Pirate - Duncan Falconer [33]
The warrior walked back to the truck.
Stratton looked over at Sabarak again. The Saudi had focused his attention on the bearded warrior, who was climbing back into the cab. The driver backed up the truck and drove further down the beach. Several of Lotto’s guards followed at a jog. The driver pulled up opposite the Greek carrier and the warrior climbed out again. The guards went to the back of the truck and heaved another long wooden crate from its bed. They carried it down to the shore and waited for the skiff. The boat took the crate to the carrier and then the warrior went back to his truck again. The driver drove him down the beach to the East Asian vessel. It all happened again, one final time.
Stratton looked back towards the deck of the Oasis. The men carrying the crate had gone along the side of the ship, past the huge storage bays to the very front, where they disappeared.
‘What was all that about?’ Hopper asked in a voice too low for the Chinese girl to hear.
‘All very odd,’ Stratton said.
As they spoke, the warrior’s truck came across the hard-packed sand and headed for the town. Lotto, his man with the bundle and the rest of the Somalis came back up the beach towards the town, passing the prisoners. Lotto glanced towards them.
He stopped and lowered his sunglasses to take a better look at the girl. She was looking back at him, her expression cold.
He remained smiling. It was a knowing smile. He kept on walking towards the town and she lowered her head.
Stratton couldn’t think of anything to say to help her. Perhaps if their leader himself fancied her, the others might leave her alone. But that wouldn’t solve her problem.
‘Up! Up!’ the old Somali shouted.
The rest of the prisoners got to their feet and they were herded back to the town, past the broken truck, along the road to the hut. They filed in through the door, starting a line for the water buckets. After each man took a drink he went to sit back in his original place. The girl did the same.
A Filipino prisoner got to his feet, stepped to the door and tapped it with the toe of his boot. ‘Toilet,’ he called out.
He waited for about half a minute. He kicked the door again and repeated his request.
They heard the Somali on the other side unbolt the door. The Filipino stepped out into the sunlight and the Somali closed and bolted the door behind him.
It was only then that Stratton realised the Saudi was missing.
‘Where did Sabarak go?’ he asked Hopper.
‘He was with us when we came back,’ said Hopper. ‘I saw him. He must’ve held back and asked to get put in another hut.’
‘He’s made his move,’ Stratton said. ‘That jihadist character who arrived in the truck. Sabarak was very interested in him and those crates. Maybe something about that episode gave him the confidence to reveal himself.’
‘He’ll tell them who he is?’
‘He’s a jihadist. The warre bugger who turned up in the truck was too. Lotto has some kind of relationship with him. That would suggest that Sabarak could at least get an audience with Lotto. Once he did that he would begin the bartering game. And we don’t know what he has to barter with.’
‘He has us for a start.’ That was very true. ‘What do you think was in those crates?’ Hopper said.
‘Not sure. Weapons of some kind. At least that’s what the boxes were designed for. But why were they taking them on board the hijacked boats?’
The Filipino returned and went back to his place.
‘I don’t think we should hang around here too long,’ Hopper said. ‘If Lottto lets Sabarak make contact with the jihadist, we’re in the shitter.’
Stratton agreed, in principle. But there was something else on his mind.
They heard the bolts on the door go again and watched as a man walked in carrying a large cooking pot, followed by a filthy-looking