Dead Centre - Andy McNab [106]
There was no ceremony. The Pakistani forced the Somali’s exposed arm onto the tabletop. Skull-cap drew his machete, raised it high and brought it down. The blade took off the Somali’s hand and half his forearm. The Pakistani released his prisoner and he fell to the ground, at first numb with shock, then screaming with pain. The arm rolled off the other side of the table and fell onto the sand.
Skull-cap bent down and picked up the severed limb by the thumb. He held it up to the crowd as the clothes-stealer was led away towards the school. The kids parted like the Red Sea for Moses. They stared open-mouthed at the mess that was left of his stump and the blood it dripped into the dust.
The oldest of the mullahs, stern and grey, slapped the miserable offender across the head with his shoe. He then beat the sole across his back as he was dragged towards the school. This lad was going to be taught the error of his ways, Wahhabi style, before he received any medical treatment – if he ever did.
The other mullahs sorted out the kids and herded them back into the pack for the main event.
4
SKULL-CAP SCREAMED AND shouted as the Pakistani led his AS team back inside. He wasn’t shouting to them, but to the crowd. He pointed at us, then jabbed his finger skywards. His words were rapid and aggressive.
A different kind of murmur swept through the crowd as the two Somali couples were led out. This time it was disapproval. Some hissed.
All four moved very slowly. They didn’t have to be pushed. Their heads were down. They’d given up hope. The women had their heads covered but their faces showing. As they made their way through the compound they displayed no emotion, not even fear. They were led to where Skull-cap waited by the bloodstained table.
I couldn’t believe they wouldn’t at least try to run. They stood in front of their allotted holes, heads down, eyes half closed against the light.
Still screaming at the crowd at the top of his voice, Skull-cap thrust his hand under the chin of each prisoner, lifting the head for all to see.
As he passed each victim and moved on to the next, the Pakistani pushed them into the holes. They had to kneel, with only their head and the tops of their shoulders showing above ground.
A group of young guys arrived from nowhere at the front of the crowd. They wore the same kind of headgear as the boss, and black-and-white shemaghs. Their eyes burnt with zeal. They shovelled sand into the holes to hold the bodies firm. The two women cracked. Both burst into tears. The men rocked back and forth in prayer. The youths shovelled faster to pack them in.
The four AS big dogs headed back inside the building.
My chest heaved. I couldn’t help it. My breath quickened. I tried to control it. My skin broke into a sweat. My whole body felt like it was going to burst.
Anna filled my head. I was going to lose the only two women I cared for in the space of the same night.
Where the fuck was Awaale?
The Pakistani led Tracy out. She carried Stefan in her arms. His head was on her shoulder, his legs wrapped around her, her arms wrapped around him. She was struggling to carry him. Both of them shielded their eyes from the bright lights, as they started the long walk.
It took all three of the other al-Shabab to bring BB out.
Skull-cap shrieked, pointing at these evil people coming towards us like they were Satan come to Merca.
BB’s eyes darted around. He was trying to suss out what was going on. It dawned on me. They didn’t know what the fuck was happening. Otherwise he would have tried something by now. The three of them were dead men walking. What had they got to lose?
They reached the gates. The old school mullah walked up to Tracy and grabbed Stefan. The boy was his now. But Tracy had other ideas.
She pulled back her child and uttered a long, heart-wrenching cry that silenced the crowd. The women around me moaned quietly. Hands went up to mouths as Stefan hollered