What’s happened here?
Rais comes and notes the bars on the window. Reaching out his hand, he tests them, then traces the concrete with his fingers. “Turds,” he exclaims, “Scum of the earth.”
I throw him a questioning look.
“Drug runners use places like this. The bars are to stop people coming in. It’s becoming a problem. We’ll have to keep an eye on this place.”
His explanation was a moment's distraction, but the stench in the room is overpowering, not that I need a reminder of our main objective, and I go back outside, preferring the heat to the smell and the realisation of the terrible conditions in which my girls had been kept.
“What’s going on? Update me, Sean?”
“Jon, we’re here. There are five dead men. Five, Jon. The baby and Nessa were obviously kept here, and the conditions weren’t good.” By that, he’ll know I mean bloody awful. “But there’s no sign of either Mollie or her.”
“Good girl,” he breathes in my ear.
“What?”
“What do the wounds look like? Any idea of the calibre weapon used?”
His no-nonsense tone makes me re-examine the bodies; the clear head shots show me that the weapon used could very well have been the Glock Nessa had chosen from the gun safe. Suddenly I cotton on to what he’s thinking. “She took them out?”
“She passed her tests at the range with flying colours. If she waited for the right moment, I wouldn’t put it past her.”
“But where is she, Jon. There’s blood here. She could be injured.” Even though I’m trying to keep professional, my voice falters.
Nat steps in front of me, “The Jeep. She took the fucking Jeep!”
“Walllah! hdha lays khubranaan jayidaan baldrwr.”
Rais’s exclamation makes me swing around, “What do you mean it’s not fucking good news? She’s escaped!”
For an answer, he sweeps his hands around, indicating the bleak sandy landscape all around us. “If she’s gone in the wrong direction she could be driving for days before she comes across anyone.”
Fuck it! He’s right. A woman, alone in the desert, with a young baby. Suddenly it seems her troubles might only be beginning. We’d seen no sign of a Jeep passing us, so she’s not making her way to the only settlement within miles. But how would she even know it was there?
“Jon, can you get a new satellite image?”
But I know it before he tells me, “Not until the satellite passes over again. In about twenty hours’ time.”
Raising my eyes to the sky I again see the vultures circling above, patiently waiting for us to leave before descending for their meal, and at the same time notice how fast the sun is descending in the sky. It’s almost nightfall.
“Rais,” my voice is little more than a whisper, “Can we track them?”
Like me, he’s looking up, and now he turns and shakes his head sadly, “We can try to find the tracks, but with this wind blowing, they’ll soon be covered.”
“Ymknny tattabie lahum.”
Oh, thank God! Thank fuck the tribesman came with us. “Hal tastatie?” Can you? I ask when Afeef tells us he can follow them.
The Amahadian’s head nods furiously, “Walikun lays fi alzzalami, fi alssabah.”
I take a deep breath, I want to get going, I don’t want to waste any time, but deep down I know Afeef is right. However good a tracker he is, he can’t follow them in the dark, and we’ll just have to wait until the morning.
“What about the helicopter?” I’m grasping at straws.
Rais rests his hand on my shoulder, “Like looking for a needle in a haystack; we don’t know in which direction she went. We can get an idea from here, but there’s nothing to say she is heading in a straight line. If the Jeep runs out of petrol, the lights will soon go off. Our helicopter only has enough fuel to get us back to the capital. It can’t fly around for hours.”
I’m still not giving up, “What about this one? There’s another chopper here.”
He pats me, then moves away, swinging himself up into the pilot’s seat. He looks at something, then speaks to Jon, “Jon, this is an R44. It’s got just under half a tank of fuel. What range are we talking about?”
“About two hundred and fifty kilometres if there’s less than half a tank. One hundred and fifty miles. Even if the Jeep’s done only half that distance, we’d never find her. Unless we know which direction to go.”
I bow my head, so close, and yet so far. What if it was her blood on the floor? What if she’s bleeding out? What about Mollie? Is she hungry, sick? Slowly I sink to the ground, my legs suddenly unable to hold me up.
“Sean, you okay?” Nat, with his unruly shock of hair, is beside me.
“Sean,” Jon’s calling my name, but I rip my earpiece out.
Suddenly another body drops down, “She’s a brave woman. It looks like she took them all out. By herself. How did she manage that? Fuck, I don’t know. But she did. If she’s survived so far, she’ll keep going another few hours. First light we’ll set off, but for now, there’s nothing to do but to wait. Look at me, Sean.” Ryan waits until I lift my head, unashamed that tears are leaking from my eyes, “She’s got your baby, she’ll keep her safe.”
A bolt of rage goes through me, “You’re making assumptions! What if one or more their captors survived? What if they’re with them now? What if they had a fight among themselves? Fuck! We don’t know anything, do we? Not really. It’s all supposition!”
He considers it briefly, “You might be right, but I don’t think you are. She’s killed a lot of men here, Sean, if she’d left anyone alive, I would have expected to find her body too.”
He’s right, but we can’t know for sure. Not until we catch up with her.
And there’s something else that concerns me. “She doesn’t know the desert, Ryan. Doesn’t know about the snakes, scorpions. She’s no idea about jackals or hyenas. She could roll the Jeep on a dune, hit quicksand…anything could happen.”
“As long as she stays with the Jeep, we’ll find her.”
But what if she runs out of fuel and starts walking? Neither she or Mollie would be safe.
I might not be able to do anything about the girls now, but there’s one thing I have to do. Pulling myself together as best I can, I place a call to Kadar, updating him and requesting that someone to come and dispose of the bodies, and keep guard on the building. If the helicopter doesn’t return and the dead terrorists don’t check in, sooner or later, someone will surely come to find them.
Chapter 33
Vanessa
Are we heading in the right direction? My gun unwaveringly pointed at my driving companion, I’m mentally repeating the question with no way of knowing how to answer it. But staying in that deserted ancient settlement wasn’t an option. Someone could have been waiting on Danielle’s return, or Amir al-Fahri might have started missing his son. To stay and wait for a rescue was likely to have been more dangerous than heading into the unknown.
“So, you and Sean?” We’ve been driving for about an hour, and this is the first time Danielle has spoken to me. For my part, I’m not here to make friends.
“There’s nothing between Sean and me.” Well, a Dom/sub relationship is not something I’m going to explain to her.
“Oh, come off it. You’re protecting the baby as though it were your own. Which it isn’t, of course.”
“She isn’t.” Correcting her automatically, I again have to wonder about her maternal instinct.
She throws me a quick grin, “I think that proves my point. Unless you just like babies.”
I could tell her I try to avoid children completely but can see by my recent actions that she probably wouldn’t believe me.
I’m sitting at an angle; my back half turned toward the door so I can keep my eyes and gun trained firmly on Danielle. I don’t trust her one inch. And I neither do I believe that she’s suddenly become friendly. “Just keep driving steadily, Danielle. Don’t try anything. I’ve got no
particular love for you and won’t hesitate to pull this trigger.”
“Aw, shucks. And just when I thought we could be friends. We do have a man in common. He’s pretty good in the sack, isn’t he?”
I can’t deny that, but a shudder runs through me at the thought he’s had her too. I decide to turn the tables on her, “Why were you with Nasir al-Fahri?”
I watch as her hands tighten on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white. The only indication that the death of her boyfriend upset her. I don’t think she’s going to answer, but then she seems to shake it off, “He was interesting.”
That seems a funny way to describe someone. “Go on.”
“What’s more to say? I like excitement in my life.”
My face feels tight. Excitement by way of setting bombs and killing people? Directing suicide bombers? Not trusting what might come out of my mouth at this particular moment, we drive on in silence. The next time I look at the dashboard clock, it’s to see another hour has passed, and the fuel level is dropping. Night has come, and we’re now driving in the dark. Mollie starts fussing in the back, but she’s whimpering, not crying. It’s a sound that worries me.
“Pull up for a moment; we should check on Mollie.”
With a sigh, Danielle stops the Jeep. My hand steady on the gun, I instruct, “Get out.” As she does so, I back out of the passenger side door and move quickly around the Jeep. “I’m not happy giving her more of that milk,” Just by looking at her I can see the last lot has again simply run out of her. I’d been hoping that we would have got to civilisation by now. Danielle just stands there.
“Oh, for goodness sake, woman. Get your baby out and see to her.”
Tossing me a look, she reaches in and takes Mollie out, handling her awkwardly as if she’s not used to doing it. Reaching over I toss some Danielle some rags, “You’ll have to use these to clean her up, we should try to make her more comfortable at least.”
She doesn’t seem to have a clue what to do. “Wipe her as well as you can,” I offer.
“The nanny usually deals with that.” She picks up a cloth with a look of disgust on her face.
Oh my God, she doesn’t even look after her own baby? I’m surprised she didn’t pay someone to have her for her.
Sensing my impatience, she does her best, and then, again under my instructions, moves the blanket around so Mollie has something dry to lie on. It’s getting colder now, so I tell her to cover her up. Mollie’s plaintive and weak cries are concerning me, I’d rather she was letting us have the full brunt of her little lungs. Once we’ve done what we can to make her comfortable, we resume our places in the Jeep.
As Danielle starts the engine, she turns to me, “Are you sure this is the right direction?”
I’m sure of nothing at all. Just that I want to reach something that passes for civilisation. Scanning the horizon, I hope to see lights or something that would show we’re heading the right way. “Just keep driving.”
“You sure you want to keep heading east?”
Change and go north or south? We could end up going around in circles, or we could be missing a settlement by just a few miles. “We carry on.”
“You’re in charge.”
She might sound confident, but her fingers are tapping on the wheel, and she’s glancing just as anxiously as I am at the amount of fuel we have left.
“This is stupid. We’re going to run out of petrol in the middle of nowhere. We should turn back. They’ll come searching for Nasir and me soon.”
Yes, she’s confirmed I was right to get away. And they might come searching for her, but they won’t bother rescuing me. It occurs to me she might be naïve, “So Al-Fahri’s men will come looking for his son. You think they’ll have much fondness for you?”
She shrugs, “I can pay them.” Then she thinks for a bit, “Look, Vanessa, why don’t we make a deal? We’ll go back, and I’ll get them to take you with us. Then you walk away.”
It’s not going to be as simple as that, and I’m not stupid. “Just drive on as you are.” I can see the compass heading from here, and so far, she’s continued to do as I ask.
Another sixty minutes have gone by, and suddenly there’s a difference in the way the Jeep’s handling, it feels as though the wind is buffeting us. Then, in the light from the headlamps streaming in front of us, it looks like it’s starting to rain. And then I recognise it for what it is. Sandstorm. Shit, this was never going to be easy, was it? It’s like driving through a thick fog; we can’t see a thing. The desert is rocky, and although we’ve been driving as straight as possible, Danielle’s been making small course corrections to avoid the worst of the ground. Now we can see nothing at all; it’s too dangerous to carry on.
I tell her to stop. Danielle switches off the ignition but leaves the interior lights on. I don’t comment; it’s scary enough as it is without being unable to see a hand in front of your face.
The howling wind and the sound of sand particles crashing against the windows and doors is deafening. The Jeep rocks as though it’s going to be blown over. Dust is swirling around us, so I reach over to cover Mollie’s face with the remains of her blanket, then I hang on to the panic strap with one hand, still clasping my gun in the other, just hoping we’re going to be able to stay upright. Danielle’s holding tight to the steering wheel, her face white in the reflected lights from the dashboard. Like me, she’s scared. Sand piles up outside which has the beneficial effect of stabilising our vehicle, but on the other hand, I begin to have doubts whether we’re going to be able to drive away. Or even open the doors to dig ourselves out. Driving away from the only place of safety, the house where they’d imprisoned me, could have been a fatal mistake. With a sick feeling in my stomach I begin to accept none of us will be getting out alive.
Eventually, in reality after only a few minutes but having felt like a lifetime, the storm moves on. We’re both coughing from the dust that’s swirling around the Jeep. Once I see the air clearing, I open the windows, and to try to clear the fine particles. I pull the material off of Mollie’s face and am concerned as she hardly stirs. We’ve got to get somewhere. Anywhere. Right now, I’d be happy to see a terrorist if it means Mollie will have a chance of life. Even if I don’t myself.
Danielle restarts the engine without being told and puts it into gear. The wheels spin. She revs, tries to go backward, and then forward again. I hold my breath, then just as I’m about to suggest we get out and dig, the Jeep jumps forward with a lurch, and we’re on the move again, but more slowly as we’re now travelling over loose sand.
I’ve only just had time to savour the relief that we’ve successfully come through the storm when the engine starts to sputter. The damn gauge is reading just under a quarter of a tank, but it’s clearly not accurate. The Jeep comes to a juddering halt. Then the lights go out. All I can see is an ocean of stars above us, and nothing, no lights or anything, whichever way I look. This is it. There’s no point in walking, in a few short hours it will be daylight, and in the heat of the sun it would be suicidal. The only shade we’ll have is staying with our vehicle. We’re stuck. Until someone comes to our rescue. If they ever do.
The thought is a sobering one. If I had a choice, my companion would be the last person I’d want to spend my final hours with. And Mollie desperately needs medical attention. I was right to leave the stone hut, but wrong to insist on the direction of travel.
Chapter 34
Sean
I doubt any of us will get much sleep tonight, particularly as a sandstorm blows up. I toss and turn listening to the howling wind whistling round the stone hut, knowing it was likely to obliterate any tracks. Pulling my sleeping bag up over my head trying to keep out the choking dust, all I can think of is Nessa and my baby. If we’re right, they’re somewhere out there alone. Has the same storm caught up with them? Are they too suffering the worst nature can throw at them in the desert? There’s a part of me that hopes they do have guards with them, at least they’d have know
ledge of how to survive in such a harsh environment. If not, Nessa will certainly be out of her depth. Fuck, I wouldn’t give much for my odds if our positions were reversed.
My leg is throbbing, I overdid it today, and lying on the hard ground doesn’t help. But that’s not what’s keeping me awake. Even when the storm passes and an eerie silence falls, broken only by the coughing of my companions, I think of my girls, out there in the wilderness. If I get them back, no, when I get them back, I’m never letting either out of my sight again, or out of my control. The fact I can’t protect the females who are important to me is a pain I feel right down in my soul. I’m a Dom, and I’ve failed them.
As soon as the skies start to lighten Afeef scouts around outside, but he’s not optimistic. “Allaylat almadiat ra'ayt 'annaha aittajahat ghurbaan, walikun min alssaeb altt'akkud min dhlk alan.” Last night, he tells us, he saw she headed out in a easterly direction, but this morning the tracks aren’t clear enough to confirm they continued in that direction. I know he’s right, but it does nothing to lessen the burning frustration inside me.
Soon after this disappointing news, a truck arrives carrying barrels of Avgas, aviation fuel to top up the helicopter’s tanks. Rais, as do many of the desert sheikhs, has his own helicopter, almost as necessary as a car living in the desolate desert. Once he’d checked the abandoned helicopter was flight worthy and hadn’t taken a stray bullet, he’d offered to pilot it for us. Shortly afterwards another helicopter flies in, the one we’d flown into the nomadic settlement. I start to feel some optimism knowing we’ve two craft that will be able to circle and search, despite not being certain which direction Nessa will have taken.
Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4) Page 31
