The Collectors - Book Four: Diamonds and Sand (The Collectors Series 4) (24 page)

“An AK might
be useful,” said Bear.

Amadou
sauntered towards the nearest man, picked the AK from the earth and checked the magazine. “Half full. It’ll have to do.”

Bear grabbed it and without a word made his exit.

“Weapons,” said Petros.

Amadou collected one other AK and a pistol. “Ammunition?” he shouted.

Gaddafi’s man answered.

“This is it,” said Amadou.

“Great, five men half dead who couldn’t give a shit and weapons with almost no ammo,” said Petros.

“ZZ, grab the pistol and stay with me,” said Akeem.

Petros retrieved the remaining AK and removed the magazine. “Seven rounds. What about Gaddafi’s man?”

Amadou
repeated the procedure. “Three.”

“Not much but better than
fuck-all. We wait for Bear.”

***

Bear climbed the remains of a square stone tower. This gave him a full three-sixty-degree observation post. The empty desert stretched in every direction, its surface rough with rocks and boulders of differing sizes. What a place to live, he thought. He focused his attention on the roads leading to the village. Twenty minutes elapsed before his expression turned serious. In the distance the sun reflected off something where nothing had been before.

He squatted and scrutinis
ed the spot some distance away until it glinted again. “Fucking cowboys are wearing reflective sunglasses and walking together.” Relaxed and with his head low, he descended and returned to the tomb.

“They’re coming. T
hree posers wearing sunglasses.”

“How long
before we worry?”

“Ten,
fifteen minutes at most. I might add we might find better defensive positions outside the village.”

“I agree,” said Petros. “Akeem
, shift the car to a safe distance. Without that we’ll either be stranded or dead.”

“They’ll hear the engine,” said Akeem.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Petros. “In the open we have a chance. Amadou, tell these men we will cover up the entrance and come back later.”

“”We’re wasting time,”
said Bear.

Akeem with ZZ raced away, while the others followed Bear.

Once out of the village the three men stopped.

“Over there
, a low wall,” said Bear, “and clear ground in front with no easy way to flank.”

“I’ll go with that,” said Amadou.

“Who am I to argue?” said Petros. “Where’s Akeem with the car?”

“I heard it start,” said Bear. “
Don’t worry, he can take care of himself.”

They reached the crumbling stone
-wall and stepped over.

“Pick your positions,” said Bear. “I’m going further back onto that rise. Gi
ves a better view.”

“This will do me,” said Amadou. “A few more rocks
in front and it’ll be as good as home.”

Petros pointed. “I’l
l be fifty metres away. Don’t forget to check your weapons.”

Shots from an automatic
rattled the air.

“What the fuck,” said Petros as he dived for cover.
He peered over the wall as the Toyota, its engine racing, wheels spinning, surged across the open ground. The driver crashed through the damaged stone wall. The vehicle disappeared in a cloud of dust behind rocks and a few palms.

Chapter Eighteen

Akeem crawled into a roofless, mud-brick dwelling, withdrew his knife, pistol, and placed them on the ground. With both hands he lifted the dry earth and covered his head and clothes. There was no point being conspicuous. The wind wafted through the palm fronds slapping them together. Protected, he peered through a hole in the wall towards where the others waited. His mind summed up the situation. Whoever they were, expected two men. These bastards wanted the diamonds and he hadn’t been paid.

A
rock striking another forced him to retreat further into the corner. Shadow concealed a heap of rags as Akeem listened. He found it difficult to determine how many. A few minutes elapsed before he indentified the three individual men.

***

“Tarek, you go left. Ali, go right. Make sure you have full mags and a spare available. I want these men dead and buried before nightfall,” ordered John Soames.

“And where will you be?” said Tarek.

He pointed. “That damaged square tower. I’ll be up there covering you. If either of those morons so much as raises a finger, I’ll shoot it off. Now get in position.”

Tarek and Ali wandered along the back streets using the ruined homes as cover.

John
Soames tied a white handkerchief to his AK and held it high in the air and strolled as if out for a walk in the park. With his thick, black bushy eyebrows, this balding, middle-aged man stood in plain view. The dipping sun made it impossible for him to focus his eyes. He smiled and deep creases formed around his eyes. “I know you’re out there, gentlemen, because that’s where I’d be. The open ground makes it difficult for my men to find you but find you they will. They want to kill you but I’m more tolerant. We are playing the same game and you are an itch I need to scratch. Throw the diamonds to where I can see them and drive away.”

“I could kill you with one shot,” shouted Amadou. “G
ive me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Stupid bastard,” mutter
ed Bear. “Now he knows where you are.”

A sharp pain raced around
Bear’s head. He attempted to speak as his vision blurred. In a moment the desert vanished. He regained consciousness, his back against a boulder. “What the fuck?” With hands shaking, he picked up the AK, leaned against a smooth boulder, found his water bottle and drank.

“If you were going to kill me, I’d already be dead,” said John
Soames. “I’m giving you the chance to walk out of here alive.”

“I can live
the good life with my share,” said Amadou.

“
After my men have killed you, I will return to my office and on my desk will be a letter in a plain envelope confirming my redundancy. Thirty years of my life for what? They are mine and I intend to have them. If you want to kill me, do it now as I turn my back and walk away.”

Amadou murmured.
“You’ll never open that letter.” He aimed and fired.

D
ust spurted a few metres from John Soames. He shook his head and laughed.

Amadou
thumped the ground with his fist. “Trust me to get an AK with rubbish sights.”

***

Akeem thought for a moment and decided the man they called Ali was the easiest choice.

He stood and noted the footprints in the sand
and travelled to the right, changing his position as the palm fronds rattled together. Every now and then, he checked Ali’s path.

             
A smile formed on his lips as he removed his knife. He tracked his prey for a further fifteen minutes before locating Ali’s position. He dropped to the ground behind two palms.

             
Ali crouched in a hollow between two boulders and faced the open ground in front of him.

             
Akeem slipped off his shoes and waited for the next gust of wind. As the fronds twitched and made the wind noisier he covered the short distance. From behind, he wrapped his left hand across Ali’s mouth, pulled him back and shoved his knee against his spine. With his right hand, he dragged the razor-sharp blade across a dust-covered throat. Blood shot into the air and ran over his hands.

             
With no noise, he carried his prize and an AK with a full and spare magazine back to his hiding place. With the next rattle of fronds, he raced through the narrow streets, many just wide enough for two men to pass, fast and silent to the rear of the village. He found the man’s trail long before he discovered his position, crouched amongst boulders. These made it difficult to advance. For a moment, he stepped back into the shadows and considered his goal. 

Akeem
slithered snake-like on the sand and was within three metres of Tarek when he heard a single shot.               There was less than a second to make a decision. He sprung into attack mode, his arms extended. Tarek neither heard nor saw his assailant as his head crashed into the boulder. To be sure of the kill Akeem lifted and sliced through the man’s neck with one swipe of his blade.

Five minutes later, he returned
with a second AK to the relative safety of the Berber village.

A lifetime of
deep-rooted practice surged through his mind. Akeem loved the adrenalin rush of the hunt and a successful conclusion. One more and he could relax; his key to success, timing. With an AK held in each hand, he snaked his way back through the village, stopping and climbing fallen masonry which supported a high wall close to the square tower. He laid with his face on top of the wall and inched along until satisfied with his position. In no rush he jammed one weapon to the side and positioned the other towards the tower. The AK was not a sniper’s rifle but Akeem knew that. He set automatic fire and with a full magazine his chance of hitting the target increased.

The right position and patience remained his maxim as he lay prone. Their leader might not expose himself to a frontal attack but wait and bide his time. The man stood and stretched in safety at the rear of the tower by a collapsed rampart. With the target in his sights, Akeem squeezed the trigger, bullets shattered the tower’s stonework, until the firing pin struck nothing. Empty, he flung the rifle to the ground, grabbed the other AK and levelled it at the tower.

John
Soames lay on the stone slabs, pain from three hits wracked his body. Blood covered his chest and upper right arm. In agony, he retrieved his weapon, pulled himself up and pointed at where he believed the shooter to be. Without hesitation, he yanked on the trigger.

Set at automatic, b
ullets ricocheted in every direction, the noise deafening. Stone splinters struck Akeem’s face. Calm and remaining in his position, he aimed and fired until his magazine emptied. A hot stab sliced his shoulder. No sound came from the tower, apart from the faint rustling of fronds, silence.

Pain charged through Akeem’s
chest as he rolled to the ground. The impact jarred every bone in his body. Tired, he leant against the wall. His right hand clutched his chest, blood oozed through his fingers. “Jesus fucking Christ.” He slumped into the dust, his eyes filled with astonishment. His awareness diminished and he welcomed the dark as the pain floated away.

***

“Mr Bear,” said ZZ, remaining low as he approached on his hands and knees.

             
“What the fuck are you doing here? Akeem is supposed to be looking after you.”

             
“Mr Akeem told me to drive the car, hide and wait for him. He told me he had something to do.”

             
“That explains the shooting. ZZ, stay here and I’ll come back for you”

ZZ sat behind a large boulder and watched as Bear crawled away. “PK, Akeem hit them from the rear. I’m going to find him. When I do I’ll fire two shots
.”

Petros gazed across the open gr
ound in front of him. “Not much cover, I’ll go. Anyone with one eye could see you coming a mile away”

“Where’s Amadou?”

He pointed. “Behind that pile of rocks.”

“
Okay. We’ll keep our eyes skinned for any movement and cover you. Keep your head low and your arse lower.”

Petros grinned.
“Words from the wise.” He lay prone and crawled across the sand into the nearest hollow. A pile of rocks became the next objective. Sweat ran over his face creating dirt lines. He continued, maintaining total silence, towards what remained of a wall. With this added protection, he crawled to the edge of the village where a group of tall palms gave added cover. With caution he stood, stretched, and with both hands massaged his knees. With his AK in his right hand, he made his way into the narrow streets. If any of the three men were waiting, he held the element of surprise.