A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [101]
“The women, Ibrahim, into the owner’s quarters. I’ll follow you. We can get away from this mess in the stern launch.”
Fatima hurried ahead, pulling Sara behind her, and when she tried to struggle, Ibrahim gave her a heavy slap across the side of her head. Fatima got the wide mahogany door open to the bedrooms and pulled Sara in, Ibrahim at their heels.
The police and crew at the far end of the dining table had taken heavy casualties, and now Greg Slay, Dillon, and Holley rushed in low, sweeping the room, the men who were still standing dropping their weapons and raising their hands. Only one man was still on his feet with a weapon in his hand, and it was Ali Selim.
He leveled his pistol at Dillon and shot him twice in the chest, which because of the nylon-and-titanium vest Dillon was wearing only succeeded in knocking him down. Holley, in turn, emptied the magazine of his Uzi into him, throwing Selim backward and close to the open door to the owner’s quarters, where Ibrahim, Sara, and Fatima could see him as he fell.
“He’s dead,” Ibrahim said, kicking the door shut, as Holley and Slay pulled Dillon to his feet.
Fatima cried out as Ibrahim locked the door. “No, you can’t leave him like that,” she cried in Arabic.
He knocked her down with a punch to the face. She rolled over, then got to her feet, a small pistol in her hand. Without the slightest hesitation, he pulled a Makarov out of his sash and shot her dead.
He turned to face Sara, a figure of total menace, and spoke in English. “The small door in the corner opens to steps leading down to the stern. A launch is moored there, which is how we shall depart.” He went and opened it. “Lead the way.”
There was a kick on the other door. She said, “Like hell I will.”
Ibrahim slapped her face, his fingers tightened on the hair, and he pulled her close. “You will obey me by the time I finish with you.” He laughed, his head back, as a thunderous knocking sounded.
“I don’t think so.” Her right hand found the knife that Henri Legrande had given her. She pressed the button, springing the razor-sharp blade, and stabbed Ibrahim under the chin, the blade shearing up through the roof of the mouth into the brain. His eyes burned into her, he started to fold, his hands clutching at her, the door crashed open, and Holley and Slay rushed in. Sara pushed, and he went down.
She stood there, looking at her hands, which were covered in blood, and Holley and Slay pulled off their ski masks. She gazed at them wildly. “God knows how you managed it. I really was facing the prospect of a fate worse than death with this animal.”
She stirred Ibrahim with her foot, and Holley pulled his camouflage scarf off and wiped the blood from her hands. “You don’t need to worry about anything now.”
“Neither does she.” She looked down at Fatima. “Poor girl, she really believed in it all, and in the end this is where it got her.” Holley led her out to where Dillon was taking photos of Ali Selim. “What’s the point of that?” she asked.
“Proof that it’s him and that he’s dead,” Dillon said. “Otherwise, no one will believe it.”
“Are you okay, Sean?” Holley asked, and said to Sara, “Ali Selim shot him twice.”
“Which I’ve survived, thanks to my titanium vest, and not for the first time. But I think we’d better get moving. Wouldn’t you agree, Greg?”
“Absolutely,” Slay said. “Back to Hazar as fast as possible.”
There were bodies aplenty, but those who had surrendered had disappeared. They closed around Sara and proceeded cautiously, and just before they reached the launch someone fired a rifle from up ahead. Dillon and Holley immediately sprayed the area, while Slay escorted Sara down to the boat and turned on the engine.
Holley still fired short bursts into the darkness, and Dillon heaved open a hatch cover, revealing steps down into some sort of hold. He produced a Semtex block from his tunic pocket, stuck in a five-minute pencil timer, primed it, and dropped the block into darkness.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said, and as Holley went down, hurried after him, unhooking