He waited until she was through, and then pushed the door shut, wedging a stone into the uneven surface of the frame to jam it.
He grabbed Anna’s hand and pulled her towards the vehicles that were parked at the side of the building.
Dan tore open the door to the vehicle they’d travelled in to the fort and checked the ignition. He swore.
‘What’s the problem?’
‘No keys.’ He pointed towards another vehicle. ‘Let’s try that one.’
‘Can’t you hot wire this one?’
Dan glanced over the top of her head towards the fort. Angry shouts began to draw closer from the building, and then a heavy object was launched at the barricaded door.
It shook in its frame, but held, dust crumbling around its edges.
‘No time,’ said Dan. ‘I don’t think that door is going to hold for much longer.’
He grabbed Anna’s hand and they ran towards the other vehicle, Dan breathing a sigh of relief as the firelight from the fort shone upon a single key in the ignition.
He turned, aimed the stolen rifle at the other vehicles and shot out the tyres, then slid behind the wheel and started the engine, the sound of urgent voices reaching his position as another resounding crash reverberated against the thick wooden doors of the fort.
‘Use your gun to smash the brake lights,’ he yelled as Anna opened the passenger door.
She nodded and disappeared to the rear of the vehicle, then returned and slammed her door shut moments before Dan released the hand-brake, took his bearings from the compass that bobbed on the dashboard, and floored the accelerator.
He pushed the assault rifle towards Anna. ‘Take this. If anyone comes out that door while you can still take a shot, do it.’
‘What about the unexploded bombs Salim told us about?’
Dan peered into the darkness. ‘I’d rather take my chances with those than wait for the Russians to arrive.’ His eyes found hers. ‘Wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She wound down her window and twisted in her seat until she had a clear view.
Dan’s eyes flickered to the fuel gauge.
Half full.
He swore again.
‘What?’ Anna peered over her shoulder at him.
‘We’ve only got half a tank of fuel.’
‘It’s okay,’ she said, raising her voice over the sound of the wind rushing through her window. ‘There’s a jerry can on the back of the vehicle. I think it’s full.’
For one moment, Dan thanked his stars for the good luck, and then realised that if Salim’s men got one clear shot at the rear of the vehicle, he and Anna were sitting on a potential bomb.
‘Crap,’ he muttered. ‘Could this week get any worse?’
He changed through the gears and flicked the headlights onto low beam, checking the mirrors at the same time Anna cried out.
‘They’re coming!’
‘Short bursts,’ he commanded. ‘Don’t waste the ammunition. The best you can do from here is provide cover fire until we get out of their range.’
Anna shuffled around until her back was pressed against the dashboard and planted her feet against the back of her seat. Wedged into place, she raised the rifle and pulled the stock into the muscle between her arm and her breast to counteract the recoil.
Dan swung the vehicle so Anna could take aim.
No sooner had he spun the wheel than the noise of gunfire filled the four-wheel drive as Anna let loose a volley of rounds, her face a mask of concentration, her ponytail whipping across her forehead. She paused and readjusted her grip.
‘Can you turn to your right a bit?’ she yelled.
Dan glanced across, noted her range, and made a slight correction in the direction he drove, angling the vehicle so Anna now had the door to the fort almost directly in front of her.
‘Got you.’ Anna’s chin dropped as her eyes found her targets, and she pulled the trigger again. The staccato burst of energy stopped as quickly as it had started. ‘I think I got two of them.’
‘Good,’ said Dan. ‘Are the rest taking cover yet?’
‘Yes.’
Dan didn’t wait for further confirmation. He reached across and dragged Anna back into the vehicle. ‘Wind the window up,’ he said. ‘That’s enough. We’re far enough away now.’
He floored the accelerator and pointed the four-wheel drive into the night.
CHAPTER 33
Dan flipped the windscreen visor into place and angled his head to avoid the worst of the sun’s glare.
They’d driven without stopping for three hours, and the combination of heat, bright sunlight, and lack of water was beginning to take its toll on Dan’s concentration.
As the pre-dawn light had begun to bathe the barren land, Dan had realised how lucky they’d been to escape when they did. Without his wristwatch, he’d lost track of time at Salim’s fort. A shiver crawled across his shoulders at the thought that if Salim had never pulled the pin on the grenade, they could very well still be trapped there, awaiting their fate at the hands of the militant’s paymasters.
Anna had collapsed into a fitful sleep over an hour ago, sheer exhaustion consuming her small frame.
Dan glanced across at her; she’d curled herself into the passenger seat, dust covering her eyelashes and a smear of blood on her cheek that she’d evidently wiped from a scratch that creased the bridge of her nose.
He swallowed. He couldn’t even recall that she’d cried out in pain, and guilt washed over him. He’d simply assumed that she’d keep up, do as she was told, and aid him in their escape.
And she had done so, without complaint.
He blinked and realised that for the first time ever, by deliberately killing first the guard and then Salim, he’d chosen to take a life rather than try to find a solution that avoided that outcome. And then, he wondered when he had changed.
He shook his head to clear the thought.
They’d passed no-one in their haste to put some distance between themselves and the rag-tag remainder of Salim’s men. Dan had deliberately avoided well-worn tracks, not wishing to stumble into the very people they were trying to evade.
Instead, he’d taken a convoluted route while keeping a steady eye on the compass. Not that he trusted it explicitly. Twice he’d smacked the plastic globe on the dashboard with the heel of his hand, convinced it was showing him the wrong reading. As a precaution, he’d taken regular note of the sun’s position as it rose higher into the sky.
He squinted, trying to ignore the pounding headache above his right eyebrow.
A light on the dashboard flashed at the same time an electronic ping filled the vehicle.
‘What was that?’ Anna stirred in her sleep, stared wide-eyed at the empty horizon that spread for miles around them as if she’d momentarily forgotten where she was, and then leaned across.
‘Fuel gauge,’ said Dan, and slowed the vehicle to a standstill. He unclipped his seatbelt. ‘Time to find out how much is really in that jerry can.’
He pulled the lever under the steering column, then jumped out of the vehicle and let out an involuntary grunt when his boots found dirt. Cramp shot up one leg, and he swore under his breath as he limped towards the back of the vehicle and tried to ease out the cricks from his muscles.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’
Anna joined him at the rear of the vehicle, her brow creasing. ‘Are you sure?’
He winked. ‘Wouldn’t miss this for the world.’
Despite everything, she managed a small smile.
Dan unclipped the bindings that criss-crossed the jerry can and lifted it off the metal bracket that had been crudely welded to the back of the vehicle, testing its weight as he carried it round to the fuel cap.
‘We might be in luck.’
‘Is it full?’ Anna traipsed behind him, retying her ponytail.
‘No, but better than I thought.’
He hefted the plastic container against the side of the vehicle and u
nscrewed the cap, the fumes wafting on the hot air making him slightly light-headed. He turned his head and began to pour.
‘I need to pee. Back in a minute,’ said Anna.
‘Okay.’
He glanced up and followed her progress round the other side of the vehicle, then lowered his gaze and concentrated on emptying the jerry can.
By his calculations, there were about twenty litres of fuel left, which should last them another hundred miles, allowing for evaporation.
He hoped.
His stomach rumbled, and he realised he was running on empty, his last proper meal having been on the flight from Essaouria. He ignored it; he’d eat when he could relax, or the opportunity arose. Not before. He cleared his throat and hawked onto the dirt next to his feet.
Emptying the jerry can, he recapped the lid and refastened it onto the back of the vehicle.
‘Dan? There are vehicles coming this way.’
Anna reappeared, her eyes wide, and pointed towards a dust cloud bearing down on them from the eastern horizon.
Dan pulled the last rope to secure the jerry can, folded his arms across his chest, and squinted at her. ‘You’ve got to stop doing that.’
‘What?’
‘Every time you take a piss, someone turns up.’
He brushed past her, squeezing her arm to let her know he was joking, and leant into the vehicle.
He reached out and swept the assault rifle and hand gun out of sight, keeping them within easy reach of the door in case he needed them, then pushed the door until it sat in the frame, resting on the latch.
‘What do we do?’ Anna appeared at his side.
‘Wait and see,’ he said.
They shaded their eyes from the sun and watched; as the dust cloud grew closer, two vehicles appeared, large forms that bore down on them.
‘Those don’t look like four-wheel drives,’ said Anna.
‘They’re military.’
‘Military?’
‘Yeah.’ Dan dropped his hand from his brow.
‘The Russians?’
The vehicles ground to a halt only metres away from them.
‘No,’ said Dan. ‘Polisario. Stay here.’
He waited until the passenger door of one of the armoured personnel carriers opened, then began to walk towards it, his hands held up.
A man lowered himself onto the ground, closely followed by four soldiers who dropped from the rear of the truck. As one, they raised their weapons in Dan’s direction.
‘Crap,’ he muttered. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m English. Does anyone speak English?’
‘What are you doing here?’ The man who had climbed from the front of the vehicle held his hand up, and the four armed soldiers stopped in their tracks.
‘We’re trying to get to Mahbes,’ said Dan. ‘We were taken hostage.’ He pointed over his shoulder. ‘There were some men. In a fort. That way. We managed to escape.’
The man, who Dan assumed to be the commanding officer, turned to his men and gestured to them to lower their weapons. Once satisfied they weren’t going to shoot Dan by accident, he stalked across the sand towards Dan, his eyes shaded by the peaked cap that he wore.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded.
‘My name is Dan Taylor. I’m English. The lady by the vehicle is an American by the name of Anna Collins,’ said Dan. ‘We were taken hostage by someone named Salim abd-al-Aziz. We managed to escape a few hours ago.’ He lowered his gaze and concentrated on looking contrite. ‘We’re trying to get to Mahbes. We need to leave the country.’ He lifted his chin and met the commanding officer’s eyes. ‘Can you help?’
The man removed the sunglasses from his eyes. ‘Maybe.’
Dan sighed. ‘Look, we have no money. Everything we had was stolen. I’m just trying to get her to the border. She’s been through hell.’
The commanding officer’s eyes travelled from Dan to where Anna stood.
Dan resisted the urge to turn around. He knew how pitiful Anna looked, despite the brave face she’d put on when the vehicles had stopped.
The army officer took a step back and scratched his ear. ‘Have you seen anyone else, apart from the men you describe?’
Dan shook his head and frowned. ‘No. Who are you looking for?’
The man’s jaw clenched, his eyes darting to the vehicle behind Dan. ‘Some Russians,’ he said. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure. There’s no-one else around for miles. We’ve been driving for hours and haven’t seen a soul.’
‘Can you tell me about the fort?’ asked the man, tilting his head to gauge Dan’s reaction.
Dan realised David and Mel’s message must’ve reached the right people. Somehow, before Salim had discovered Dan’s phone, they’d got a lock on his position.
‘You might find the men you’re looking for there, I suppose,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘But they weren’t there when we were.’
The officer grunted in response, then sighed and waved his hand. ‘Mahbes is another hour in that direction.’
Dan swallowed. He’d been several degrees off course. He silently cursed the vehicle’s malfunctioning compass and his own exhaustion. ‘Thank you,’ he managed.
The Sahrawi chuckled. ‘Don’t thank me,’ he laughed. ‘At least this way you stand a chance of getting to Mahbes before nightfall, and I don’t have to waste time trying to locate your bodies for your embassies.’
He turned on his heel and stalked back to the armoured trucks, barking orders at his men.
Dan waited until they’d lowered their weapons and scurried towards the vehicles before returning to the four-wheel drive.
‘What did he say?’ asked Anna as he neared.
‘They’re trying to find some Russians,’ he said.
‘The ones who we’re trying to stop?’ Anna’s voice went up a notch.
Dan held up his hand. ‘Yes,’ he said, trying to soothe her. ‘The good news is, Mahbes is only an hour away.’
Anna’s shoulders visibly sagged. ‘Thank goodness,’ she breathed. Her eyes opened wider. ‘He’s trying to tell us something.’
Dan swivelled on his toes, wondering what was going on.
He exhaled with relief when he saw the army officer waving to them, and then the man pointed to one of his soldiers, who was walking towards Dan and Anna, carrying what appeared to be a heavy jerry can.
‘Extra fuel.’ Dan shook his head in wonderment and hurried to meet the soldier halfway.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Thank you very much.’
It was evident the man didn’t understand the words, but he smiled and bowed a little at the tone of Dan’s voice, then jogged back to where his commanding officer stood waiting.
Dan held up his hand in farewell, then carried the fuel can back to the four-wheel drive.
He unclipped the empty can, threw it to the dirt, and fixed the full one in its place, gripping its sides and shaking it to make sure it held firm.
As he finished, the two army vehicles roared past, dust devils spinning in their wake, before quickly disappearing from view.
Dan hoped to hell they found their quarry, and fast.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Are we safe?’
Dan’s eyes flickered in the blazing sunlight as he sought out the exact location the army officer had pointed to on the horizon. ‘For now.’
CHAPTER 34
Gregori Abramov dropped his cigarette to the sand and ground it out with the heel of his boot.
The sun had begun to rise an hour after they’d reached the smouldering ruin of the fort, the stench of burnt flesh pervading Abramov’s senses as he’d stepped from the lead vehicle.
His men had searched as best they could, careful not to brush against the broken walls of the building for fear of causing the rest of it to collapse on top of them, hunting for survivors.
Abramov pinched the bridge of his nose. Somehow, he didn’t think the so-called insurance man had been responsible for so
many deaths. No doubt those who were left had cut their losses and returned to their villages, eager to put as much distance between themselves and the fort as they could before he’d turned up.
He’d known it had been a risk agreeing to work with Galal to engineer the uprising, but his client had been insistent.
Very insistent.
Abramov’s skin crawled as he thought of his thirteen-year-old daughter. As soon as he’d heard the client had terminated the contract with his predecessor and was likely to contact him, he’d ordered two of his men to kidnap the girl from his estranged wife under cover of darkness and spirit her out of the country. Even he didn’t know where she’d been taken. It was safer for her that way.
Unfortunately, the client had a long reach, and he knew if he failed, then his daughter would be hunted down and used in order to make an example of him.
The client only dealt out contract work that yielded results or the contractor’s death.
Abramov cursed his bad luck. It was his own fault the client had sought him out – he had a proven track record of fundraising for several successful coups around the world, bettered only by the Americans and their government’s habit of trying to influence political agendas. He’d been too good, though, and now the client had him backed into a corner, unable to escape.
He had no doubt that the success of this current mission would lead to more work, always with the threat of the wellbeing of his daughter hanging over his head.
He snapped himself out from the thoughts tumbling through his mind as one of his men approached.
‘Well?’
The man shook his head. ‘There are two men on the ground on the other side of the building. Both badly burned. One was barely alive, so we dealt with him. You might want to try to talk to the other one.’
Abramov grunted. He’d heard the gunshot from where he’d been standing.
He trudged after the mercenary, keen to glean any information that would lead to the capture of the woman.
When he rounded the corner of the still smouldering building, he saw two of his men standing beside the badly burned form of a man on the ground.
‘Please,’ he begged, raising his hand up to Abramov as he approached. ‘Have mercy.’
Behind the Wire (A Dan Taylor thriller) Page 14
