On the other side of the car, Hopper had grabbed the driver, who was also wearing a gas mask, and pulled him out of his seat. The man crumpled to the ground and submitted the instant Hopper leaned his weight on him.
Stratton’s man had no intention of giving up. As Stratton moved over him, the man kicked out, a hard blow to the torso that knocked Stratton back. The guy was some kind of a martial artist. He got to his feet, grabbed Stratton, swung him back against the 4×4 and gripped his collar with both hands in a judo-style strangle -hold. Thick white vapour continued to stream from the gas canister, gushing out of the SUV’s open door around the pair. Choking under the power of the man’s grip, Stratton ripped away the guy’s mask. He immediately began to succumb to the knock-out gas, loosening his hold on Stratton. The operative swept the man’s legs out from under him and he landed hard on his side.
Stratton slammed the door shut to cut off the gas and placed a knee and his full weight on to the man while he removed his own gas mask and levelled his pistol at the guy’s head.
‘Hopper!’
‘I’m good,’ his partner called back, breathing hard. ‘Driver’s down. One man unconscious in the back. It’s Sabarak.’
As he spoke, a vehicle came careering to a stop on the track. Prabhu and Ramlal. Ramlal hurried to help Hopper haul the prone Sabarak out of the back seat. Prabhu joined Stratton and they looked down on the man lying on his side breathing heavily as he fought against the effects of the gas.
He rolled on to his back, coughed and spluttered. He looked East Asian, his eyes narrow, a large, flat face. Stratton went through his pockets and produced a wallet and passport. The man was Chinese, or so the documentation showed.
‘Who are you?’ Stratton asked.
He remained expressionless, looked away like he had not even heard anything.
Stratton felt like his gut instinct had been right. This man was the vehicle’s commander and he wasn’t linked to terrorism, he was part of some organised security service like Stratton. He had used the same technique to carry out the kidnapping as Stratton. A controlled, sophisticated approach. But Stratton doubted he would volunteer any information about who he was and why he wanted Sabarak. Not without some help.
He aimed the pistol at the man’s head. ‘You attacked me and tried to prevent me from arresting a suspected terrorist. I’d be justified in shooting you. No one here’s going to say it wasn’t self defence.’
The man still didn’t react.
‘I don’t have much time,’ Stratton said. ‘All I’m asking for is a reason not to kill you. Why do you want Sabarak?’
The man blinked. But that was all. Hopper came over to take a look at him.
‘I think we’re going to have to add a dead Chinese person to our report,’ Hopper said.
‘Unfortunately I think you’re right,’ said Stratton. ‘Get Sabarak into our vehicle,’ he said to the Gurkhas.
Prabhu and Ramlal dragged the unconscious Saudi into the back of their Land Cruiser.
Hopper looked through the thermal imager monoscope towards the village. ‘Bodies moving this way. His ambush party have worked out what’s happened, I expect.’
Stratton stepped back and clenched his teeth like he was about to shoot. ‘Sorry, mate. You chose the wrong day to play the strong, silent type.’
‘I work for Chinese State Security Ministry,’ the man said quickly in halting English. Stratton kept the pistol pointed at him. There had been nothing in the brief about anything Chinese.
‘What’s your interest in Sabarak?’
‘I cannot tell you that. Even on pain of death.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘You will eventually know the answer to that anyway. My life and reputation would be worth nothing if I told you.’
‘Shall I engage them, sab?’ Prabhu asked, looking to the approaching men who were less than a minute away. He’d unholstered his pistol and held it at the ready.
Stratton looked into the darkness towards the village, then at Ramlal behind the wheel of the idling Land Cruiser. ‘No. Let’s go.’
Stratton pocketed the Chinese man’s passport, holstered his gun and climbed into the front passenger seat. Prabhu got into the back along with Hopper, and Ramlal floored the accelerator pedal.
Hopper kept an eye on their rear while Stratton studied the way ahead. He saw the foreign ambush team reach their commander. He saw the guy get to his feet. He saw them stand in the middle of the track, talking.
The Land Cruiser bumped heavily along. A lone car passed along the coastal highway in front, its headlights silently cutting into the blackness.
‘What do you think the Chinese Secret Service wanted with this clown?’ Hopper asked. The Saudi sat between him and Prabhu, his head lolling left then right, his tongue hanging out. He couldn’t stop drooling. Hopper shoved Sabarak away on to Prabhu, who was equally unimpressed.
‘No idea,’ Stratton replied. His focus had switched back to delivering their man to Oman. The threat had passed so short of any unforeseen accident, they would be at the border by first light. There was something niggling him though he did not know what. Whether it had been the fight or the close call that almost lost him his man, he didn’t know.
He made an effort to unwind, shake off the uncomfortable feeling and concentrate on the drive. They would divide the journey into two watches. The Gurkhas were fresher than him and Hopper so they could take the first couple of hours. As soon as they were heading comfortably along the highway, he would grab a nap. It had been another long day.
The Cruiser bumped up on to the tarmac highway. Ramlal turned left and they headed north-east along the coast. It looked like the weather was closing in. The coastal highway did not hug the sea but paralleled it a couple of hundred metres away. An unending wall appeared on their right side, eight feet tall, a large property boundary made of concrete block and plastered and painted. It was a typical Yemeni construction. Stratton had heard of their love of walls. It was a national trait. He believed it. Even if there was nothing yet built on a property, or anything likely to be for years to come, they’d still build a wall around it.
The wall gave way to a view of the sea once more and the smooth two-lane highway stretched away from them towards Oman. The road was in good condition like it had been built not too long before. Stratton slid down a little in his seat, leaned his head back and got comfortable. As he was about ready to shut his eyes, a light reflected off the wing mirror on his side. He looked at the distant globes.
Headlights.
Stratton stared at them, his natural suspicion tingling. He hadn’t been aware of any vehicle behind them when they joined the road. It must have come from a nearby house. The timing bothered him more than anything else. He wasn’t a great fan of coincidences.
As they took a gentle bend, a second pair of headlights appeared close behind the first. That was enough to make Stratton sit back up. Harmless or not, it had to be proved it was safe before he could ignore it.