Pirate - Duncan Falconer [65]
If they tried to head back into the scrub, they would most likely be seen. Stratton tapped her shoulder, an order to follow, and eased his way into the water. A reed bed growing out of the shallow water was not far away. They crawled through the water as quickly and as quietly as they could, their hands sinking into the riverbed, pulling at the muddy bottom. The ripples they formed mingled with those created by the gentle breeze.
They saw a line of men approaching, walking between the riverbank and the bushes. As Stratton made out the dark silhouettes, at first it looked like two or three men. But as the angle changed, the line grew longer and they saw more men. Maybe just less than a dozen. Stratton and the girl moved behind the reeds as the first man reached the bank where they had crossed from the bushes. They lowered themselves until only their eyes were out of the water. Not great cover but as long as the jihadists didn’t stop and examine the location, they would be OK.
The first man walked past, his long shirt brushing the line of bushes. The second man stepped close behind. They all wore turban-like headdresses and all but the man in front carried their weapons slung over their shoulders. But as he looked at them, Stratton got the feeling that none was particularly vigilant, each watching the heels of the man in front as they trudged along. They looked like they were heading somewhere rather than patrolling.
They soon passed out of sight, their shadowy figures melding with the dark bushes and occasional straggly tree. It was going to be a long night.
11
Stratton eased himself to his feet, felt the water running through his clothes. He could see no further evidence of the enemy. Time for him and the girl to get going too.
It was much darker than the night before. Clouds had moved in to shroud the moon and stars. Dozens of small lights flickered in the trees on the lower hills where the Al-Shabaab camp was. A campfire burned on the highest crest beyond. A watching post perhaps.
Stratton turned slowly around in order to take a look in each direction. When he stopped, he faced the coast, far off out of sight. Lights flickered in the distance. Hand-held flashlights. Moving but too far away to be of a threat to them, at that moment at least.
His general assessment had been that the warriors were manning all obvious routes through the area. He could imagine how angry Sabarak must have been, not only with Stratton’s assault on the camp and his attempts to kill him, but his subsequent escape. Sabarak knew Stratton was still somewhere in the immediate area and he would be desperate to get his hands on him. Sabarak would also be fully aware of the dangers to his operations if Stratton were to succeed in getting out of the country and back to his own people. That would make Stratton a very high-priority target.
‘What do you think?’ the girl asked. She knew the question sounded like an enquiry of the current situation but in reality she wanted to know about everything. He looked supremely confident, as ever, but it wasn’t enough for her. Not right then. She felt in a weakened state and extremely vulnerable.
‘I think we’re going to have to take it very carefully if we want to get back to the coast without running into any of Sabarak’s people. He cannot afford either of us to get away from here. He doesn’t know what we know. And that’s what’s bothering him.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
He was eyeing a large piece of broken tree trunk lying at the water’s edge.
‘Swim.’
She looked like she was contemplating the proposal, then nodded to herself. ‘Easier on the feet,’ she said.
He walked further into the water. It grew deeper with each step. He stopped when it reached his chest and thought the idea through some more.
He stepped back out of the water and to the log, grabbed hold of an end and took the strain to test its weight. It moved fairly easily considering its size, suggesting it was hollow. He lifted up the end, shuffled it around so that he had it parallel with the water’s edge and gently rolled it in.