A whispered conversation started directly across from them. It was the girl talking with her friend. The guy had been lying there when everyone returned from the beach. He’d been conscious but looked like he was in a lot of pain. She had fed him his meals and made him comfortable as best she could but there was little else she could do for him without medical attention.
Stratton hadn’t decided exactly when he was going to get out of the hut but a fundamental prerequisite was that everyone else in the room be asleep. He’d accepted that might not be easy, especially when they had little else to do during the day but sleep. But that was a chance he was going to have to take and why Hopper should remain.
Stratton attacked the final knot with his teeth and quietly unravel led the nylon line from around his wrists. It was a relief to get it off. He bit off a couple of lengths and threaded them through the empty eyelets in his boots and tied them up. He was good to go but he remained quietly where he was for another hour. The Chinese couple had finally stopped talking and seemed to have drifted off to sleep. Everyone else was equally quiet.
As he decided it was time to leave, there was movement in front of him. He thought it was someone turning over. But they slowly got to their feet. The figure went to the door and paused like they were listening. Stratton raised his head just barely enough to take a look. In the moonlight he could tell it was the Chinese girl. She took a hold of the door knob and pulled on it gently. The door was firmly bolted.
She stepped back through the middle of the room between everyone’s feet, moving quietly and carefully, and went to the wall below the opening. She reached up but her fingers were a few inches short of the sill.
She looked behind her, around the room, checking to see no one was watching her. Stratton closed his eyes. She turned back to the wall and jumped for the sill. Her fingers hooked on to the edge and she fought to pull herself up. She was strong and determined and, trying to be as quiet as possible, managed to throw a hand through the opening to the other side. Slowly she pulled herself up. She was small enough to manoeuvre her legs through the opening while sitting on the sill. A second later she was gone.
Stratton listened hard for any sounds. He heard nothing. Not the girl landing, not any commotion. Which suggested no guard at the back. He doubted the Somalis had much of a guard routine going. She had clearly been as confident about that as he was.
He looked around the hut. No one had moved. If anyone was aware of her departure, they had, like Stratton, remained still and made no sign of it.
He sympathised with her completely. She’d made the right choice. If she stayed in that hut, there was little doubt about what would happen to her and probably by more than one of the bastards. It might not be any easier on the outside. But it was well worth the try. She would probably head for the water and find a boat. As a yachtswoman she had a good chance of making it once she got herself out to sea. He couldn’t really see another option for her. Anyone who could sail around the world should be able to navigate the Gulf of Aden in a fishing boat. All she had to do was get as far away from the Somali coast as she could and wave down the first vessel that came by. Preferably a navy boat.
Stratton looked at her friend lying against the wall. His eyes were closed but his sharp breathing suggested he was in a lot of pain. It must have been tough leaving him behind. But the man would never make it in his condition. And she couldn’t afford to wait. Stratton put her out of his thoughts. He had enough of his own problems. He waited a few minutes longer then he sat up and gently squeezed Hopper’s arm.
‘Have fun,’ Hopper whispered.
Stratton thought he detected a slight edge to Hopper’s voice but he ignored it. He eased to his feet, went to the wall below the opening, reached up, grabbed the sill and gently pulled himself up to get a look outside. The hut backed on to another, the gap wide enough to drive a car along. An orange light shone in the window of a house further down. The smell of kerosene was even stronger. He heard a vehicle rattle along somewhere, saw its headlights flickering between the buildings.
He reached up for a roof rafter and manoeuvred his legs through the opening. He twisted on to his front and slid outside, grabbing the sill and lowering his feet to the ground. He crouched to scan between the buildings. All he could see was junk and rubbish. As he was about to move off a nearby sound froze him. The scuff of a boot on hard ground. Coming from the gap around the corner of the prison hut.
Stratton went to ground and lay flat. In daylight he would have been exposed but in the shadows among rubbish and rubble, he could probably get away with being stepped on before anyone noticed him.
A figure appeared from the gap and paused. Stratton wondered if it was the girl returning for some reason. Whoever it was didn’t wait for long and followed the back of the prison hut to the window. And another figure left the narrow gap to join the first. The two moved stealthily. Like they didn’t want anyone to see or hear them. Both were too big to be the girl. When they turned to look up the street, Stratton knew immediately who they were.
They were the two who had fought over the girl on the beach. The two Hopper and he had flattened. It looked like they were going to climb into the hut. They wanted to avoid the front. They were either coming for him and Hopper or the girl. Perhaps all three. Once inside they would discover the girl was missing and Stratton too. Hopper would take them on but that might end badly for him, especially if he hadn’t untied his hands.
One of the men reached for the sill and took his weight on his arms while his colleague crouched to give him a boost. Neither of them looked behind them. Neither saw Stratton pick up a chunk of concrete and ease himself to his feet. The one that had grabbed for the opening pulled himself up into it, the other still holding his legs.
Stratton moved at them. The man on the ground heard him coming but had little time to react. As he let go of the other Somali’s legs and reached for the knife in the waistband of his trousers, Stratton brought the rock down hard on to his head. Enough to knock the man senseless. Stratton followed it with a knee into his side and, as the Somali rolled on to the ground, hit him again with the concrete, smashing his jaw.
Stratton straightened and grabbed the climber’s foot as the Somali tried to scramble through the window. At the same time he reached down to the prone Somali’s belt and pulled out the knife. It was fully in his hand as the guard dropped out of the opening on to his feet. As he landed, Stratton shoved the long blade all the way into him just below his lowest rib. The man jerked in a spasm and opened his mouth to yell but Stratton’s free hand quickly clamped over it. The only sound that came from between his fingers was a muted squeal. As the Somali looked into Stratton’s eyes, he recognised the Englishman. The life went out of his eyes and legs at the same time. Stratton lowered him to the ground beside his partner.
Stratton looked up at the hut window to see Hopper’s face in the gap.
‘Stratton!’ he whispered.
‘I’m OK.’
Hopper pulled himself out a little more to take the weight off his unbound hands. He saw the knife in Stratton’s hand and the bodies at his feet. ‘You need a hand with them?’
‘I’ll drag them out of the way. Hopefully they won’t be missed until morning. We’ll stick with the plan. Ensure no one in there makes a fuss. I’ll get back to you soon as I can and then we’ll get out of here.’
‘And if you don’t get back by first light?’
‘Don’t wait till then. But I’ll be back sooner than that.’
Hopper disappeared back into the hut.
Stratton decided to keep the knife. He wiped it on the dead Somali’s shirt, then removed the man’s leather belt and quickly threaded it through the loops of his own trousers and tucked the blade into it. Grabbing a hold of the legs of one of the men, he dragged him into a narrow alleyway and went back for the other.
After piling enough trash on to the bodies to hide them from sight, while it remained dark at least, he set off in the direction of the beach. Stratton made his way across the town, using the darkest, least obstructed alleyways between dwellings, pausing often to listen. He couldn’t afford to bump into anyone. He was the wrong colour to fool any local.
When he reached the last house at the corner of the town, he knelt to take in the ground ahead. The ships were well lit, the sound of their generators drifting on the night air. Laughter came from beyond some piled-up crates further down on the beach. He could see a glow on either side suggesting a fire. That all worked in his favour. It would be difficult for anyone to see into darkness from within a well-lit area.
Stratton headed away from the town, keeping to the higher ground, level with the beachfront houses. He followed a line parallel to the beach, keeping low to avoid being silhouetted. When he was well past the crates with the fire behind it, he headed across the beach towards another stack of boxes. He was exposed to the lights from the ships but knew he was pretty invisible.
When he reached the shadows of the crates he took his time checking the open ground between him and the
