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THIRTEEN
“There are onlytwo border crossings into Oman,” Four explained. “But you’re not near either of them. You’re too far north. You’re in the freaking Empty Quarter, Asher.”
The Empty Quarter. Great.
“We’re on some kind of road,” Asher said. “Except it’s not a road. It’s sand. I think we’re in an old ravine; there are walls either side of us. They could be big fucking dunes. I can’t tell. We’re in the middle of the fucking desert. And it’s pitch black.”
“Keep driving. Do not stop. I don’t know if you’ll come to a fence of some kind or if it will be manned. But if you have headlights on, they’ll know you’re coming.”
Fuck.
“You couldn’t be in a worse part of a worse country,” Four murmured, panicked, urgent. “There are roadblocks, checkpoints, that are not military. That entire region is run by rebels. And they will not mess around, Asher. You need to get across that border.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“How much cash do you have?”
Asher looked to Harry. “How much cash do we have?”
“About 50K. Give or take. Mostly euros and American dollars.” He was glaring out the windscreen, into the dark, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, concentrating. “We gonna buy our way through?”
Asher shrugged. He tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder so he could use his hands and he emptied Harry’s backpack. He stuffed everything under his seat; bundles of cash, his toiletry bag, passports, and Harry’s other pistol, ammunition. “Maybe. Better than shooting. It’s not an official crossing point. I don’t know if there’ll even be a point of entry. Or if there’ll be one guard or a whole rebel squadron.”
Asher could hear Four typing away frantically. “I’m seeing what I can find out,” he mumbled. “Okay, I can’t see any kind of road on the Yemen side, but there’s an unsealed road on the Oman side of the border. You’re heading toward it. I can’t see any kind of compound or fence. Satellite imagery of Yemen is non-existent.”
Harry glanced up to the rear-view mirror. “Ah, fuck. We got company on our six. Coming fast. One set of headlights. Looks high, a four-wheel drive, maybe.”
“I have to go,” Asher said into the phone.
“You better call me back in ten minutes, Asher Garin, or so help me God.”
Asher disconnected the call and turned in his seat. He reached through to the back and unzipped his duffle bag and pulled out his MP7. “Hello, pretty baby,” he said.
“Christ,” Harry mumbled. “You always talk to your guns like that?” He was driving fast, but the vehicle behind them was coming faster. Then he saw what kind of gun Asher had. “What the fuck is that?”
“Just you worry about driving and not running us off some embankment.” He clipped in the mag and loaded one round into the chamber. Then he rolled down his window, hung backwards out it, bracing himself against the door frame with his foot on the backrest of his seat.
Asher saw the muzzle flash behind them before he heard the thud and metal ting of a bullet hitting their car. And then another. Harry ducked instinctively. “Asher,” he yelled. “Jesus. Get in the fucking car.”
Asher lined up the sight. The cool press of metal against his skin was always a familiar comfort. Even when he was perched backwards out of a moving car being shot at. He fired three rounds. “Tyre. Tyre. Engine block.”
The vehicle behind them veered off the road into a sandbank and an abrupt stop.
Asher righted himself back into his seat, grinning at Harry. He was buzzing! “That was fun!”
Harry shook his head. “You’re insane.” But after a few seconds, a smile won out. “That was some pretty good shooting.”
“Not as good as your four clean headshots,” Asher allowed.
“It was five. And you took out a car.”
“Because it was a bigger target,” Asher said. “Moving at eighty kilometres an hour, in the desert, at night. While hanging out of the window. Backwards. And if I shot the shooter or the driver, they could still keep coming. Take out the car, they’re not going anywhere for a while. So, you’re welcome.”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Might wanna put yourpretty babyaway. There’s something up ahead.” He squinted out the windshield, slowing the car down.
“More reason to keep it out.”
What Harry had seen up ahead turned out to be one burned-out truck on its side, then another and another, placed in such a way any vehicle wishing to pass had to slow right down to zigzag through.
