Dead Centre - Andy McNab [87]
I kept my voice down, my hand covering the phone. ‘I’m in the city. I’m with the clan now. They’re claiming they still have them.’
‘Jesus, Nick, why didn’t you call? Have you seen them?’
‘No. But they want money fast. I guess we now know why.’
‘I don’t think they’ve got them, Nick. Not any more, anyway. They must have sold them on. Or the clan had a debt to AS, and faced a zero option. Either way, unless you’ve seen them, it looks like AS are now in control.’
‘Do you know where?’
‘As of yesterday, Merca. South of the city. That’s all we know. AS control most of the south. If AS do have your three, you must get the boys you’re dealing with to start telling the truth. Like I said, when it’s not about money, it’s time to get out your worry beads.
‘They use hostages to control the locals. The message is, they’re white pigs who don’t adhere to Sharia law. This is the punishment they deserve. In other words, if you don’t shape up, this is what’ll happen to you.’
There was a peal of laughter in the next room. I asked Jules to keep in touch and hoisted my day sack onto my shoulders.
15
I WANDERED OUT into the darkness.
Awaale was by the empty plinth in the courtyard. He’d joined his crew around the fire. They were chewing khat and drinking from big litre bottles of Haywards 5000 as they relived the events of the day. That was one ship that would never be hijacked: the beer boat from India.
A few women had joined the group. They were young and attentive – to anyone who would give them a swig of lager and a mouthful of the flat bread that was piled up with lumps of veg on a nearby tray. Awaale tore himself off a piece, wrapped it round a tomato, and took a bite.
‘Ah, Mr Nick.’
‘I need to talk to you, mate. I’ve got some good news.’
I stopped about two metres from him. The others looked up and cheered. Their eyes were wide, dilated pupils shining in the firelight. I guessed they were busy telling a couple of the girls how they’d kicked Lucky Justice’s arse, the sort of stuff that made us all look good.
‘Excellent, excellent.’ Awaale jumped up, wiping his hands on his jeans. ‘Very excellent, Mr Nick.’
I started towards the technicals. ‘Let’s go somewhere quiet, mate. How about over there?’
We headed past the back of the technical we’d been in today. The captured AKs and the body of the lad who’d been zapped still lay on the flatbed. He looked like a rabbit that had been tossed aside on a night shoot. He couldn’t have been any older than fifteen.
I carried on waffling encouragingly as we went further into the shadows. ‘I got the OK to offer more money. But one thing I need, mate …’ I put a friendly arm round his shoulder – then grabbed him and spun him round in an arm-lock, tucking the back of his head into my shoulder. I squeezed my right arm tighter and slapped my left hand over his mouth.
His legs trailed behind him as I dragged him into cover. I could feel moisture on my hand as he tried to shout. His heels kicked up sand as he tried to keep control of his legs. I kept moving fast enough to stop that happening, then hooked them out from underneath him. I went with him, keeping the arm-lock in place as we fell. He took my full weight on his back, losing all the air from his lungs.
We were about forty metres from the fire. Girls giggled. Bottles clinked. The lads carried on with their banter.
I turned Awaale’s head just enough to see the side of his face. I made sure he could see mine. He’d be getting very little air. He’d be feeling the strain on the vertebrae in his neck. He’d think his brain was about to explode.
I made sure my mouth was right up close to his ear. ‘All that matters to me are my friends. You mean nothing to me. If you make a noise, you will die just before I do. But I will die a man, because I’m going to fight. You will die like a dog, here in the dust. So honour your father, and stay alive. Stay alive to fight the battles he fought. Do you understand