Alvarez heard the driver’s door open, pressed his back flat against the tailgate, and waited.
Sykes tried to call for help, but he didn’t have enough breath to make words. He struggled on the hot ground, scared and in agony. He watched a Land Rover accelerate out of the hotel’s driveway and heard Dalweg’s voice.
‘What the fuck?’
Sykes tried to look up to see Dalweg, but he didn’t have the strength. Instead he rolled his head to the side, seeing the world at a skewed angle and watching Dalweg approaching him along the side of the truck, on his way to help. Sykes rolled his head to the other side and saw Alvarez waiting behind the back of the truck, out of Dalweg’s sight.
‘What happened to you?’ Dalweg asked.
Sykes rolled his head back again and tried to warn Dalweg, but his shouts came out of his winded chest no louder than whimpers. He tried to point, but Dalweg didn’t understand.
The second Dalweg reached Sykes, Alvarez was upon him. He threw himself at Dalweg from behind, tackling him down to the ground, hitting the road to the left of where Sykes lay. Orange dust wafted into the air.
Sykes tried to shuffle out of the way as the two men grappled and punched each other next to him. He was still wheezing, but the intense pain in his chest was slowly fading with each second. He managed to roll to the right, first onto his front, and then onto his back again. He heard the grunts and sickening thwack as fists hit flesh no more than a few feet away. Blood specks landed on Sykes’s face.
Sykes pulled himself slowly to his feet and staggered backwards until he found a wall to lean on. Some locals started cheering the fight.
Straight in front of him Alvarez and Dalweg pounded the crap out of each other. Both guys were strong, and both knew how to fight. Alvarez wrestled his way on top of Dalweg, using his left hand to pin Dalweg’s right arm to the ground while he punched and elbowed Dalweg with his own right. Blood erupted from a gash on Dalweg’s cheek. He was already bleeding from the mouth. Sykes could see it was all going to be over in a few seconds.
He couldn’t see his own gun, but Dalweg’s Beretta was lying close by in the road, just out of reach of either fighting man. Sykes pushed himself away from the wall and rushed over to the gun as fast as he could. He circled round where Alvarez and Dalweg fought, staggering to keep his balance.
Alvarez saw what was happening, let go of Dalweg, and scrambled after Sykes. He caught up with him before Sykes reached the weapon, wrapped his arms around Sykes’s thighs, hoisted him off his feet and brought him back down to ground. Hard.
Sykes’s arms cushioned the fall, but not enough to stop his face from finding the asphalt. He went limp and groaned quietly.
Alvarez got to his feet. He turned around to face Dalweg, only to see him heading back to the cab. The door was already opened, and he reached inside. When Dalweg pulled his arms back out, he had an Uzi in his hands.
Alvarez scooped up the Beretta and sprinted out of the line of fire before Dalweg had the submachine gun raised. Alvarez looked around frantically for some cover, realized there wasn’t any close enough for him to get to in time, turned back, and shot at Dalweg through the truck’s canvas backing, hoping for a lucky hit.
The Uzi roared in response, and a cluster of smoking holes appeared through the canvas. Rounds blasted chunks out of the masonry around Alvarez. He dropped down to his hands and knees, bending low to see underneath the truck. Dalweg was behind one of the rear wheels, only his shadow visible. The Uzi rattled off another burst, and more bullets sailed over Alvarez’s head.
Alvarez steadied his aim as much as he could and squeezed off a round.
The bullet blew out the truck’s tyre, passing through the rubber and striking Dalweg in the leg on the other side. He howled in pain and abandoned his position. Alvarez fired another shot after him, but Dalweg was out of his field of view.
Alvarez got himself vertical, moved closer to the back of the truck, and tucked himself behind one of the big wheels like Dalweg had done. A second later more rounds came his way.
He stuck his head out of cover long enough to see that Dalweg was positioned behind a small wall on the other side of the road, and then pulled his skull back down. He felt the reverberations as bullets struck the truck and silently prayed that an unlucky round wasn’t going to set one of the warheads off. Alvarez didn’t know if they were armed or duds, and it had to be a long shot anyway, he told himself, but he didn’t want to wait around to test the theory.
He shuffled to the side and reached his arm backwards and around the wheel to fire off a couple of shots in the general direction of Dalweg. His odds of hitting were probably longer than those of one of the warheads going bang, but he couldn’t have done too badly since the Uzi stopped blasting for a few seconds.
Alvarez didn’t waste the opportunity and changed positions, hurrying to the front of the truck and taking cover behind the wheel there. In a hunched-over crouch he moved around the front fender, leaned out of cover, and took a shot. He watched as the bullet plugged a hole in the wall shielding Dalweg.
The returning hail of 9 mms forced Alvarez back to behind the wheel. Rounds pinged off the truck’s hood, cracked the cab windows, whacked into the ground. Alvarez heard what sounded like running water and looked to his left to see fuel spilling out from a ruptured fuel tank, bullet holes through both sides.
Alvarez would be first to admit that his understanding of chemistry was nothing special, but he knew that diesel had a higher flashpoint than gasoline and was much harder to ignite. Even a match wouldn’t do it. But that fact was little comfort when a pool of the stuff was forming next to him.
He edged away from the diesel, wanting to make a run for it but aware he was completely pinned down. Moving out of the cover of the truck meant braving a storm of lead. Alvarez was brave, but he wasn’t stupid.
He popped out from behind the truck to fire another bullet at Dalweg, but, before he could fully squeeze the trigger, he felt a searing sensation in his right shoulder and his legs gave way underneath him.
Alvarez landed on his back, grimaced against the unbelievable pain when he tried to move his right arm. He put his left fingers to the wound, feeling a small entry hole in the front of his outer deltoid. He stretched his fingers around to touch the much-larger exit wound at the back of his shoulder. A through and through. No bone damage, but when Alvarez withdrew his left hand, he saw that it was drenched with blood.
‘Oh shit.’
CHAPTER 76
17:26 EAT
Victor followed the dusty road as it curved around and away from the hotel complex. Up ahead it joined onto the main road leading deeper into the city. The main road would be the quickest route out of the area, but it was also the most obvious choice. It would have to do. Victor didn’t know the area well enough to take to the side streets unless he had to.
He slowed down to blend in, joining the traffic waiting at the intersection. He checked the rear-view.
Two pick-ups, a Toyota and a Ford, raced toward him.
Victor accelerated, manoeuvred out from the line of cars onto the wrong side of the road, changed up a gear, and sped out across the intersection. He swerved around the cross-traffic, switched back to the right side of the road, and changed up again.
The pick-ups followed his lead, speeding across the crossroads, leaving clipped and crashed cars in their wake.
Victor released the throttle; slammed the brakes, power sliding the Jeep into a right; then immediately accelerated, the rear end slipping, vehicle rattling under the strain. He raced down a side street. Seconds later he saw the pick-ups following, taking the corner more slowly, glancing off parked cars as they tried to keep up with him.
Victor took another corner, sped across an intersection. He kept his eyes on the road, following it as it rounded a block of densely packed buildings, whitewashed stone colonials interspersed with shanties. Bald truck tyres lay discarded in loose heaps on the side of the road. He moved around slower vehicles, hearing horns and seeing drivers expressing their anger at him.
