this. You and I had an appointment once before, but you broke it. Never
mind this is going to be even more fun.' He knew that it was not wise to
delay with a man like this. Mek had made one mistake, and it was highly
unlikely that he would make another. He should blow his head off now,
and that would give him a few minutes more to deal with Tessay. But the
temptation to gloat over him was too strong.
'I have good news for you, Mek. You will live a few seconds longer. I am
going to kill the whore first, and I am going to let you watch. I hope
you enjoy it as much as I am going to.' He sidled away from the shelter
of the boulder, edging towards where Tessay lay curled on the gravel
beach. She was turned half away from him, trying to cover her breasts
and her pubic area with hands too small and delicate for the job. Even
as he approached the woman, Boris was watching Mek with his full
attention. Mek was the danger, and he never took his eyes off him. It
was a mistake. He had underestimated the woman.
While pretending to turn away from him modestly, Tessay had reached down
between her thighs and found a round, water-worn stone that fitted
neatly into her small fist. Suddenly she uncoiled her lithe body and
used all the strength of it to hurl the stone at his head. Boris caught
the movement from the corner of his eye and flung up his arm to shield
his head.
The stone, flying with surprising force at close range, never struck its
target. Instead it caught the point of Boris's upraised elbow. His
sleeves were rolled up high around his biceps, and there was no padding
to cushion the impact of the stone; his arm was bent and flexed, the
thin covering of skin drawn tightly over the bone of the joint. The head
of the ulna cracked like glass, and Boris howled at the excruciating
agony. His hand opened involuntarily, and his forefinger jerked away
from the trigger without the strength to fire the shot he was aiming at
Mek's belly.
Mek rolled to his feet, and before Boris could change the rifle to his
other hand he disappeared behind the angle of the giant boulder.
With his left hand Boris swung the butt of the rifle at Tessay's head,
knocking her backwards into the sand. Then he thrust the muzzle into her
throat, pinning her there while he shouted angrily. 'I am going to kill
her, you black bastard! If you want your whore, you' better come fetch
her!' The pain of the shattered elbow rendered his voice hoarse and
brutish.
From somewhere behind the boulder Mek Nimmur's voice fang out strongly
and clearly, calling a single word in Amharic that echoed along the
cliffs. Then he spoke in English, 'My men will be here in a moment.
Leave the woman and I will spare you. Harm her and I will make you plead
for death.'
Boris stooped over Tessay and dragged her to her feet with his good arm
locked around her throat. He held the rifle in the same hand, pointing
it over her shoulder. The hand of his injured arm had recovered
sufficiently from the first shock to be able to hold the pistol grip and
to manipulate the trigger.
'She will be dead long before your men get here,' he shouted back as he
