Surely, she’d have phoned her colleagues to tell them she was safe if she had escaped?
Once he was alone, Galal pulled out a mobile phone, one that hadn’t been issued to him by the department, and dialled a number he knew by heart.
‘It’s me,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘We might have a problem. The woman evaded the attackers, and there’s an Englishman who turned up. He says he’s from the insurance company the woman was working for. He’s been asking questions.’
He listened to the man at the other end of the call, his brow furrowing as he struggled to understand the thick accent.
‘I have my men undertaking a perimeter patrol,’ he said. ‘They’ll keep an eye on him.’
He fell silent and paced the ground next to the army truck. ‘I understand,’ he said. ‘And if Miss Collins reappears, I’ll ensure that the matter is taken care of. Permanently.’
Galal ended the call and cursed.
He thought he’d been careful to hide his gambling debts, always making sure that no-one within the police force would discover his weakness.
Now, he wished he’d never been coerced into joining the syndicate.
The gambling had alleviated the monotony for a while, before the men who played cards every week began to chip away at his resolve and use his weakness to their advantage
First, they’d played to his ego, softening him up, telling him of the rewards that awaited him if he joined their venture.
Then, his gambling debts had been allowed to increase, until the night he stood up from his place at the table and announced he wanted out.
The leader’s eyes had hardened, and Galal had been pushed back into his seat, terrified, while the man set out his plans in detail: a plan that held Galal at its centre, and which would almost certainly end in Galal’s death if he tried to abscond.
Galal exhaled and tapped the phone against his chin as he tried to concentrate.
Something about the man who introduced himself as Dan Taylor made him nervous.
Very nervous.
CHAPTER 8
Dan ended his call and tucked his phone back in his pocket, then waited until the police patrol passed where he stood.
He jogged back up the stairs to Anna’s room and stood on the threshold, careful not to touch anything and leave his fingerprints behind.
His gaze travelled across the clothes strewn over the floor as he tried to imagine the attackers carrying out the same exercise as they had with van Wyk’s room – smashing down the door, shooting the occupant, and then ransacking the contents of the bungalow.
Except when they reached Anna’s room, there was no-one there.
His eyes wandered over the bed, and then his heart lurched. In the wall above the bed, a bullet had cut deep into the plasterwork.
Dan climbed onto the bed, ducked under the immobile ceiling fan, and peered at the damage to the wall.
He glanced over his shoulder at the open door. Voices filtered on the night breeze from van Wyk’s room, and Dan figured it would be at least another hour before the forensic team made their way to Anna’s.
He turned his attention to the floor of the ransacked room, his eyes searching left and right until he saw what he was looking for.
From the contents of Anna’s luggage that had been tossed across the floorboards he picked up a ballpoint pen and climbed back onto the bed. He removed the refill from the pen, tucked the outer casing between his teeth, and inserted the slender refill into the hole in the wall, wiggling it from side to side.
The bullet remained stubbornly stuck in the hole, and Dan cursed under his breath as sweat began to trickle down his forehead.
‘Come on,’ he muttered, his teeth clamping the pen in frustration.
He tried a different angle, wedging the refill above the bullet and dragging it across the brass surface until it caught.
Dan paused, caught his breath, and then gently pulled the bullet towards him. When the end of it emerged from the hole, he replaced the refill in the pen, ensured it was safely tucked into his pocket alongside his phone, and then pulled up his t-shirt and covered his fingers with the material before pulling the bullet from the wall and shoving it into a separate pocket.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped down off the bed, then paused to gauge the scenario once more.
From the trajectory of the bullet, he reckoned the man who had fired the gun had shot into the room upon leaving, from frustration. The bullet had wedged too high to have any accuracy at killing the room’s occupant, and there were no other bullet holes in the bungalow.
He frowned.
The attacks on the two rooms seemed clinical, with little wastage of ammunition. From his experience, terrorists didn’t worry about using up bullets – their raison d’être was to cause as much mayhem, death, and destruction as possible. The whole shock factor was the reason terrorists did what they did.
Outside, nearer the reception area, the attack had been more indiscriminate. The scene of crime struck Dan as being carried out by two different teams – one tasked with hunting down Anna and her colleague, the other to create a diversion and leave behind a trail of destruction that masked the true nature of the attack on the camp.
Dan scratched his jaw as he slowly turned in the middle of the room and tried to put himself in Anna’s shoes.
She would have heard the gunfire, shouting, and screaming from the reception area before hearing the shots that killed her colleague, but the bungalow left her with nowhere to hide.
He wandered into the bathroom and stared at his reflection in the shattered mirror, shards covering the vanity unit from where one of the attackers had no doubt smashed the glass with the butt of a rifle in frustration.
The window bumped in its frame above the sink, and he jumped before chastising himself. He turned to go back into the bedroom, and a thought struck him.
He spun round and pushed against the window.
It swung freely on two hinges along the top of it, providing a gap that was too small for his wide shoulders to fit through.
A petite American, on the other hand—
Dan hurried through the bungalow, slowing as he reached the door, and began walking down the steps.
The police patrol was passing in front of the bungalow, bored expressions on their faces, and he waited until they had gone before he slipped behind the building.
He made his way through the scrubby undergrowth, cursed when he caught his foot on a pipe that led from a water reservoir to the back of the building, and stopped directly under the bathroom window.
He pulled out his phone and, after checking the patrol wasn’t in sight, angled the light from it onto the ground at his feet.
Nothing.
He frowned, took stock of the patrol’s progress, and once satisfied he wasn’t going to be disturbed, waved the light left and right across the sparse dirt.
The only footprints by the window were those of a man, the soles of the footwear leaving faint tracks in the soil similar to the size of Dan’s own boots.
Dan switched off the light and stared at the open window. There were no scrape marks, no scraps of torn clothing on the latch. Then it hit him.
‘You clever girl,’ he murmured.
It would have been one hell of a risk, but the only chance Anna would have had to escape the attack.
Dan jogged back down the side of the bungalow, his body hugged close to the wall, and peered around the front porch.
Beams of light from the police patrol’s flashlights peppered the furthest edge of the grove.
He hurried up the steps to the bungalow and re-entered the building.
Dan pushed the door closed and moved further into the room. He checked inside the wardrobe, placing his hands against the back panelling, then stopped and listened.
He knew he was on the right track; he could sense that someone else was close but simply couldn’t fathom where they might be.
He stood and raised his gaze to the ce
iling, but it was bare except for a light bulb and a ceiling fan.
Nowhere to hide.
He wandered into the bathroom.
He stayed still, willing his heartbeat to slow so that it didn’t pound quite so hard in his ears, and called out quietly.
‘Anna? Anna, it’s Dan Taylor.’
He turned in an arc, his eyes seeking out the walls, the floorboards that looked as if they hadn’t been disturbed in decades. Nothing moved.
‘Anna? It’s safe now. They’ve gone.’ He exhaled, beginning to doubt his own hunch.
His head jerked up at the sound of a scratching noise. ‘Anna? It’s okay. I’m here to take you home.’
He heard it then – a muffled sob, and then the scratching became louder, from within the bathroom.
Dan moved closer, his brow creasing.
A metallic scraping sound began next, and he realised it was coming from a large vent behind the bathroom door.
He crouched down and nearly lost his balance as the metal grille covering the vent fell away from the wall and a pale hand snaked out towards him.
‘Dan?’
He knelt until he could peer into the cavity.
Anna’s eyes held all the terror she had experienced over the past few hours, her breathing shallow.
‘Come here,’ he said. ‘I’ve got you.’
He reached out and took her hand while she wiggled from the space. She sat on the floor next to him, tears streaming down her cheeks.
He enveloped her in his arms as she buried her face in his chest. ‘It’s okay. I’ve got you,’ he murmured. ‘It’s okay.’
Anna sniffed and wiped at her eyes. ‘They killed Benji.’
‘I know.’
She gazed up at him, and then placed her hand on his cheek. ‘Dad got my message?’
Dan nodded. ‘Yeah. He couldn’t make it, so he sent me.’ He smiled. ‘So, you see, I had to find you. I was too scared to go back empty-handed.’
She managed a faint smile before a sob broke through her bravado.
Dan glanced over his shoulder. ‘Shh,’ he said, and smoothed her hair. ‘The attackers have gone, but there are still local police and army outside,’ he explained. ‘And I don’t trust them, so we need to be quiet, okay?’
‘Okay.’ She sniffed loudly and wiped at her eyes. ‘What do we do?’
‘I’ve got a car outside the reception area. We’ll track round the perimeter behind one of the patrols to get to it. I want to make sure we get away from here without any fuss, understand?’
She nodded, and then pulled away from him. ‘Wait.’ She shuffled across to the open vent, reached inside, and pulled out a backpack. ‘I need to take this.’
‘Okay. Let’s go.’
CHAPTER 9
Dan checked the patrol was out of sight before wrenching the door open and leading Anna down the stairs and round the back of the building.
‘Keep close, and stay quiet,’ he whispered.
Anna nodded and gave him a thumbs up, and not for the first time he was grateful the general hadn’t shied away from teaching his daughter basic field craft.
In fact, the general had confided in him once that he’d treated it like a game ever since Anna was old enough to walk, showing her how to move silently, how to blend in with her surroundings, and how to keep calm in a crisis.
Dan had certainly been impressed at the young woman’s quick thinking at going to ground once she’d realised fleeing from the camp and raising the alarm wasn’t an option. Too many people were killed in terrorist attacks because instead of running away or hiding, they tried to find out what was going on, as if the reality of the situation was too grave to comprehend.
Now, Dan crept along the back of the bungalow, his hand around Anna’s, guiding her through the gloom.
As they approached the gap separating it from the next building, the floodlights shone through and onto the high mesh fence that encircled the rear of the mining camp.
He peered closer and momentarily debated trying to climb over, before dismissing the plan when he saw a sign along the top warning of an electrical current running through it.
He suspected the military or police would have severed the power to it upon arriving at the scene, but he wasn’t prepared to test his theory.
Instead, he checked the time, waited until the patrol walked in front of the bungalows, then set his stopwatch and pulled Anna across the gap with him.
He squeezed Anna’s hand and held up three fingers.
Three more bungalows to go.
She nodded, her eyes wide, and as the moon scuttled out from behind a cloud, he noticed how pale her face had become.
He realised the sooner he got her to the SUV and on the way to the airport, the sooner he could ensure she wasn’t going to suffer from delayed shock.
They crossed behind the building without incident, Dan checking his stopwatch and ensuring the patrol wouldn’t appear at their rear before he managed to spirit Anna away.
They ran to the next building, Anna’s breathing now coming in gulps, and edged along the perimeter once more.
Dan glanced over his shoulder.
The patrol was still nowhere to be seen, but they’d complete their circuit soon. He had to keep Anna moving.
He gave her arm a gentle tug and pulled her with him to the side of the building, then froze and swore under his breath.
‘What is it?’ Anna hissed.
‘Hang on,’ he murmured.
He watched in silence as the forensic team milled about on the front porch of Benji’s balcony, keeping his arm outstretched to prevent Anna from pushing past him.
Muffled voices reached his ears, the sound of someone issuing instructions. There was a scraping sound as something heavy was dragged across the floor of the bungalow, then a groan as if a weight had been lifted.
‘Dan? What’s going on?’
Dan took a step back, retreating further into the shadows as a covered stretcher was lifted down the steps of the bungalow. He wheeled round and pulled Anna to him.
‘They’re moving Benji,’ he whispered. ‘Don’t look.’
Anna bit back a sob as she buried her face in his chest, her hands gripping his arms as she fought to control her emotions.
He ran his hands over her back, her body trembling with fright as he tried to soothe her. He lifted his gaze to the direction from which they’d escaped, and his heart lurched.
‘They’re coming,’ he said, and gently pushed her away. ‘There’ll be time to mourn Benji properly later,’ he added. ‘But we have to go now.’
He didn’t wait for her answer. He grasped her hand and pulled her across the gap.
He glimpsed a small gathering of police and military personnel gawping at Benji’s body as it was carried away, before he and Anna plunged back into the shadows behind the building.
An idea began to form in his mind, and he quickened his pace.
At the far end of the bungalow, he finally saw the brick wall of the reception building in front of him and bent down to Anna.
‘I need you to be brave,’ he said. ‘They’re going to bring Benji past us, but we need to use him as a distraction to get you away from here, understand?’
He saw her swallow, her eyes wide, and then she nodded.
‘I know this isn’t going to be easy for you,’ he said, and squeezed her hand. ‘But it’s our only chance.’
‘Okay,’ she whispered, her voice shaking. ‘Just get me out of here.’
He clenched his jaw and turned his attention back to the reception block. The path was deserted for the moment, but as the stretcher-bearers moved past with Benji’s body laid out between them, the remainder of the forensic team and the military personnel that had been hanging around the front of the bungalow followed, no doubt taking advantage of a brief respite from the evening’s proceedings before returning to their tasks.
Dan peered over his shoulder, craning his neck until he could see along the gradual curve of the perimeter
fence and checked the patrol’s progress.
They had reached Anna’s bungalow and had stopped, the beams from their flashlights bouncing off the external walls.
Anna tapped him on the arm. ‘They’re going.’
He turned back to the stretcher-bearers and their rag-tag followers. Sure enough, the small party had reached the path that wound through the reception area and out to the parking lot, their voices louder, one even laughing as they left the carnage of the bungalow behind them.
‘Let’s go,’ said Dan.
He jogged along the side of the bungalow, checked there were no stragglers, and then ran across the bare expanse towards the path.
The tall shrubs separating it from the car park had only been installed for decoration rather than any attempt at a boundary line, and he was able to push through the foliage with Anna in tow with ease, dropping into a crouch and pulling her down beside him.
He pulled a branch to one side and checked his bearings, and exhaled with relief.
The SUV sat only a few metres away, and he and Anna had emerged along the blind side of one of the army trucks.
He crawled through the last of the undergrowth, beckoned to Anna, and then led her quickly towards the car. They dropped into a crouch beside the back door, hidden from view, and Dan reached in his pocket for the key fob and then swore.
‘What is it?’ Anna hissed.
‘It’s locked.’
‘But you have the key.’
‘Yeah, but they’ll see the lights flash when I unlock it.’
‘Shit.’
‘You’re definitely the general’s daughter.’
She ignored the remark. ‘What are we going to do?’
Dan held up his hand and straightened so he could see through the windows to the camp entrance. Emergency workers still sat with small groups of survivors while Galal’s men took statements, but they all stopped and turned to look as the stretcher-bearers rounded the corner of the reception area.
A woman began to wail at the sight of another dead body, and the other people’s voices soon grew louder, some demanding from the army that they stop smoking their cigarettes and find the attackers.
Behind the Wire (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 5
