into sections with baulks of timber, in which they trained the bodyguards relentlessly, firing off thousands of rounds until every man could put a double tap into a target in the blinking of an eye. Jock had given up the lead role when it became clear that none of the translators could understand his Glaswegian accent, and instead Geordie led the sessions.
    The bodyguards also had to learn explosive recognition and body protection drills, and vehicle convoy drills. That took a great