do.
Tracy was dead. That was it. But we still had a job to do. We had to keep focused on that. I did, anyway.
I didn’t have time to mourn her yet. There was nothing we could have done on the aircraft, and there was nothing that could have saved her in Mog. Stefan was the one I was feeling for right now. He had no mother, and if the cards fell badly, a fucked-up, traumatized life ahead. Or no life at all.
Joe shook his head slowly as he took on board what had happened. ‘Fucking shame, man. But we’ll get the fuckers. Yes, sir.’ He jiggled the controls and the Cargomaster’s wings responded, waggling like they meant business.
The Skyvan was just a smudge in the distance, heading west. It crossed the surf line, then followed its shadow across the scrub and red sand that seemed to go on for ever.
Joe sparked up: ‘He’s looking for a place to put down.’
We were soon over the wasteland ourselves. Joe tapped his sat-nav monitor. ‘Jilib is a fuck of a shit-hole town, about eighty klicks west. They must be trying to dump there. If they can get to Jilib, they can get a vehicle.’ He slapped me on the arm with the back of his hand. ‘You fuckers better be quick when we land, man.’
I looked behind me. Mr Lover Man was gobbing off on his mobile. He saw me turn, waffled some more, then got up.
It looked like he was about to give me the phone. I moved the mike out of the way. ‘Tell him no, not now. Now’s not the time. Cut it. We’ve got work to do.’
Mr Lover Man’s face clouded. He didn’t like the fact his boss was being blanked.
I shifted the mike back into position and pointed to the blob ahead of us. ‘Can you get us down at the same time without those fuckers taking us apart?’
He nodded. ‘When that shed hits the ground it’s going to kick up so much shit they won’t even see their hands in front of their faces. But we’ll have to come in hard. I might lose my landing gear.’
I nodded. ‘Then we’ll just have to hope we don’t have too far to walk.’
Joe’s happy face disappeared. ‘That fucking boss man of yours better fork out for a new airframe, man. I got other jobs after this shit.’
27
My eyes were glued to the Skyvan through the cockpit window as we rode the thermals across the miles of desert.
Joe had asked for a damage report. He muttered even more darkly to himself when he got the news. ‘Fucking shit, man. He
I looked in vain for another AK mag, then unfastened the emergency box between the seats. Inside, among all the other stuff, were two yellow rectangular plastic containers of Pains Wessex mini flares. Each held nine cartridges and a pen ejector — penjector — fitted with a stainless-steel spring and striker pin. These ones would be red. They were rescue kit. The military used different-coloured ones all the time as signal flares. They normally rocketed to a minimum height of about forty-five metres, depending on the spec, and burnt for six seconds. The small magnesium payload blazed so intensely it could be seen for nine K in daylight and sixteen at night.
I grabbed both packs and shoved them in the waistband of my jeans. I checked that the iPhone hadn’t gone AWOL.
The flares were easy to fire. They had to be, in case your hands were wet and cold and shaking. You got the penjector and twisted it into the thread projected from the flare cylinder as it sat in its case. You pulled back. There was a sucking sound as the cylinder came out of its holder. Then you pulled back the cocking piece, which would compress the spring. When you let go, the firing pin shot into the back of the flare, and off it went with a loud bang. It started burning immediately.
A massive hand appeared between us and pulled the escape axe out of the emergency box. Mr Lover Man also needed a weapon.
Mr Lover Man gave me his thousand-yard stare. It told me that if this ended up as a gang-fuck, the axe was for me. I moved the mike aside. ‘Get your mate up here.’
When Genghis appeared, I moved behind the seats so I was up close to both of them. I pointed to the Skyvan. Its tailgate was still down but we were too far away to see what was happening inside. The point was, we were both much closer to the ground now.
‘Listen in. As soon as they land, so will Joe — right on top of them, while the dust is up. We’ve got to be really quick. Get in there fast and take those fuckers on. Hopefully the ramp’s still going to be down. I don’t know if you can land with it like that, and I really don’t care. We’ll find out when we get there.’
Mr Lover Man translated. Then he turned to me. ‘We will kill them all. Mr Timis wants them all dead. All of them.’
I got it. If I’d zapped Stefan, that included me.
‘I will take care of Stefan. That’s still my job, to get to the boy. OK?’
Both of them understood what I was saying that time.
‘Justin — he’s not going to kill Stefan unless he knows he’s lost. At that point, he won’t give a fuck. So we must let him think he’s got a chance. We let him escape out of the aircraft. If we get in there and corner him, Stefan is dead. Let him run. I know him. I know how he thinks. I’ll get the fucker.’
Mr Lover Man wasn’t happy at all, but fuck him. ‘You want the responsibility of fucking up and getting the boy killed? Do you?’ I poked his chest. ‘I’ll take that fucking responsibility. Just like I did hitting the fuel tanks. Let Justin get out of that fucking aircraft, think that he’s running. I’ll sort him out. Don’t corner him.’
Joe rejoined the party. ‘This is it, man. The fucker’s dumping down. He can’t make it to the town. We’re about twenty klicks short. The moment I get you on the ground, I’m going to fuck off while there’s rounds flying about. That’s if you want an airframe to get you home, man.’ He played about with his instruments, his eyes constantly flicking up to lock onto the Skyvan and the terrain below. ‘Assuming I’ve still got fucking landing gear in five minutes’ time.’
I ripped off the cans and went and started pulling up the shutter. The Cessna descended. Mr Lover Man put his body armour back on and Genghis checked his M4.
He saw me looking at it and the scowl I got in return told me it was staying where it was.
28
The wind rushed in but not with such force now. We were lower and slower. The scrub was no more than two hundred feet below us.
I stuck my head out into the slipstream. The Skyvan was touching down ahead.
The Cargomaster’s engine revved higher as Joe corrected. Mr Lover Man and Genghis watched the action from behind the seats.
Power back. The plane slowed. We hit the final fifty feet.
Frank’s lads moved back with me and took up position in the doorway. A huge dust-cloud erupted and swallowed the Skyvan. Grains of sand pitted my face.
I could see the Skyvan’s wheel-prints in the hard red crust directly beneath us. Joe was making sure he landed on proven ground.
Our wheels touched. Joe braked as the Cargomaster bounced towards the dust-storm.
Mr Lover Man jumped, curling his body, ready to take the hit on his Kevlar. Genghis followed. The Cargomaster was bouncing along at about thirty miles an hour. We’d only been down for two seconds.
Fuck it. Why not? I pulled out the mini-flares, gripped one in each hand, and went for it.
The thump as I hit the ground drove the wind out of me. I rolled into a bush, dropping one of the flare packs. Inch-long needles pierced my skin, but I kept on rolling.
