Read Candleburn Online

Authors: Jack Hayes

Tags: #Fiction, #Political, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thrillers

Candleburn (24 page)


47

 

The Jeeps snarled, wheels flailing as they ploughed diagonally up the dunes.

“Well,
at least that’s a plus,” Blake muttered. “Seasoned drivers go straight up the banks – travelling diagonally risks all the weight of the vehicle being on one back wheel. If it digs in, at best, you’ll get stuck and at worst, you’ll cause the car to roll.”

He
wound down his window and opened the Audi door.

The
two Jeeps moved to each side of the Audi. Two Russians got out of each, all four armed with Kalashnikovs – a weapon so effective and symbolic that it appears on the flags or coat of arms of a half dozen countries with histories of civil strife.

The
Land Cruiser, as Blake predicted, pulled up on the dune opposite.

Aarez
climbed out with two Somali guards. One herded the girls with a shotgun. The second looked very comfortable pointing his AK-47 across at the Audi, his weapon facing the car’s boot.

Aarez,
headscarf flowing elegantly on the desert breeze, directed the shotgun-holder to escort the girls down the bank into the valley below. He then followed his man slowly lower, always standing a few metres behind.

In
his hand, Aarez held a pistol.

“This
is bad,” Nate said. “They’ll have me caught in a potential killing zone down there.”

He
held the puzzle box, source of so much trouble, between his fingers. He twisted and rolled the cube around as he watched.

“Stick
with this,” Blake said. “I got a new idea forming.”

“I
hope it’s better than the last one,” Asp replied and began to walk down the slope.

Blake
didn’t tell him just how dangerous their position truly was – Aarez didn’t have to shoot the girls to doom them all. The bullet from a Kalashnikov can shoot clear through a brick wall and still kill a person on the other side.

A
burst of eight rounds will disintegrate a concrete barrier a foot thick.

All
the Russians had to do was fire a volley into the Audi’s engine and they’d be stuck out here in the desert, forty miles from the nearest source of water or shelter.

And
there are no mobile phone masts so you can’t ring for assistance in the desert.

They’d
be dead by nightfall.

***

Asp stumbled when he reached the bottom of the dune.

He
could see his wife shivering in the shadow of the valley as his Pepper and Ginny held her close. The Somali menaced them with his shotgun.

“You
have the box?” Aarez asked.

Asp
held it out.

“And
you are unarmed?”

“I
am,” Asp replied. “Guns really aren’t my thing – and I think you know my colleague is capable enough for both of us.”

Aarez
grunted.

“You
will walk forward and give me the box and the girls will walk toward you,” Aarez said. “I have the key and will open it to check that you haven’t double crossed me. If I am satisfied, everyone walks away. You, no doubt, will want to check that your ladies are unharmed.”

“And
bomb free,” Asp stated.

“Of
course,” Aarez agreed.

Asp
looked up at Blake. He seemed so far away.

Nate
walked uncertainly forward, one hand extended to the side, the other outstretched in front holding the Rubick’s Cube-like box. He hoped to seem unthreatening as he haltered forward and his wife shuffled closer.

***

Blake watched through the gun sight of the P90.

Sweat
was forming on the back of his neck and rolling uncomfortably down the open neck of his shirt. Already the material of his top was sticking around his belly. His nostrils riled with the stench of his own body.

“I
know you’re planning something, you bastard,” he muttered to himself. “What is it? How do I get us all out of here alive?”

He
felt the intense stare of the Russians against his back as surely as if they were prodding him with poles.

There
was the light metallic ‘click’ carried on the wind. Blake knew that noise well. It was the sound of a Kalashnikov being cocked.


48

 

Aarez stepped closer to Asp.

He
was near enough to make out the individual creases of Asp’s tightened face. His foe held the box out in an open palm.

“So
near,” Aarez thought. “As soon as I’ve checked it, I’ll give the signal.”

Aarez
stopped moving when he drew level with the shotgun-wielding Somali halfway between the dunes. Alexandria, Pepper and Ginny continued shuffling onward.

“That’s
far enough, Alex,” Asp said. “Stay there – I’ll be with you in a second.”

Nate
moved in. He stood a metre from Aarez.

“You
have a key for the binders?” Asp asked.

Aarez
passed it over, a gentleman handing a rose to a woman. He took the puzzle box and began working the mechanism. He flipped the panels up and across, sideways and round, exposing each of the locks. Finally, he inserted the key and twisted.

The
puzzle box opened.

***

Asp groped at the ankle binders on his wife and children. The key almost wilfully disobeyed him in trying to turn. It took him a few moments to realise it was his own twitchiness, not the mechanisms at fault.

His
chest rose and fell in sharp succession as he fought with the heat, the cuffs and his own fear.

The
metal fell away.

He
rose and removed the bags from their heads. Blake had been very specific – take leg restraints off first, in case they needed to run. Now he saw his wife’s face again, he understood more fully the wisdom of the move. He hugged her and kissed her, then his children.

“Oh
Ginny,” he said. “My Pepper Pig!”

All
of them cried.

He
looked at their rope bound hands. He wished he’d brought a knife.

“Oh
Asp,” Alexandria said and went to drown him in another embrace.

“Wait,
wait,” he said sternly, “There’ll be time for that when we’re safe.”

He
glanced up at Aarez.

“Oh
my Lord, no!” Asp thought and his face turned to horror.

***

Aarez lifted the lid of the puzzle box.

“Yes!”
he hissed.

The
reek of burnt tobacco emanated from within.

Inside
lay three used cigarette butts, all with orange filters with yellow speckles.

He
lifted his eyes to Asp, preparing to order their deaths.

He
was startled by the look on Nate’s face.

Then
he saw it.

A
tiny red dot slowly moved up Aarez’s chest to his forehead.

“What
is the meaning of this?” he shouted.

***

“Wait!” Blake shouted.

His
voice echoed from atop the dune.

“Everybody stay very still and very calm.”

In
one fluid move everyone in the valley lifted their heads and focused on Blake, still squatting behind the Audi.

“Blake?”
Nate shouted. “What are you playing at?”

“Asp.
Seriously, just stand very cool and don’t move. Everybody just chill out. Relax. Aarez, you stay very, very still.”

“What
is going on?” Asp asked.

“These
Russians up here are getting a little too restless for my taste,” Blake replied. “We’ve got weapons cocking, all sorts. I want everyone to be calm. Remain very calm. No matter what happens: be very, very relaxed.”


49

 

The explosions were immense.

The
ground shook. Fountains of sand and gravel shot skyward. The Jeeps launched into the air, twisting cartwheels. All four Russians were flung like cruelly tossed ragdolls.

The
Somali with the shotgun moved his gaze from Blake to Asp.

He
raised his aim.

Blake
shifted his aim from Aarez to his henchman. He released a single bullet. The Somali fell. Kalashnikov fire raked the Audi from Aarez’s 4x4 on the opposite dune. Aarez shot blindly into the air with his pistol. They were wild and poorly aimed. He began sprinting for safety.

Asp
and the girls also ran.

Sand
began to rain on the ground.

“As
expected,” Blake thought. “Try shooting them if you can’t see anything.”

He
raised his sight.

His
breathing was slow.

So
was the world.

Somewhere
he could hear the sound of metal ripping through metal, tin cans torn apart at speed. The Jeeps hit the slopes and began somersaulting into the valley.

“Slow,
slow, down,” he whispered.

His
breathing halted.

Bullets
thudding in sand. A ping to his leg and arm, as gentle as a fly walking across the skin.

He
aimed through the gritty haze.

Head.

Trigger.

Pull.

The sound of an egg being crushed. The Kalshnikov abruptly stopped. The Somali on the opposite dune was no more.

“Now,
for Aarez.”

Through
the gun sight, Blake scanned for movement.

Nothing.

Blake panned across the desert.

A
car started.

“Shit!”

Blake lifted his aim to the Land Cruiser.

Too
late.

Aarez
vanished over the dune in his vehicle.

***

Asp vaulted to the crest of the sandbank.

He
saw tufts of dust fleck as Kalshnikov rounds impacted the ground. A second later came the supersonic crack of the bullets breaking the sound barrier, and then the thud of the shots being made.

He
recalled a job he’d performed for a tribal leader in Yemen. On completion he’d flown to Sana’a and then driven hours to hand his report in person to the clan leader, who lived in an extraordinarily opulent mansion complex that rose out of the crappiest, most rundown village Asp had ever seen.

That
night, the complex was raided by a small party from a neighbouring tribe. Over an evening of gunfire and terror, he’d seen for the first time an assault rifle fired in anger.

He’d
marvelled at the insane beauty of the phenomenon.

Always
the same.

You
saw the dust of the bullet land. Then you heard the crack as the bullet broke the sound barrier, and then the thump of it being fired. The old adage was true: you never heard the bullet that killed you.

“Get
on the far side of the dune,” he shouted to Alexandria. “And stay down.”

He
recognised the danger, ordinance whistling through the air. He didn’t care. If no-one else killed Blake, he was going to.

He
stormed forward. Rage filled him.

“How
dare you endanger Alex and Ginny and Pepper.”

He
watched Blake take careful aim and fire a single shot. The Kalashnikov stopped abruptly. Blake continued aiming, swore, then stood slowly. His attention was locked on the far dune. Before he had time to say anything, Asp punched him in the face.

Blake
spun against the car.

Nate
wasn’t going to stop.

“How
many times did you...?” he shouted. “What were you thinking?”

He
lashed out again.

Blake
fell to the floor, stunned.

Before
Asp could attack again, Alex intervened.

“Stop!
Stop!”

Asp
was heaving. Anger steamed from his body. Blake lay still.

“Oh
my God!” Alex cried. “He’s bleeding!”

“Are
you and the kids fine?” Asp asked.

“Yes,
yes,” Alex said, on her knees beside Blake. “But your friend...”

Asp
suddenly awoke, straight from a dream. He dropped down next to Blake. The sand was slowly reddening.

“Two
wounds,” he said quickly. “One to his arm, the other lower leg. Pad him down for secondary bleeding.”

“What?”

“Run your hands along his back,” Asp said. “If they end up bloody he’s got bigger trouble than it appears.”

As
Alex checked Blake’s back, Asp ran his fingers across the arm wound, then the leg.

“Okay,”
he said. “Not so bad. How’re your hands?”

“Fine,”
she replied. “Not bloody.”

“Good,”
Asp stated. “I’m going to apply pressure here. Go to the boot of the Audi. You’ll find a first aid kit. These look far worse than they are – they’re not from bullets, probably ricochets from metal in the car door – but they will need dressing.”

Alex
ran to the Audi’s boot. Blake, face pale but purpling about the cheek, opened his eyes.

“You
hit me,” he whispered.

“Yeah,
sorry about that,” Asp said. “I got carried away. I thought you’d endangered us when you aimed at Aarez. All sense went out the window; it took me a minute to piece together that you probably just saved all our lives with that crazy stunt.”

Blake
raised his fingers to his cheek bone and scowled.

“You’re
welcome,” he said through the grimace. “Why am I down here? It couldn’t have been you. You hit like a girl.”

“Much
as I’d like to take credit,” Asp replied. “I suspect it may have been shock. It seems you got grazed by the shrapnel from the car.”

They
both looked at the Audi door. Sunlight shone through multiple peppered holes.

“Which
considering how lucky you got not to be killed,” Asp continued, “means you may want to revise which one of us is the Jessie.”

Alexandria
bent over with the first aid box.

“There’s
no time for that,” Blake said. “We should catch Aarez. We can patch me up in the car.”

Blake,
skin still pallid, brushed Alex aside and tried to stand on his shaking legs. He felt woozy and leaned on the bonnet.

“Is
he alright?” Alex asked.

“I
need a cigarette,” Blake muttered, feeling for the car door.

“He’s
fine,” Asp replied. “But I’ll drive.”

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