The People Traders (32 page)

"Don't move, just push the gun away and take the belt off," the one holding the gun demanded in broken English.

Karen did as he asked, throwing the belt to one side along with her machine-gun. She could kick herself for being captured so easily. She'd been tired, and with lack of food, had been unable to keep her eyes open and she'd soon fallen asleep. This was the result.

Studying her captors, who both looked like conscripts with little idea as to how to handle a prisoner, she tried to devise a plan. In her understanding, they should have lain her face down on the ground and searched her, perhaps even tied her hands. Then again, no soldier would move his gun off the quarry while he talked to his partner. When this soldier turned to talk, his gun followed. For all these simple errors she was thanking them, and it would seem with this sort of complacency on their part, she had a chance to escape.

"
Salem, go and wait at the road,"
the one holding the gun said in his own language.
"The truck to pick us up will be here in less than two hours. We've got ourselves a lot of money; I'm sure this is the girl Sirec's looking for."

Salem frowned.
"Why me, can't we all go together?"

His partner moved closer to him.
"There's a chance other soldiers will pass, if they know we've captured her they, too, will want some of the reward. So we wait for the captain, he's a man of honour. He will see we get our money."

Salem nodded in understanding. "
You're very clever, Hamish. You are also right, others will take over, claiming they helped in the capture, and then we may even lose the reward. I will do as you ask, but remember, she's not to be touched or harmed. Sirec has issued that warning many times."

"I will watch her, that is all. When we have the money
, many women will be flocking at our feet,"
Hamish said quietly.

With that agreed, Salem made his way to the road leaving Karen alone with Hamish. Hamish settled down a short distance away, his gun resting across his legs. Karen moved to one side slightly to see his reaction, but Hamish didn't seem to care. All he could think about was the money, more money than he had ever dreamed about, all because Salem wanted to go to the toilet; otherwise they'd have never seen her.

Karen's hand started to rummage under the loose shale, trying to locate the handgun. She couldn't understand why it wasn't there, she was sure this was the place. Glancing back nonchalantly, she looked at the ground once more, then realised her error. Her gun was at least two feet behind where she was sat, closer to the base of the olive tree. How she was going to get there without him objecting, she'd no idea.

Looking back at him, she smiled to herself, a simple but effective idea was forming, would he fall for it? "The sun, it's too hot. Can I move please?" she asked slowly.

He frowned, not understanding.

She pointed to the sun, brushed her hand across her forehead and pointed to the shade under the tree. His eyes lit up in understanding, and waved her towards the tree. She thanked him and moved back the two feet. Her left hand was soon resting on the gun. Unable to believe this man's stupidity, she watched him carefully, keeping her hand still when he glanced at her. However that wasn't much, now he'd started to rummage in his backpack, eventually pulling out a can and opening it noisily. Then, tilting his head back, he started to down the drink. Karen took this opportunity and snatched the gun from the ground, quickly checking the safety.

"Hey you!" she called, at the same time standing up.

He stopped drinking and looked across at her stood there. The gun held in two hands, steady as a rock, pointed directly at him. With his full attention she nodded towards his gun, gesturing him to move away from it. Karen could see the terror in his face; she was now convinced she had two conscripts and not soldiers. Hamish did as she asked, very aware of the warning given by his captain about how dangerous she could be. How she'd got the gun he'd no idea, but he'd every intention of staying alive, no matter what.

Karen moved quickly, exchanging her gun for the sub-machine-gun, at the same time making him lie face down with his hands on the back of his head. She searched his bag, looking for something to tie him up with, but there was nothing. Then she moved closer to him until the gun touched his head.

"Call your friend," she demanded.

He looked up at her, not understanding. She pointed to the road, then at him, before she pointed back at the road, moving her fingers backwards and forwards.

His face lit up and nodded. "I understand," he spluttered. Then he called Salem. Twice he called until Salem responded, sprinting up from the road to see what he wanted.

Karen had moved back and watched his progress; even this man's gun was slung over his shoulder, indifferent to any potential danger. When he finally arrived out of breath, Salem weighed the situation up, immediately going for his gun.

Without hesitation, Karen sent a warning shot to his side. "I shoot to kill next time, now throw your gun away," she demanded.

Salem could understand English to a degree and did as she asked. Then a grin broke over his face. "So what are you going to do now? Within twenty minutes many soldiers will be here. Perhaps it would be better if you threw your own gun down and accepted the inevitable."

"No talking, you join your friend and lie face down," she shouted at him.

"And if I don't?"

Karen shrugged indifferently. "Then you and your friend die. I have no time to argue," she replied softly.

Salem looked at her for a moment.
'Yes,'
he thought,
'you would kill. Some day you will pay for this.'
Without another word he moved over to Hamish and lay down at his side.

"You have a weapon?"
he whispered.

"A knife in my boot, that's all,"
Hamish whispered back.

Salem glanced across at Karen.
"She's not watching us but is searching the bags, can you get it?"
Salem asked.

Hamish never said anything, just moved his hand down very slowly towards his leg, and the knife. Karen still didn't notice this action, confident that with the distance between them and her that she could kill them before they could pose any threat. Hamish grasped the knife and pulled it slowly from the sheath, passing it across to Salem.

"You've only one chance, Salem, don't make an error,"
Hamish urged.

Salem smirked.
"She's as good as dead."

Karen saw Salem suddenly stand and raise his right hand, the knife flashing in the sun. She swung the gun and fired the moment the knife left Salem's hand. He was flung back with the impact; Hamish panicked and scrambled up, wanting to run, but was also caught in the deadly fire, dying before he'd even hit the ground.

However, this happened in less than a second, just as the knife sank deep into Karen's side. She screamed in pain, dropping the gun and grasping the knife, pulling it painfully from her body. Blood was streaming out and she felt suddenly dizzy and lightheaded. She grabbed her shorts from the bag, and screwed them up before pushing them tightly against her side, trying to stop the bleeding. She was acutely aware that she must get away quickly, even though the pain was clouding her judgment. Glancing at the two men lying there, she could see only one was still moving. But she ignored him; both were injured too badly to follow, of that she was sure. Karen readied herself to move off, taking her personal items out of her bag and using one of the soldier's rucksacks instead. Aware it was a risk moving in the daytime, she could see no other option. How they'd found her so far off the road, she wasn't sure, but it had served to make her aware there was no real place to hide.

The going was hard and slow, having to avoid the road, adding perhaps three miles to the journey. As dusk came she'd travelled less than five miles. Now desperately worried, with the pick-up the next night, at this rate she'd not make it. The injury was just about bearable, the bleeding all but stopped. Karen felt weak from the loss of blood, apart from being close to starving.

It was then, as she was negotiating a small ravine, that the helicopter suddenly appeared from behind her, its light sweeping backwards and forwards over the ground. Breaking into a panicked run, she slipped and fell headlong down the ravine. Seconds later she hit her head on a rock, passing out instantly.

***

Coming round sometime later, it was still dark; she felt disorientated, her head throbbed, her body not responding to what she wanted it to do. The helicopter was nowhere to be seen, so she assumed by falling into the ravine, they hadn't seen her. The pain in her side was intense, blood was everywhere. She tried again to stop it bleeding but with no success. The fall must have opened the wound up again. Now very weak from the loss of blood, she buried her head in her hands. Even the knife wound was nothing compared to her intense throbbing headache, but she was determined somehow she must pull herself together. Standing gingerly, she collected her things and then, after taking nearly twenty minutes to climb out of the ravine, she moved on. In the distance a small light flickered and Karen headed towards it. Why she'd no idea, somehow she needed to find help, check her injuries in better light and get some food. Even if it meant taking all the occupants in the house hostage, there was no option.

Once at the house she looked inside through a small window. There was an open fire with someone sitting in a chair, their back towards her. She waited but nobody else came into the room. She moved away from the window and around towards the door, which was made more difficult by debris littering the yard. Then, catching her foot on something partially hidden, Karen stumbled; breaking her fall by grabbing the handle of an old farm implement, but it was unstable and went crashing to the ground. Seconds later the door opened and light spilled out, illuminating a corridor of light twenty feet in length.

"
Who's there
?" a woman's voice shouted in the local language.

Karen understood her question with what little words she'd picked up from listening to Saeed and his mother talking. However, unable to hide, she moved quickly, stepping out directly in front of the woman. The women moved back in surprise. Karen was holding the gun in both hands and indicated her to go back inside by jerking her head up a few times. The woman did as she indicated, with Karen following. Once inside and leaning against a wall after kicking the door closed, Karen surveyed the room, trying to satisfy in her mind that the woman was alone.

The woman didn't say anything, just stood looking at Karen, whose clothes were covered in a mix of both dried and fresh blood on her side, with more blood running down her face from the wound to her head. It was immediately obvious to the woman this young girl was in a very serious condition and desperate for help, to come so close to a property, but even so, still very dangerous with the weapons she was carrying. The woman believed any sort of move towards her would meet with an instant reaction of the girl using the gun for defence.

Plucking enough courage up, but with no fast movements, the woman asked her name in the local language. Karen never answered. Then she tried French. This time Karen seemed to understand her.

"You are alone?"
Karen asked in broken French.

"Yes
, I'm alone. There's no need for the gun, I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, you look injured. Can I help?"
the woman replied.

Karen held her hand up. "
Again please, but slowly."

The woman stared at her for a moment then smiled broadly. "You prefer English?" she asked in perfect English.

Karen frowned. "You're English?"

The woman laughed. "Of course! My husband, who is now dead, was local, but I'm English, from London in actual fact and by the look of you, I think you need help?"

Karen shook her head. "I'm alright, just food and something hot to drink. If you've got anything like that I'd appreciate it, then I'll be on my way."

The lady sighed, asking her to take a seat at the table while she brought the food. Karen sat down with her elbows on the table, holding her head. The pain was intense and she felt faint, even to the point of not hearing the woman return and place a dish full of hot soup with bread alongside her.

She touched Karen's shoulder. "Wake up; I have some nourishing soup for you."

Karen woke with a jerk, realising this woman could have taken the gun easily. She grasped it quickly, holding it tight.

The woman laughed at her actions. "I assure you, you're perfectly safe here, I mean you no harm. So please put the gun down and eat your food, I think you need it."

Karen did as she asked, feeling better as she ate her first cooked meal in days.

The woman returned to her chair and sat watching her. "My name's Martha, what's yours then?" she asked, after Karen had finished.

Karen looked at her for a moment. "It's best you don't know, for your own safety, but I needed this food and I can pay."

"I don't want your money. You're welcome to stay as long as you want, but I think I should look at that wound on your head. Also the one on your side, it hasn't stopped bleeding since you arrived, but only if you want me to? The last thing you need is anymore loss of blood. That will stop you in your tracks."