Distant Annihilation. (Tarquin Collingwood Adventures Book 1) (23 page)

The 4WD swung around and headed towards the North West Pass, tracing the path that I had taken the night before. We both kept our eyes on our reluctant driver, constantly alert should something go awry.

“I believe having him at the wheel will arouse less suspicion, that’s why he’s still alive. When he’s no longer useful we’ll get rid of him,” Guy explained.

I was nevertheless still uneasy about having such a reluctant passenger and told Guy so. As we followed the North West Pass out of the Bactria Valley, up ahead I saw to my disbelief a couple of 4WD vehicles parked by the side of the road, with members of the IRG carrying machine guns. We slowed down. There was an oil drum in the middle of the road – an impromptu road check. Now I understood why Guy had coerced this man to be our driver. On seeing this Guy suddenly started bawling in Farsi, what I presumed were terrible threats to our driver; who nodded, fear clearly audible in his voice and visible in his eyes. Guy then sank down to conceal himself in the back seat as we passed this checkpoint; whilst I just looked on, almost frozen in fear. They began moving the oil drum out of the road when they saw what must have been a familiar vehicle approaching. We were waived through and our driver raised his hand to acknowledge them, feigning a smile. After a few seconds I looked back to check we were not being pursued – the road was empty.

“What did you say to him?” I asked Guy as he resumed his seat.

“That if he gave us up, I would slit his throat with such force that I would practically decapitate him and I didn’t care if they killed me.”

That such a threat should induce compliance in the Persian was understandable. I breathed a sigh of relief for our close escape and longed for a life of pleasure in England. We’d now left the Bactria Valley; and I fervently hoped that I would never return
, intentionally or otherwise to see it again.

“Ask him if there’s anything to eat or drink?” I requested of Guy.

There was just a can of Cola which I drank voraciously.

“I’m afraid I forget to tell you earlier, that some of our party were tasked with the job of dynamiting the Haidar Gorge. If they’ve succeeded our path will be blocked,” I explained belatedly between gulps.

“I see,” said Guy phlegmatically, “in that case let us hope for failure on this occasion, for there’s no other way to the border.”

Realising the opportunity to gather intelligence from our driver I asked Guy to question him about the meeting at Iskandar’s Mouth I had seen yesterday. Guy had no knowledge of this meeting judging by his astounded expression. The two of them then had an earnest dialogue. Eventually Guy concluded and turned to me and explained that the meeting which the Major and I had witnessed was a precursor to a ceremony to be held today, for the reactor’s inauguration; although it was not due to start reprocessing for at least another week. Additionally, the missile launch facility was now ready to receive its first nuclear warhead. I breathed out slowly; both in awe of the accomplishments of our enemy and gratitude that we had struck just in the nick of time. Things began to make sense
- that’s why they had their meeting yesterday, why Zhukov was still here and why the Iranian Guard were whoring in celebration.

We were approaching the Haidar gorge, where the North West Pass was long and narrow and the scenery dramatically changed. Before I could think of another question we abruptly slowed down; thinking that the Persian was up to no good I immediately looked toward him and saw a face of anxiety. I then looked ahead – and immediately saw the reason for his consternation. The road was impassable! For it was covered with debris. We stopped.

Large pieces of the cliff face, many sharp and jagged were littered about the road – in some places a few feet high. I got out and walked several metres ahead and then looked up at the brilliant red Sandstone cliff faces on either side; and saw the newly exposed surfaces by their lighter colour, where Mueller’s C4 had wrought its destructive power. There was the distinct smell of cordite in the air. It wasn’t supposed to be like this! I should now be safely ensconced in Iran – not impeded by our own machinations. I was tempted to curse Mueller, but stopped myself in the realisation that he only did his duty. The fact that no other vehicle had come along from the Bactria Valley since the explosion spoke of the paucity of traffic.

“Alas success,” observed Guy poking his head out of the window.

“Yes, so it seems,” I replied dejectedly, “the only way through this is by foot,” I yelled back.

“And how much of this is there?” Guy hollered.

“I don’t know,” I said. The irritation with his question audible in my answer, “But how ever much there is we need to negotiate it quickly, before another vehicle comes up behind us. The Persians are bound to be looking for us already,” and turning to look at our driver I continued, “We need to get rid of him!”

This Persian, whose name we had not even troubled ourselves to discover, had enabled us to get through the checkpoint and had provided valuable intelligence – albeit unwillingly. I only hoped that we would treat him decently. I knew that the natives in most of Central Asia were renowned for their barbarism and blood feuds. Cruelty was almost de rigueur in these parts. However cruelty rarely becomes an Englishman. I walked back and stuck my head through the window, “Let’s deal with him compassionately,” I said to Guy.

I then went around to the driver’s seat and opened the door and gestured for our captive to get out. Guy also got out and instructed him to take off his belt and to place his hands in front of him at which point Guy began tying his wrists tightly with a piece of cloth.

“You’ve changed your tune Tarquin; I was under the impression you wanted me to kill him back there,” challenged Guy.

I felt rather contrite. “Yes, I did,” said I haltingly, “there’s been a lot of killing one way or another and quite frankly I’ve had my fill of it; especially when it’s not strictly necessary.”

“Spoken like a gentleman,” he declared with alacrity.

The Persian made a whimpering sound and we looked towards his face. His lip was quivering, for he had gone pale with fright; and was manfully attempting to control his emotions. It was only now that I studied him closely that I realised how young he was – no more than about 24. He probably believed, not unreasonably, that he was about to be executed. Guy spoke to him in Farsi to reassure him that we would not harm him. We took him to the rear of the 4WD where we opened the tailgate and told him to get in. When he had, Guy using the Persian’s own belt bound his legs, gagged his mouth with a piece of cloth and then pushed him inside; at which point I closed the tailgate and ran around to the driver’s seat. I turned the 4WD around, and then accelerated out of the Gorge at speed; the wheels screeching. Where the road got wider we were out of the Haidar Gorge; heralded by the abundance of desolate, arid semi desert on either side. I turned the steering wheel and took us off the road a short distance, to where the 4WD would not be immediately obvious, but clearly visible to anyone looking in its direction from the road. I switched the engine off and got out and shut the door. I peered into the rear window to see our captive and heard his muffled sounds through his gag. He’d be discovered later this morning - unharmed.

Divested of our Persian and his 4WD, Guy and I started negotiating our way over and around the assorted debris; and as I did so I gazed up at the Sandstone peaks either side of us, which had now been so cruelly defaced. Turning back to the road, some of the pieces I judged were at least a ton in weight – the road was so badly damaged it would have to be resurfaced. In parts it was little different from some of the arduous climbing I had undertaken in the last few days; except now I also had to contend with the hazard of the fine dust generated by the explosion. As we progressed, the sound of running water gradually permeated my ears; and I recalled the river that I had momentarily glimpsed last night when driven through here as a captive. I looked to my left, and after passing another piece of debris I saw it, just a couple of metres from the road - it was only about three metres wide. I moved toward it to get a better view and Guy followed.

“Look at the watermark there,” Guy advised, “
The water should be much higher at this time of year, with the snow melting on the peaks.”

“This must be the source of water for the reactor!” I said thinking aloud. Guy agreed.

This river was only visible for a short distance before it vanished from view under rocks and resumed its underground course. We walked on. Once we had passed the river I looked ahead, in a slightly elevated position standing on some of the rubble and saw ahead - nothing but more debris. I was pleased to see that Guy had remained utterly stoical as he clambered over the rocks - gathering up his outfit between his legs so that he might better negotiate the obstacles.

“It will take days to clear this,” he said cheerfully, “
A job well done.”

He was right. What was a minor inconvenience to us was an infuriating logistical headache for the Persians. They would be furious; so if they should get hold of me, there’s no telling what agonies they would have me endure - before executing me.

Abruptly, t
he silence of the place was broken by the slamming of car doors and voices ahead of us. At that moment we could neither see the vehicle or the owners of the voices. I turned to Guy who caught up with me. We looked at each other anxiously - not uttering a word. He went ahead of me. There was a particularly large pile of debris just a little ahead on the left of the road, on the right of which there was hardly any debris; Guy took this route past the pile. I followed a few metres behind cautiously. I looked down momentarily to check my footing around some rocks and then looked up – Guy had vanished. He had gone ahead without telling me his intentions! Did he think me a mind reader? I cursed furiously under my breath. I ran up to the pile of debris and placed myself up against it and then peered around it cautiously - the hairs on my neck standing on end. I could hear faint voices. A 4WD was parked its doors open and there were three Iranians – undoubtedly Revolutionary Guard. They were shouting and clearly angry; as well they might be. Guy had assumed his persona of the Hermit and was seeking alms by begging. My view of one of the Persians was obscured by Guy; who at that instant outstretched his arms, with hands cupped in beggary as he moved closer to one of the other men. As he did so, my view of this man was revealed. There was a knot in my stomach and my knees nearly gave way – for it was Mehrab Rostami. “Fuck and damnation,” were two of the expletives that came to mind. If he saw me first it would be curtains. I got out my “old friend” and checked it. In observing these men, not one of them had a machine gun on their person, although they may have had a pistol concealed about them. I had the element of surprise. We’d spared the young Persian moments earlier – but there was no sparing these chaps. Kill or be killed - I knew which I preferred! With my Glock in both hands down by my side I composed myself, breathed calmly and decided I had nothing to lose.

I moved swiftly from out behind the pile of debris and towards my quarry. My arms outstretched in front of me holding my pistol. It all happened in seconds. All four began to turn in my direction. The index finger on my right hand applied pressure on the trigger twice in quick succession as I aimed at the man closest to me. The shots cut through the air and echoed around the gorge. Before my first victim even fell, I turned my weapon toward Rostami, whom I saw from the corner of eye was reaching for a pistol. I fired into his upper body twice. His body convulsed and as he began to fall, I turned my attention toward the third man. But I could see neither him nor Guy! I ran round toward the other side of their vehicle to see the third man lying on the ground dead, Guy astride his body - from which he was retrieving his knife dripping in blood. I went back and examined the other two bodies. They were both quite dead. We dragged each corpse one at a time, off the road and concealed them. When it came to Rostami’s corpse I couldn’t help feeling a little triumphal; from being Rostami’s interrogatee to being his assassin, all in the same morning. I felt no remorse at his slaying. He was responsible for killing multitudes, for what would not be considered “crimes” in any free and civilised nation. I was feeling exultant at my kills, doused as I was in my own sweat of exhilaration, fuelled by the elixir of adrenaline. Consequently, I was overcome with that primeval urge to mate after killing - but with no wench to hand I had to abandon such notions.

We got in their 4WD. I drove and turned around in the direction of Iran and accelerated away. My mouth felt particularly dry – it seemed killing inspired a thirst.

“It seems they
’ve heard about the base,” I suggested.

“Most probably,” said Guy rather reluctant to speak.

It was now fully daylight and sunny. We turned off the Pass and onto the Highway to Iran. In the distance were two 4WD’s coming towards us. As these vehicles approached, Guy bent forward so they would not see him. They sped past us at great speed, both filled with Revolutionary Guard rushing to the base. I looked into the rear view mirror and saw them disappearing behind me.

A moment later I looked into the mirror; and suddenly in the distance saw a vehicle coming up behind us. It could only have been one of the 4WD’s that had just past. They could not have reached the Haidar Gorge yet, which could only mean one thing - their suspicions had been aroused; and believing something was wrong they had turned around and come in pursuit. On seeing this, Guy undid his seat belt and reached in to the back and grabbed a machine gun and undid the safety catch. I put my foot down and we sped on. Our pursuers were getting closer. Guy kept a check on their progress.

“Go as fast as you dare. If and when their comfortably within range I’ll shoot them off the road,” he announced grimly.

I nodded and looked at my rear view mirror - they were barely 100 metres away. Their headlights were flashing at us and their heads and arms were stuck out of the windows, gesturing frantically for us to stop. As we hurtled along at speed Guy suddenly pointed the machine gun at our pursuers, down the middle of our vehicle, between his seat and mine. I then heard the deafening rattle of machine gun fire from my immediate right. Our rear windscreen was obliterated as Guy shot through it. Everything abruptly became deafeningly loud as I was exposed to the machine gun and the sound of the wind. Despite this I concentrated as best I could on my driving, for we were travelling at nearly 80 miles an hour and glanced at the rear view mirror. He sprayed them with several bursts of gunfire; they must have been taken by surprise, for they barely returned any fire. In an instant I heard a screeching sound. Our pursuer’s windscreen was riddled with bullet marks; the front left hand tyre had burst and was now being shredded and they were slowing down as evinced by the fact that we were now gaining on them. Guy ceased firing and resumed his seat and discarded the spent magazine before attaching a new one to the machine gun. I brought my eyes back to the road and then back up to the mirror. Just at that moment I saw the driver slump forward and the 4WD swung off the road - at such speed that it overshot the incline and landed on its nose. As it did so it somersaulted over once, before rolling violently on its left side thrice, disintegrating as it did so, before coming to a halt. I brought my eyes back to the road and slowed down a little - now that this immediate threat had passed. Just then there was a flash of light and a loud bang behind us, which caused me to wince.

“They won’t be troubling us any further,” said Guy calmly as he turned to look ahead.

I slowed the car right down and craned my neck round to see what had finally become of our pursuers. The 4WD was now consumed in a fireball - its fuel tank had exploded. I could feel the heat in the air as I looked out of my driver’s window. As I watched, my arm raised to shield my face, another explosion took place – causing parts of the vehicle to be flung into the air. No one could survive such an inferno. Contented, I turned to look ahead and accelerated away again.

“Good shooting Guy,” I said, breaking into a laugh to relieve the tension.

“I’ve won prizes for my marksmanship,” he replied with a mixture of nonchalance and pride.

“I don’t doubt it,” I said smiling.

A moment later I saw the turn off for the minor road on the right leading to the Guest House. I explained to Guy, that that was where I had been taken and from where I had escaped. I glanced to my right as we sped past, in order to get one final look at it. Barely a minute after we had past I noted in the distance two vehicles in front of us, also headed to the border. The vehicle in the front was another one of the 4WDs so favoured by the Persians; whilst the vehicle behind it and nearer to us was a black car. As we got closer, any doubts I had were dispelled, for this black car was a Mercedes – Zhukov’s black Mercedes.

CHAPTER 29 – SLAUGHTER AND RESCUE.

I was
so relieved at the prospect of leaving Azakistan and returning home, that all thoughts of Zhukov and his goons had completely slipped my mind. The presence of his car taunted me to stay true to my word and get “justice” for Andrew. In these lawless parts that amounted to me being Zhukov’s judge and executioner. I kept a constant distance to the vehicles in front and didn’t get too close.

“Zhukov is in that black Mercedes up ahead,” I declared, “I saw Zhukov getting in to that car after that meeting I told you about, it was also parked at the Guest House where I was detained. They must have heard about the blasts and decided to leave.”

“Assuming you’re right, what do you propose?” asked Guy intrigued.

There was a silence as I pondered for a moment and bit my lip. I looked in the rear view mirror – there was nothing behind us. I turned to Guy who was sitting on my right, “Given half a chance I intend to kill him,” I said with conviction.

Perhaps being half starved, sleep deprived and having people trying to kill me in the wastes this country had finally taken its toll on my ability to rhyme and reason - for I had no idea how I was to achieve my goal.

Just then the vehicles up ahead were pulling over and stopping for no apparent reason.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Collingwood,” stammered Guy.

“Keep your wits about you Guy,” was the best response I could muster, whatever that meant. I drew up slowly and stopped behind the Black Mercedes and the 4WD. We stayed in our vehicle, for a Persian had got out from the 4WD, seemingly unarmed and was walking past the Mercedes and up to my door. I looked over anxiously to Guy, for he spoke Farsi. I placed the cloth that Guy had given me earlier over my head quickly and wrapped it over my mouth. This Persian would think it damn odd that this 4WD was occupied by two strangers, especially if he knew this to be Rostami’s vehicle. I gulped and felt a knot in my stomach. I wound down my window on his approach at which point Guy leaned in my direction in order to speak to him. In my apprehension, I avoided eye contact with him. The man stooped down to the window and started speaking. Guy looked at him engagingly. Their conversation alternated between them for a moment. The man then bid us farewell and as he did so I glanced in his direction – I recognised him! He was my jailer and the guard who had been sleeping by the main door, whom I had decided not to kill. How had I not recognised him earlier? When you’ve seen as many of these people as I’d done, they all begin to merge into one. Lord knows I’d endured a surfeit of Persians!