Dead Centre - Andy McNab [125]
She gripped the sill and tried to swing her legs onto the back of the wagon.
Dec handed the boy back to BB and took the M4. He moved to the edge and stamped on Tracy’s fingers.
Ant swung the wheel from side to side.
Tracy managed to hook a knee over the edge of the flatbed and held on grimly, but her grip was loosening. The force of the seesawing technical was becoming too much for her. Dec took aim with the M4 and gave her a round. Her limbs flailed as she cartwheeled into the ground.
The technical roared towards the Skyvan. BB held onto Stefan like a vice, the boy’s face into his shoulder. Dec banged on the cab roof to get Ant to drive faster, then swivelled and gave a burst with the M4 in our general direction. Everybody ducked. I kept eye-to-eye with Genghis. ‘No. We don’t want anything to hit the boy.’
He got it. He understood. At last.
Tracy lay very still. The wound in her gut glistened. She panted for breath. Supporting her neck, I lifted her gently and leant back to take the weight. Her leg dangled over my right forearm.
‘Nick … My baby … My baby …’ Every word hurt.
‘It’s OK,’ I murmured. ‘It’s all going to be OK …’
Tracy kept trying to talk.
‘Stop … It’s all right. We’ll get him back, I promise. We’ll get him back …’
Her head fell across my arm. ‘I’ve been so stupid, Nick … I’ve been so … stupid … My baby …’
Mr Lover Man helped me lift her carefully into the Cargomaster’s hold. He and Genghis ripped open the medical kit to grip her.
Awaale was at the door, hand outstretched. I grabbed it.
‘Listen, mate, good luck to your clan. We’ve got to go. But you know what? We are friends. We really are friends.’
His face creased into a huge grin. ‘Yes, of course, Mr Nick,’ he shouted in my ear as the prop revved big-time. ‘Of course, I know it. America, we meet at my father’s house.’
‘Give me your cell. I’ll get your number off it.’
He threw it up to me, then pointed down the runway. ‘Mr Nick, they’re escaping.’
The Skyvan left the tarmac and lifted over the sea.
‘No, they’re not, mate. No, they’re fucking not.’
21
I SHOUTED TO Joe as I closed the shutter, ‘Get airborne! Get up there – follow that fucking thing!’
The Cessna rumbled towards the runway. I climbed over the two front seats to retrieve my headset. I stared out into the darkness. ‘You faster?’
He was at full stretch, pressing buttons, doing pilot shit as he checked left and right of the aircraft. ‘Easy. That Skyvan is a fucking shed, man. But they’ve cut the lights. They know we’re coming. Where would they go?’
‘It’s got to be south. Kenya. Or maybe further. Anything north would be a nightmare. There’s the Arab Spring, civil war, and Yemen hates everyone. Why head into that shit? Don’t worry about it, Joe. Just get up there, start heading south, and I’ll try and find out.’
I checked his watch. We had about half an hour till first light. I looked at him. ‘We’ll find the fuckers, don’t worry.’
We hit the beginning of the strip and the prop screamed up through the revs. I pulled the loadie’s extension lead out of the door pocket and plugged it in.
Headset on, I moved back into the hold. Frank’s lads were working furiously to get drips into her. That meant they’d already plugged any leaks.
Genghis pulled the plasma expander from the trauma kit, a clear plastic half-litre container shaped like a washing-up-liquid bottle. He tore it out of its plastic wrapper and threw that on the ground. He bit off the little cap that kept the neck of the bottle sterile. Fuck hygiene – infections could be sorted out in hospital. He knew what he was doing. Let’s keep her alive so she can get to one.
Mr Lover Man also had his IV set out of its protective plastic coating. He chewed off the cap to