Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  My adrenaline rush fades, and I put my hand on the door to balance myself, vomiting the meagre contents of my stomach onto the sand. I’ve never shot at a live target before; have never killed anything, let alone a human being. And now I’ve taken the lives of five. My hands are shaking, my palms sweating, and stars begin to form in front of my eyes. One of those dead bodies could have been mine.

  Mollie’s cries keep coming. Shit! Danielle! I shake my head, knowing I’ve got to pull myself together. I rush back to the room that so recently had been my prison, checking to see Danielle’s still out for the count. I then go back to the entryway to see if there’s anything I can use, nothing. But what about the Jeep? Yanking the door open I check what’s there. Yes, rope! Thanking God for small mercies, I grab it and take it with me then make myself search the bodies of my erstwhile guards, uttering another prayer of thanks when I find a knife. I made quick work of trussing up the woman I’ve grown to hate. I haven’t done it a moment too soon. She starts to stir as I’m tying her hands.

  I’d hit her hard; I’d had to. I feel no sympathy as she starts to come to with a groan, neither do I care that there’s blood in her hair, and some has seeped onto the ground. She was going to do worse to me; she’d planned to kill me and leave me here. As it was I’d only been seconds away from death.

  I see her starting to move, but know she’ll be feeling groggy for a while. Returning my gun to my waistband, I pick up Mollie, trying to soothe her as I carry her outside to get an idea of our surroundings. I’ve not leaving her anywhere near her birth mother any longer than necessary.

  Outside it’s quiet and still. The helicopter sits, taunting me. A way of escape so close, and yet, impossible for me to use.

  Awkwardly I move the baby around in my arms, and kneel down, making myself rummage through the pockets of the closest dead man trying to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. Already flies are starting to settle on him, and I know it won’t be long before he starts to bloat in the heat of the sun.

  In his back pocket, I find what I’m looking for, a mobile phone. Pulling it out I find it’s an iPhone, but the screen is locked. Luckily, it’s a later model. Swallowing down bile, I take hold of the still warm hand and press his finger to the home key, elated when the phone responds. But my joy doesn’t last long, no bars show, and presumably, the equivalent of ‘no service’ in Arabic shows mockingly at the top left-hand corner. Having another thought, I press on the map icon, then swear loudly. Sure, the GPS works sufficiently to show us where we are, we’re a blue flashing dot on a pure white screen. There’s nothing to say where we are, or in which direction I should make my escape.

  Damn! Throwing the useless item away, I rise to my feet, and go over to the helicopter. Is there a radio I can use? Clumsily, with the now calmer bundle in my arms, I climb inside. Yes, there’s a radio and a headset lying on the instrument panel. I look at it, realising I haven’t a clue how to work it. And if I picked it up and somehow managed to get through, who would I end up talking to? It’s highly possible it would be someone who might be very interested to find I’m still alive, and for all the wrong reasons.

  It’s even hotter in the interior, the sun’s beating through the glass windscreen and is not doing either Mollie or me any good. With one last yearning look at the radio, realising I daren’t try it, I leave the helicopter. I walk around the buildings, taking note of my surroundings for the first time since I escaped my cell. They’re all squat adobe houses made of sun-baked sand; very old and in places the walls are crumbling. Why was such a village built here? Surely it can’t be that far from some sort of civilisation? And when I asked, the men got milk from somewhere. But where?

  There are no roads leading up; a gentle wind is blowing covering any tracks that might have previously been there to show from which direction the Jeep had arrived. This small village seems ancient and long since abandoned except for its current use as a prison. The settlement is surrounded on three sides by desert going on for miles, to the rear of it sheer rocks rise to the sky, the range continuing as far as I can see in either direction. I’m in the middle of nowhere.

  There’s the Jeep. But where to go? Which direction? The keys are in the ignition, so I turn it on, the engine starts with a satisfying purr. Checking the gauge I see the tank is half full. What do I do? If I stay here, is there any hope of rescue? Or is it more likely Nasir will be missed and more men would be sent out to find him? To stay could land me in trouble all over again. But if I set out and drive in the wrong direction, I could get lost in the desert.

  Returning to the house where they’d kept me prisoner, I explore the inside. Apart from the entry room and my prison cell, there are just two others, one which the men had obviously used to sleep in, and another with a table and chairs. There’s a roughly hewn stone dresser, and there I find two bottles of water and a box that had obviously contained food. But from the empty wrappers strewn across the floor anything edible has already been consumed. I put the water in the Jeep, cursing there’s nothing else for me to take.

  The sun is coming from a different angle now and, hazarding a guess it’s already mid-afternoon. Not too long before night falls. The buzzing of flies now fills the house, making me shudder. If I’m staying here another night, I’ll have to move the bodies further away. And to do that, I’d have to put Mollie down, and I’m still holding her tight to me, not wanting to let her go.

  Returning to the room I was kept in, I find Danielle now fully conscious, her eyes glaring at me as I enter.

  “Untie me, and give me my baby.” Her demand is in the tone of someone who, up to now, has always gotten her way.

  “No.” I stare her down, equally determined. “You were going to kill me.”

  She shrugs as though it’s of no consequence, and then her eyes go to the prone form of her boyfriend, and for a second it’s possible to see regret in them, but her expression quickly turns back to one of hate, “You killed Nasir, you’re not going to get away with that.”

  Right now, I couldn’t give a damn about that. I’m wondering how I’m going to get away full stop.

  She starts to shout.

  “You can stop that right now; everyone is dead.”

  Her eyes open wide, and her mouth works, but in the end, she doesn’t speak, but I think I see a new admiration for me, tinged with not a little amount of fear, in her eyes.

  “Danielle, this is important. Do you know where we are?”

  I don’t think she’s going to speak, but just when I’ve about given up, she replies, “The Southern Desert of Amahad.”

  Well, that’s a great help! Knowing that we’re somewhere in the middle of hundreds of square miles of sand is not particularly useful.

  I crouch down in front of her, “Danielle, this is the situation. There’s a little water and only that jug of gone over milk for Mollie.” As I speak I glance down at the baby, she’s flushed red, and I don’t think it’s just to do with the heat. Putting my hand to her forehead, I can feel she seems to be burning up, “Mollie isn’t well, and needs medical attention.” Mollie punctuates my words with pitiful whimpers. “We need to get out of here. There’s a Jeep, with half a tank of petrol.” I sigh, “So we can just drive, but I need to know which direction to go in.”

  Danielle’s eyes open wide, she’d been so focused on her anger toward me, I don’t think she understood the seriousness of our position before. “You stupid bitch, if you hadn’t have killed everyone Mollie would be safe by now. Why did you kill the pilot?”

  “Because it was him or me.” As she goes to speak again, I talk over her, “We’re in trouble, Danielle.” I consider driving away and leaving her here to die, but know I can’t do that. It would be kinder to put a bullet in her head. But I make her aware of my options, “I could leave you here.”

  Her eyes widen, and the colour leaves her face, “You wouldn’t do that,” she whispers, trying to read my face.

  “No,” I reply, simply. Much as I hate her, I can�
�t. I’ve already killed more than enough today.

  While I’m loathe to have her out of my arms for a second, I put Mollie on the blankets, and taking hold of the knife, stand over the woman on the floor. “It’s getting late, and we haven’t much daylight left. We’ll have to leave, now.”

  Her eyes flick toward the knife in my hands as if she’s expecting me to cut her throat.

  I pour the remainder of the milk into Mollie’s bottle, then regard the woman on the floor again. “I’m going to cut the binding around your feet so that you can walk. I’ll take you with me, but if you try to harm me, be aware that I’m well trained in self-defense, and armed, and I will take you down and kill you.”

  She’s such a spoilt bitch I’ve no concerns she’d be a match for me. I wait until I see her nod, then lean forward and cut through the ropes. She stretches as if to remove any cramp there, and I feel not one iota of compassion.

  I help her to her feet, then let my hands go immediately, feeling like I’m touching a poisonous snake. She staggers, but I don’t offer any further assistance. Taking out my gun I wave her in front of me then pick up Mollie again, balancing her on one arm, together with one of the stained blankets and the filled bottle and we make our way to the Jeep.

  Now how am I going to play this? Pausing by the vehicle, I make up my mind. I motion Danielle to stand well away from me then place the blanket on the floor in front of the rear seats and form a secure soft cradle for Mollie and lie her down. Once she’s secure, I turn to the woman. “You’re going to be driving.” I cut through the rope around her hands, and train my gun on her. “And you’re going to do everything I say.” I motion with the gun, “Get in the driver’s seat.”

  She wants to protest but looks around her. “You knocked me around the head pretty hard. I feel too dizzy.”

  “Either you drive, or I’ll leave you here.” I threaten as I wave around us, bringing her attention to the bleakness of this spot, “And you’re in no danger of hitting anything here.” I’m giving her no choice. The thought of leaving her behind is an attractive one. I had thought of tying her up and driving myself but felt there was too much risk she might get free, or headbutt me or something. No, balancing everything up I think it’s safer if she drives. I’ll have to tell Ben there’s a gap in his training programmes; he should introduce one called ‘How to escape with a baby and a prisoner’!

  With a huff, she gets into the driver’s seat. I get into the passenger side, and only then give her the keys. She puts them in the ignition.

  “Where to?”

  I have no fucking idea. As she turns on the engine, the instrument panel comes to life. And the GPS. I point to it, unwilling to reach over her. “See if you can find a town or something.”

  She fiddles with it, minimising the map. Eventually, the desert city of Z̧almā appears, but it’s far, far away, and well out of the range of the fuel in the tank. There must be other settlements around. I know there are ten tribes living in the desert, surely if we keep heading in one direction we’ll come across one eventually?

  Clenching my fingers into fists I know I need to make a decision. “East,” I tell her finally, selecting the direction for no particular reason, “Go east.” Before she moves off, I warn her, “Keep your eye on the compass and sat nav, and continue going straight. It would be too easy to go around in circles if you lose concentration.”

  She turns to look at me, and for once, without anger, “We might not get out of this.”

  Wondering why it’s taken her so long to come to the conclusion I’d reached some time ago, I look quickly over my shoulder at Mollie, restless in her makeshift bed in the back and decide to keep my pessimism to myself. “We will,” I tell her firmly, “We have to.”

  Chapter 32

  Sean

  If there was any way the pilot could make the helicopter fly faster I’d be yelling at him to do it right now, but I know he’s already pushing the craft to its limits. Both my legs are bouncing, and I can’t get comfortable on the seat. Ryan tosses me a sympathetic look but thankfully doesn’t offer any platitudes as nothing he could say will help. Are we too late? My hands form such tight fists my fingernails dig into my palms, but I welcome the bite of pain. What if my girls are going through worse? Mollie’s far too young; she hasn’t even had a chance at life yet. Oh God, please don’t take her away from me now. And Nessa? I just want the chance to hold her in my arms again and tell her how I feel.

  While such thoughts are racing through my head, the pilot gets a call on his radio. He pipes it into the headphones so we can all hear. It’s Ben; the satellite makes a pass every twenty-four hours, and now he’s got an updated satellite image, this one showing a Jeep parked behind the adobe building. The buzz of excitement that I feel does nothing at all to put a rein on my impatience. We were right about where the Jeep was headed. We must be on the right track, who else would be in a dilapidated building in the middle of nowhere? Despite the fact we can get there no quicker, the news has helped raise our spirits.

  At long last, there’s a change in altitude, and we start our descent to the temporary settlement which we’re headed toward, black tents surrounding a small oasis. As we descend, our unexpected visit brings the tribespeople out to see greet us. Rais gets out first, and in fast Arabic explains why we’re here, and sheikh that he is, he calls for the man who alerted Sofian to the stranger's visit, congratulating him on his astuteness in knowing that something was wrong. He, in turn, calls his wife to his side and says she’s the one who should be praised, making the connection between the request for milk and a kidnapped baby, and had questioned the stranger to confirm it.

  As I go to step forward, exasperated with the delay, Hunter holds me back. I shake my head in irritation, just wanting to get going. But after the greetings, Rais isn’t wasting any more time and is now requesting that we borrow transport. At last, we’re led to two run-down trucks which look we’ll be lucky if they go anywhere at all. But Hunter reassures me the tribespeople will keep them well maintained, getting into difficulties in the desert would be suicide. The trucks might be old, but knowing the tribesmen, they’ll be in good running order.

  As Rais explains where we’re headed, the head of the tribe recognises the buildings he’s describing and offers to come with us and show us the quickest way. Sure, we can follow the GPS, but the desert can be treacherous, and he’ll know of any quicksand or other perils we’ll need to avoid. With thanks, we accept.

  Then, at last, we’re piling into the trucks and setting off. At first, we cross the rocky terrain, having to hang on as we bounce across the rough ground. Then, Afeef, our guide, points the way to the edge of some sheer cliffs and suggests we can approach out of sight and be able to get nearer if we hug the rocks at the bottom. After another half an hour he warns us to come to a halt, suggesting if we proceed further, we’ll be both audible and visible from the ancient village. From here, he proposes we proceed on foot, estimating we’re only half a kilometre away.

  Weapons prepared and ready and sobering looks exchanged, we proceed in silence. Afeef leads the way, though Rais has told him we won’t expect him to take an active part in the rescue, he’s a farmer, not a fighter.

  Ignoring the pain in my leg, I manage to keep up with the others as we make our way over the rock-strewn land, but I’m starting to limp badly by the time the adobe buildings come into sight. The first thing I notice is that there’s no longer a Jeep parked between the dwellings and the cliffs, the location Ben had identified. Either it’s round the other side where we can’t see it, or it’s no longer there. But what we didn’t expect to find here is a helicopter. Now it’s even more imperative we approach with extreme caution, knowing they’ve got the means of a quick getaway if they hear us coming. Or, of course, they might take their other option and stay to fight. We’ve no idea how many men we’re going up against, and the new mode of transport makes me concerned; there may be more than we expected.

  Rais taps me on the shoulder and
points up above. Vultures are circling. Oh shit! Birds of that species are attracted by rotting flesh. Despite the heat of the day, goosebumps cover my skin, and I shiver. Oh God, no. Please let it be an animal rotting in the sun. Fuck, I can’t think of the alternative. For a second I stagger, my thoughts hitting me like a physical blow. Trying hard to keep moving, while part of me doesn’t want to see what we’re going to find, my dire predictions are interrupted by Jon’s voice in my earpiece.

  “Sean, status update.”

  Quickly I describe the sight in front of me.

  “Okay, it sounds like you’re close enough now. Ryan, Nat. Go do your thing,” Jon instructs.

  Ryan and Nat drop down and begin their leopard style military crawl, hoping to approach the building unnoticed. I stay back with the others, my rifle aimed to give them cover. They move fast, their bellies to the ground, and soon I see them stand, one covering the other as they look into the windows. Within moments they’re waving for us to come over, Ryan gesturing showing it’s all clear. All clear? Wait, have we come to the wrong place? What about the helicopter? There must be someone there. Unless they’re off chasing a woman escaping across the sand. Then I watch, unbelieving and then with total horror, as Ryan brings his hand across his neck in a cutting motion, a clear signal letting us know there’s no one alive.

  What?

  Still unsure what to expect, my heart is in my mouth as I dread what I might find. What about Nessa and Mollie? I run as fast as I can, my leg screaming in agony but forcing myself to ignore it, reaching the house just before my companions. Ryan waves me to a stop.

  “There’s been a gun fight…”

  “Nessa? Mollie?” I gasp. They’re all I care about.

  “No, no. No sign of them.” He reassures me that they’re not amongst the dead. “Just men. Five. Four outside the building and one inside. As Ryan waves me closer, I go and take a look for myself.

  As he said, there are four dead bodies scattered around the perimeter of the building, all riddled with bullets, the bodies already starting to swell in the desert heat. Brushing past him I go inside, where I find another man, different from the others, dressed in clothing reflecting a more affluent way of life, in a room that looks like a prison cell with bars on the window. The room smells of death and decay, and more, of shit and other unsavoury things. A bucket is in the corner which someone’s obviously had to use, and dirty nappies stacked beside it. I recognise Vanessa’s blouse on the floor, and beside it, blood.