The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4)

by Sewell, Ron

  With legs shaking, the bar found a niche. ZZ tugged on the wire ensuring it held before hauling himself out into the open.

  “What can you see?” said Petros.

  “Our camp two hundred metres to my right and four men are sat by a fire.”

  “Shit.”

  “I see a desert storm.”

  “Okay, ZZ. Come back.”

  “Why, Mr Petros?”

  “Because I don’t want you shot.”

  ZZ’s feet brushed Petros’ face as he descended.

  “Keep going. I won’t be far behind you.” With a few turns, he secured the wire to the wooden slats and descended.

  “I heard,” said Bear.

  “We take them out,” said Akeem. His blade glinted in the firelight.

  “Wait until the storm arrives,” said Amadou.

  “I agree, “said Petros. “It does help to have a plan. How long will the storm last is my first question?”

  “It is very high, Mr Petros, could last two to three days. Better to stay where we are.”

  “Visibility will be crap and the noise horrendous,” said Bear. “Ideal for concealment but difficult to breath.”

  “Once we leave this cavern it’s shit or bust time,” said Petros. “We need masks to cover our eyes and mouth.”

  “Bear ripped a length of cloth from his clothes. “One mask.”

  Petros laughed. “Don’t rip your clothes to shreds. The sight of you naked is not recommended.”

  “Jocelyn never complains.”

  “Bet she turns off the light.”

  “We haven’t made contact with the girls for twenty-four hours. They’ll be starting to worry.”

  “When we’re out of here and those bastards no longer a problem, I’ll phone Maria. Until then, she’s second on my list of priorities.”

  “An attack by us is the last thing those krauts will expect,” said Bear.

  “In the dark and zero viz. Perfect.”

  “The old blind mice routine will work.”

  “Time to eat,” said Petros. “I understand the chef has prepared his greatest delicacy, beef stew.”

  Bear grinned. “I tested one tin. Had to check if they were fit to eat. This chef recommends the beef.”

  Bear sliced off the tops with a knife and placed the tins in the ashes of the fire. The stew bubbled and overflowed, the aroma making their mouths water.

  With full stomachs, each man readied his AK 47 and manufactured a head-scarf with eye slits. This completed, they rested.

  “Petros, how much longer do we have to sit and wait? Darkness arrived ages ago,” said Amadou.

  He glanced at his watch, midnight. “Time, gentlemen,” said Petros. “I suggest Bear and our provisions go first, followed by our weapons and ZZ. Each of us will carry one container of water. Amadou and Akeem next, with me last. Whatever happens we’re not coming back. Any questions?”

  In the flickering light from the failing fire, they nodded, picked up their weapons, water and waited.

  Bear took a deep breath and prepared himself for the climb, aware why Petros wanted him to be first. Ascending to the first level posed no problems but his large frame found it difficult to negotiate through the centre of the tower. He hummed Rule Britannia, and with a few deft kicks from his right foot, made the top.

  For almost a minute, he held his breath as his head poked through the slats. He concentrated, grabbed the dangling wire, hoisted his bulk up and through the chimney. Flat on his back the wind whipped at his clothes. “Thank Christ for that.” He pulled his mask across his face and rolled towards the hole. ZZ was ready.

  “Food and water, Mr Bear.”

  Bear grabbed each container and his weapon, placing them to one side. Without faltering, he gripped ZZ’s arms and pulled him through the opening. “Sit there with your back to the storm. Don’t move.”

  ZZ sat with his head low as the storm pounded his back. Amadou and Akeem did likewise.

  Petros hung onto the wire and began to sway back and forth until the tower tumbled and crashed. He climbed, assisted by Bear, who grabbed his collar and heaved.

  The driving sand, whipped into confusion by the gale force wind, stung bare flesh. The night and nature’s punishment gave better cover than they could have ever anticipated.

  Petros nodded to Bear who understood. Their lives were on the line, one mistake could be one too many.

  He separated the cables, tied one end to his belt and passed the end to Akeem. “Allow two metres.”

  A few minutes elapsed before they were ready.

  Pummelled by the wind and sand, they descended to the desert floor one step at a time. Petros glanced at his team aware he could not see further than a few metres.

  Once off the slope Petros pulled the line together and put one arm around Bear’s shoulders. “Recommendations?”

  With his arms, Bear hugged the men close. “One, keep the wire tight until we find our tent or the Toyotas. Two, shoot to kill because those bastards will. Three, make sure they’re dead. A wounded man can still pull a trigger.”

  Each man nodded in agreement.

  In a line at right angles to the slope, Bear counted the paces. Blind, the team groped its way. At one hundred steps they stopped. He turned and tugged the wire and marched a short distance before repeating the process in the opposite direction. On the third pass, they found both Toyotas and established their bearings.

  They formed a group utilising the vehicles as protection.

  “Let’s end this,” said Petros. “We go in firing short bursts. ZZ, stay here.” He crawled across the shifting ground.

  Each slithered across the sand until the canvas of tent was within touching distance. The howling wind covered them in a layer of sand. Bear rose and knelt. The others copied his move. Petros, Bear and Amadou fired several short bursts of automatic fire, raking the tent. Cautious, they dropped to the ground and waited.

  Petros flat on his stomach, followed by Bear, edged into the tent.

  On seeing the blood-soaked ground, Bear stood and without any consideration put a shot through the heads of two men. He approached the third, cocked his AK and fired as the fourth raised his weapon.”

  “Bear,” shouted Akeem, but the noise of sand and wind striking the tent killed the warning. A flash of steel and a finely-honed blade struck the man in the neck. His eyes stared straight ahead as the pressure of his finger squeezed the trigger.

  Petros dived as bullets struck the ground and thudded into the corpse in front of him. “Shit, that was close.” He stood, cocked his AK, fired and made sure the man was dead.

  Bear lay on the ground, blood ran from the right side of his head.

  Action gave Petros an adrenalin surge. He knelt beside his friend searching for a pulse. It was there, good and strong. “Thanks, Akeem.”

  Akeem shrugged, his face showed no feeling. “Pleased I didn’t miss.”

  “I doubt if you ever miss with a knife. You are more than competent. Water, can you see any?”

  Akeem and Amadou rummaged and discovered several containers of drinking water. “This should be good enough to bath the wound. How serious is it?” asked Akeem.

  “Deep crease. He’ll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up.”

  “Mr Petros, is Mr Bear dead?” said ZZ as he entered the tent.

  “It takes more than a flesh wound to kill this man. Return to our vehicles and find the first aid kits.”

  ***

  ZZ turned, covered his face and crawled in the direction of the first Toyota. The wind and sand battered his thin frame until his head struck the vehicle. He stood in the calmness of the lee, swept away the accumulated sand, opened the passenger door and clambered over the front seats to the rear. With the aid of the internal passenger light, he searched until he found the box with the large red cross. With determination he shoved the rear door and it opened enough to squeeze his body through the gap. Blinded by the dark, he stared into the storm and crawled towards the tent. His
face covered by a mask, he found the tent and slid through the entrance.

  “Thank you,” said Petros. “Any problems?”

  He shook his head. “I am the eldest son, I understand the desert, the wind speaks to me.”

  “Good, but next time attach a line. just in case. A pillow for Bear’s head please and help me with the bandage?”

  ZZ obeyed, watching while Petros soaked a sterile pad in a purple liquid and cleaned Bear’s wound.

  “The widest bandage, ZZ.”

  “This is the largest, Mr Petros.”

  Petros gave a wry smile. “Then that will have to do.” With a clean dressing in place he secured it in position with the bandage. Finished, he looked at ZZ. “Now we let him rest.”

  “The bodies,” said Akeem. “We’ll dump them into the cavern when the storm passes.”

  “It will make explanations much easier,” said Petros. “That’s if anyone asks.”

  ***

  Bear tried to ignore the pain in his head until he remembered. He opened his eyes and stared at the billowing canvas above him. He forced himself to sit up and wished he hadn’t. A lightning bolt pierced his temple and a mule kicked the back of his head in unison.

  He raised himself on his elbows and his gaze focussed on ZZ a metre away, sleeping. The throbbing in his head ebbed and flowed as he gently fingered the bandage. “So I’m still in the real world,” he muttered. “Thank Christ for that. Jocelyn would have murdered me. Might as well rest until they wake.”

  With a sigh he fell back, closed his eyes, thankful the bullet had not been one centimetre more to the left.

  ***

  The wind dropped mid-afternoon and weak sunlight filtered through the dirty canvas. Inside the tent eyes unaccustomed to brightness opened.

  “What day is it?” asked Bear to no one in particular.

  “Friday, I think,” said Amadou.

  “How’s the head?” said Petros.

  “Sore.”

  “You can thank Akeem for saving your life.”

  Bear glanced towards Akeem. “We’re quits but thanks.”

  He lowered his head. “Allah directed my blade.”

  “Bear, you’re on kitchen duty. Get your brain in gear and help ZZ make breakfast,” said Petros. “Akeem. Amadou, you’re with me.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Amadou frowning.

  “Outside to see if we have a serviceable vehicle or it’s a long walk home.”

  “Makes sense. Although once the sand built up around the tent it was quite cosy in here. Can’t we wait for breakfast?”

  “As it won’t make much difference, why not? I’m still going outside,” said Petros. With a heave, he lifted the tent flap on one side allowing a deluge of sand to flow inside and crawled out. “Jesus Christ.” He stopped and stared in disbelief. To his right, left and centre nothing but sand existed. A chill danced on his spine. The Toyotas, where are they? With every step his feet sank into the dry gritty sand as he strode towards where he believed them to be. One-step, stomp, and listen. This method he continued one step at a time. The roof of a land-cruiser gave a distinct sound as his right foot struck. He dropped to his knees and with a sweeping motion pushed the sand away until he could see the roof. Softly he said, “It’ll take a day to dig this out and even then we won’t know if it starts.”

  With his head low, he returned to the tent mulling over their predicament. His eyes cast a look over the four heaps of sand a few metres from the tent. Must get rid of those before nightfall, he thought.

  “We have a problem or two,” said Petros as he slumped onto the cushions covering the ground.

  “Tell us something new,” said Amadou as he cleaned his AK.

  “The cars are covered in sand.”

  “I expected nothing less,” said Amadou. “As much as I love you guys, you have little knowledge of the desert. The British and German armies during the last war learnt the hard way. For over two days, we have been in the midst of a sand storm. Do you know how dunes are formed?”

  “I think he’s going to tell us,” said Bear.

  “I’m not that interested,” said Petros.

  “You will listen and understand,” said Amadou. “When the wind hit the cars, it went over and round. Behind is a spot where the wind-speed drops and dumps the sand. I’m not surprised they are covered. The problems are getting them out and are they driveable?”

  “From memory, the shovels are in the back,” said Petros, “and it’s getting warm out there. How much water do we have?”

  “With what we found here, give or take fifty litres,” said Akeem.

  “Then I suggest we dig till noon, keep out of the afternoon sun and start again in the evening,” said Petros. “Let’s eat.”

  Breakfast over and salt tablets eaten, Petros ordered, “Hats on, time to play in the sand.”

  The four men and ZZ began removing the sand from one side of the first Toyota, using plates as scoops. In time the doors started to appear.

  “Might as well give the door a try.” Bear grabbed the handle and heaved. It opened and he crawled inside, found two shovels and tossed them out. Drenched in sweat they worked hard shifting sand. Two hours later one Toyota sat in a large hole. Petros staggered in the soft sand as he inspected the vehicle.

  “The rear tyres are shot to pieces but apart from a few extra ventilation holes it should, with luck, start,” said Bear.

  “You’re nearest and the keys are in the ignition,” said Amadou, “Give it a whirl.”

  Bear gave a small grin and with four doors open, prepared to turn the ignition. “Here goes.” With a stutter the engine turned, fired, the rev counter registered and loose sand blasted from the exhaust pipe. “At least we can get home. Shit, the anchor is in the other car.”

  It’s too hot to keep this up,” said Petros, “We’ll start again at five.”

  “Thank Christ there’s no wind or that hole might be filled by four.”

  “One job left,” said Petros as he rubbed his hand over an unshaven chin. “Those bodies outside the tent, they need to be disposed of.”

  “In a past life I bet you worked your slaves to death,” said Bear.

  “No profit in that,” said Petros as he dragged the first body by its right leg from under the sand.

  Bear grabbed under the arms and together they carried the carcass up the slope to the cavern chimney. With no thought, they dropped it and walked away passing Akeem and Amadou with another body. “In a thousand years someone might find them.”

  “I wonder where Eva is?” said Petros.

  “In hell I shouldn’t wonder,” said Bear.

  “I meant her corpse.”

  “I don’t care. Those morons murdered her and sealed us in a cavern. If it hadn’t been for world war two leftovers, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  “I’ll ask ZZ to scout around. She can join her friends, not even the local travelling Arabs will find her in there.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” said Bear as he tugged at the third body. “You take the heavy end.”

  Petros grabbed the arms and dropped them. “Hang on, I’ve seen this man before. That scar across his left eye.”

  “Now you tell me. The bastard’s dead, lift and shift, I’m hungry.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  With the four carcasses deposited in the cavern, they returned to the tent. In the shade each drank his fill of warm water, ate one tin of beef stew and biscuits.

  “I’m going to grab some shut eyes,” said Bear. “I advise you to do the same.”

  “I’ll keep watch,” said Petros.”

  “Why?” asked ZZ.

  “Just in case.”

  ***

  In the evening the temperature dropped. Grunts and swearing from four men filled the air as they shovelled.

  “I can see the anchor,” shouted Akeem. “It’s close to the hatch.”

  Petros looked at Akeem who faced him. “I’ll give you a hand.�
��

  “Two shovels are better than one.”

  Petros nodded and dug until the hatch remained free of sand. With a heave, he opened and removed the anchor. “Let’s see if we can get one vehicle mobile before we freeze.”

  “I’ll fix the anchor,” said Bear. “Amadou, can you run out the winch wire?”

  “Good as done.”

  “I’ll position the perforated metal plates,” said Akeem.

  Petros scrabbled into the pit and sat in the Toyota with the door open.

  “Anchor and wire secure,” bellowed Bear.

  “Plates in place,” signalled Akeem.

  Petros glanced at his watch and then at sunset. “We have half an hour before its dark. Shift your arses to a safe distance in case this goes pear-shaped. Hate to run someone over.”

  The engine started first turn. Petros glanced around ensuring everyone was well away before engaging first gear and winch drive. The wheels spun searching for a grip as the winch rotated and dragged the Toyota forward. A cloud of sand filled the pit as at a snail's pace the Toyota climbed. For an age, the vehicle hung on the wire until the tyres gripped and it surged out of the pit.

  The roar of the engine stopped. Petros looked at his dirt-caked team. “Tomorrow we replace the tyres on this one and drag the other out.”

  “You’re all heart, PK,” said Bear.

  “I know. It’s a bad habit.” His eyes alert, he proceeded to look around. The horizon blended with the desert, the larger dunes dark against a darker sky.

  Inside the tent, Bear examined their stock of food. “Enough stew and biscuits for two days and sausages for a week. Water’s okay providing we don’t use any to wash.”

  “No problem,” said Amadou, “a long hot shower is first on my agenda when we return to civilisation.”

  Petros checked his sat-phone’s battery, two bars. He entered a text. Bear and I fine, miss you – talk tomorrow.. “Bear, I’ve let the girls know we’re okay but my battery’s low.”

  “Mine too and we might need them if we can’t find the road. Anyone fancy some grub?”