had to push him. If he could just buy some time and some freedom, he and Joe might have a chance.
“You expect me to believe what you’re saying?”
“Let me be clear,” Kurt said. “I wouldn’t give you the time of day. You’re a killer and a thug. But I work for Uncle Sam, I do as I’m told. Our orders were to come here, infiltrate and report back. To make contact with you later if possible through third-party channels. They want what you have.”
“Do I look like a fool to you?” Jinn asked, growing angry.
“I wouldn’t answer that,” Joe said.
“Your government doesn’t make deals.”
“You’re wrong about that,” Kurt said. “We’ve been making deals for two hundred years. You ever hear of Werner von Braun? He was a Nazi, a German scientist who built rockets that killed thousands. We took him under our wing after the war because he had knowledge we needed. Viktor Belenko was a Russian pilot who brought us a MiG-25. We take baseball players, ballet dancers, computer programmers, anyone with something to offer. That might be unfair to the poor farmers and peasants who want to come, but it’s good for you. It gives you an out.”
“Enough of this.” He turned.
“This country is falling apart,” Kurt shouted. “Even your money and power won’t keep you safe if anarchy strikes. And I’m guessing you have other problems in the outside world or you wouldn’t have to kill off your guests and hide down here in the first place. I’m offering you a way out. Release us and let us report what we saw, and my government will contact you in a more professional manner.”
Jinn didn’t even consider the offer, despite Kurt’s well-played deception. He turned and smiled. “Before long, men from your government, among others, will be begging me to contact them. And your bleached bones lying in the sand won’t make a bit of difference.”
Jinn waved to the guards. “Teach this one a lesson, and then take them to the well. I will meet you there.”
Jinn walked out, Sabah followed, and the four men who remained moved forward.
A few punches landed first to soften them up and then another series of blows from extendable metal batons. The strikes were heavy, but Kurt had taken worse and he managed to twist and bend so they landed in a more glancing fashion.
Joe did the same, ducking and moving like the boxer he was.
One baton caught Kurt above his eye, splitting the skin and leaving a bleeding gash. Kurt pretended it had knocked him woozy. He slumped in the chains, and the men around him seemed to lose their enthusiasm. A halfhearted kick hit him in the back, and the men laughed among themselves.
One of them said something in Arabic, and then they reached down and hauled Kurt up to his feet. They undid his cuffs and dragged him out. Through eyelids intentionally at half-mast he saw Joe being forced to march next to him.
They were out of the frying pan. The question was, where would they land?
The first part of that answer arrived as they reached the main entrance to the cave. Sunlight beamed through in orange shafts. It was late afternoon, the hottest part of the day. They were marched outside and led to the tail end of an SUV. While the other guards held their arms, a rather vicious-looking man tied their hands to a hitch with two-foot lengths of rope.
“This can’t be good,” Joe said.
“I think we’re about to get keelhauled, desert style,” Kurt replied.
The vicious-looking man laughed, climbed into the SUV and began to rev the engine repeatedly. Kurt tried to come up with a way out. His only thought was to climb onto the SUV before it took off, but the outside of the vehicle was smooth, and with their hands tied there was no way to hang on to it.
The engine revved again.
Joe looked over at him.
“I got nothing.”
“Great.”
The SUV lurched forward, Kurt and Joe were yanked along, they stumbled and nearly fell, but they got their feet going and managed to stay up with the vehicle by running. To Kurt’s surprise the driver didn’t accelerate beyond that. He merely rolled along at an idling speed, dragging the two prisoners at the pace of a fast jog.
The guards behind them laughed as Kurt and Joe struggled to keep up.
The SUV moved out past the entrance to the cave and onto a track that crossed the sand.
“What about now?” Joe asked. “Anything come to you?”
Kurt was jogging hard, his feet sinking into the soft sand. “No,” he said.
“Come on, Kurt,” Joe said.
“Why don’t you come up with something?”
“You’re the brains of this team, I’m the good looks,” Joe said.
“Not after you get dragged face-first through the sand, you won’t be.”
Joe didn’t reply. They’d begun to climb a low hill and it was even harder to keep up. The rear tires of the SUV were kicking sand into their faces. They topped the hill and came down the other side. Kurt was glad to see another flat section.
The desert sun was beating down on them, the air temperature close to a hundred degrees. After two or three minutes of running in the heat, both of them were drenched with sweat, more water their bodies couldn’t afford to lose. In the far distance, Kurt saw another rock formation. It had to be at least a mile off, but it seemed to be in their line of travel.
Joe caught his foot on something, tripping and almost falling.
“Stay up,” Kurt yelled, looking ahead.
Joe managed to keep running. Kurt tried to think.
If they made it to the rocky section coming up, he would look for a stone to scoop up. It would be risky to try to grab something off the ground, but there was no way he and Joe could keep running much longer.
Before either of those things happened, the SUV turned south and approached a group of parked vehicles. It rolled to a stop, and both Kurt and Joe fell to the ground.
Lying on the sand, trying to catch his breath, Kurt saw Jinn and several of his men standing beside what looked like an old abandoned well.
Jinn walked over. He must have seen Kurt’s eyes lingering on the well. “Thirsty?” he asked.
Kurt said nothing.
Jinn leaned close. “You don’t know the meaning of thirst until you’ve crossed a desert in search of the smallest oasis. Your throat closes up. Your eyes feel like they’re boiling dry inside your head. Your body can’t sweat because it has no more water left to give. That is the life of a Bedouin. And he would not fall after a mile or two in the desert.”
“I’m pretty sure he’d be riding a camel and not getting dragged by a truck,” Kurt rasped.
Jinn turned to his men. “Our guests would like some refreshment,” he said. “Bring them to the well.”
The guards untied Kurt and Joe and hauled them up, pushing and shoving them toward the well. As they reached the opening, Kurt realized they wouldn’t be getting a drink. The smell of death rose up from below.
He turned and kicked one of the guards, shattering the man’s ankle and lunging for his weapon. Joe sprang into action at almost the same instant, ripping his arm free and coldcocking the man to his left.
The speed of the assault seemed to take the guards by surprise. These men had been denied food and water for the entire day. They’d been beaten and dragged through the desert. They’d looked all but dead lying on the sand only moments before.
Four of Jinn’s men rushed in to help their comrades, but the Americans fought like spinning whirlwinds. For each man who landed a punch, another took a blow to the face, a kick to the knee or an elbow to the gut.
One guard tried to tackle Kurt, but Kurt dodged and tripped him, sending him into another guard. As those two crashed into the sand, Kurt jumped to his feet. He saw a pistol on the ground and lunged for it. But like a football player diving for a fumble, he was immediately covered by three of Jinn’s men, also grabbing for the gun.
It discharged, and one of Jinn’s men cried out in pain, his fingers blown off. But before Kurt could fire it again, a heavy blow hit the back of his head, and the gun was ripped from his grasp.
