Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6)
Page 32
“Rais…” I’m still watching his face. “You can’t do this. You can’t trust al-Fahri. Kadar will kill you when he knows the part that you’ve played.”
Now he looks down at me. “I’ve covered my tracks well. There’ll be nothing pointing back to me.”
“The money…”
“Will be carefully spent. The desert sheikhs will be pleased and will support me. Ask yourself, here in the desert where life is so cheap, what will anyone care about the loss of one woman?”
Al-Fahri nods. “We have an agreement, Sheikh. I will honour it.”
I suspect an arrangement with a terrorist is the last thing that will be adhered to. I never took Rais for being stupid, yet there’s so many holes in his plan, he can’t be firing on all cylinders. How can he trust al-Fahri to respect his part of the bargain? Oh, I don’t doubt he’ll use me to try to influence Kadar, but coughing up the payment? Somehow I doubt he’ll do that. Even if he does, my brothers will fast put two and two together and realise Rais had to be behind it.
“You’re a dead man walking, Rais.” I try once again to reason with him. “Amir al-Fahri won’t leave you alive, and if he does, my brothers will find out and kill you.”
As I turn back and throw my best look of disdain at al-Fahri, Rais lowers his head and his gruff voice speaks into my ear. “I told you everything I do is for Amahad. Even sacrificing my life. As long as the money’s paid, I’ll happily die for the benefits it will bring to my people, the desert tribes who Kadar has neglected for so long. If you want to blame anyone, blame your brothers. They sit in their palaces while the people of the desert die for lack of medical attention. Where they can do no more than herd their meagre flocks due to lack of education. Where they die from starvation. Nothing I can do will ever be enough for my country.”
His words, so full of passion, show me there’s no reasoning with him. He’s so wrong, I can’t believe it. I know my brothers are doing everything they can for Amahad. I don’t know what I can say to convince him.
“Enough. You’re right. It’s time to move this on.” Amir reaches for my arm. I cringe back against Rais. The sheikh might now be my enemy, even so, I prefer him to the terrorist.
“I’ll bring her out for you,” Rais suggests. Amir thinks for a moment, then nods. “My men will take her from there.”
As Rais’s arms imprison me, I know he’s too strong for me to escape from his hold. As he backs out of the tent, dragging me with him, my feeble struggles don’t loosen his grip at all.
“Watati warubutuha,” Al-Fahri calls out as we emerge into the sunlight. Shadows are lengthening, showing day is coming to an end as the terrorist’s men approach with ropes to follow his instruction. Soon I’m trussed so tightly I know I won’t be able to get free. Next, they throw me across the back of a horse and secure me to it.
It’s at that moment I know exactly what I’m going to do. There’s only one way out of this valley, along that dangerous path with the steep drop off. Although I hate to sacrifice a horse, I’ll struggle, unbalance it, and take it with me to my death. I’d rather die than go through what al-Fahri has planned for me. Kadar can focus on avenging my death rather than giving in to blackmail.
The terrorists mount up, and tears fall from my eyes as I start the journey through this beautiful valley, remembering my first impressions of it, how awestruck I was, my enjoyment when in the water with Rais. I hate him. Along with my appreciation of the beauty of my surroundings, any regard I had for him has been swept away.
He stands, impassively watching as our short procession starts to move down the path. I stare at him until we go around a bend and I can no longer see him, leaving him with the memory of tears running down my face, and in no doubt of my disgust and loathing. He might think he’s doing the best for his country, but he’s betrayed it. He betrayed me.
Now, I’m going to my death.
As we cross the peaceful meadow I wriggle and writhe, trying to loosen the ropes that bind me. My struggles cause me to slip over the saddle, putting the knot tying me to the horse just within reach. Apart from killing an animal who’s here by no fault of its own, I know it will be easier to throw myself into the abyss if I could disengage myself. I don’t see the grass or the trees. I don’t hear the water flowing. My full attention is on getting loose. I’ll only have one chance of this. If al-Fahri realises I prefer death to dishonour, he’ll make sure I don’t get another opportunity.
I’m scared, of course I am. I might not die immediately, my body may lay broken on the rocks below, death taking its time to claim me. Those kind of thoughts I push out of my head. Rais was right, I must think of my country and my family. With me dead, Amir al-Fahri will be left with nothing to bargain with.
This path seems longer than it was on the way in. The meadow seems to go on forever. Now I’ve got the knot loosened, I’m impatient to get to the steepest part of the path, the thought of dying only slightly less terrifying than the thought of living in the hands of whatever buyer al-Fahri has arranged.
Visions rush through my mind as though I’m delirious. I put it down to the blood rushing to my head, as I’m lying with my head hanging down. Last night, oh, last night… How could Rais so quickly turn out to be someone so completely different? I trusted him, he’d been gentle, kind. Loving. How could he turn on me?
He must have had this planned from the very beginning. Wasn’t it him who suggested I went to the southern desert to be safe? I’m pretty certain Kadar had told me it was. How he had fooled me, luring me in with those false statements that he’d loved me for years, waited for me. Because it was exactly what I wanted to hear, I believed him. I’d been so stupid as he reeled me in like a fish on a hook. He’d made me imagine a future with him. Somehow, he must have known I’d been infatuated with him for most of my life. Though I’d been careful to hide it, things I’d done or said must have given me away.
I risk a look behind, hoping against hope that Rais will change his mind, that his love was real and that he’ll realise it and come after me before it’s too late. But our group of horses plod on, and there’s no one following.
“Aistamara bialtaqdum. Nahn bihajat 'iilana 'an nakhruj min huna bhlwl alwaqt aldhy yaqae fih allayla,” Al Fahri calls out, encouraging his men to pick up their speed, not wanting to be travelling the treacherous path when night falls. As the horses move into a trot, I wrap my hand tightly to the stirrup leather. Having loosened my ties, I don’t want to be bounced off. Or not too soon. They’d only catch me and tie me back on more firmly.
Should I pray? Although born Muslim, I’m not a practicing one, and don’t even know if I believe in a god at all or how he could help me now. It wouldn’t hurt. I can’t think of what to say. Save me? Save my country? Kill that bloody bastard Rais? Let him get bitten by a poisonous snake? My mind churns with hatred, and not for forgiveness for the life that I’ve led.
It’s not long before the horses are slowed back to a walk, and instead of the plods on the earth, their hoofs start to clip clop over the rocky ground. We are on the path. My chance will come soon.
Unheard by anyone else, a whimper escapes from my lips. I had so much to live for, so much I wanted to do. So many children I needed to help. Rais might be looking out for his tribes, but other people matter too. Especially when they can’t help themselves. Now I’ve no future. Nothing to hope for. Nothing other than oblivion waiting for me.
I eye the drop, knowing it gets steeper further up. Wanting to make sure I take the best chance of being killed outright and not left to linger and die. Not wanting to give them a chance to save me….
The path ahead narrows, a sharp turn, and the drop beneath is sheer.
With tears streaming down my face, my heart beating so fast I think it could fail me before I do this. My sense of self-preservation making me hang on just a moment longer until…until… Forcing Twafiq into my mind, knowing I never want to suffer the abuse such as he had planned, I twist and throw myself sideways off the horse.
Chapter 38
Rais
As the shot echoes, bouncing off the rock walls, my radio cackles. I answer brusquely, “Speak to me.”
“Amir al-Fahri is dead. Clear head shot.”
Good man. My nephew might only be eighteen, but he’s the best sniper I’ve known, a natural ability to invariably hit his target, however small and far. Stationed up high in the mountain, he was well placed to take the terrorist with a single shot.
“We’re moving in now,” I tell him. “Take as many of them out as you can, just for fuck’s sake, don’t hit the princess.”
“Sheikh, Akhw al'umi.” The tone of his voice, the way it breaks, causes an icy hand to grip my heart.
“Speak to me.” Dread fills me.
“The princess. She threw herself off the horse. She’s…she’s gone into the canyon. The men have stopped, the ones not surrounding al-Fahri are looking down. I can’t see her, I don’t think they can either.”
“Kill them.” I issue the order while knowing he won’t get them all, as they’ll soon be taking cover from the sniper hidden on the slopes. “Don’t let them move into the canyon and go after her.” I don’t know how I’m still speaking, as my heart has stopped.
“It’s sheer rockface, Sheikh. She wouldn’t have had a chance.”
A blinding rage floods through me. I want to fall to my knees, scream out loud. Aiza. What the fuck have you done? Why didn’t you have faith in me?
I need to get to her. Calling out a battle cry, my best warriors mount the horses we tacked up as soon as Amir al-Fahri had disappeared from sight. Once seated, I pause only to shout an instruction to my lieutenant, Suhail. “Bring rope!” Then, kicking straight into a gallop, I lead the men on, only slowing a fraction when we reach the path our sure-footed horses know how to travel fast even in darkness. The light’s fading now, which won’t help a rescue.
She has to be dead. She can’t survive that fall. It won’t do any good thinking like that. Only the thought of her being my wife and by my side keeps me moving. Why did she take matters into her own handst? Why didn’t she trust that I would save her?
Because I acted my part too well. I gave her no reason to believe in me. In persuading al-Fahri of my treachery, I’d convinced her. All she had to rely on was herself. When it came to it, she chose death over the diabolical fate the terrorist had spelt out for her.
She can’t be dead. If she’s gone, I’ll die too. If not by my own hand, then by those of her brothers, and I won’t lift a finger to defend myself, knowing I’ll deserve everything that’s heading my way. A painful death, and every minute I’ll relish the torture to my body. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be alive.
I’d taken a risk, toyed with her life. While governments all over the world may thank me for ridding this earth of the terrorist scum, the result wasn’t worth the loss of my princess.
She’s not dead. Surely I’d feel the loss to the depths of my soul if she was? I love her. If she’s gone, why is my own heart still beating?
The thunderous sound of hooves hitting the rocky path startles the horses that have appeared in front of me. Two of them rear, miss their footing, and go over the edge. Men’s screams mingle with their pitiful frightened cries. Did she scream too?
I dismount, keeping the wall of the path to my rear, and manage to take another man out. Some still mounted take panic and flee, and another one goes over as a loose horse takes off down the path, uncaring what it knocks into. A panicked horse rears, managing to keep a grip on the stones, though the man it kicks as it’s front legs land falls over the cliff. The remaining men and horses are fleeing. I get off another few shots, seeing men drop, as unlike myself and my highly trained men, they have difficulty shooting accurately while they ride.
Those thinking they’re escaping don’t know they’re heading straight for another group of my best warriors waiting to head them off at the bottom of the track. Not one of al-Fahri’s men will be leaving this valley alive.
There, I hear it. Rapid fire shooting, men’s screams quickly cut off. I pull my horse up, knowing my work here is done. Wheeling my horse on the narrow track, I weave back up the path with just one thought in my mind, finding Aiza, even if it’s only her body I’ll bring home.
In the distance from beneath me, the firing stops and I allow myself a quick moment of relief that my plan, in all respects but one, has been successful. As I near the place where Aiza went over, my radio crackles again.
“Sheikh. We’re under fire.”
“More terrorists?”
“No. Helicopters are landing, troops pouring out. They’re attacking us.”
Fuck. It has to be Nijad. He’s the only one who could find us.
“Hold your fire. Do not fire back.” I think quickly. “Sheikh Nijad should be there. Try to make contact with him. Tell him to get the fuck up here quick. No, on second thought, get him to search at the bottom of the ravine.”
I might not need to wait to die. If Aiza hasn’t survived, Nijad will run a blade through me as soon as he sees me. I’ll deserve to join her. If she’s dead… I couldn’t live without her.
“Sheikh!” My lieutenant comes to meet me, carrying a coil of rope. “I don’t know if this will be long enough. It’s all we’ve got.”
Cautiously I approach the edge and peer over. The light’s going now, and it’s hard to see anything below the sheer rock face. Or any handholds to climb down. Grimly I take the rope from him and start tying it around my waist.
At his look of concern, I shake my head. No one else is doing this but me. I owe her. Even if it’s only to recover her broken body.
I pass my radio over. At the same moment it bursts into live.
“What the fuck have you done, Rais? Where’s Aiza?”
“Nijad. You can shout at me all you want later. Now we need to get to the princess. She went over the cliff edge at the spot where the path twists.”
His intake of breath is audible. He knows this place as well as myself. “What do you need me to do?”
“I can’t see fuck all. I’m roped up and going over the top. Can you make your way along the old river bed? See if you can spot where she is?”
“She better fucking be alive, Rais, or you’ll wish for death every second of every remaining day of your miserable life.”
“I understand. I’m going now.”
My lieutenant clips my radio onto my belt. “You better take it. Stay in contact. I’ll belay you, call out when you find her.”
I give him a quick nod, knowing he’s trying to stay positive, when no one could survive that fall.
Another of my men comes running up. “Torch,” he pants as he passes me a slim Maglite.
Switching it on, then grasping it in my teeth, I go to the edge, give a nod to Suhail, who calls a couple of other men to take hold of the rope, and as he starts giving me some slack, go backwards off the ledge. I bounce with my feet, then pull up with a jolt, and I start to progress more smoothly as the men let the rope out.
As I descend, the hopelessness of my situation becomes clear. There’s no way she could have survived such a long drop, and it’s more likely Nijad will find his sister down below, her limbs shattered and twisted. I try to quell the trembling in my hands, knowing this is no time to give in to grief.
I’m let down a little further. They’re letting out the rope too slow. I’m a heavy man, and if they went faster it’s more likely I’d drop. And be with her.
An overhang comes up. Full darkness has descended now, so I move my head so the torchlight can guide me. There’s red… That’s blood. Is it hers? Or is it from one of the men or the horses that went over?
I push out and away, swinging over the rock, the rope having the stretch as I land underneath. Another section of sheer cliff is beneath me. Carefully I abseil down, moving my head left to right, searching thr
ough the night, trying to find her.
Then I reach the end of the rope that’s far too short. My feet are tottering on a tiny piece of rock jutting out from the bluff. It’s an easy decision to make. With one hand gripping onto a tiny handhold, I undo the knot around my waist with my other hand, letting the rope fall free. Now I’m all on my own, on a suicide mission.
Taking care now, wishing I was a rock climber properly equipped, I descend slowly and carefully. If by any chance she is alive, I won’t be any use to her dead. My torch now trained on the wall, I’m seeking out every tiny indent that I can get my toes, then fingers into.
I start to slide. This is it. But although I rip a finger nail off, my hand catches onto a slight crevice. I take a couple of seconds to catch my breath, then start to move again. A larger ledge. I pause, looking around me, and down as far as the torchlight shines.
What the fuck is that? My eyes land on a tree growing horizontally out from the rock face. And there, caught on a branch, is Aiza.
She’s not moving. I try to play the torchlight over her face, but all I can see is the back of her head, as she’s hanging face down, the ropes they bound her with trapping her. I can’t tell if she’s alive or dead.
“Nijad,” I speak into the radio. “She’s here.”
“Is she alright?”
“I can’t tell. I’m about five metres above her.” I turn my head outwards. “Can you see my light?”
“Yeah. I got you. But I can’t see her. Can you get to her?”
I look down. There’s no handholds that I can see. There’ll have to be. “I’m going to try.”
I hear him speaking. “There’s no way fucking way up. We can’t help her from here. Is she conscious?”
“Negative.” She’s not moving at all.
“If you can get to her, I’ll get the helicopter up. We can hoist her up, but she’ll need you to help her.”
It’s her only chance of getting out of here. She’ll need my help. “I’ll get to her,” I tell him. Though fuck knows how.
The short ledge extends a little way to my right. Inching along carefully, I position myself over the tree. Moving my hands lower to a tiny crack, I make myself lift my feet. Now I’m hanging by just one hand, and though my feet scramble, I can’t find anything that gives me purchase. The crack’s too small to take my weight. My fingers start slipping. Desperately I move my toes left then back to the right, scrabbling to find anything to support me. I’m hanging by my fingertips now, slowly losing purchase…