Deadfall: Agent 21 (7 page)

‘Where does she think you are now?’ Zak asked.

Malcolm shrugged. ‘Dead, I suppose.’

Zak felt a pang. He also had a cousin who he’d been close to, before ‘all this’. Her name was Ellie, and she too thought Zak was dead. It struck him that he and Malcolm were more alike than he’d previously thought.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, and the two boys fell silent.

The African continent slipped away beneath them. Zak slept a while. He needed it. When he awoke, a quick time check told him he’d been in the air for five hours. They had flown right over Angola, where he had faced Cruz once before, and he had missed it. Malcolm still had his eyes closed. There was a vast expanse of shimmering sea to the west, and the setting sun had stained the sky a streaky salmon pink. And they were losing height.

‘Where are we now?’ Zak asked.

‘Cameroon,’ answered Raf.

‘Shouldn’t we be refuelling soon?’

A flicker of a smile crossed Raf’s lips. ‘Funny you should mention that,’ he said. As he spoke, Zak felt his stomach go as the plane lost more height. It was clear that Raf was planning to bring the aircraft in to land.

Zak peered at the terrain ahead, squinting through his shades. ‘I don’t see a runway,’ he said.

‘Who said anything about a runway?’ Raf asked.

‘I thought . . .’

‘There’s every chance,’ Gabs said, ‘that official landing strips will be policed. We’ve violated the airspace of about five countries so far, and we don’t have any kind of documentation. A bribe would probably get us out of any sticky situation, but let’s
not risk a run-in with the Cameroonian authorities. After all, we’re just passing through, right?’

‘I still don’t understand. If we’re not going to get petrol at an airfield, where are we going to get some?’

‘Same place you normally go,’ Raf said. ‘A petrol station. We just need to find one.’

They couldn’t be higher than a thousand feet now. The terrain below was dry, withered brush. About 500 metres to the north there was a road of sorts, heading from east to west, but Zak couldn’t see any vehicles. Raf suddenly banked steeply and the Cessna swerved to the east.

They continued to lose height until they were no more than 100 feet from the ground.

‘I saw a village along here,’ Raf said. ‘And where there’s a village, chances are there’ll be a . . .’ He paused and squinted. ‘Bingo,’ he said.

At first, Zak couldn’t see what Raf was referring to. The plane was fifty feet from the ground when he spotted it: something up ahead – a low concrete building set back a few metres from the side of the road.

‘Hold on,’ Raf said. ‘This could be bumpy.’

The Cessna hit the ground ten seconds later, then bounced back up into the air before hitting the earth again. Malcolm was awake now and Zak could sense
him tensing up as the aircraft juddered and rumbled to a halt outside the concrete building.

There was a tree at the front of the building. Three African men had been sitting underneath it, sheltering from the evening sun. They wore no shoes or tops, their trousers were rolled up above their ankles, and one of them wore a floppy-brimmed hat. Now they were standing, staring at each other in astonishment. Ten metres from their position, between the tree and the building, was a very old petrol pump.

Raf killed the engine.

‘There’s a rifle leaning up against the tree,’ Gabs observed quietly.

‘Got it,’ said Raf.

Two of the men were venturing towards them, their faces creased with astonishment at this new arrival. One of them – the guy with the hat – hung back by the tree.

‘Zak, stay with Malcolm. Gabs and I can deal with this.’

Zak didn’t argue, but he did find his eye lingering on the guy under the tree. He knew Raf and Gabs would have their eye on him, though.

His two Guardian Angels stepped out of the plane, one from either side, leaving the doors open. Raf put one hand into the back pocket of his jeans
and held up a wad of American dollars. That got the men’s attention. Their faces broke out into broad grins and one of them pointed at the petrol pump, then at the Cessna. He understood what they wanted.

Raf spoke with them for maybe thirty seconds, then he and Gabs returned to the plane.

‘We need to move it closer to the pump,’ Raf said. He started the Cessna’s engine and the aircraft trundled off the road towards the pump, where one of the two attendants started filling it with fuel.

Raf stepped out again and started handing money to the second attendant. All Zak’s attention was on the guy with the hat, however. He had stepped casually up to the tree, and was now slinging the rifle over his neck. Zak felt he knew what the man was thinking: that with a few squeezes of the trigger he could earn himself not only the money Raf had offered, but an entire aircraft.

‘Gabs,’ Zak warned.

‘I know, sweetie. I’m on it.’

‘He’s got a gun,’ Malcolm breathed.

Gabs bent down slightly and felt underneath her seat. She pulled something out and laid it on her lap.

‘So have I,’ she said.

It was a flare gun, about twice the size of a regular handgun, and half as deadly as the AK-47
assault rifle that the man was now brandishing as he shouted at them. His two companions looked over their shoulders and identical expressions crossed their faces – they were torn between selling Raf their petrol and going all in with their mate.

Neither of them seemed to notice Gabs slip out of the plane, clutching the flare gun out of view behind her back.

Bang!
The gunman fired a shot into the air. A flock of birds rose up out of the trees and Malcolm started violently. Zak grabbed his arm to reassure him, but Malcolm pulled it away.

Having not got the reaction he wanted, the gunman sneered at Raf, aiming his rifle at him. But he paid no attention to Gabs. He clearly thought he had nothing to fear from a woman.

That was his big mistake.

As Raf held up his hands, Gabs skirted round the little group. The gunman’s eyes flickered towards her as though she was a mild irritation, but he kept his focus – and his gun – on Raf.

Until Gabs was five metres away.

With a sudden, lightning-fast movement, she aimed the flare gun – not at the gunman’s head or chest, but at his feet. There was a massive whooshing sound as she fired the flare into the hard ground,
and a burst of light and smoke that made Zak clench his eyes shut.

It was only ten seconds later, when the smoke had cleared, that he was able to take stock of the situation again. The gunman was face down on the ground. He didn’t seem to be hurt, but Gabs had relieved him of his weapon and was now holding
him
at gunpoint.

Raf was talking urgently to the other two attendants. They nodded vigorously, clearly eager to do what he said, and continued to fill the plane with fuel, while casting occasional terrified glances at the grim-faced Gabs.

‘Does she do that sort of thing a lot?’ Malcolm asked in a slightly awed voice.

‘Yeah,’ Zak nodded. He was sweating profusely with the tension. ‘Quite a lot.’

‘Why didn’t she just kill him?’

Zak turned to look at his companion. ‘Why kill someone,’ he asked, ‘when you don’t have to?’

Malcolm looked confused, and Zak had to remind himself once more that he wasn’t like other people.

Five minutes later, the refuelling was complete. Zak and Malcolm watched as Gabs forced the gunman to walk away from the plane with his hands on his head. Ten metres. Twenty metres. Thirty. He was
clearly happy to keep walking, and he kept on going of his own accord as Gabs returned to the plane, the rifle still in her hands. Raf paid the attendants the remainder of the money, then climbed back into the pilot’s seat.

Malcolm looked even more confused. ‘Why did he still pay them the money?’ he asked Zak. ‘We’ve got a gun.’

A dark look crossed Raf’s face. ‘We’re not thieves,’ he said. ‘And these people have next to nothing.’ He started up the engine. ‘You’re a clever guy, Malcolm, but you’ve got a lot to learn about the world. Maybe this is a good place to start.’

As the Cessna reversed, Zak saw Malcolm’s forehead crease. He looked confused. Maybe a bit embarrassed. Like a kid who had been told off at school.

The Cessna turned in a wide circle, then started to gather speed, bumping and jolting along the dry, stony road. After twenty seconds, Raf pulled back gently on the yoke and the plane lifted into the air, then banked again towards the north.

Twilight was falling over Africa. The harsh ground seemed softer, somehow. As they continued to climb, Zak stared out with a kind of wonder. In a patch of ground dotted with trees perhaps 750 metres to the west, he saw a herd of some kind of
animal thundering across the plain. They looked strangely human. Baboons, perhaps? He couldn’t quite tell, and was about to ask Gabs what she thought when his daydream was broken by the crackling of the radio bursting into life again.

A few seconds of interference. Then Zak instantly recognized Michael’s voice.

‘
Raf, do you copy?
’

‘Go ahead,’ Raf said calmly.

‘
Have you refuelled?
’

‘Roger that.’

‘
Any problems?
’

‘Nothing we couldn’t deal with.’

‘
Good. Listen carefully. The Martinez aircraft has changed direction
.’

‘What do you mean? He’s not heading for Senegal any more?’

‘
Oh, he’s heading for Senegal all right. Just not Dakar. Can Zak hear me?
’

‘Loud and clear,’ said Zak.

‘
Cruz’s father had drugs processing plants in the Mexican jungle, right?
’

Zak remembered very well a day he’d spent at such a place. He had only known Cruz for a couple of days at the time, and they had been friends back then.

‘Right.’

‘
Well, guess what. If our intel is correct, Cruz has just landed in a remote area of tropical rainforest in the south of Senegal, about fifty miles from the Gambian border. I rather doubt he’s heading there on holiday. You need to follow him
.’

Zak, Raf and Gabs all smiled at Michael’s sudden change of tune.

‘
It’s going to be a tight landing, Raphael. They’ve set down in a small deforested stretch about a hundred metres long. It’s the only place to land for about fifty miles around, and it’ll be dark by the time you get there. Are you up to the job?
’

Raf thought for a moment. Then he turned to Gabs. ‘We’ve got parachutes, right?’

‘Right.’

‘Can you tandem in with Zak?’

She looked over her shoulder. ‘What do you say, Zak? Fancy a night jump? I promise not to get you caught in the jungle canopy.’

Zak couldn’t help feeling a twist of anxiety. He’d never parachuted before, and this was hardly the time and place for a beginner.

‘What about . . .’ He almost said the word ‘Malcolm’ but stopped himself just in time. He nodded, but the decision was already made.

‘Send me the coordinates,’ Raf spoke into the radio. ‘We’re on our way now.’

Night had fallen. The moon was full – a huge milky disc to the south – but it didn’t give them much light to see by. Zak could only make out the geography of the continent below from occasional clusters of twinkling lights. Tiny villages, larger cities, roads and, occasionally, rivers passed beneath them. Many of the smaller settlements did not even register on Raf’s GPS screen, which glowed dimly in the darkness.

At Gabs’s instruction, both Zak and Malcolm had felt underneath their seats. Under Zak’s seat was a freefall parachute, and also a small emergency survival tin. Zak checked its contents: a new cigarette lighter, waterproof matches, a couple of
pieces of magnesium strip, two candle stubs cut down to an inch, sticking plasters and antiseptic wipes, a roll of gaffer tape, a long reel of fishing twine – all in a watertight metal tin about 5cm by 10cm. The items under Malcolm’s seat were bulkier: a long coil of thin, tough rope; a six-inch knife with a broad blade; a Leica spotting scope for observing things in the distance; a notebook and pencil. Zak scooped it all up and loaded it into his rucksack.

‘We’re about ninety minutes away,’ Raf said quietly.

Gabs looked over her shoulder at Zak. ‘OK, sweetie,’ she said. ‘Listen carefully. The reason we need to parachute in is that Raf can’t possibly land this plane during the hours of darkness without any visual on this tiny landing strip. We’ll need to light some fires to indicate where he has to set the aircraft down.’

‘And you’ll need to do it quickly,’ Raf added. ‘We’ve barely got enough fuel as it is. I won’t be able to circle for long.’

‘I’ll be wearing the chute,’ Gabs continued. ‘You’ll be strapped to my front, facing forward. Raf’s going to get us to about two thousand feet above the canopy, then we’re going to hop and pop.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Hop out of the plane and pop the chute
immediately. We’ll be too low to allow ourselves any freefall. Raf, what’s the wind state?’

‘We’ve got a stiff south-westerly. It’ll probably change as we lose height. I’ll keep you posted.’

‘We’ll need to take that into account as we jump. But otherwise, Raf will try and get us directly over the coordinates of the landing zone. You OK with all that?’

‘I guess so,’ said Zak.

In truth, there was an urgent question in his mind. Why didn’t Gabs parachute in by herself? Was it just because they needed to build these signalling fires quickly? Or was there something more to it than that? Raf was clearly about to attempt a very dangerous landing – at night time, and into an area not designed for landing planes. Nobody had said as much, but there was a high risk of injury, even death. Were his Guardian Angels planning for that eventuality? It wasn’t just that they’d never get Malcolm to jump out of a plane. Had they silently made the decision that in the event of an accident, Zak’s strange friend was the least important member of their group?

He glanced sideways at his companion. Malcolm looked nervous. But then, he’d looked nervous since the moment he’d set eyes on the plane. Perhaps he hadn’t had the same thoughts as Zak.