Pirate - Duncan Falconer [67]
‘Let’s up the pace,’ he called out. There was no telling how long the rain would last and they had to make the most of it. Cover from noise and the disturbance of the water meant they could increase their activity and make as much headway as possible.
They pounded through the relentless rain, immune to the chill of the water. Soon the river began to widen. They pushed on at a good pace, enough for Stratton to alter their estimated time of arrival at the Oasis. But then they saw the enemy. Stratton wasn’t in the least surprised. The first sign of the jihadists since they began their swim.
It was a distant light on the west bank.
He found it difficult to see beyond the banks because the surface of the water was well below the level of the land. The light seemed to be on the riverbank. As they drew closer, it looked more and more like a vehicle heading down to the water.
Stratton slowed his efforts and concentrated on it. They might have to get out of the water. The rain pelted them and they watched the vehicle come on. The single light gradually became two headlights as it turned a little more in their direction. When a few hundred metres away, the lights swept over the river as the vehicle made a tight turn to face right at it. The vehicle came to a halt with the headlights shining across the river and illuminating the opposite bank.
Stratton had two immediate thoughts. The enemy was setting up a control point or the vehicle was aiming to drive across the river. Then he remembered the track he passed on the approach to the jihadist camp, a track that headed in the direction of the river. He was probably looking at the same place. Perhaps the track led to a ford. Maybe it was a local truck, nothing to do with the jihadists.
They maintained their progress while they still had time to decide whether to pass it in the water or move to the land. The rain continued to fall heavily, providing good cover. In the absence of much scrub on either bank, they would be silhouetted even in the darkened conditions and so the water remained the best option.
The truck’s headlights went off. Stratton could just about make out its silhouette against the distant lighter skies. He decided to remain on course and keep close to the opposite bank, a good football pitch’s width from the truck at that point.
No sooner had he made the decision when small hand-held lights appeared in front of the truck. It looked like men had been at the river and had emerged from cover when the truck arrived.
Stratton weighed the risks, which still remained in favour of the water option. If the people with the flashlights had been watching the river, they would be currently distracted by the truck. Their night vision would also be temporarily disrupted because of their lights.
The rain continued to come down in heavy sheets as Stratton, the girl and the log closed on the point where the truck faced the river. The noise made by the rain hitting the water continued to drown out all other sounds. They couldn’t hear the truck’s engine if it was still running. Judging by the flashlights, the sentries remained preoccupied with the vehicle. Stratton’s confidence that they could get past unnoticed increased.
Then the truck’s engine gunned loudly and its headlights came back on. Stratton and the girl were caught directly in the main beams. And the log ran aground at the crossing point.
It was a ford.
Stratton saw the line of tall sticks in the water that indicated its path.
The truck began to move forward into the river. Stratton cursed himself for relying so much on chance. All he had to do was come to a stop well before the crossing point and wait and see what they would do. But no. He had to be impatient, tempt fate. He recognised the arrogance on his part, the same petty disregard for caution that had resulted in Hopper’s death.
Having been caught in the lights, they had no choice but to push on. If the men saw them, better