The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4)

by Sewell, Ron

  ZZ jumped to his feet. ”I’ll heat the stew, Mr Bear.”

  “What more could a man need?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Night arrived at the end of a demanding day for four men and a boy. Wrapped in their blankets, the silence of the desert lulled them into a deep sleep.

  A kaleidoscope of thoughts raced through Petros’ mind. Mental pictures formed and faded as memories from Bosnia, Iraq and Northern Ireland surfaced. Jumbled sensations battled with each other. The uniformed police sergeant stood motionless as he waited for the return of his warrant card. Most police officers have battle wounds but the deep and jagged scar over his left eye stood out.

  Akeem shook Petros. “Are you okay?”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “You were shouting.”

  “We’re in deep shit. Wake the others.” Petros gathered his thoughts, convinced it was the same man.

  In a semi-circle and with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, they sat facing Petros.

  “My friend,” said Amadou, “what is so important to wake us in the middle of the night that cannot wait until the sun rises?”

  “This is a set-up and we’re expendable. We shouldn’t have got this far.”

  They stared at him in disbelief.

  “Give me one piece of evidence to convince me,” said Akeem.

  “Those men we killed. The last time I saw one of them he wore a police officer’s uniform and I checked his warrant card. Think about it, with us and Eva out of the way the diamonds could find their way into the black market and make somebody rich.”

  “Okay, being practical, what’s the next move?” said Amadou.

  “I’ve focused on the options available,” said Petros. “Whoever is running this show believes we’re no longer a problem. Think of it as a game of chess. We have the advantage and it’s our move. I’m open to suggestions. Bear, you first.”

  “I suggest we do the opposite of what our adversaries expect.”

  “But we’re not part of their equation,” said Petros. “We’re dead or so they think. Can’t tell or ask awkward questions.”

  “The unexpected would be to arrive back at Waw al Kabir.”

  “And do what? I can’t believe any of this has been sanctioned by MI6. And we have no way of knowing who’s running the show. John Soames is the key.”

  “We must accept whoever wants us out of the way, needs us dead,” said Akeem.

  “Petros, you can recognise this Soames?” said Amadou.

  “Yes.”

  “I believe we should return to Waw al Kabir but drop you and Bear a mile away. Akeem looks and dresses as a local so along with ZZ we can act as your eyes and ears. If anyone starts to ask questions,” said Amadou. “ZZ can find and keep you in the loop.”

  “I agree with that plan,” said Petros. “And let’s face it, unless we find out who’s running this we can’t hide forever.”

  “Don’t worry, PK. I’ll watch your back,” said Bear.

  “Haven’t you always?”

  “It’s what I do best.”

  “The problem is these people won’t go away. And from what we’ve witnessed so far they’re cold-blooded and well-organised.”

  “A pain in the arse comes to mind,” said Bear. “Sleep might be a good idea.”

  The group fell silent.

  Petros checked the time. “Three hours until sunrise.” He wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and closed his eyes.

  ***

  The dawn light woke them but they rested for a while longer. Unwashed and unshaven, they said little, while breakfasting on biscuits, jam, and hot tea.

  Petros stood. “When you’re ready, we’ll dig the other Toyota out.” He picked up a shovel and wandered outside.

  “Doesn’t give up, does he?” said Akeem to Bear.

  “Never.” Bear shook his head and staggered to his feet.

  “You don’t look so good,” said Amadou.

  “I don’t feel it. Some bastard is running in circles playing a bass drum inside my head.”

  “Sit and let me look at your wound. ZZ, go find Mr Petros.”

  Amadou unwound the bandage and eased the final strip by soaking it with water. “Some slight reddening around the edges but no inflammation.”

  “Delayed concussion,” said Petros as he approached. “Symptoms? Bear, you know the drill.”

  “Balance dodgy, want to throw up and a ringing in my ears. Will that do?”

  Petros said with a hint of sarcasm, “You’ll do anything to avoid work. Rest, if you experience pain. Codeine’s in the first-aid box. Take two.”

  Bear shuffled his frame, pulled a blanket over his body, and closed his eyes. “Feel better already.”

  “Let’s go,” said Petros or the sun will fry us.”

  They shovelled on and off for three hours until they could examine the second Toyota. Bullet holes scarred the bodywork but from their initial inspection, it appeared satisfactory. Petros clambered in and turned the ignition, nothing. “Battery’s dead.”

  “How come?” said Akeem.

  Petros released the bonnet and leant out. “Maybe a bullet struck it.”

  Akeem lifted the hot steel and scanned the battery compartment. “Still in one piece.”

  “Amadou, get the other car and we’ll tow it out.”

  With jump leads connected, the other Toyota started and spewed sand from its exhaust.

  “Mr Petros,” said ZZ. “It is my fault the engine would not start.”

  “Doesn’t matter, ZZ. It’s fine now. We’ll leave as soon as we have stripped the tent and loaded. Bear can use the bed in car two. Amadou, a word.”

  Amadou ambled to where he stood. “What’s up?”

  “Just letting you know if something happens. The diamonds are under the front seat of your car.”

  “The Land Rovers, are we going to leave them?”

  “Not our problem. We’ll tell the owner, if we find him, we spotted them and give an approx location. If he wants to dig them out it’s up to him.”

  Three hours later, with fresh tyres, they were ready to leave. Petros with Akeem scoured the campsite for rubbish that might indicate their having been there. Satisfied, Petros clambered into the first vehicle, started the engine and waited for the thumbs up from Akeem. Bear slept on the fold-down bunk.

  “It’ll be dark when we arrive at Waw al Kabir,” said Amadou.

  “It’ll give us the edge,” said Petros as he studied the map. “We’ll hug the mountains and find the B6. Whatever happens, it must be better than the way we came.”

  “I agree,” said Amadou.

  A breeze wafted through the dunes raising small whirlwinds of sand as the two vehicle commenced the journey.

  In the space of an hour, each Toyota sank into the sand and after digging the wheels free and in reverse, drove out with the aid of perforated metal plates.

  “I might have been wrong,” said Petros.

  “Soft sand but no huge buried boulders,” said Amadou. “I prefer it this way.”

  Petros followed his rough route and at seventy-five kilometres drove onto a tarmac surface. He pulled up. “Time for a break and fill the tanks. ZZ, any chance of some tea?”

  “Ten minutes, Mr Petros.”

  The second Toyota parked alongside them. Petros strolled over and spoke to Bear. “How’s the head?”

  “Throbbing but I’ll live if only to get my share.”

  “Good, you can get out and join us for tea.”

  Bear heaved himself out of the bunk, slid out of the door and shook his head. “My vision is muzzy but better than it was. I took three of those Codeine tablets and slept the sleep if the dead. Where’s the tea? My mouth tastes like a sumo-wrestler’s jock strap.”

  “Here, Mr Bear.” ZZ handed him a mug.

  “That’s hot,” said Bear.

  “Sit on your fat arse, shut up and drink,” said Petros.

  “Marvellous stuff tea, The British ran the world on a cup
of tea,” said Bear.

  With the vehicles’ diesel tanks full, the next stage of their journey began. High in the night sky the moon three days from full, aided their driving. Not another vehicle came near on the road to Waw al Kabir.

  A kilometre from the village Amadou drove off the road, killed the headlights, slowed and stopped, Akeem did likewise. Petros and Bear piled out with their sleeping bags, dry biscuits, water, and half a dozen codeine. They stood and watched the rear lights of both vehicles vanish into the darkness, and then walked until they found a suitable hollow. Here they checked the sand for wildlife before resting.

  “I’ll take the first watch,” said Bear.

  “I wouldn’t worry, if those bastards find us, we won’t see the sun rise. Go to sleep. There’s a good chance we’ll need it.”

  “Where are the diamonds?”

  “Under the seat of number one Toyota. Don’t worry.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Akeem drove into Waw al Kabir, stopped at their tented encampment. Amadou parked alongside and jumped out. The cool of the night air refreshed them. They sat together on cushions and talked.

  “Might as well rest. In the morning we’ll be lying our arses off to the owner of the Toyotas,” said Akeem as he strolled his vehicle, reached under the front seat and removed a bulky package.

  Amadou rubbed his chin before speaking. “Lies are better with a touch of truth added.”

  Akeem shrugged.” And the point is?”

  “Men dressed in European clothing driving green Land Rovers attacked us. We believed them to be a militant faction attempting to kill and rob us. We made our escape in a sand storm. Petros, Bear and Eva became detached and we never saw them again.”

  “Sounds perfect,” said Akeem. “Better brief ZZ to keep his mouth shut.”

  “That can wait until tomorrow. He’s asleep.”

  “That young man’s not stupid.”

  “Far from it. I suggest we follow his example.”

  ***

  Bright sunlight and the continuous noise of horns and the babble of people woke the sleeping men and ZZ.

  “What the...” shouted Akeem as he stumbled to the tent entrance. The unhappy owner of two Toyotas swore at him. Akeem turned. “Tea ZZ, we must welcome our guests.”

  ZZ crawled out of his sleeping bag, rubbed his eyes, ran his hand through his hair, and lit the stove. “Ten minutes.”

  Amadou strolled as if he had all the time in the world out of the tent. Careful to speak in a calm voice he made a half bow and welcomed the enraged owner. “Come and drink tea with us while I explain.”

  The owner, a short, bearded man, shook his head as he stood erect from poking his middle finger into the bullet holes. “Who did this?”

  “Men dressed in European clothing driving green Land Rovers fired automatic weapons at us as we negotiated the soft sands,” said Amadou. “We were lucky, they were poor shots. Three of our party are missing.”

  The man stroked his unkempt beard. “Missing?”

  “A sandstorm allowed us to escape. While seeking shelter our companions must have become lost. We never saw them again.”

  The owner grimaced. “And who is to pay for the repairs? The deposit is forfeit and I require compensation.”

  Amadou noticed the man became quiet. “Come and drink tea and we will agree a sum for the damage.”

  The man shuffled closer, frowning. “I will enjoy my tea better when we are in agreement.”

  Amadou gave a faint smile as he guided the man inside to the sound of music from ZZ’s iPod. ZZ rose to his feet. On a tray, he carried three cups of freshly brewed tea and placed it on the small table in the centre, before withdrawing.

  “Drink your tea,” said Akeem, lifting a cup to his lips.

  The man smiled, his eyes bright as his drank.

  “As Libyans, we must stick together,” said Amadou. “What price do you have in mind to repair your vehicles?"

  With a wry grin, the man said, “Five thousand American dollars each car.”

  Amadou smiled. “Five thousand plus the deposit you already have.”

  The man’s smile faded. It was easier to cope with foreigners who you could threaten with jail. “Four thousand each car.”

  Amadou raised his eyebrows. “Five thousand plus the deposit. One word and I offer one thousand.”

  The man frowned. “Perhaps you could include the extras. You do not need them.”

  Akeem’s knife sliced into the carpet, its point to its handle embedded in the sand between the man’s legs.

  There was a moment of silence before the man shrugged, his face showed no emotion. “You are friends. I agree, five thousand, the deposit, and extras.”

  Akeem strolled across and pulled the knife from the ground. “The deposit and extras, I believe is more than enough.”

  “My mistake.” He stammered. “That is what I meant.”

  “You may have one of your vehicles now and the other when we leave,” whispered Akeem into the man’s right ear.

  “Of course.” The man stood. “Thank you for the tea. If you would be so kind as to remove your belongings from one of my cars I will take it to be repaired.”

  “No problem,” said Akeem. “Who hired the two green Land Rovers to our trigger-happy friends?”

  The man’s eyes widened. “I have not told you this. Leon the Berber but be warned he is not a friend.”

  Akeem and Amadou removed everything from the first Toyota and dumped it inside the tent.

  The owner drove the bullet-scared Toyota away without looking back.

  ***

  Akeem turned to Amadou. “A chat with Leon the Berber might glean some information.”

  “Petros and Bear will need food and water. Where’s ZZ?”

  “Having a shower. Wait here, I’ll tell him to be careful,” said Amadou.

  Akeem sat outside the tent honing the blade of his knife. He did not move but listened to someone slithering across sand. He rolled to the right and onto his back as the seven inch blade of a Shafra flew through the air where he had been sitting.

  From where Akeem lay, his blade sliced the air and penetrated his attacker’s left shoulder. “Not a good day, my friend.”

  The man stumbled, fell and attempted to crawl away. Akeem jumped and landed in the centre of the man’s back. A loud crunch indicated a shattered spine.

  “Alive we could have questioned him,” said Amadou.

  Akeem kicked the dead man’s head before pulling his blade free. “This is the scum of the gutter. A professional would have slit my throat without a sound. This Gaddafi low-life kills for pennies.”

  “Well it’s a race against time. We have a body count of six. Whether they deserved to die is not a matter for discussion.”

  “If they hadn’t, you’d be dead.”

  “Point taken but whoever sent him will soon discover he isn’t returning. We need to get the hell out of here before someone starts searching. Any ideas?”

  Akeem pointed. “One car, enough fuel to travel three to four hundred kilometres. I suggest we make a run for it.”

  Amadou dragged the corpse into the tent, removed the carpets, and with his hands scraped a shallow grave. Finished, he replaced the carpet and cushions. “Might gain us an hour or two. Out of interest how did you spot him?”

  “Simple,” said Akeem. With deliberate strokes, he sharpened the blade on a stone. “Stand behind me. What do you see?”

  “My reflection.”

  “In my business it pays to keep your back covered.”

  “Collect your gear. We’re out of here.”

  Akeem drove the Toyota at speed, stopped for a confused ZZ and after ten minutes driving in circles found Petros and Bear.

  “Grab your stuff and get in,” shouted Amadou.

  “What’s the hurry?” said Petros as he and Bear clambered into the rear section.

  “Whoever’s running this show is closing doors and tying up the loose ends,” said Akeem.

/>   “Petros, who is he?” asked Amadou.

  “I have a good idea.”

  “Leon the Berber could be next,” said Akeem.

  A crash similar to thunder reached their ears. Five heads turned as one towards the village. A thick plume of black smoke curled towards the sky twisting in the light breeze.

  “You were saying,” said Bear. “My recommendation is to floor the accelerator in any direction.”

  Akeem took the road that circled the village at speed until he turned towards Umm al Aranib and slammed the accelerator to the floor.

  “One hundred and twenty to thirty kilometres would be economical, Akeem,” said Petros.

  Akeem shook his head. “This beast should top the ton in mph and for the next hour I intend to find out if it’s true. Someone back there wants us dead. You still have what they want.”

  “Can’t argue with that but does anyone have a plan?” said Petros.

  “Retreat, regroup, plan our next move and attack,” said Bear.

  “The attack bit might be difficult. We gave our weapons away in part payment for the damage to the other Toyota,” said Amadou. “And the owner will not be pleased when he discovers this one is missing.”

  “Retreat I agree with,” said Petros. “Our next move I’m not sure but we need to stomp on these bastards.”

  “And I thought we were going on a joyride,” muttered Bear.

  “We must be prepared,” said Petros.

  “For what?” said Akeem.

  “Anything and keep your eyes on the road.” With the village behind them Petros kept the map open on his lap.

  ***

  Parked beneath a few palms a short distance from the village, John Soames sat behind the wheel of his air-conditioned Range Rover. He soon realised his plan had gone awry when his assassin, Eric, didn’t return.

  Tarek, a rough brute of a man, dodgy-looking with long black hair, occupied the seat alongside him, while behind them one other of similar build stared out of the window.

  “If you want to get paid, go and find out what’s happened but be back here within the hour. Oh yeah, great job on the hire car garage, you demolished half the street. Didn’t you hear the locals screaming?”