“Well,” he said to himself. “That went well.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hawke, Lea and Khatibi watched in horror as Korać turned hard to port and piloted the Kaman out over the cliff edge. They all knew what was coming next, and then the Serbian commander went ahead and released the four-hook carousel gripping the roof of the Silverado.
The heavy pickup dropped away from the K-MAX and plummeted toward the mountain slope beneath them. Still outside on the flatbed, Hawke knew he had only one chance to stay alive and made his way through the buffeting crosswind toward the cab.
Lea was there to meet him, and hurriedly moved away from the door so he could climb inside.
“Room for one more?” he said, and clambered in on top of her. He righted himself behind the steering wheel and put on his seatbelt.
“Are you kidding?” Lea said.
“I think he’s not kidding,” said Khatibi.
“Belts on please, ladies and gentlemen,” Hawke said, mimicking the voice of a seasoned airline pilot. “We will shortly be touching down in Morocco and I’m sorry to say we may experience a little turbulence.”
He leaned forward in his seat just in time to see the K-MAX disappearing off to the west but there was no time to worry about the enemy now. The boulders and scree of the Rif Mountains were rushing up to meet them and they would be making contact in five… four…
Three… two…
One! The Silverado smashed into the rocky mountain and immediately bounced back up another ten feet into the air while simultaneously moving forward down the slope. It smashed back down a second time and this time stayed down. The engine revved wildly and Hawke struggled to keep the steering wheel under control as the pickup raced down the thirty degree slope toward the ravine.
“Don’t worry,” he yelled at Lea and Khatibi. “This isn’t my first time.”
Lea and the Moroccan exchanged uncertain glances as the Englishman wrestled to heave the wheel to avoid smashing into a large boulder and the cab filled with the smell of burning brake pads.
He pumped the brakes in bursts but the pads were long gone. Passing one hundred miles per hour, he dropped into third gear but even engine braking was beyond this situation and the Silverado continued to tear down the desert slope toward the ravine.
Hawke’s mind raced and he considered trying to steer out of it, but he knew turning wasn’t an option. To turn the car at this speed meant an instant roll and then the next time the vehicle would be stationary was when it was on fire at the bottom of the ravine.
Not an option.
Lea gripped the dashboard. “Ravine racing towards us, Joe!”
The roar of the engine and the sound of gravel and scree spraying up the sides of the pickup added to the sense of chaos and lack of control as he continued to pump the brakes and change down again into second. The 4.3 litre V6 responded with a wild growl of anger and the revs shot up into the red, but this time the engine braking slowed the doomed Silverado to forty miles per hour.
“We’re almost over the sodding edge of the cliff, Joe!”
But this time Hawke made no reply. The situation was getting grimmer by the second. He glanced over his shoulder at the back seat. “Grab those magazines!”
“What the fuck?” Lea said. “This is hardly the time!”
“Get them, tear them apart and stuff them down your jacket sleeves and jeans, right now! You too Professor!”
Lea’s eyes widened. “Ah — gotcha!”
When they had done as he’d asked, he did the same while Lea took the wheel. Then he changed the Silverado down into first and this time the engine screeched like it was going to explode.
He jammed his foot down on the brakes hard one last time and between that and the first gear engine braking he reduced the pickup’s speed to twenty miles per hour. Not too shabby under the circumstances, he thought.
“All right ladies and gents — time to depart the stricken vessel!”
He opened his door and kept it in place with his leg as he manoeuvred to leave the speeding Silverado.
Khatibi peered outside the truck. “You cannot be serious?”
“It’s this or you go over the ravine,” Hawke said flatly. “The magazine you just stuffed down your pants should help cushion some of the impact. Do not stretch your arms or legs out to defend yourself. Your instinct will tell you to do this, but I’m telling you not to because if you do you’ll break every bone in your arms and legs. In other words, listen to me and not your instinct.”
“This is not very reassuring.”
“Where’s your spirit of adventure?” Hawke said as Lea climbed over his lap toward the door. “Hello…” he said. “What’s all this then?”
She kissed him on the lips. “Not now you mad bastard.”
He laughed as she leaped from the car and disappeared behind in a blur of dusty twists and tumbles.
“Think of it as something to tell the grandchildren, Professor.”
Khatibi looked like he was going to be sick, but one look at the rapidly approaching ravine helped the decision-making process and he reluctantly opened his door and turned to leave.
But stayed put.
So Hawke leaned over and gave him a friendly nudge, pushing him out of the cab and leaving himself the sole passenger on RMS Silverado. The ravine was now less than a hundred yards ahead and they’d be over the edge in seconds. He got as close to the ground as possible, bringing his hands up under his chin and tucking his elbows in tight to his sides.
And then he leaped from the pickup.
He smashed into the ground hard, and immediately began tumbling wildly as the Silverado raced away in a cloud of diesel fumes. Seconds later it vanished over the edge of the ravine and was gone.
But Hawke was still tumbling over and over. Every rock felt like it was tearing a hole in him as he skidded and smashed over them, slowly coming to a halt in a haze of scree dust and blazing Moroccan sunshine.
Pulling himself onto all-fours, he started to pull the magazine padding out of his jacket and coughed up some of the dust. Aware of a shadow he looked up to see the silhouette of Lea Donovan standing between him and the sun.
“Thanks to your brilliant plan,” she said quietly. “We now have to walk about a million miles to get back to the others.”
“I’m fine thanks,” he said.
“Stop being such a big baby,” she said. “And aren’t you glad I came up with that magazine idea?”
He rubbed the dust out of his eyes and staggered to his feet.
“Where’s the professor?”
“Just over there. I think he tore his jacket.”
“You think he tore his jacket?”
“Uh-huh.”
“He can fix it on the sodding boat then, can’t he?”
The flight to Rabat on the Eurocopter took longer than any of them could bare, but things were still moving fast because thanks to the coordinates from the Temple of Hercules and a 4G wifi connection, Ryan and Khatibi were able to determine the exact location of Atlantis. They all felt they had a chance finally to overtake Kruger.
They touched down in the commuter town of Salé to the north of the built-up city and after hiring an SUV they raced into Mellah on their way to the Marina Bouregreg.
“All looks pretty tame to me,” Scarlet said with a sneer as she looked around her new surroundings.
“Tame?” Ryan asked. “This city’s past is even longer and dodgier than yours.”
“Oh, now that’s very funny,” she said, glancing at his grinning face.
Ryan winked at her. “Just saying. This place is where the Barbary corsairs used to come into port to restock.”