Personal Assistance (Entangled Ignite) (6 page)

“He’s going to Bani Hatwah,” she whispered. A visual of Bani Hatwah written on the map popped into her mind. It was a tiny village, a thumbnail’s distance south of Syman City. The woman sitting in the passenger seat looked impatiently at her husband.

“That’s good enough. Ask him for a lift. Tell him I’ll pay.”

“Okay.” She relayed the information to the driver, a slightly paunchy man of about sixty with a beard and a turban. At first he looked about to refuse, then he heard the word “pay.” Money was essential during a crisis. Banks were often closed or unavailable; the cost of goods went up as demand multiplied.

“How much?” he asked.

“I’ll give him a hundred dollars,” Tom said, not bothering to wait for her to translate as he pulled the notes out of his pocket. He must have anticipated this.

At the sight of the money, the wife nudged him eagerly. Reluctantly, the driver signaled for them to get in. He shook his head at the gun, though, and said he didn’t want to be caught harboring rebels.

Tom nodded in understanding. “You get in,” he said to Hannah, opening the back door for her. Two faces stared up at them—a wrinkled woman in a
burka
, and a young girl of about fourteen, in jeans and a pink T-shirt with sequins on the front. Both had the same anxious brown eyes and pale, scared faces. Despite the age difference, it was clear they were related. Hannah smiled reassuringly, but it did little good. They both continued to stare at her with something close to terror.

Then Tom did the strangest thing. He dropped down onto his back and rolled under the car. There was a metallic clunk, and she guessed he was securing his weapons to the car’s undercarriage. It took all of ten seconds, and he was back on his feet again, dusting himself off as if nothing had happened.

The driver, tight lipped, said nothing. Then the wife got into the back and Tom climbed into the passenger seat in the front. It would have looked odd with Tom riding in the back with the women and right now, it was essential to appear like a normal family.

Tom nodded to the driver, who pulled out into the slow-moving traffic again, directly toward the roadblock.

Hannah studied the back of Tom’s neck to keep from panicking. His muscles were taut, but as always, he seemed completely composed. He endured high-stress situations such as this on a daily basis, while she was shaking like a leaf and trying desperately not to overreact and give the game away.

There were five cars ahead of them.

Directly in front were the two businessmen. In front of that was a pickup loaded with men sitting awkwardly on top of what appeared to be long, meter-wide planks of wood. They were dressed as construction workers.

“Overtake this car,” said Tom. The driver frowned, momentarily confused, but then complied. He slid into the outside lane and reentered the stream behind the pickup truck. He held up a hand to apologize to the Mercedes driver who, not appreciating being cut off, honked his horn.

“Why did you do that?” she snarled around the headrest. “Are you trying to attract attention?”

“There’s something suspicious about those guys,” he whispered back, jutting his chin toward the vehicle in front of them. “They could be a diversion.”

Hannah stared at the men in the pickup. They appeared to be normal construction workers to her.

Three cars away.

She focused on her breathing, channeling her yoga instructor at the compound.
Extend your breath. Feel the life force moving through your body. Take the breath inside. Retain. Release.

Two cars…

Then the pickup was pulled over, and the checkpoint officers made the men get out and line up along the side of the road. Their driver got out and gesticulated madly to the soldiers in charge, pointing at the boards he had to deliver, then to his watch.

One of the soldiers held him at a standpoint with his weapon, while his colleague inspected the rest of the men. He walked down the line studying each of their faces. Without warning, the worker second-to-last in line made a run for it. He darted off into the open land beside the road, zigzagging over the dusty terrain. He didn’t get far. Within seconds, the soldier guarding the driver raised his weapon and fired. The running man fell to the ground and lay still.

“They shot him!” She couldn’t believe what she’d just witnessed. If they could kill a man in cold blood for running at a checkpoint, what would they do to her—a woman wanted for treason?

The old woman looked shaken, and the teenager had her fingers stuffed into her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Tom’s face tightened, the muscles on the side of his jaw tensed. “I thought there was something suspicious about them.”

“How did you know?” She stared out of the window as two more soldiers appeared and together they dragged the dead man’s body back to the roadblock where they dumped it in a waiting prison van.

“I saw that guy jump into the truck at the traffic light, and I thought it was a bit strange, that’s all. I suspected he was doing what we were trying to do. Be anonymous.”

“It didn’t work,” she murmured, her gut wrenching with anxiety. Would it work for them? The shooter guided the rest of the construction crew into the van along with their associate’s dead body. That left one remaining soldier guarding the checkpoint.

Their sedan was next. The driver, drawn and pale, pulled off the road as instructed. Hannah thought about the rifle under the car. Then the dead man.
Please let us get through
, she prayed.

The soldier stared through the front window. His gaze roamed over the driver and then Tom. His eyes narrowed slightly.

“Family?” he asked the driver, in Arabic.

“My son-in-law,” the driver replied. Tom nodded but didn’t speak.

Would the soldier know they were lying?

Moving to the back of the car, the soldier tapped on the window and signaled for Hannah to roll it down. The window was old and dirty, and squeaked as she opened it. The soldier stared inside.

The teenager whimpered next to her. The girl was quivering uncontrollably. Alarmed, Hannah met Tom’s eyes in the side mirror. It wouldn’t do to have the girl erupt in hysterics and create a scene. As if reading her mind, he gave an imperceptible nod. She put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and squeezed reassuringly. The old woman and the driver’s wife sat as if turned to stone. Hannah felt the soldier’s gaze pass over them. Hopefully he’d think the hug was a sisterly gesture.

After what seemed an eternity, he gave a satisfied snort and stepped back from the vehicle. He waved them on, his eyes already on the next car in line.

They were through.

Chapter Five

The driver of the sedan dropped them off on a straight stretch of highway about twenty minutes after the checkpoint. He switched off the engine while Tom retrieved his weapon from underneath the car. Once Tom was in the clear, the driver wasted no time in accelerating back onto the road, his tires kicking up dusty stones behind him.

Hannah looked around her. The landscape was barren and gravelly, with hardly any vegetation to speak of. What was worse was it seemed to extend for miles in every direction, with no buildings or cover in sight. “How far from the base are we?”

“I’d estimate about three or four miles.” Tom glanced at his watch and up at the skyline. “We have less than three hours to get there before the sandstorm hits.”

That ought to be enough time. She couldn’t see any sign of a sandstorm, just lots of pale blue sky. Not that she’d know what to look for. In her few short months in Syman, she’d only ever left the compound with Prince Hakeem or his entourage, and they’d always been transported from one hotel to another in armored cars, usually along the exotic coastline. The interior of the island kingdom was a mystery to her.

“Which way?”

“East.”

The noon sun shone directly down on them. Tom set off, angling toward the right, his boots crunching on the gravelly sand as he walked. Hannah marched along next to him, boiling in her full-length garments. Black was the most inappropriate color to use for clothing in this climate.

With every mile, she felt more and more hopeful. They hadn’t come across anyone since they’d set off an hour ago. Straining her eyes, she thought she could see something shimmering up ahead. “Is that it?” she asked, jubilantly.

“That’s it,” he confirmed, squinting into the sun.

They picked up the pace. One of Tom’s long strides equaled two of hers, but she hardly noticed her aching feet or the sweat pouring off her face. All she could think about was getting on that plane out of Syman and back to England where she’d be safe.

As they got closer, she realized it wasn’t glass, but a long, flat hangar made of corrugated iron shimmering in the sunlight. A short runway stretched out in front, the tarmac an oily black against the relentlessly beige surroundings. The perimeter was marked by a high electric fence, designed to look as unapproachable as possible.

Now the end was in sight, she could scarcely contain her excitement. She glanced at Tom’s face. “Why so serious? We made it with time to spare.”

“We’re not in the clear yet,” he muttered, his eyes following the perimeter around to the entrance on the far side of the base. A guard tower, presumably manned by soldiers with guns, overlooked heavy-duty wrought iron gates. Two flags flew from poles on either side.

“As good as,” replied Hannah, a wide smile on her face. She tugged his arm. “Come on, let’s go introduce ourselves.”

Tom held up a hand. “Wait. I need to check it out first. We can’t just waltz in unannounced. Have you seen all this security?”

“Yes, but we’re the good guys, remember?” There was such a thing as being overly cautious. “They’ll be overjoyed to see us.”

“I’m not so sure.” He looked around them. “Wait behind those dunes over there. It’ll offer some degree of coverage from the base. I’ll be right back.”

“But why? I don’t see…”

She sighed in frustration as Tom, shooing her toward the dunes, walked toward a cluster of outbuildings a few hundred meters from the base, outside the electric fencing. He held his gun at the ready, as if he expected trouble. She couldn’t fathom what trouble there would be here. This was a UN Air Force base.

But if that’s the way he wanted to play it, fine. What harm could it do? A few more minutes wouldn’t matter.

A slight breeze had picked up, but she relished the coolness after their strenuous hike across the desert. Four miles wasn’t far, but in the grueling heat and with only a few moments rest here and there, it felt more like ten.

She sat down behind one of the dunes and sipped from her water bottle, mentally counting off the minutes until he returned. Except twenty minutes later she was still counting.

Where the hell was he? Had something happened?

There was no movement in the direction of the outbuildings, other than the fine grains of sand whizzing over the ground. The breeze had increased, and the dunes had become more of a hindrance than a refuge. Thousands of tiny sand particles bounced up into her face, stinging her cheeks and lips. Enough was enough. Tom could be having a conversation with someone inside the base, while she was battling the elements outside.

She got up and walked determinedly over to the outbuildings. First, she’d look for him there, and if she couldn’t find him, she’d walk around to the main entrance to the Air Force base and say hello. There was no way she was battling a sandstorm alone out here, when she could be safely inside.

The outbuildings seemed deserted. She poked her head inside the first hut, which was little more than a concrete block. What it was used for she had no idea. Storage would be her first guess.

She moved on to the second, and that was when she saw it—a man lying motionless on the ground. It wasn’t Tom; the body was the wrong shape. This man was too slender to be the burly soldier. Relieved, she let out a shaky breath. That meant one thing: He’d been here. This was his doing.

Slowly, without making a sound, she bent down and picked up a fist-sized rock, which she held at the ready in her hand. There was no sign of Tom in the second building, either. She was about to emerge onto the side facing the Air Force base when she felt the cold nuzzle of a gun pressed against her temple.

“Get down on the ground.” A voice ordered in Arabic.

She couldn’t move. She stood frozen to the spot.

“I said get down!”

Shakily, she fell to her knees.

No. Not now. Not when they’d come this far.

A military airplane sat on the runway, just beyond the fence, being prepped for takeoff. It was so close. With a sob, she realized she’d never get on that plane now.

The soldier pushed her roughly to the ground. She landed on her stomach with a grunt as the abrupt fall swept the air from her lungs. The stone she’d been holding in her hand rolled away, useless. The soldier lowered his weapon so he could tie her hands behind her back.

“Leave her alone, and put your hands where I can see them.”

She nearly wept with joy at hearing those words.

“Tom,” she whispered. He’d found her. Just in time, too. She turned her head to the side, choking on the plumes of dust that were swirling around her.

But instead of complying, the savvy young soldier pulled her violently to her feet. She stumbled backward but found herself flush against his body. He had an arm round her neck and his rifle under her chin.

“Move and she dies.”

Her body went cold. This was not how she had planned to go. Her eyes sought out Tom’s, and what she saw filled her with terror. He wasn’t about to back down. Not even an inch.

With steady hands, he pointed the rifle at her captor’s head. He didn’t glance at her once. His focus was 100 percent on the man holding her.

Would he attempt to shoot the guy from there? What if he missed? The bullet would surely hit her, which was not a pleasant prospect. No one wants to die with their face being blown apart.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

“You don’t want to do that,” Tom said casually. “She’s wanted by Anwar Abdul. There’s a price on her head.”

The soldier may not have understood everything Tom said, but he certainly recognized the name Anwar Abdul. His eyes widened, and he hesitated for a split second. But it was all the time Tom needed. He pulled the trigger. The bullet entered the man’s forehead dead center, and the look of hesitation turned to one of disbelief as he realized he’d been shot. In what seemed like slow motion, the man crumpled to his knees and then slumped forward, onto the dusty ground.

…

Tom ran forward and caught Hannah just as her knees buckled. She was shivering uncontrollably. He lowered her gently down. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe.”

Her hands gripped his shirt, and he could see she was trying desperately not to cry, but in the end the emotions were too strong. Her lip trembled, and the tears that were welling up in her eyes flowed down her face. She buried her head in his shoulder, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it. I got such a fright.”

He cradled her with his one arm, while his other rubbed her back. “It’s over now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank God you came in when you did. He was going to shoot me.” A violent tremble shook her body.

He tightened his grip, drawing her against him. “I had you covered,” he said, quietly. “As soon as you entered the first outbuilding, I knew you were there.”

“But how?” She raised her large, glassy eyes up to his face. He wanted to wipe the tears away, but he resisted. Just holding her like this was dangerous.

“I’m always watching; you know that.”

“Watching me?”

“Of course.” She was his duty. He had to watch her and watch everything around them to make sure she got on that plane safely. He’d seen her walk toward the outbuildings, and he knew there was a second hostile patrolling the area. He was hoping to take him out before she got there, but he was seconds too late. Luckily, not fatally.

“Tom,” she whispered softly. He read the message in her eyes. It was a need to be held, to be comforted, as well as something else…something more…

It was that something else that made him drop his head so he could feel her breath on his lips, ragged and uneven. It would be so easy to kiss her right now, and boy, did he want to. Her huge brown eyes gazed into his, watching, waiting to see what he’d do.

Feeling her desire pulling him toward her, he touched his lips to hers. They were as soft and lush as he had imagined. Her hand snaked up around his neck and buried into his hair. He felt a surge of emotion and fought the urge to delve into her and devour her mouth with his.

Then the airplane on the runway turned on its massive engines. The initial drone escalated to a loud wail as the engines reached their capacity. Hannah hesitated, her hand still in his hair, but Tom’s training made him jerk his head up and fix his eyes on the base.

“Things are happening,” he said. “Come on. I need to show you something.”

He gently disentangled himself and got up, then pulled her to her feet and pretended not to notice the disappointment in her eyes. It was just as well. He couldn’t afford distractions. Too much depended on him getting her out of Syman. Her safety, and indeed that of the whole of Syman, rested with him. By getting involved, he was compromising everything. Look at what had happened in Afghanistan when he’d let his guard down. He’d lost his entire team. No. He must stay focused. Complete the mission.

He led her to some thorn bushes growing alongside the perimeter fence. They bent down behind the sparse leaves that didn’t offer much in the way of coverage. It didn’t matter, though, because nobody knew they were there. The missing guards’ bodies would not be found for at least an hour, until the next shift.

“See over there?” He pointed to the hangar where men were busy unloading boxes from a military truck. “Those are not UN Peacekeeping forces. That’s the Symanian Army.”

“What? What are you saying?” She squinted into the distance. “How can you tell?”

“Look carefully. The boxes have the royal insignia on them. The men are wearing maroon berets, not the navy blue of the UN Peacekeepers. The entrance is heavily guarded, which is not unusual, except the guards have Russian-made AK-47 assault rifles, not the UN Peacekeeping force’s standard-issue rifles. They’re also wearing Symanian Special Forces vests and body armor over their uniforms, not the dark blue body armor of the Peacekeeping troops. Plus, if you look closely, you can see the Symanian flag flying above the gate.”

He saw her gaze flit from the truck, to the gate, and then to the flagpole. With a strangled sob, she whispered, “We’re not getting out of here, are we?”

He shook his head. “No.”