Well, now I had a need but hindsight wasn’t going to help us.
Scanning the interior of the building I could see light filtering in from high up on the walls. Mas’ud was right, there were no other obvious doorways but that didn’t mean there were no exits.
A set of heavy drapes hung from a rail on the wall opposite the doorway. Above them was one of the features that permitted light to enter the chamber. A simple set of slats designed to illuminate but not allow rainwater to pour in during the wet season.
While the interior had been well kept, I was banking on the areas well out of reach being skipped as far as regular maintenance was concerned. I rushed over and pulled hard on the drapes. They seemed well enough attached so I put my full weight on them and started to climb.
They held and I pulled myself up, hand over hand until I was level with the vent.
Our luck was in. The paint had cracked and split a long time ago, and the water they were designed to protect against had soaked into the wood. They weren’t rotten, but they were definitely frail.
I thrust a flattened palm at one as if I was trying to break someone’s nose and the wood gave way with a satisfying crack. Yanking it out of the way I hammered down on the next, then the next. Within seconds I had a hole large enough for either of us to get through.
Glancing back at the doorway, I could see the urn I had moved starting to wobble alarmingly as the door was being shoved rhythmically. Half a minute at most and it would roll or topple.
I leapt down and helped Mas’ud climb up to the opening. He was halfway through when a loud crash told me that the main entrance had been breached. I dived behind a large Buddha statue and hid in the shadows.
Iranian 1 leapt into the room, looking around with his gun arm outstretched searching for a target. I flung a couple of coins from my pocket to the corner opposite me to distract him from the legs quickly vanishing through the vent above my head.
He fired in their direction, the echo from the gunshot deafening in the small, reverberant chamber. His companion stepped in behind them and they exchanged words I couldn’t hear. Number 1 pointed to the corner where he’d tried to assassinate 2500 đồng in coinage and started to creep forwards. Number 2, his gun also out in front of him, took a couple of steps to the side and also began to move in.
Fortunately for me they were moving in on exactly the wrong place. Mas’ud had vanished – I hoped not for good – and they were manoeuvring themselves into the far corner, with their backs to me.
There was still no way I could make it up those drapes and out of the window, though.
Then, luck gave me a helping hand that I just knew I would have to pay back one day. Two of Hanoi’s finest sprinted into the temple building doing their best impressions of officious amateurs who didn’t really have a clue what the actual situation was. Either nobody had warned them that guns were involved or they didn’t care.
They slid to a halt and dove to the side as the Iranians opened fire. One managed to find shelter, but his colleague was not so lucky – taking a round in the leg. It took him a second to realise that he’d been hit and he began to scream.
With their attention now on the front of the buildings, the hitmen didn’t see me making my way up the drapes and to the smashed vent. Not until the uninjured policeman pointed at me and started yelling, anyway. He’d obviously figured, correctly, that these two gun-wielding maniacs were more interested in their quarry than him.
I leapt from the drapes to the vent and scrabbled up as fast as I could, realising that I was placing myself in a very exposed position by doing so. On another day I’d have slid down and taken my chances hand-to-hand, but orders are orders and I couldn’t risk Mas’ud disappearing again.
I don’t know what training they give hired thugs in Iran, but I’d actually put my money on an Imperial Stormtrooper over them any day. Several shots went wide of the mark as I slid through the hole I’d made and into the hot, sweaty daylight.
Much to my surprise, Mas’ud was waiting for me. Well, he was waiting for someone anyway. He’d found a decent sized piece of timber and was holding it like a baseball bat, ready to brain anyone he didn’t like the look of who crawled through the hole. Looks like he had some fight in him after all.
He realised he was safe and lowered the improvised weapon. “Where now?” he asked.
I looked around. We were on a flat roof with a huge, shiny water tank to one side. Buildings surrounded us offering no way down to the ground. The only way was going to be up.
A balcony was just out of reach to our right, but was low enough that a jump from the water tank should get us onto it. I pointed. “Up there”.
The tank was against the wall, so I managed to clamber up and grab the rim on the tank’s top to pull me up in next to no time. The metal was hot, but not unduly so thanks to the shade offered by the surrounding buildings.
I leant down and offered Mas’ud my hand. There was just enough room for us both to stand on the top.
From this small standing start, I swung my arms and leapt up, grabbing the edge of the small balcony. It was surrounded by a metal fence and I used the posts to slowly pull myself up to the top railing and over onto the balcony proper. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried pulling yourself up metal tubes with sweaty hands, but it’s not easy.
Again, I leaned over and helped Mas’ud once he’d made the jump. As he landed on the balcony, the first of our tenacious gunmen appeared on the roof. I expected a shot, but it seemed his wild shooting had left him with an empty gun. His surprise at the dry click as he raised his arm and fired was matched by my relief.
Not one to look a gift horse in the unarmed mouth, I made the most of the extra time we’d been granted. The balcony we were on only had a louver door on it, and this was securely locked. A swift kick didn’t even make it rattle.
A few feet away was another balcony, this one with shuttered windows. If all else failed, they would be breakable. I climbed on to the rail and jumped over, easily covering the distance.
I turned and urged Mas’ud to jump. As he did so, the second gunman appeared and this time there was no click. An un-silenced crack was followed by a dull thud as the bullet smacked into the wall an inch ahead of Mas’ud’s face.
He jerked in reflex and closed his eyes. Not a good thing to do just as you’re leaping across a gap with a fifteen feet drop underneath you.
Mas’ud fell short, thumping into the rail with his chest. He scrabbled for a grip as I jumped on to him and gripped his shirt. Keeping him pressed to the railing so he wouldn’t slip further, I grabbed his belt and hauled him up to safety.
No second shot rang out and it seemed that both the men chasing us had expended all their bullets. Definitely amateurs. Maybe the Iranians hadn’t had the chance to send someone out and had had to make do with some “staff” who happened to be in the area at the time.
Lady Luck would catch up on me one day, I’m sure. Right now, I grabbed all that she was offering and tried the door handle.
Oh, boy. I did owe her a lot. The handle turned and the door opened, revealing a humble room. A couple of small tables and some sleeping mats rolled up in the corner made up the furniture, while a solitary picture of a Buddha hung on the wall with some incense smoking on a shelf under it.
The room was lit only by the light coming in from the open door – nobody was home.
Pushing Mas’ud in front of me, I glanced to the side and saw that the Iranians were mirroring our escape route.
Now I felt comfortable to make a stand. If these guys were as amateur as they seemed then the odds had just tilted very much in my favour. Plus, Mas’ud had shown that he knew where safety lay. I didn’t have to worry about him disappearing while I took care of business.