Chapter 31
“ W here the hell is she?” Tom growled, checking behind the crates.
Jamal looked around. “Could she be hiding somewhere?”
“No, she’s been found.” With a sinking heart, he bent down and retrieved her bag from beneath the boxes. “Here’s her bag. The gun’s missing though.”
Fuck. This was not good.
“We have to find her.”
“There’s no time,” Jamal said. “Ibrahim has been instructed to leave in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m not leaving without her.” His voice was firm. He surveyed the area. There was no blood, not evidence of a struggle. That was a good sign. It meant she was still alive.
“We don’t know where to look. This place is crawling with soldiers.”
“Then I’ll become a soldier.”
Jamal stared at him, then nodded. “I’ll try to stall Ibrahim. You have an hour. If you’re not there by then, he’s going to go without you.”
“Thanks.” Tom ran from the building.
He darted around the back and crept up to the corner of the street, staying close to the wall. He waited in the shadows until an unsuspecting soldier walked past. Less than a minute later, he pulled the unconscious soldier into the nearest open doorway and stripped him to his underwear.
The uniform was a snug fit, but it would do.
He had to find Hannah.
Hannah sat quietly waiting for something to happen. Her guard didn’t move, content to keep vigil by the tent flap.
Eventually, a man in a uniform covered with badges walked in. She could tell by the way the guard straightened his back and saluted that this man was important. A commander, maybe? He surveyed her with interest.
“What is your name?”
She didn’t answer.
He stepped forward. “I said, what is your name?”
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. As soon as he knew who she was, she was history. If they’d thought about an alias, she could have used that, but her brain was paralyzed with fear.
He grabbed her chin, thrusting it up toward the light. She focused on the apex of the tent roof, trying to pretend she was somewhere else. Anywhere but here.
He squeezed, hurting her. Still, she stubbornly refused to acknowledge him. In disgust he released her face and yanked a piece of paper out of his breast pocket. He thrust it under her nose.
“This is you, isn’t it? You are Hannah Evans, the English spy.” He practically spat out the words.
She glanced at him in surprise. Traitor, maybe. Spy, no.
“Ah-ha. I see you know who I’m talking about.”
His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward. She could feel his breath on her face. “Our esteemed Chief of Security, Abdul Anwar, gave me orders to hold you until he got here.”
She broke into a cold sweat. He was coming here. For her?
“He is on his way. You must be very important for him to come and collect you in person.” He smirked. “Most of our traitors are executed on site.”
She felt sick. Anwar wanted to torture her, that’s why he was coming. He wanted to find out how much she knew.
“I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes, Miss Hannah Evans.”
Even the commander knew what was in store for her.
She had to get out of here before he arrived. She had to—or she was as good as dead.
Tom strode up the road, ignoring the shouts and commands echoing around him. As he walked, he took stock of the situation. These guys were well equipped. He spotted several rocket launchers, tactical ballistic missiles, and even anti-aircraft artillery mounted on a small truck.
Once they began advancing, it would be carnage.
He had to find Hannah. Where could they have taken her?
He roamed around until he spotted some administrative tents on one side of the makeshift base. He would start there.
He was counting on the fact that they wouldn’t know who she was. Not at first, anyway. It would take some time before anyone put two and two together. How long, was anyone’s guess.
He was rounding a stationary vehicle when an officer barked a command at him.
Fuck.
He turned around, unsheathing his fighting knife. He couldn’t afford to “go loud” here. Not until he’d found Hannah. The officer repeated the command, but Tom played dumb. He clutched the knife behind his back.
Frowning at his subordinate’s incompetence, the officer marched right up to him.
Tom swung the knife around and stabbed the soldier in the neck.
Blood spurted out at an angle, spattering the dirty hood of the vehicle.
He held him still until the light faded from his eyes, then lowered him gently to the ground.
Tom glanced around, but nobody had seen. He rolled the officer’s body beneath the truck and wiped his blade on the grass before re-sheathing it. Keeping an eye out for any more surprise encounters, he proceeded towards the tents.
The first one was a kind of open-plan office.
There were several computers set up on trellis tables, a fax machine, even a printer.
The electrical equipment was run by a generator humming outside.
Several young soldiers typed frantically on keyboards and darted around receiving and sending communications.
They must have a military network up and running, since the local communications were all down.
He moved on to the next tent. This one was a mess hall, but it was empty.
A skeleton staff were loading dirty plates into a big bucket to be taken away and washed.
They were very organized, considering the latest outburst. It made him think the government had planned for this eventuality in advance.
Hannah’s document couldn’t have been the first time contingencies had been discussed.
He walked past the third tent. It was smaller than the other two and had an armed guard positioned at the entrance. What was so important it had to be protected? Especially out here in the middle of a Symanian operating base.
Hannah.
He bent down to tie a shoelace as a decorated officer strode out. He waved a piece of paper in front of the guard’s face, then issued a terse instruction. Tom was sure he heard Abdul Anwar’s name mentioned.
He snuck around the back and got down on his hands and knees. Tugging a tent pole out of the hard ground, he peered underneath the canvas and his heart skipped a beat.
She was there! Bound to a chair, but unharmed.
Thank fuck.
He couldn’t see her face, but by the tension in her neck and shoulders, he could tell she was terrified. From what he could make out, there was only the one guard, but he was heavily armed. If he got off a shot, all hell would break loose.
He took out his knife. What he needed was a distraction.
He slunk around to the entrance and was about to whistle to the guard when the pulsing throb of a helicopter made her look up. A Russian-built Mi-17 military chopper was coming in to land. It meant only one thing:
They knew.
No time to waste. He walked straight up behind the guard and plunged his blade into his kidneys. The man let out a grunt and fell to his knees. Tom held a hand over his mouth to stop him shouting for help, but it didn’t take long for the man to lose consciousness.
He dragged him into the tent.
Hannah gasped. “Tom! Thank God.” She didn’t even glance at the dead guard, her eyes were firmly rooted on him.
He rushed over and cut her ties. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head.
“Good.” He wanted to hold her, to kiss those trembling lips, but there was no time. “We have to hurry. Anwar is here. That’s his helicopter you can hear landing.”
“Oh, no!”
She jumped up. “What should we do?”
“Follow me.”
They exited the way he’d come in, through the front of the tent. The guard would soon be discovered, but hopefully not before they’d had a chance to hide.
He led her across a sandy patch of ground to where two well-used army SUVs were parked. The one on the left had a windscreen wiper that was lifted off the glass. That was the sign.
Thank you, Ibrahim.
He flicked the blade down and tried the door. It was unlocked. Tom peered inside. The keys were dangling from the ignition.
Yes.
“Get in the back and stay low,” he said. The backseat was narrow and stank of stale sweat.
“Where’s the contact?” she asked.
“I don’t know. He was supposed to meet us here.” He checked his watch. It had been over an hour since he’d left Jamal at the barn. The faction leader had said he’d ask Ibrahim to wait, but perhaps he couldn’t. That’s why he’d left the keys.
Tom jumped in the driver’s seat and started the car. It sprung to life with a deep growl.
“Aren’t we going to wait for him?”
“We can’t. Something must have happened?”
He reversed and then pulled on to the dirt track. If this worked, they would drive out of the Symanian army base in broad daylight. He pulled his cap down low.
The SUV bumped up the track. They were nearly at the gate when an officer motioned for them to stop.
Tom hovered with his foot over the ignition.
If he floored it, he could make it out of the gate before the officer knew what was happening.
Except they’d send a convoy after them, and he didn’t know the roads in this area.
Damnit.
He slowed to a halt.
“What’s happening,” Hannah whispered.
“Stay down,” he snapped.
The officer approached the window. He said something in Arabic. Tom reached for his gun and held it just below the ledge. If he discharged it flush against the man’s chest, it would muffle most of the blast.
Then a high-pitched whine made them glance up. An enormous fireball erupted less than a hundred meters in front of them. The officer talking to them was knocked off his feet.
Tom took advantage and put his foot down. The SUV jerked forward. The sandy ground didn’t have much traction and the wheels spun, kicking up a deluge of sand behind them as they sped off.
“Hold on,” he told Hannah, still hunkering down in the back.
A thick, dark cloud seeped over the soldiers, over the tents and over Anwar’s helicopter that had just landed. In the mayhem, Tom slipped through the gates unnoticed.
That had to have come from Abu-al-Rashid. They were sending a message. We have firepower too.
But was it enough?