He watched the men disappear into the caves, then motioned to the others to get up.
“Run: we have twenty minutes, thirty at best. I know David, he is one of Abdul’s most trusted men. He won’t like the felucca man not being on his boat –worse, he will hate the fact I have defected.”
They were easily visible as they scurried across open ground. Drawing nearer to the ancient site, Akhoum signalled to them to drop low. He said something to Cara, then wriggled towards the site.
She whispered to the others as loud as she dared. “Abdul will be watching the sunrise. They leave the plane on the opposite side of the camp; Akhoum needs to be sure.”
Francisco bristled. It could still be a trap. He caught the look of blind fear in Jazz’s eyes, and decided to keep his doubts to himself. He gave her the thumbs-up.
The air still held an early morning chill, yet sweat dripped from Akhoum’s brow as he wriggled closer. He hated betraying such emotion. Cara was messing with his head; he could smell her even when she was not there. He wriggled faster, burning his hands against the dry dirt. The pain felt good – it was something else to focus on.
A hundred metres in front of him, he caught sight of a guard pacing the perimeter of the airstrip. His lazy gait oozed boredom.
Akhoum waited until he had his back to him before he stood up. “Hey, you.”
The guard turned stiffly, his joints frozen in fear.
“Hi, Akhoum, I’m one of Abdul’s special agents.” He waved as he strolled towards him.
The guard’s posture relaxed; Akhoum was a legend.
“You got a light?”
He nodded, sauntering towards Akhoum, who was rubbing his back.
“Man, I was stuck in a jeep for hours with someone who hated smoking.” Akhoum shrugged as the guard pulled out a disposable lighter. In a slow, deliberate movement he bent his head to catch the flame. As he pulled away, Akhoum felt the knife break through the guard’s clothes and into his flesh. He had done it so often, he could identify the organs.
His eyes darted around the scrubland as he let the body drop. No one would miss the guard until breakfast.
Quickly, he assessed the lifeless body. He was probably around one hundred and ninety kilos of dead weight. With very little effort, he manoeuvred the body around his shoulders, then broke into a run.
As he came into view, Jazz tried to ignore the body, draped sheep-like over Akhoum’s shoulders. He threw it to the ground like a sack of potatoes, then ran towards them.
“The plane is ready. We have a chance, but we can’t waste a second.”
“What about him?” Jazz asked, hating to leave his body exposed to the sun.
“He is our last obstacle before temporary freedom. You must see it that way, Jazz. There is no room for sentiment.”
“Temporary?” Francisco sounded alarmed.
“We have bought a little time. Make no mistake, they will catch up with us. We must reveal the secret before they get to us – it’s our only chance. You may think you know who you are dealing with, but you haven’t a clue.” Akhoum snapped back.
“Where are we going?” Cara did not want the two men to get into it.
“Aswan,” Akhoum replied. “I can land on the island of Philae. We can check who comes and goes while we go public with the evidence. If we head for Cairo, we will be dead meat as soon as we get there.”
“Then shouldn’t we move?” Jazz stood up and the others followed. Akhoum took the lead, stealthily moving towards the airstrip.
A sliver of fear slithered through Jazz as the moth- sized plane came into view.
“Girls in the back; it will be a squash. We need the heaviest in the front. We can’t afford to be weighed down as we try to get into the air.” Akhoum barked orders, galvanising Jazz’s fear into action. Shakily Jazz climbed inside, with the word “try” hammering through her head.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
A few hundred metres away, Abdul half-watched the yellow line of colour wash the skyline. His thoughts were elsewhere, on Francisco and Jazz. He had deployed ten professionals to hunt a couple of amateurs, to no avail. His fears were right; Akhoum was organising them.
He glanced at the screen on his smart phone. The red tracker was moving towards Amarna. Whoever was driving was not Akhoum. He picked up the radio. “Have you located them?” Abdul’s voice crackled into David’s ear. He threw his cigarette into the water as he stood up. “There are another couple of caves to search.”
“Any sign of the felucca man?”
“Not a whiff; it’s like he disappeared into thin air.”
Abdul turned as he heard the sound of a plane engine rumbling into life.
“Get here as fast as you can.” He clicked his radio off, then yelled at the top of his voice to the rest of the camp: “Red alert, shoot at the plane, aim for the engine.”
The men were heavy with sleep as they scurried from the tents. They had trained for this, but they had never put their training into practice.
Akhoum threw his gun to Francisco as they taxied along the runway.
“Can you shoot?”
“Dad took me to a few rifle ranges when I was younger.”
“Let’s see what you learned, it’s showtime.” He threw the other gun to Cara, barking orders. “Cover the other side. Once we are out of range, stop shooting: we need the bullets for later. Don’t show your heads at the window. Use anything you can find to block the gun shots. They will tear through the plane’s outer skin like scissors through paper.” Akhoum pulled the wheel towards him as the little plane stuttered into the air.
Bullets rained in on them as Akhoum made corkscrew turns to gain height. He widened his circle, knowing it was a risk.
Francisco and Cara opened their windows and Jazz huddled close to the plane floor as bullets ripped into the body of the plane.
“Don’t shoot, our guns are out of range.” Akhoum yelled as a bullet ripped open one of the engines.
He switched it off, hoping it was just the blade that was damaged.
“We can get by on one engine. They give you two, so you have a spare.” No one laughed as plumes of smoke erupted from the left wing.
“If anyone can bring this down safely, you can, Akhoum,” Cara yelled back.
“Now we are out of sight, I can fly lower. We will look like a crop sprayer. It’s not Abdul who worries me; it’s Alistair. Abdul hasn’t the fire-power to hit us from that range; one of Alistair’s men did the damage. He has men in Amarna. Once he finds out about us, his troops will be like locusts cutting down everything in their path. Our best chance is to stay off the radar.”
“Can we make it to Philae?” Cara demanded.
Akhoum glanced at the thick black smoke pouring from the right engine. “As long as the other engine doesn’t let us down we should be fine. Use the time to read what’s in the storage jars. We will need to have an action plan by the time we get to Philae.”
Francisco glanced at the smoke, then at the other engine on the opposite side straining under the weight. Akhoum had said it for the girls. He was grateful. “Maybe we should not go as far as Philae. The first batch of tourists will arrive around the same time as we do. Their mobiles will alert the world to our emergency landing.”
Akhoum smiled through gritted teeth. “You are right about the tourists. I could move off the Nile track, and into the desert. If we land, we will be stuck in the sand with nowhere to hide.”
“Land at one of the Nile settlements; with luck, we can disguise the plane. It will give us a few hours to get something on the Net.”
Akhoum answered Francisco by dropping lower. “Let’s find a suitable place to bring her down.”
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Abdul watched as the engine ignited into a puffball of grey smoke. He followed its path until the stuttering plane disappeared from view, then shuffled into his tent. The computers were streaming news.
“Sir, you need to see this.” Frank looked up from his computer terminal
.
“Read it to me, Frank.”
The young man narrowed his eyes, hoping Abdul was not the kind of man who executed the messenger. “Catholic and Orthodox clerics killed in suicide bombings in Cairo. Jewish rabbi mown down in a separate incident. The killings are believed to be the work of Islamic extremists.
“In another part of the city, the old bookshop, Hawwa, was burned to the ground. One person remains unaccounted for. The attacks are believed to be linked to the extremists. As yet, no organisation is claiming responsibility.”
A spear of ice struck Abdul’s heart. Somehow he found his mobile. His wife never listened to the news: it was all bad as far as she was concerned.
“Abdul, I was not expecting you to call.” She sounded so normal it hurt.
“Is our son there?”
“He went to the shop last night and did not come home. He was going to call on Anna. We will have a wedding in the family before the year is out, and not before time.”
Abdul closed his eyes. His wife refused to see what was in front of her. If he had visited Anna, he would not have stayed the night – his son preferred men not women.
“A wedding, huh?” He imagined the horror of his gay son at such a prospect.
“You can see it in their eyes. They love each other.”
Not wanting the conversation to end because it might be his last, he added: “In their eyes? You are seeing things in their eyes now?”
“You did not ring me to ask about our son. What about our daughter? She is coming for lunch with the grandchildren. School finishes early today; the teachers have a meeting. In our day, the teachers did not have meetings in school time. Now they are more important than our children.”
He pictured the lunch: a nice bottle of Egyptian red, lamb cooked slowly in his favourite way, lots of helpings of spinach and water buffalo cheese; a snooze to sleep off the excesses.
“Abdul, are you listening? I asked if you would be home for lunch.”
“If only… unfortunately matters here are rather occupying my attention.”
“Then why call me, you silly old thing?”
He caught the note of alarm edging her question. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. But it would add to her unease.
“I was bored. I am waiting for the men to return.” He glanced at the long black shadows painting the outside flap of the tent. “I spoke too soon, they are here.”
His wife hesitated. “I love you, Abdul.”
“I love you too… save some lamb for me. I intend to be home for dinner.” His heart gushed with sadness as he clicked off.
“What happened? Where is the plane?” David fired questions as he ran in.
Abdul took a step back. “Akhoum stole it. Cara, Francisco and Jazz are with him. One of their engines was hit by locusts.”
“Locusts?”
“Perhaps I should have said cuckoos. I was referring to Alistair’s men.” He could barely contain his anger. “They are everywhere. They are better prepared than us. They will be joined by others before too long.”
David rubbed his chin then looked down at his dusty boots.
“We are working for the same goal, to keep the secret.”
Abdul spat on to the ground. “We can never be brothers in arms.”
“You have no choice.” David pointed his gun.
Abdul stared at him for a long time before speaking. “Am I a prisoner in my own encampment?”
David scuffed the dirt. “Hawwa no longer exists. We had hoped to secure Francisco and the others as hostages before the arrival of Alistair. Now it will have to wait until he arrives to take control.”
“You betrayed me.” Abdul could barely speak.
“My loyalty, along with my men’s, is the preservation of the secret. You can no longer secure it.” He stood to attention.
“You think you and the American can?”
“He has more firepower. Even our best man, Akhoum, has deserted. We are an impotent force.”
Abdul stroked his beard. “Do you have any idea what the secret is, David?”
“No, sir.”
“Then why lay down your life for it?”
“A man has to have something; mine is the secret.”
“And if the world knew the secret and it made it a better place, would it change your mind?”
“You never saw fit to reveal it. Why would I?”
Abdul grimaced as he turned his attention to the computer screen. “I wish to know if my son is dead.”
“Casualties are inevitable. He was right in the bomb’s path.”
Abdul opened his arms. “Destroy my body now, you have killed my spirit.”
“Alistair’s specific instructions are to keep you alive until he arrives.”
Abdul pursed his lips. “Alistair likes scapegoats. He will not be amused when he discovers Akhoum has slipped through your fingers.”
David’s hesitation encouraged Abdul to press home his advantage. “We are dead men, David. The difference between us is that you have yet to accept it.”
He glanced at the screen. Reuters was streaming information about the suicide bombings in Cairo. He imagined his son’s trusting brown eyes. He had never told him that he didn’t mind about him being gay. “Alistair is tying up the loose ends. He always does it. You and your men are loose ends. He will kill you all.”
He caught the uncertainty in David’s face. “How many of Alistair’s men are here?”
“Five, six with Ishmael; most are snipers.”
“Almost three to one in our favour.”
“They have superior weapons.”
“We have the element of surprise and more men. It will be easy if you can overcome your fear.”
“I have no fear,” David snapped back.
“Fear has nothing to do with death. Fear is about what might happen. Alistair will kill you when he gets here.” Abdul smiled inwardly.
“Do you prefer to stand and fight, or die meekly?”
“Fight, sir.” David saluted.
“Good. I take it you can identify these five men?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get everyone in here. Tell them I want to address my captives. I am a broken man in the wake of my son’s death. Choose eight of your most trusted men. Ensure they are the last to arrive. Keep them at the back so they have a good view of their targets. When everyone is in position shoot the six men. We have the advantage of surprise. From this range your men will not fail.’” He studied David for a moment then smiled
“We also have the benefit of a little time. Even Akhoum will not make it far with a damaged plane. Once we have eliminated Alistair’s men, we can take the jeeps and follow the Nile. We will come across them soon enough. A plane is difficult to hide in this landscape.”
David wavered.
“Look at your boots, David; they belong to a dead man. With me you have a chance. Every second you waste brings death closer.”
Chapter Sixty
Abdul appraised the men he had once called his own troop as they entered the tent. Their casual gait indicated ignorance of the event to come. He swallowed hard as he raised his arms knowing this was his last throw.
“I am the last of the true believers of the keepers of the secret. Alistair considers me a dinosaur.” He laughed, then sighed. “He is right; Hawwa unwittingly created a world in which false religions thrived. I truly believe the future is Alistair’s. When he arrives serve him well.” Abdul, who had studiously avoided David, risked a furtive glance.
He was slumped like a man taking a beer at a bar, not someone primed for action.
David felt rather than saw Abdul’s gaze. His gun burnt into his thigh. Ishmael, Alistair’s best soldier, was watching, ready to pounce on any sudden movement.
David lunged to the floor, then rolled.
Ishmael did not expect David to hit the ground. The bullet from his gun growled through his skull, splattering grey matter on the back wall of the tent. His last thought was that
he had failed.
“Carlos, attack,” David barked.
Carlos raised his hand as Ishmael’s stunned men dropped like stones in the barrage of bullets.
The smell of blood mingled with gun smoke as Abdul picked his way through the dead bodies. “Good man, David; leave the corpses here but take Ishmael’s radio and phone. Alistair will call him. I must know when. Then get the men and the jeeps. We need to get out of here like yesterday.” Abdul had lost his earlier hesitancy.
Buoyed by his confidence David moved quickly, rifling the phone and radio from Ishmael’s jacket and putting them in his own. He marshalled his men into the four jeeps, then waited for Abdul to take his place in the front seat beside him.
The older man glanced up at the sun overhead. Time was passing; Alistair would be arriving shortly by plane. Their only advantage was the jeeps. Alistair would follow by air.
He had lost men. Ishmael’s loss was significant. Right now, they had more men than Alistair, and, in view of the terrain, better transport.
Abdul sank his weight into the black leather seat alongside David as he clicked on the ignition. The jeep rumbled across the sand towards the Nile road. “We have a chance. We have more men and we are well armed.”
“My son is dead. His mother will know the news by now. I wish to see her before this day is out. I no longer want to keep the secret, David. My intention is to join Akhoum and fight Alistair.”
David grimaced. “Are you serious? We may have more men than him now but he will have many reinforcements.”
“Hawwa is finished. My ideals are worthless. Alistair will kill us. Our one chance is to reveal the secret.”
“Why?” David was manoeuvring the jeep onto the Nile road. There was a significant gap between the dirt road from Amarna and the tarmac of the Nile road. They lurched on to it, forcing Abdul to put his hand against the dashboard to keep his balance.
“I did not reveal the secret to my son. The irony is that Alistair killed him for what he thought he might know. I want to lay my son’s ghost to rest.”
The Ghost Reapers Page 26