Dead Centre - Andy McNab [89]
‘Then you’re going to take me there and I’m going to get them out.’
I got up and pulled him to his feet. ‘You make a noise, you go down again, OK? Remember, you can die like a man or you can die like a dog in the sand.’
I dragged Awaale past the 4×4. Its suspension was now taking a serious pounding. I picked up a bloodstained AK from the back of the technical. I turned towards the glow of the fire and pulled the cocking handle to make sure there was a round in it. I motioned for Awaale to take the magazines off all the weapons and put them in my day sack.
I kept a grip of him and steered him towards the nearest technical with a 12.7. The 4×4 kept on rocking.
‘Mr Nick, they’ll know that we’ve gone.’
‘Just do it.’
I shoved him into the driver’s seat and sat opposite with the AK on my lap, the muzzle pointing towards him. ‘Merca. Let’s go.’
He had both hands on the wheel. ‘Mr Nick, you don’t understand. Maybe Erasto can talk to them. Maybe he can—’
‘No, Awaale. You don’t understand. If you don’t do what I say, I’ll do it myself, without you. And that means I will kill you. Now turn the engine on. Chop-chop.’
He did as he was told. He breathed heavily as I checked the fuel gauge. It was just under half full.
‘How far is it?’
‘It’s so far, Mr Nick. We’ll never get there. The roads are dangerous. Al-Shabab have checkpoints.’
‘Just get on with it. Start driving.’
We rolled past the party boys, who threw a couple of bottles at the wagon for a laugh. The girls wiggled their arses.
We bounced on through the darkness of the square, heading for the main. I sparked up my iPhone.
‘Awaale – stop here. Turn off the lights.’
He did so.
I dialled Jules. It didn’t ring for long.
‘Nick?’
‘AS do have them. Have you any contacts? Will they negotiate? Any way I can get hold of them?’
‘We’ve had no negotiations with them. Ever. No success liberating anybody from AS.’ He went quiet for a moment.
‘How far is it by road to Merca?’
‘Nick, it’s dangerous. Please, think about this …’
‘How far?’
‘Maybe a hundred kilometres. You’ll be dead by morning. It’s crazy.’
‘So what’s new? I’ve spent most of my life thinking I’ll be dead by morning. Jules, I’m going because I made a promise to a mate.’
‘But, Nick – think of Anna …’ There was an edge of desperation in his voice.
‘Jules, listen. I made a promise to my dead mate that I’d look after his wife. So that’s what I’m going to do.’
‘Nick, hang on – we need to talk.’
I closed down, and got straight through to Frank. ‘Are your boys in Nairobi? Will they be able to get hold of cash within a couple of hours?’
‘Yes. The pilot is at the ready. Your problem … the problem you had in the UK. Did you lose them?’
‘Dunno. I’ll call again when I have something solid to tell you. Stand by.’
Awaale sat there, trying to make sense of it all.
‘Right, we’re going to Merca. You’re going to stay with me. I need a local speaker, and I need a black guy. And that means I need you.’
He flapped his hands anxiously in front of me. ‘But, Mr Nick, the roads – please … It’s so dangerous …’
He slapped his cheeks. ‘No face hair … and you, you will not make it. Erasto can help you. Maybe he—’
‘Stop. It ain’t going to work. Dangerous roads?’
‘Yes, they are dangerous. But Erasto—’
‘Awaale, shut up. We’re not going to take the roads. Let’s go.’ ‘Where?’
‘Erasto’s a fucking pirate, isn’t he? We’re going to get ourselves a boat. Come on – chop-chop.’
16
FLAMES FLICKERED BEHIND crumbling walls each side of the deserted streets. It reminded me of Aceh, only here the devastation was man-made.
‘Where are we going now? How far?’
Awaale hit the airport road and followed the unlit strip around the perimeter beyond the terminal. ‘We take the boats from the beach, Mr Nick.’
‘The pirate boats?’
He nodded.
That was good. If they could travel five hundred miles out to sea in those things, hugging the coast would be a piece of piss.
‘But Erasto, he will be very, very angry, Mr Nick.’
‘No, he’ll be very, very happy – because I’ll pay him