afraid they’re not in very good condition.’
Lotto seemed to be faintly amused by the account. ‘If they came for the girl, they deserved it,’ he said.
‘You’ll share their fate,’ Sabarak said, using every opportunity to fill Stratton with fear.
‘Only if the British don’t pay for them,’ Lotto interjected.
The comment angered Sabarak. ‘You said I could have them.’
‘I said you could have one of them.’
Sabarak clearly didn’t have the control over Lotto that he wished he had. ‘He’s the leader,’ he said, indicating Stratton. ‘I want him.’
Lotto didn’t appear remotely intimidated by Sabarak or his men. ‘Then he is more valuable,’ Lotto said. ‘Take the other one.’
‘He is more important to us,’ Sabarak argued.
‘What do you care which one you have? You will only kill them. You are at war with these people. I am in business with them. To you they are something to vent your anger at. To me they are a commodity. It makes no sense that you should cut the head off the most valuable one.’
‘We will interrogate him. He will know more than his subordinate.’
‘What will he know that you do not already know or you can guess? You can have the Chinese man too. How is that?’
‘And the girl.’
Judging by Lotto’s expression, Sabarak had clearly overstepped the mark. He turned to the Saudi, his eyes dark holes in his big face. ‘Don’t forget your place. You need me and I don’t need you. I am giving you two men as a gift. Be grateful. Or I will give you nothing.’
Sabarak and his crew looked much fiercer than the pirates but they were greatly outnumbered. The Saudi was a businessman before he was a fighter and knew when to back off. He averted his eyes and nodded. ‘Of course. Please understand that these people have murdered thousands upon thousands of my people.’
Lotto gloated over Sabarak’s cunning apology. ‘Take your gift away before I change my mind,’ he said.
Sabarak gave one of his men a look. The man took hold of Hopper while another grabbed the Chinese man and they pulled them both away.
Hopper twisted around to look back at Stratton. The operative saw the fear in Hopper’s eyes. He couldn’t help wondering if he would ever see the man again.
Lotto looked down at the girl as a Somali tied her hands behind her back. ‘It’s time you and I got to know each other a little better,’ he said with a raw smile. He shouted another command and one of the guards stepped up and took the girl away.
Lotto turned to face Stratton. ‘Because you were trying to help the girl, I will not break your legs this time. If you try to escape again, I will cut off your feet. That’s a promise. Your people will pay the same for half of you … I am not confident the British will pay for you at all. They don’t normally, but perhaps you are special. If not, you will join your friend.’ Lotto laughed and walked off after the girl.
The guard holding the knife he had found on Stratton grabbed the operative by his shirt and held the blade to his throat. Stratton could tell the Somali wanted to say something but knew Stratton wouldn’t understand. The threat would have to satisfy them both for the time being. The message was clear enough. And in case Stratton didn’t fully understand, the Somali kneed him hard in the groin. Stratton wanted to go down but the guard kept the sharp blade against his neck. Another guy decided to join in and slammed Stratton in the kidneys with a vicious punch. Once again, Stratton fought to keep his legs steady to prevent having his throat cut.
The Somali with the knife took hold of Stratton’s hair and he ran the operative inside the hut, where he hit the floor, knocking over the water bucket. Behind him, they slammed shut the door and bolted it.
Stratton lay where he fell, concentrating on recovering. It was going to take several minutes of controlled breathing and focus to weather it.
When the pain in his crotch finally eased, it gave way to the one in his side, which also ached deeply. Eventually he rolled over and up on to his knees. He shuffled to a wall and eased himself back against it. He suddenly felt very tired.
Light from a kerosene lamp filtered in through the cracks in the door. A similar glow reflected around the edges of the windowless opening. Voices filtered into the room from both sides. The guards were obviously taking their duties more seriously.
Stratton looked at the roof of the hut. It had suddenly all gone horribly wrong.
8
They led the girl to a house at the top end of the town. It was bigger than the others and better appointed. She could see electric lights glowing inside. The dull hum of a generator came from around the back.
They pushed her up a short flight of steps on to a porch. They opened the door and took her in. On one side of the large room she could see cardboard boxes. Piled up the wall. All shapes and sizes, advertising booze and electronics, clothing and toiletries. On the other side there was a modern leather couch, worn but comfortable- looking. In the middle an ornate coffee table. A dresser with a mirror stood alone away from the wall. A large bed in the corner, its headboard made from boxes of liquor.
Lotto walked in and gave the guards a look. The men stepped back courteously and left, closing the door behind them.
Lotto regarded the girl, like he was assessing her, his eyes exploring her. She looked like a ragamuffin. But he could see beneath the bedraggled clothing and it gave him immense pleasure.
He removed his beret, placed his cane in a rack and the beret on top of it. ‘Drink?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘Have a whisky?’ he said.
The girl reconsidered and nodded.
He chuckled and walked over to a stack of boxes that acted as a drinks cabinet, reached inside one, brought out a bottle of Scotch and cracked open the top. He sniffed the bottle, took a short sip and rinsed it around his gums and tongue. He swallowed. ‘Wonderful invention, Scotch.’
He removed a couple of glasses from another box and near filled them both. He went to a fridge and took a bowl of ice from it. He placed several chunks in each glass, returned the bowl to the fridge, walked over to her with the glasses and offered her one. She looked at him – her hands still tied firmly behind her back. She hoped he might untie them.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said.
She obeyed and he touched the edge of the glass to her lips and gently poured the drink into her mouth. She grimaced at the bite of the liquor. He tipped it all the way up, emptying the entire contents into her mouth, much of it spilling down her neck and inside her shirt. As he removed the glass, she coughed and spluttered.
Lotto took a long sip of his drink and put both of the glasses down. He stepped closer to her, his smile turning lustful. She looked defiantly into his eyes.
‘I’m disappointed in you,’ he said.
She did not react.
‘I hope you’re going to put up a bit of a fight,’ he said, grinning. Then brought up his bony hand and slammed her across the face. She flew back on to the bed.
She went giddy instantly, found it hard to focus her eyes on him.
He leaned over her, turned her on to her front and untied her hands. He pulled one of them to a corner of the bed and secured it with the line to the bedpost. She started to struggle beneath his heavy frame. He put a knee into her small back and stretched out her other hand, tying it with another piece of line. She fought to get him off her, bringing her legs up to try and kick out. But he was too strong for her. He got off her and grabbed her left ankle, tied it to a post and then did the same with her right leg.
She struggled for long enough to realise how hopeless it was. She pressed her face down into the mattress, panting with the effort.
Lotto kept smiling as he reached for a knife at his belt. He inserted it at the bottom of one of her trouser legs and sliced all the way up to the top. He did the same with the other leg and then, with a magician’s flourish, ripped
