Pirate - Duncan Falconer [47]
Lotto gloated over Sabarak’s cunning apology. ‘Take your gift away before I change my mind,’ he said.
Sabarak gave one of his men a look. The man took hold of Hopper while another grabbed the Chinese man and they pulled them both away.
Hopper twisted around to look back at Stratton. The operative saw the fear in Hopper’s eyes. He couldn’t help wondering if he would ever see the man again.
Lotto looked down at the girl as a Somali tied her hands behind her back. ‘It’s time you and I got to know each other a little better,’ he said with a raw smile. He shouted another command and one of the guards stepped up and took the girl away.
Lotto turned to face Stratton. ‘Because you were trying to help the girl, I will not break your legs this time. If you try to escape again, I will cut off your feet. That’s a promise. Your people will pay the same for half of you … I am not confident the British will pay for you at all. They don’t normally, but perhaps you are special. If not, you will join your friend.’ Lotto laughed and walked off after the girl.
The guard holding the knife he had found on Stratton grabbed the operative by his shirt and held the blade to his throat. Stratton could tell the Somali wanted to say something but knew Stratton wouldn’t understand. The threat would have to satisfy them both for the time being. The message was clear enough. And in case Stratton didn’t fully understand, the Somali kneed him hard in the groin. Stratton wanted to go down but the guard kept the sharp blade against his neck. Another guy decided to join in and slammed Stratton in the kidneys with a vicious punch. Once again, Stratton fought to keep his legs steady to prevent having his throat cut.
The Somali with the knife took hold of Stratton’s hair and he ran the operative inside the hut, where he hit the floor, knocking over the water bucket. Behind him, they slammed shut the door and bolted it.
Stratton lay where he fell, concentrating on recovering. It was going to take several minutes of controlled breathing and focus to weather it.
When the pain in his crotch finally eased, it gave way to the one in his side, which also ached deeply. Eventually he rolled over and up on to his knees. He shuffled to a wall and eased himself back against it. He suddenly felt very tired.
Light from a kerosene lamp filtered in through the cracks in the door. A similar glow reflected around the edges of the windowless opening. Voices filtered into the room from both sides. The guards were obviously taking their duties more seriously.
Stratton looked at the roof of the hut. It had suddenly all gone horribly wrong.
8
They led the girl to a house at the top end of the town. It was bigger than the others and better appointed. She could see electric lights glowing inside. The dull hum of a generator came from around the back.
They pushed her up a short flight of steps on to a porch. They opened the door and took her in. On one side of the large room she could see cardboard boxes. Piled up the wall. All shapes and sizes, advertising booze and electronics, clothing and toiletries. On the other side there was a modern leather couch, worn but comfortable-looking. In the middle an ornate coffee table. A dresser with a mirror stood alone away from the wall. A large bed in the corner, its headboard made from boxes of liquor.
Lotto walked in and gave the guards a look. The men stepped back courteously and left, closing the door behind them.
Lotto regarded the girl, like he was assessing her, his eyes exploring her. She looked like a ragamuffin. But he could see beneath the bedraggled clothing and it gave him immense pleasure.
He removed his beret, placed his cane in a rack and the beret on top of it. ‘Drink?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
‘Have a whisky?’ he said.
The girl reconsidered and nodded.
He chuckled and walked over to a stack of boxes that acted as a drinks cabinet, reached inside one,