Dead Centre - Andy McNab [114]
BB grunted. ‘My fucking name is Justin.’
We headed out to sea as Star-gigs continued his love affair with the 12.7.
Awaale sparked up his radio and a dozen different voices jibber-jabbered back.
Another line of tracer peppered the sky behind us.
‘You see, Mr Nick? Everybody will be together soon. But we have to make sure the money is there first. Me, I trust you with my life. But Erasto – he doesn’t know you like I do.’
I didn’t bother turning back. ‘Mate, the money will be there. But I’d feel a lot happier if we knew where Nadif’s killers were. Have you made contact?’
He had to shout as we picked up speed. ‘Do not worry, Mr Nick. I’m not worried. I’m not worried about a thing. We know the sea. I’m happy. I’m a great commander. Everybody is talking about me. Everybody knows about the attack. Even Lucky Justice will hear about it very soon.’ He nodded. ‘Yes sirree.’
One of the crew was hunched below the bow, out of the wind. He talked excitedly into his mobile.
I moved closer to Awaale. ‘That is fantastic news, mate, but remember – success breeds enemies. Just be careful now you’re big-time. Some people don’t like to be upstaged. You know what I mean?’
We bounced about on the waves. I didn’t have a clue if we were pointed in the right direction.
He thought about what I’d said and eventually nodded. ‘You’re right. But I’m Somalian. We know these things. Erasto will not be pleased. Once he has the money, he’ll try to have me killed. But I’ll be quicker than him. My father will give me advice. Everybody loves me for the great fighter I am, just like my father before me. Thank you, Nick.’
I smiled politely. I was getting a lot of thank-yous tonight. That always meant a drama was just around the corner.
12
THESE GUYS STARTED life as fishermen. I shouldn’t have doubted their prowess at sea. Two hours later I began to see the lights of the city over the bow. We were coming in from the east. I didn’t have a clue how far out to sea we’d had to divert during the RV with Tracy, but that didn’t matter now. All that did was that her skiff made it back too. Ant and Dec’s? I still had no idea.
Awaale perked up now he could see land. He had spent most of the time curled up on the deck holding his stomach. ‘I told you so. You don’t have to worry about anything, Mr Nick. Everybody is now safe.’
We started to approach the airport. The runway was lit up like a UFO landing pad. We headed for the bit sticking out into the ocean. As we got closer, I spotted two technicals. The crews looked excited to see us. Their new conquering hero was home. There was change in the air.
Awaale got on his radio. Then he hauled his mobile out. ‘You see, Mr Nick? Everybody loves me.’
We pulled the skiffs into the beach. The sting of salt water reminded me that, after a day in my socks, my feet had taken some serious cuts.
The technical driver shouted down at us through the glare of his own main beams. He thought he was helping, but he was just killing our night vision. Blinded, we felt our way up the rock and clambered onto the runway.
We scrambled into the back of the technical, dodging the 12.7’s dangling ammo belt, and set off between the twin lines of landing lights that seemed to converge as they headed for the terminal.
The driver stuck his head out of the window and shouted to Awaale, who was sitting directly behind the cab on the flatbed. Awaale leant forward and treated him to a blow-by-blow account – complete with ‘boom, boom, boom’ sound effects. Then he leant even further so he could deliver a high-five. The accelerator pedal never left the floor. It was like the guy was trying to take off. All around me, the boys were back on their mobiles, spinning more shit.
Down-lighters in the roof space made the newly painted terminal building look like it was suspended in its own star system. A Cessna Cargomaster stood in front of it, a weapons-mounted technical alongside. Further down the apron were a couple of closed-down Yemeni