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

by Sewell, Ron

  Ali crouched in a hollow between two boulders and faced the open ground in front of him.

  Akeem slipped off his shoes and waited for the next gust of wind. As the fronds twitched and made the wind noisier he covered the short distance. From behind, he wrapped his left hand across Ali’s mouth, pulled him back and shoved his knee against his spine. With his right hand, he dragged the razor-sharp blade across a dust-covered throat. Blood shot into the air and ran over his hands.

  With no noise, he carried his prize and an AK with a full and spare magazine back to his hiding place. With the next rattle of fronds, he raced through the narrow streets, many just wide enough for two men to pass, fast and silent to the rear of the village. He found the man’s trail long before he discovered his position, crouched amongst boulders. These made it difficult to advance. For a moment, he stepped back into the shadows and considered his goal.

  Akeem slithered snake-like on the sand and was within three metres of Tarek when he heard a single shot. There was less than a second to make a decision. He sprung into attack mode, his arms extended. Tarek neither heard nor saw his assailant as his head crashed into the boulder. To be sure of the kill Akeem lifted and sliced through the man’s neck with one swipe of his blade.

  Five minutes later, he returned with a second AK to the relative safety of the Berber village.

  A lifetime of deep-rooted practice surged through his mind. Akeem loved the adrenalin rush of the hunt and a successful conclusion. One more and he could relax; his key to success, timing. With an AK held in each hand, he snaked his way back through the village, stopping and climbing fallen masonry which supported a high wall close to the square tower. He laid with his face on top of the wall and inched along until satisfied with his position. In no rush he jammed one weapon to the side and positioned the other towards the tower. The AK was not a sniper’s rifle but Akeem knew that. He set automatic fire and with a full magazine his chance of hitting the target increased.

  The right position and patience remained his maxim as he lay prone. Their leader might not expose himself to a frontal attack but wait and bide his time. The man stood and stretched in safety at the rear of the tower by a collapsed rampart. With the target in his sights, Akeem squeezed the trigger, bullets shattered the tower’s stonework, until the firing pin struck nothing. Empty, he flung the rifle to the ground, grabbed the other AK and levelled it at the tower.

  John Soames lay on the stone slabs, pain from three hits wracked his body. Blood covered his chest and upper right arm. In agony, he retrieved his weapon, pulled himself up and pointed at where he believed the shooter to be. Without hesitation, he yanked on the trigger.

  Set at automatic, bullets ricocheted in every direction, the noise deafening. Stone splinters struck Akeem’s face. Calm and remaining in his position, he aimed and fired until his magazine emptied. A hot stab sliced his shoulder. No sound came from the tower, apart from the faint rustling of fronds, silence.

  Pain charged through Akeem’s chest as he rolled to the ground. The impact jarred every bone in his body. Tired, he leant against the wall. His right hand clutched his chest, blood oozed through his fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He slumped into the dust, his eyes filled with astonishment. His awareness diminished and he welcomed the dark as the pain floated away.

  ***

  “Mr Bear,” said ZZ, remaining low as he approached on his hands and knees.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? Akeem is supposed to be looking after you.”

  “Mr Akeem told me to drive the car, hide and wait for him. He told me he had something to do.”

  “That explains the shooting. ZZ, stay here and I’ll come back for you”

  ZZ sat behind a large boulder and watched as Bear crawled away. “PK, Akeem hit them from the rear. I’m going to find him. When I do I’ll fire two shots.”

  Petros gazed across the open ground in front of him. “Not much cover, I’ll go. Anyone with one eye could see you coming a mile away”

  “Where’s Amadou?”

  He pointed. “Behind that pile of rocks.”

  “Okay. We’ll keep our eyes skinned for any movement and cover you. Keep your head low and your arse lower.”

  Petros grinned. “Words from the wise.” He lay prone and crawled across the sand into the nearest hollow. A pile of rocks became the next objective. Sweat ran over his face creating dirt lines. He continued, maintaining total silence, towards what remained of a wall. With this added protection, he crawled to the edge of the village where a group of tall palms gave added cover. With caution he stood, stretched, and with both hands massaged his knees. With his AK in his right hand, he made his way into the narrow streets. If any of the three men were waiting, he held the element of surprise.

  Petros stopped at a junction and listened to the rattle of palm fronds. Where was Akeem, he wondered. His anxiety grew with every step he took and found nothing. Then he made out footprints in the dust. With little choice, he followed them. He discovered Akeem with his eyes closed and blood-soaked clothes. Had he been booby-trapped? Were the others waiting? His eyes scanned for tell-tale wires. A sense of fear stuck in his throat. A mistake now could be lethal. Petros backed away and circled the vicinity and checked every possible hiding place. Satisfied, he returned to Akeem, his pulse was there but faint. He slid into a dark recess, pointed his weapon into the air, fired two shots.

  The sound of footsteps forced him further back into the passage. He cocked his AK and prepared to fire. Bear’s large frame came into view and Petros relaxed. “Akeem’s bleeding out.”

  Amadou and ZZ arrived moments later.

  ZZ gasped, his eyes wide when he noticed Akeem soaked in blood.

  “ZZ,” said Petros, “go to the car and bring me the first-aid kit.”

  He turned and dashed away.

  “The car’s on the edge of the village,” said Amadou.

  “You know Akeem’s not going to make it,” said Bear. “In a fully-equipped hospital he might stand a chance. His shoulder is smashed and the bullet found the main artery before exiting his lung.”

  “He’s alive and I had to keep ZZ occupied. He has a soft spot for Akeem.”

  “Mr Petros,” shouted ZZ, as he handed over the kit. “Is my friend going to die?”

  Petros grabbed him by the shoulders. “I don’t know. Bear, Amadou, take ZZ and find those men.” He swore as he cut the clothing from Akeem’s shoulder. There was nothing he could do but stem the flow of blood. With respect for the man, he did what could be done. When finished he placed him in the recovery position and sat with his back to the wall.

  “You stupid bugger, why couldn’t you have waited?”

  Bear ambled back along the street. “How is he?”

  “Not good. Did you find his victims?”

  “Found three. Two with no heads and one with no brain. Can’t leave them for the wildlife. Suggest we put them in the burial chamber. What are we going to do with Akeem?”

  “If we shift him he’ll die and if we don’t he’ll last a little longer.”

  “Then we sit and wait,” said Bear.

  “Amadou,” said Petros as he pointed. “In that direction, there’s a plane and a pilot. Take the five Gaddafi soldiers, give them food and water and tell the pilot to fly them back to the village. We will return with the car.”

  “What if people ask questions?”

  “If we leave them here they’re dead. Tell them to fabricate a story before they leave. Anti-Gaddafi feelings are running a tad high.”

  “Don’t leave without me,” said Amadou.

  “We’ll wait,” said Bear.

  ZZ sat alongside Akeem. “I will say prayers until he leaves us.”

  “Bear and I have things to do. Fire a shot if there’s trouble. Bear, let’s get those bodies to the burial chamber.”

  ***

  Amadou told the five men he would guide them to a waiting plane. Even in their condition fear showed in their eyes.

  The fit
test stood. “If we stay in Libya we will be murdered. This plane, can it take us to Niger?”

  Amadou rubbed his chin. ”The answer to the question is no but perhaps he could fly and land near the border. Once he lands you’re on your own. But we’ll ask.”

  Several minutes later five men leant against a crumbling wall. The soldiers helped each other as they negotiated the rubble-strewn streets through the village. Every few minutes they stopped and rested.

  “I’ll go ahead,” said Amadou. “Follow my trail.”

  “You’re going to leave us,” whispered one.

  “If that was my intention you’d still be in the tomb. I’m not sure where the plane landed. I can save you time and effort.”

  The men were silent, lost in thought, their gait slow as they staggered and followed the trail in the sand.

  Amadou approached the plane from the rear. The pilot startled by his arrival jumped.

  “Your passengers are making their own way to the coast and have told me to tell you to take these men as far as the Niger border.”

  “They owe me and as it’s dusk I’m not taking these men anywhere.”

  Amadou’s face was stern as he faced the pilot. This conversation is ended. Get out or I’ll shoot you where you sit.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Want to prove me a liar?”

  The man scrabbled out of the cockpit as the five Gaddafi men stumbled into view.

  “You have a choice,” said Amadou. “Stay here or I fly you to Niger. I have to tell you it’s a few years since I piloted a plane.”

  The men looked at each other. Their spokesman pointed. “What’s wrong with the pilot?”

  “He says he will not fly at night.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I enjoy living and landing in the back of beyond at night can be fatal,” shouted the pilot. “If you’re crazy take the plane. I’d rather walk back to the village in the blazing sun. At least I’d stand a chance.”

  “He is right,” said one of the men. “What is another night? Tomorrow you will take us?”

  “Do I have a choice?” said the pilot.

  “No,” he pointed at Amadou. “This man will take us and I will shoot you.”

  The pilot grimaced. “Tomorrow at first light I’m out of here. Be ready.”

  Amadou raised his eyes to the sky, it remained a clear night and a half moon lit the barren landscape. He could smell the sweat of the men who stood near him. “Time to rest boys.”

  In no fit state to argue, they trudged back to their hole in the ground.

  ***

  “That’s number three tucked up for eternity,” said Petros as they rolled the corpse of John Soames into an empty alcove.

  “At least they rest in peace. Pound to a pinch of shit they’d have left us for the vultures.”

  “Vultures in the Sahara.”

  “It’s Africa, there must be vultures.”

  Petros stared at Bear. “You’re having a laugh.”

  “So what? Where’s the codeine? My head hurts. It’s time I gave playing Peter Pan a miss and settled.”

  “You may have a point. We’d better go and see if Akeem is still with us.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Petros and Bear strolled through the village, the cool evening breeze wafted between the abandoned houses.

  “ZZ is fond of Akeem,” said Petros.

  “Odd combination, a boy and a killer for hire.”

  “It’s a funny old world.”

  They turned the corner. Akeem lay on his back.

  ZZ sat by Akeem’s head. “My friend, I’m not sure if you are a believer but praise to Allah who has saved you from the fire.” As he looked at Petros and Bear, he brushed away a tear. “I must cover him and wash his body.”

  For a moment Petros was silent, his eyes closed. “ZZ you may wash him but we have little water. Don’t waste any.”

  “I will respect his body as a martyr as he gave his life to save us. There is no need to wash. As one who died in battle, his clothing must not be removed. We have no sheets to cover him in a shroud so I will use two sleeping bags. I am sure Allah will not be offended. Will you help me dig the grave?”

  Bear turned to Petros. “Come on, you and I have a job to do. ZZ stay with Akeem.”

  ZZ lifted Akeem’s right hand and held it to his chest.

  The two men retrieved the shovels from the Toyota.

  “Where do you reckon?” said Petros.

  Bear pointed. “In between those two palms and in the shade, he’d be at home there.”

  Within twenty minutes of digging, they struck solid rock.

  “This is as far as we go,” said Bear.

  “What are we going to tell Charles Haskell?”

  “I’ll tell him my version of the truth. Akeem died with a knife in one hand and an AK in the other.”

  “Yeah, Charles might accept that. Let’s bury the man and after we can eat and sleep.”

  Together they lifted and with reverence carried Akeem’s corpse and placed him in the shallow grave. ZZ followed in silence, his head bowed.

  “Shouldn’t we say something?” said Bear.

  “Allah knows what we have done. Akeem died on the battlefield and may be buried without the salaat,” said ZZ. “We ask Allah to give us the strength and support to remember him.”

  ZZ stood back as Petros and Bear filled the grave with stones before finishing with sand and soil.

  Soaked in sweat, the three of them returned to the tomb.

  ***

  Voices came from the tomb as Petros and Bear entered. In the dim light, five soldiers stood arguing.

  “I thought you lot had gone,” said Bear. “Come to think of it I never saw or heard the plane take off. What’s the score?”

  “The pilot will not try a landing at night. Says he’ll take them at dawn,” said Amadou.

  “Time for the last supper,” said Bear. “ZZ, gather every bit of food we have and put it in the pot. If anyone complains, I’ll have their share.”

  “Pot mess,” said Petros, “manna to a hungry man.”

  “Half a dozen tins of beef stew are in the rear of the Toyota and biscuits. Bung it in, ZZ,” said Amadou.

  ZZ smiled and disappeared up the ladder and gathered the assortment of food from the vehicle before gathering fresh palm fronds and constructing a trap.

  Low in the west, the sun’s rays filtered through the fronds as he sat still. When dusk arrived kangaroo rats came out of their burrows and hopped towards the palms hunting for seeds. ZZ remained silent and watched as one, two, three and then four entered his trap and ate the bait of seeds. In one movement, he closed the entrance and smashed it against a nearby wall. With his blade, he beheaded, gutted, and skinned each animal. Carrying his trophies he returned to the tomb and tossed them into the brew. He added the tinned stew, biscuits and water, before bringing it to the boil. With the primus on a low setting the pot’s contents simmered until ZZ nodded. “It is ready.”

  With utensils from the Toyota, ZZ gave a portion to each in turn.

  “Where’s yours?” said Bear.

  “I eat from pot.”

  His meal finished, Bear found trouble when focusing. He needed sleep. “I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow, with luck, we return to civilisation.”

  Petros nodded. “Good plan.” He glanced at the five Gaddafi soldiers who said little and stayed together. Not my problem, he mused.

  Later, disturbed by a noise, he opened his eyes, the dark of the tomb total. A shudder ran through his body. “Have we a problem?”

  The beam of a torch blinded him. “My men and I are returning to the plane. We can take off as the sun rises.”

  “Makes sense,” said Petros. “Will you be safe in Niger?”

  “Safer than remaining in Libya where the murder squads will be searching for us. Others have left and settled. We will meet them and decide our future, if we have one. Thank you for the food.”

  “You’re welcom
e.” Who were these men, forced to run from their own country? He cast his mind back to the days he served as an army officer. You did the job to the best of your ability whatever side your master. His thoughts started to spin. Confused, he rolled over and returned to an uneasy sleep.

  ***

  The Cessna pilot woke as the light of a new day crossed the horizon. Half asleep, he jumped out of the cockpit, stretched and massaged cramped muscles. A few boiled sweets and a swig of water his breakfast.

  “They have an hour and then I leave,” he said to himself as he wandered around the plane completing his pre-flight checks, flaps, wheels, and other external components. Next, he removed any medium sized rocks from his basic runway and tossed them to one side. As he completed his final inspection, the five Gaddafi soldiers arrived.

  “No weapons,” said the pilot. “With six of us I carry no baggage.”

  In silence each man dropped his AK to the ground.

  “It’ll be cramped. Get in and keep quiet.” He waited until the men sorted themselves out before climbing into the pilot’s seat and fastening his seat straps. He busied himself with starting the engines and checking the instruments. “Ready,” he shouted.

  At full throttle, the Cessna raced across the hard sand, lifted and climbed to one thousand metres.

  “I’m going to fly over Al Wigh and from there find a suitable landing place near the border. You might have a distance to walk but then where we land is my choice.”

  “The closer the better,” said a soldier.

  “Just relax and I’ll do my best.” The Cessna turned south and levelled at two thousand metres. “He turned and smiled. The soldiers were sleeping.

  Now and then the plane lifted and fell as it flew under a cloudless sky. He switched to auto-pilot and relaxed. The time dragged as they travelled across endless desert.

  “Wake up,” said the pilot. “We are over Al Wigh. Start looking for a nice flat spot for our landing.”