A few yards to his left, Tariq was going over his weapon one last time, calmly, methodically, making sure that it would fire when he needed it. The routine reminded George of the crazy man in boot camp in Full Metal Jacket, though he daren’t say that out loud to Tariq, no matter how friendly he seemed.
Somewhere to his right, and slightly below him, he imagined that Leena would be going through a similar routine.
Ten minutes earlier, Zahra had disappeared from her position on the plateau overlooking the track below. Before she had done so, she had waved twice then held up three fingers, followed by one finger of the other hand, signalling that there were three cars in total, and that Ben was in the first one. There were no warning signals, meaning one of two things: either Gail was also in the first car, or she simply wasn’t there.
After an hour spent shifting uncomfortably among the stones and rocks, it suddenly occurred to him that these men and women, dotted around the gulley and plateau with their Kalashnikov rifles and deadly bayonets, really were risking their lives for a man and woman they barely knew.
The ‘date’ that Ben had agreed to with Zahra was small payment indeed for such a massive gesture, and George suddenly felt overcome with nerves.
His stomach lurched uncontrollably as he tried to fight back the flow he knew was about to follow.
He retched, and his cheeks bulged out as he tried to keep the contents of his stomach inside. Instead, they filled his sinuses and he impulsively opened his mouth, spraying the rock in front of him. The acrid smell that followed caused him to retch again, and this time he didn’t try to stop it.
Within seconds a pool of vomit had gathered in the dust between his legs. Looking down he noticed that the AK-47 had taken a battering. He wiped his sick covered hands against the legs of his khaki shorts and shook the dripping rifle.
George looked in despair towards Tariq, who urged him to be quiet. He was about to apologise when the unmistakable noise of diesel engines bounced off the rocks above their heads.
He kept his head down, tried to breathe through his mouth, and closed his eyes.
And for the first time since his childhood, without even knowing where the words came from, he prayed.
Dr Henry Patterson leaned forward and tapped the man in the passenger seat on the shoulder.
“What was that all about, Walker?” he asked. Walker had just come off the phone, and it didn’t sound good.
Walker twisted round and stared directly into Ben’s eyes. “Turns out there might be some company ahead,” he grunted, putting his phone away. “Little welcome party you’ve prepared for us?”
Patterson shot an accusing glance at Ben, before switching his gaze to Gail. “You knew about this?” he said, sounding hurt.
She didn’t answer, instead probing Ben’s expressionless face for any sign of what was to come, her heart swelling in anticipation of the rescue attempt that was about to unfold.
Walker pulled a walkie-talkie from his breast pocket, all the while staring fixedly at Ben. Holding the walkie-talkie to his mouth he ordered the last car in the convoy to turn round and approach the plateau from below, from where the Toyota van was still parked. That had been where Mallus had suggested they approach from over the phone.
He then ordered the second car to overtake them and wait before the last corner while the last car’s occupants took up their flanking positions.
Patterson leaned forward again, as if wanting to have a private word, but Walker pushed him back. He then replaced the walkie-talkie with a pistol, which he pointed directly at Ben.
“I don’t want to have to kill anyone today,” he said matter-of-factly. “But believe me I will if I have to. You make one move,” he waved the gun across the back seats of the 4x4, taking in Gail, Patterson and Ben. “In fact, if any of you make a move, you’re all dead.”
Patterson sat back, his jaw dropped. “Me?” he said indignantly. “What have I done?”
The man grinned. “Not only have you dragged me and my men out here to this shithole, surrounded by Arabs,” he gestured with the gun towards Ben, “but it looks like you’ve dropped us all into a trap, too.” His grin disappeared, replaced with what could only be described as a snarl. “And if the purpose of that trap is to catch or save or whatever either of you two, then believe you me one way or another, it’s going to fail.”
George sneaked a peak as the 4x4 lumbered slowly through the gulley and came to a stop on the plateau, next to the entrance to the Library. He couldn’t see any sign of Gail or Ben getting out, and so switched his attention to the second 4x4 which drove slowly along the tracks of its predecessor and pulled to a stop slightly beyond it.
The two cars were side-on to their position in the gully; the doors on the far side of the lead car opened and several men got out. They waited outside the entrance to the Library, without leaving the cover of their vehicles. George felt that they were eyeing the exact place in which he was hiding, and he shrank back behind the boulder.
Anticipation rose inside him as he prepared himself for the third and final 4x4, which was their target. Zahra would cover the other vehicles while the third was immobilised, and then they would call for the surrender of the remaining people.
After a long pause, it became obvious that the third 4x4 wasn’t coming. George looked at Tariq nervously, who returned a worried glance. Had they misread Zahra’s signal? Had there been only two cars? Had they completely messed up their chance?
Unlikely, George told himself. Maybe one person could make a mistake, but all five of them?
“Tariq,” he whispered. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he replied. “Something is wrong.”
He was about to ask what they were to do when Manu and Haji made the decision for them. Shots rattled across the bonnet of the second 4x4, eruptions of sand in the ground evidence of several stray bullets that missed entirely.
George instinctively ducked his head as low as possible between his shoulders and sank down between the rocks. In the gully, the echo of the AK-47 fire was deafening.
Moments later, a reply sounded from near the 4x4s. Not the explosive crackling of the Kalashnikov, but a muffled whump, like flat stones slicing into a mill-pond.
Like a conversation, the Kalashnikovs and their opponents exchanged volleys, though the overwhelming sound of AK-47 fire from all around him made it difficult to judge exactly how much reply they were receiving.
Suddenly Tariq was beside him, holding his collar and dragging him along.
“Come!” he shouted.
George’s legs somehow managed to comply, and he scrambled for his rifle and followed Tariq down through the rocks towards the gulley. Moments later, the hiding place they had been occupying erupted violently as dozens of rounds pounded into the rocks.
Tariq dragged George round the corner of the gulley, until they were standing on the trail along which the 4x4s had driven to reach the plateau. A quick glance in all directions confirmed the absence of the third 4x4.
“Leena?” George said, gasping for breath after their dash from hiding. She had been on their side of the gully, shortly before it had been sprayed with bullets.
Tariq shook his head. “Don’t know.”
“How many of them are there?” he asked. “How many?”
Tariq held up two hands full of fingers, his thumbs curled inwards.
“Eight?” George said, amazed.
Tariq grinned grimly and shook his head, curling three fingers of his left hand inwards.
Three dead! George was surprised; the enemy had clearly known about their intended ambush, and had brought possibly better weapons and more people. Against six of us! He stood upright and held the AK-47 firmly with both hands, positioning his index finger very deliberately on the trigger mechanism. He made to go back towards the gulley, but Tariq stopped him.