He considered the possibility that it was local security forces. They’d be interested in a lone car at night on these roads. Yemen had been placed on a state of alert after the increase in terrorist activity in recent months. He would rather avoid the authorities. He had the right paperwork and the numbers to call but the Yemenis would take for ever to confirm his right of passage. Particularly with his unconscious passenger. It would interrupt the final exfiltration phase from the country.
But as Stratton watched the vehicles he knew this was trouble.
He could feel it.
Everyone else in the car was by then on the same train of thought. Ramlal had hardly taken his eyes off the lights since he had seen them. He was at one-forty kph, which was standard cruising speed on these roads. He added another ten without noticing.
Hopper and Prabhu looked through the rear window.
‘Trouble,’ Hopper mumbled.
‘I think so,’ Stratton said.
‘Tenacious buggers, the Chinese,’ Hopper said.
‘Clearly not easily discouraged,’ said Stratton.
The two vehicles, smaller, faster 4×4s, had been moving at their top speed and once they closed the gap they slowed to match Ramlal’s. It pretty much confirmed the suspicion that they were aggressors. Ramlal pushed on the accelerator but the Cruiser didn’t have the power to do much more. He couldn’t pull away from them.
The lead pursuer then accelerated and looked like it was going to ram them.
‘Gun!’ shouted Stratton, Hopper and Prahbu at the same time as a man leaned out of the passenger window with a pistol in his hand.
Ramlal swerved the vehicle, reducing the gunman’s arc of fire. But another gunman leaned out of the other side.
Ramlal swerved again but he had been bracketed. The first guy fired, the round punching into the back of the Cruiser, erasing any possibility of them being overzealous highway or army patrol.
Now both shooters fired. No windows had been hit. They were trying for the tyres. Ramlal forced the Cruiser left and right, its tyres screeching.
Another stretch of long wall on the coastal side of the highway came to an end, revealing a broad stretch of ground that shelved gently down to the ocean five hundred metres beyond. Lights flickered a couple of kilometres in front near the beach. A village.
‘Get off the road!’ Stratton shouted.
Gripping the wheel like a vice, Ramlal swerved the vehicle to the edge of the tarmac and dropped it down on to the dirt shoulder. The lead pursuing vehicle followed like it was being towed behind them. But the dust kicked up by the Cruiser was vast and immediate, acting like a smoke screen between them.
As the Cruiser sloughed along the rutted shoulder, the second 4×4, still on the road, drew up alongside. Another man leaned out of the rear window and took aim with a handgun.
‘Ramlal!’ Stratton urged, as he aimed his gun past his driver’s head.
Ramlal cringed and braced himself for the shot. But he didn’t wait for it because he had to swerve to avoid a massive boulder right in front of them on the shoulder. The gunman fired at the Cruiser, hitting the door and doorframe. Stratton fired back turning the car’s rear passenger window white.
Up ahead the shoulder was becoming rocky. Ramlal steered hard left, up the shoulder, back on to the highway. All inside hung on, except the Saudi. Sabarak was bouncing up and down like a rag doll. His head struck the roof as the Cruiser flew up on to the road and he opened his eyes with a gasp.
Ramlal aimed the front corner of the Cruiser at the rear quarter of the other 4×4, just behind the tyre. As the two vehicles brutally connected the Cruiser sent the 4×4 into a violent swerve as its back wheels tried to overtake the front wheels. On the second fishtail, they succeeded and the vehicle spun a full hundred and eighty degrees, its wheels smoking, coming to a stop facing backwards.
By now Sabarak, who had almost regained full consciousness, looked every bit like he was living a nightmare.
Ramlal had the old Cruiser up to its limit but the other 4×4 was more powerful and moved alongside. Stratton recognised the front passenger immediately through its open windows. It was the Chinese Secret Service officer. He had a semi-automatic in his hand and aimed it past Ramlal at Stratton. Another Chinese agent in the back held a sub-machine gun out the window.
The officer indicated with the pistol for Ramlal to pull over.
Ramlal glanced at his boss. He would do nothing without the OK from Stratton.
Stratton scanned the road ahead, searching for options. He had to assume the Chinese agent would rather not risk harming the Saudi or he would have done so by now. Like Stratton, no doubt the man’s orders were to bring Sabarak in alive.
The other 4×4 had recovered and was closing on them. Stratton had limited options. He could try and pick them off while driving. Or he could have Ramlal stop and they could shoot it out. But the odds weren’t in his team’s favour and he wasn’t about to risk the lives of any of his men for some low-life Saudi git.
The Chinese agent had probably worked out the same scenarios and appeared content to give Stratton time to come to terms with them.
Stratton looked up along the highway that cut between a distant hillside. He looked at the village on the coast. He looked back at the Chinese Secret Service officer with the semi-automatic. Then at Ramlal. There was another option.
‘Right turn coming up,’ he said. ‘Brake hard so they miss it.’
‘Hajur, sab,’ Ramlal said.
The Gurkha saw the turn coming up and waited for the last possible moment. Ramlal slammed on the brakes and the Cruiser pitched and slid towards the bend, all four wheels smoking. Then he released the brakes and took the turn as the first 4×4 shot ahead and the one in rear swerved hard to avoid a collision.
The Cruiser bumped furiously over the edge of the tarmac and down on to a sandy track, and accelerated hard along it.
Stratton looked back and saw the pursuing vehicles manoeuv -ring to follow. He focused ahead. ‘When we get to the village, Hopper and I will jump out with our man,’ he said.
‘You want me to stop?’ Ramlal asked.
‘No. Keep your speed. Maybe slow a little as you pass the first houses,’ Stratton added, having second thoughts.
Stratton looked around at the Saudi who was wide-eyed with everything going on. He saw for the first time that the man was younger than him and somewhat athletic. ‘You want to be a British prisoner or a Chinese one?’ he said.
The Saudi didn’t ponder the question for long.
‘Keep them in pursuit of you for as long as you can,’ Stratton said to Ramlal. ‘If they start to shoot, pull over and show them your empty hands. Don’t fight back. I don’t think they’ll harm you when they discover we’re gone.’
‘We would rather make a run for it into the darkness,’ Ramlal said.
‘We’ll give you lots of time before that,’ Prabhu assured him.
Stratton realised the Gurkhas didn’t want to surrender to anyone, let alone a bunch of Chinese. Too great of an indignity. He regretted asking them. ‘Sorry. You’re right,’ he said. ‘Remember to toss the keys.’
Stratton opened his door slightly as the vehicle bumped heavily along the track. Hopper opened his directly behind Stratton and kept it open with his leg.
‘Past this first house!’ Stratton shouted.
Everyone braced. Hopper took a good hold of Sabarak while Prabhu grabbed him from the other side, giving him a look that stated unequivocally he was going out the door.
‘Stand by!’ Stratton shouted, looking back at their pursuers to gauge the distance. He was pleased to see the dust they were kicking up had obscured the 4×4s completely.
As Ramlal drove at speed past the first house on the edge of the village, Stratton shouted, ‘Go!’, and hurled himself out of the Cruiser.