‘Boss!’
Javed moved sideways and bowled into Holm, knocking him over the edge of the veranda. They fell six feet onto hard earth, the landing knocking all the air out of Holm. Now he did feel pain. A sharp jolt up the side of his arm, his eyes blurring as he spun from consciousness for a second. He jerked his head. That hurt too, but not from a bullet. His forehead had collided with the trunk of a thousand-year-old olive tree.
‘What the…?’ Holm was back in the land of the living. He might not make one thousand years, but he reckoned he’d be good for a few more. ‘What happened?’
‘Sniper,’ Javed said, sounding impressed. ‘Took out Karen Hope. Bam!’
‘Taher?’
‘I heard a vehicle so I reckon he’s gone.’
‘Let’s get up there.’ Holm struggled to his knees and tried to pull his hands from the twine Taher had tightened round his wrists. It was impossible.
‘We should stay out of sight.’ Javed was kneeling too, straining against his bounds. ‘There’s a gunman out there somewhere.’
‘If he was aiming at us, we’d be hit by now. He was either after Taher or Hope.’ Holm paused and craned his neck to try and see onto the veranda. ‘Is she dead?’
‘If she isn’t then I think it’s still unlikely she’ll be running for president. I saw half her brain hit the wall of the house. I don’t think the bit remaining is going to be good for much.’
‘It’s not a joking matter, Farakh. You’re talking about the woman who was going to be the leader of the free world.’
‘And who was about to put a hole in our heads.’
‘Yes, there is that.’ Holm was struggling to come to terms with Karen Hope holding a gun. Well that part wasn’t surprising; her family owned an arms company after all. But the future president of the US standing alongside one of the world’s most notorious terrorists, about to help him commit murder? That was a little difficult to understand.
‘Boss?’ Javed’s hands came from behind his back, the twine somehow severed. ‘Your turn.’
Holm stared at the boy, wondering what miracle he had summoned and from where. Then he spotted the shiny object in Javed’s hands. His nail clippers.
With their bonds removed, they made their way up from the olive grove back to the veranda. Holm stood over the body of Karen Hope. Bits of flesh and bone had splattered across the ground and there was a mark on the wall of the farmhouse where a stone had exploded.
‘High-powered rifle,’ Javed said. ‘They were out there on that ridge. When Karen Hope came out… boom!’
‘Don’t.’ Holm stepped back from the body, aware of a sticky residue on his shoes. He gazed down at what was now no more than a cadaver of a woman. Hope. So much of it gone. All that promise unfulfilled. And yet she’d been about to blow his head off. What was that about? However Holm tried to spin what he’d seen and heard, the end result didn’t make sense. He turned to Javed. ‘Come on, let’s check inside and then we’ll call Palmer. After him, Huxtable, although what the hell she’s going to make of this, I have no idea.’
‘Karen Hope tried to kill us, she got whacked and Taher got away with a load of weapons.’ Javed came over and stood alongside Holm. He contemplated the body and shook his head. ‘Good luck with that, sir.’
Inside the house was cool. Narrow corridors led between thick stone walls to airy rooms with rustic furniture. The large kitchen was well equipped and stocked with food. A dining hall had seating for twenty, and at one end of the building was a bunk house.
‘Do you think this place is a training camp?’ Javed said as they edged down yet another corridor.
‘No idea.’ Holm pushed through a curtain and out into a central courtyard. He leaned on a wall, feeling deflated. All this way and all this effort and the main prize had eluded them.
‘We’ve disrupted the supply chain,’ Javed said, sensing Holm’s despair. ‘Whatever that boat was up to it won’t be doing it any more.’
‘You’re right.’ Holm brightened. ‘Let’s check upstairs and then we’ll work out what the hell to do.’
Holm let Javed lead the way and they went back inside and took a narrow spiral staircase to the upper floor. A corridor ran down one side and had windows every few steps, each offering a view over the vast olive plantation. Javed paused at one of the windows.
‘Sir.’ He pointed outside as Holm joined him. ‘One man drove in the van and another chauffeured Karen Hope. They both left in the van. Taher escaped in the pick-up and presumably Hope was going to drive the yellow SUV out of here. Which leaves me wondering, whose vehicle is that?’
Holm peered down. A Jeep Wrangler was parked in the shade of a couple of olive trees, hidden from anywhere but the upstairs of the farmhouse. He turned from the window as footsteps tapped on the wooden flooring. A tall figure stood silhouetted at the end of the corridor.
‘It’s mine.’ The figure was in shadow but Holm would recognise the stick-thin man anywhere. ‘Hello, Stephen.’
‘Hello, Harry.’
Chapter Thirty-Six
Nasim wasn’t keen.
‘Lona no order,’ he said. ‘We leave now. Go back to Tunis.’
‘I don’t care what Lona ordered you to do,’ Silva said. ‘I’m telling you we’re going to the compound. You can wait here and we’ll take your car or you can drive us there.’
‘I no go and the car no go.’
‘Yes you fucking do.’ Itchy had loaded the equipment into the rear of the Land Cruiser and now he stood behind Nasim, the SIG in his hand. ‘You go, we go, the car goes.’
Nasim protested again, but climbed into the car. They set off back down the mountain track. It was a mile to the end of the ravine where they joined the main road, and then almost immediately they turned off up the track to the farm.
