‘I think you’re right,’ said Dan. ‘I’m presuming there’s more to this story.’
She nodded.
‘Okay,’ said Dan. ‘Let’s get as far away from that roadblock as we can and try to find a back way into the city by cutting cross-country. We still need to try to get to the airport.’ He reached out. ‘Give me the gun.’
He took the Glock from her, then walked round the back of the vehicle, bent down, and used the butt of the gun to smash each of the brake lights on the SUV. Satisfied their progress wouldn’t be spotted by the men guarding the roadblock, he jogged back round to the driver’s side and handed the gun back to Anna.
‘Now what?’
Dan reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. ‘Hit the speed dial on that,’ he said, turning the key in the ignition and keeping the revs low. ‘I have a feeling David Ludlow is going to want to hear all about your investigation.’
CHAPTER 12
Dan gritted his teeth and steered the SUV around a decrepit stone wall as the dialling tone to David’s base in Essaouria rang loudly through the mobile phone’s speakers.
He kept the vehicle at crawling pace, guessing that the police – or whoever they were – would be listening for a car travelling at speed.
Anna held the phone between them so they could both join in the conversation.
After three rings, David’s voice filled the car.
‘Have you got her?’
‘Yes. Anna’s here with me.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m okay,’ said Anna, and then cleared her throat. ‘Yes, I’m okay.’
‘Anna’s colleague was killed by the attackers,’ said Dan. ‘It sounds like Anna uncovered information during a money laundering investigation that suggests that this was more than a simple financial theft.’
Static spat through the space of the car, and Dan reached out to turn down the volume. ‘Say that again, David? We’ve got a crap signal.’
‘Where are you right now?’
‘We’re trying to get to the airport, but there’s a road block on the highway into Laâyoune,’ said Dan. ‘Is Mel with you?’
‘Hang on.’
They waited while David turned on the speaker phone at his end, and Mel’s voice crossed the broken airwaves.
‘What’s up?’
‘Can you tap into the Laâyoune police network and find out if there’s an authorised roadblock on the highway heading towards Bou Craa?’ said Dan.
‘Hang on.’
While the sound of Mel’s fingers tapping on a keyboard reached them, David pressed on. ‘What’s going on, Anna? What sort of information did you find?’
‘The drop in oil prices has got every oil-producing country in the world worried,’ said Anna. ‘They haven’t got the control they used to have over other countries by limiting supply. Even Saudi Arabia is struggling – their budget deficit this year is astronomical. However, we’ve seen an increase in weapons sales – old grudges are starting to show up at the economic level, not just geo-politically.’ She cleared her throat. ‘At the present time, there are several countries ignoring UN resolutions regarding Morocco’s use of Western Sahara mineral assets.’ She sighed. ‘At the end of the day, there’s a huge world population to feed, and you need fertilisers to provide food on such a massive scale. Hence why Morocco exports phosphate ore in large quantities to many Western countries – much against the wishes of the Sahrawi people.’
‘David? Anna mentioned she believes the money was stolen by a Russian organisation. The police manning the roadblock were carrying Russian weapons. That plus a police car off to one side with bullet holes down one side makes me think either the police are corrupt—’
‘Or were intercepted on the way to the call-out, killed, and this bunch of mercenaries have taken their place,’ said David. ‘Anna – anything else you can give us to work on?’
Anna’s brow creased for a moment. ‘Yes,’ she said, excitement filling her voice. ‘There is. Mineral processing accounts for something like eighty-five per cent of the GDP for this area, and Morocco takes all of that. None of it goes back into local infrastructure – it finances Moroccan police and military interests in Western Sahara instead.’ She sighed. ‘I think someone is putting together a mercenary force here in occupied Western Sahara.’
‘To take back the territory you mean?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But not in the best interests of the Sahrawi people,’ she added. ‘I think someone wants those mining rights for themselves.’ Excitement filled her voice. ‘The owners of the Russian conglomerate had a huge stake in oil for a while, but looking at the official accounts we could find, the company has been losing a significant amount of money for more than eighteen months. Look, this is just an idea—’
‘Which means she’s probably right,’ said Dan.
Anna glared at him before continuing. ‘But what if they were deliberating arming a mercenary force in Western Sahara? Not to fight a war per se, but to start a war?’
‘Motive?’ said David.
Anna thought for a second. ‘Russia doesn’t have a stake in the mining industry here in Western Sahara,’ she said. ‘Politically, it aligns itself with the Algerian-backed Polisario, who in turn want independence returned to the region. So, Russia wouldn’t openly take on Morocco – it’d be picking a fight with America, Australia, the UK, and everyone else that imports the ore they’re extracting. It’s too risky.’
‘But if they influenced the locals into starting an uprising, they might cause a big enough fight that would swing the odds in Russia’s favour,’ said Dan. ‘Wow.’
‘You wouldn’t need many mercenaries to do it, either,’ said David. ‘Just a few here and there to create dissent amongst the locals, then stand back and watch it unfold.’
‘Jesus.’ Dan sat for a moment, stunned as Anna and David’s words sunk in. ‘David, this information is dangerous,’ he said. ‘The sooner I can get Anna out of the country and to safety, the better.’
‘Anna? Can you use the satellite feed from Dan’s phone to upload the information you have, so we can —’
A loud hiss of static interrupted David’s words.
Dan waited until the signal returned before speaking. ‘I don’t think it’ll get to you,’ he said, frowning at the icon at the top of the phone display. ‘We’ve got a very weak signal here. Any information on that roadblock, Mel?’
‘Yeah,’ came the reply. ‘One police car was requested by Farid Galal to meet him on the outskirts of Laâyoune – the roadblock location according to the GPS.’
‘But there are three cars there,’ said Anna.
‘Fake,’ said Dan. ‘Mel, keep a listen out – chances are, the officers who attended the call were shot at the scene and Galal’s men are using other vehicles to man the roadblock. The call-out was simply to make it believable.’
He checked their progress away from the roadblock in his mirrors.
So far, so good.
‘Dan, we’ve got a bigger problem,’ said Mel, her tone urgent. ‘We’ve just received word that all flights out of Laâyoune have been grounded.’
‘Grounded?’ Dan frowned and looked at Anna, who wore a similarly confused expression. ‘Why?’
‘Publicly, they’re saying there’s a security threat at the terminal,’ said Mel. ‘But the records I’m looking at state that this has been put in place at the request of the police.’
Dan ground his teeth. ‘Is there a name for the police contact on file?’
‘Yes,’ said Mel. ‘Farid Galal.’
Dan punched the wheel.
CHAPTER 13
Galal tapped his radio against his chin and scowled at the vehicle at the front of the short queue.
One of his men held a flashlight, shining it in the faces of the driver and his passengers before straightening and waving the car on.
‘Amir!’ Galal called out. ‘Enough. Let the rest of them pass.’
Amir held up hi
s hand in response, then yelled at the other men to start moving their cars out of the way so the remaining traffic could pass.
The highway was soon deserted, save for Amir’s men, and Galal wandered over to them.
‘Have your men walk the highway,’ he said, waving his hand in the direction of Bou Craa. ‘No more than a mile. They must have left the road when they saw the roadblock.’
Amir’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the distance. ‘They won’t get far,’ he said. ‘What do you think they’re doing?’
‘If I was them, I’d be trying to get to the airport by way of a back road,’ said Galal, ‘which is why there is currently a rumour at airport security about a potential terrorism threat.’
Amir smiled. ‘Then they will not be able to leave the country.’ He clenched his fist. ‘And we will hunt them down.’
Galal’s brow creased as his eyes swept the desert either side of the highway. His hands shook as he buttoned his jacket, and he forced himself to relax. It would do no good to let Amir see how scared he was. If he failed in his mission and the woman escaped, his punishment would be swift. And permanent.
‘They could be anywhere out there,’ he murmured.
‘It will be light in a few hours,’ said Amir. ‘There is only a light wind tonight. If we find their tracks, we will be able to follow them.’
‘How many of your men are in the area?’
‘These six, plus I have two other groups of six in the western and northern suburbs of Laâyoune,’ said Amir.
‘Contact them,’ said Galal. ‘Give them the details of Mr Taylor’s vehicle. Tell them to patrol their areas.’
‘And if they find him and the woman?’
‘Tell them to kill them,’ said Galal. ‘I see no point in delaying the inevitable. We have her colleague’s computer. We don’t need anything from Miss Collins.’
‘Understood.’
Galal watched Amir walk back to his men and issue their orders, the team immediately splitting up into two groups of three before taking a side of the road each and beginning their search.
Galal put the radio back in his car and stood with his arms folded across the roof of the vehicle as he watched the progress of Amir’s men, their forms slowly fading into the blackness as they moved further away.
He cursed under his breath.
He had tried to prevent the stranger from leaving the mine camp without an escort, but the army captain had ruined his plans, asking procedural questions that any of the other policemen at the scene could have answered.
Something about the way in which the man had hurried away from the site had piqued Galal’s interest and as soon as he could, he had hurried back to the woman’s bungalow to find the ventilation grille on the floor of the bathroom.
His masters would be displeased about his tactics since, but he was desperate – he simply couldn’t allow the woman to leave the country with the information she held. It would destroy everything.
Two things were certain.
First, if he found Mr Taylor before Amir’s men, he would have no hesitation in killing the Englishman himself.
Second, there was no way in hell Mr Taylor worked in insurance.
CHAPTER 14
‘We’re going to have to overland it,’ said Dan. ‘There’s no way we’re going to be able to get to the airport. If this business with the mercenary force is as big as we think it is, then they’re going to have lookouts for us on all routes leading to the international terminal. We’ll never make it.’
‘What about border patrols?’ asked Mel.
‘If Galal is linked to this Russian-backed mercenary force, then he’s not going to go out of his way to bring in the real Moroccan army.’ Dan glanced across at the young woman next to him. ‘I have a feeling the only reason Anna survived the attack at the mine camp was because the army got there soon after Galal and his men.’ He paused, reached out, and wrapped his fingers around Anna’s, knowing the words would frighten her. ‘He used his own men to create the roadblocks and alert airport security because he can rely on his contacts within the police force.’
‘You’ll still have to out-run those mercenaries to get to the border,’ said David.
‘We’ve got a head start,’ said Dan. ‘Galal would’ve waited until he was sure why he didn’t catch us at the roadblock. Then they’ll have to follow our tracks. If I can find a way into the city that isn’t on one of the main routes, then we can get some supplies and head out early morning. We’ll sleep in the car tonight.’
‘If you can get yourself to the border, I’ll have someone meet you there,’ said David. ‘With the political situation in Western Sahara, we can’t directly get involved. We’ll have to wait until you reach Morocco.’
‘What about the information on my laptop?’ said Anna. ‘I need to get that to my people.’
‘And us,’ said Mel. ‘What do you need?’
‘Access to a Wi-Fi connection or another satellite link if you have one,’ said Anna. ‘The satellite link would be better. It needs to be better than the signal we’ve got with this phone, though. The Internet connection in Western Sahara is appalling. That’s why we couldn’t alert our office to everything we’d found – it would’ve taken too long to upload.’
Dan heard her voice break and squeezed her shoulder.
Anna sniffed. ‘It’s why we decided it was better to leave the country immediately.’
‘We’re not going to be able to get a satellite connection for you there,’ said David. ‘Same issue. We can ensure that when you’re met at the border that you have access to the Internet though. Dan? Is there anything else you need?’
‘Negative,’ said Dan. ‘It’s risky, but I’ll have to use Mel’s credit card to get some cash out in the city. We’ll buy what we need to keep us going for a few days, just in case. I’ll call you again when we’re near the border. I don’t want to waste the phone battery.’
‘Understood,’ said David. ‘In that case, call us every twenty-four hours with your update, and again when you reach the border, unless it’s urgent. We’ll have someone on standby to meet you.’
‘Copy that.’
‘Best of luck, Dan.’
Dan ended the call and glanced across at Anna before his eyes returned to the horizon. The lights from the outer city limits loomed closer.
‘I’ll find somewhere to hide the car for the rest of the night,’ he said. ‘Early tomorrow morning, we’ll refuel and stock up on water, then make a run for the border, okay?’
Anna nodded. ‘Do you think this will make it?’ She patted the faux leather upholstery of the SUV.
Dan’s lips thinned. ‘Hope so,’ he said. ‘I don’t fancy the alternative, do you?’
She shook her head.
‘Okay,’ said Dan, accelerating as the terrain levelled out and a cracked asphalt surface met the wheels, ‘let’s find somewhere to get our heads down for a few hours.’
‘I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep.’
‘You’ll be surprised,’ said Dan. ‘And trust me, if you get the chance to sleep, take it.’
CHAPTER 15
A distant radio hissed once before the tones of a Gnaoua song carried across the airwaves, a forlorn lament that stirred on the breeze, chasing after the sound of traffic that dispersed with the last notes of the local music.
Outside the moth-eaten apartment block, a group of men disappeared into the shadow of the building, leaving one of them on guard while the rest retired to a room at the back, bare except for the prayer mats that had been laid down in readiness.
A guard paced the area outside the front door, his eyesight keen, his footsteps carrying upwards to an open window on the third and highest level.
Gregori Abramov tuned out the background noise, bit into an apple, and sent a spray of juice over the computer keyboard under his fingers. He lifted his gaze to glare at the skinny twelve-year old kid that watched him wide-eyed from the doorway.
He could almost hear the boy
salivating at the thought of tasting the fresh fruit, which was a luxury in the sprawling urban mass of Laâyoune – especially if you weren’t a Moroccan ex-pat worker.
His thoughts turned to his own daughter, only a year older than the boy, her privileged lifestyle a stark contrast to that of the scrawny kid who watched him intently.
Abramov stopped chewing, the apple catching in his throat.
He’d received the first of the threats several months ago. In the lead-up to the theft of the money, the threats had increased.
Strangers were spotted in their exclusive neighbourhood in Moscow; his chauffeur had reported being followed as he’d driven Abramov’s daughter to and from school, and his ex-wife had complained of phone calls late at night, only for her to answer and be met with silence at the end of the line.
Abramov wiped his chin, lowered his gaze, and finished the apple, tossing the core onto the table.
The boy’s shoulders slumped before he eased away from the doorframe, and the Russian heard him pad away back down the passageway and out into the tiny communal courtyard.
He grunted in amusement and turned his attention back to the laptop. As he wiggled the mouse to activate the screen once more, the back of his hand brushed against the gun he kept near him at all times, the suppressor giving the weapon an elongated silhouette.
‘It’s okay? Everything is there?’
His head jerked up at the interruption, and he frowned.
Galal moved away from the window, his handprints left behind in the layer of dust that covered the sill where he’d been leaning, waiting for Abramov to hack into van Wyk’s computer.
The Russian ignored the question. ‘When will the security alert be lifted at the airport?’
The policeman jerked his arm from his shirt sleeve and checked his watch. ‘Another hour.’ He held up both hands, revealing dark sweat patches under his arms. ‘That’s all I can do, Gregori, without causing suspicion. I’ve got look-outs posted on all roads leading to the airport. They’ll stay in position until we have the American woman.’
Behind the Wire (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 7
