The Iron Tiger - Jack Higgins [43]
The truck in front stopped suddenly and Ahmed stamped his foot on the brake. Drummond opened the door, sub-machine gun ready, and Sher Dil appeared.
'We've bogged down. You'll have to lend a hand.'
Drummond and Ahmed tramped through the mud to the front truck. Its offside wheel was deep in a water-filled pothole and Nadin and Hamid were already busy with spades.
It took twenty minutes of hard work on the part of everybody to get it moving. When Drummond climbed back into his seat, he was plastered with mud to the knees and his fine new parka looked as if it had been through a hard campaign. Half an hour later, the whole performance had to be repeated.
When he settled himself back in his seat for the second time he was past feeling anything. His feet were numb, his hands raw and bleeding from handling the rocks and stones which had gone to fill the potholes.
Visibility was bad now and he began to feel very tired as he strained his eyes through the gathering gloom. The front truck's horn sounded once and as the convoy slowed, he was aware of scattered pine trees on the left.
Ahmed turned off the road and followed the dimly-seen tail of the truck in front and there was a sudden stillness as all engines were cut.
10
Nightwatch
THE camp site Sher Dil had chosen was a rocky flat, thinly scattered with pine trees that gave them some sort of a screen from the road.
When Drummond walked up the line, Hamid, Sher Dil and Father Kerrigan were standing at the rear of the second truck talking in low voices. Janet leaned over the tailboard.
'We've decided we don't need to worry too much about a blackout in this mist,' Sher Dil said. 'We'll set up one of the oil stoves in the back of the supply truck. Miss Tate can cook in there away from the rain. The refugees can do the same. There's plenty of food to go round.'
'A good hot meal should go a long way towards raising everyone's spirits,' Father Kerrigan said.
Drummond nodded. 'What about the boy?'
'He'll be all right. I've kept him under strong sedation so far.'
'What about sleeping arrangements?' Hamid asked.
'In the trucks. We'll need a guard, of course. Two at a time. One here, the other at the roadside. I'll work out a rota after we've eaten.'
Sher Dil moved away and Father Kerrigan smiled up at Janet. 'Hand me my bag, my dear. I'd better have a look at Brackenhurst.'
'I'll go with you,' Hamid said.
They walked away together and Drummond called to Ahmed and helped Janet down. The little Afridi arrived on the run. 'Yes, sahib?'
'Miss Tate's going to cook a meal for us in the back of the supply truck,' Drummond said. 'Get the spirit stove going for her and open a few tins. If you don't do everything she tells you at the double, I'll cut your throat.'
Ahmed grinned at Janet. 'The sahib has a kind heart, memsahib. He could never do such a terrible thing. You come with me. I will see to everything.'
They moved away and Drummond went after Father Kerrigan and Hamid. He found them in the back of the third truck with the refugees. An engine inspection light had been rigged up to illuminate the interior. Brackenhurst sat on an ammunition box, stripped to the waist, as Father Kerrigan carefully peeled layers of bandage away from his left arm and the women and children watched solemnly.
He looked pale and drawn and every so often glanced furtively at Hamid who watched calmly. The priest removed the final bandage, examined the arm and nodded.
'Nothing like as bad as I thought at first. You'll be fine in a day or two.'
'It hurts like hell,' Brackenhurst said.
'What a shame.' Drummond pulled himself up and looked over the tailboard. 'Don't you think that's a shame, Ali?'
'Undoubtedly,' Hamid replied calmly. 'You must rest, Tony. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you.'
Brackenhurst threw them both a glance of pure hatred and Drummond dropped to the ground and moved back to the supply truck. He could smell cooking, and a sudden, hollow ache told him how long it had