Under Fire: (A Dan Taylor thriller) (17 page)

As Dan led Antonia down the gentle slope of the darkened street, they could hear the noise of the festival drawing closer. Music, cheering and whistles carried over the tightly packed buildings of the narrow streets.

Dan pulled Antonia through a stone archway. It led to a sheer drop overlooking the wide main street below. Cautiously, he leaned out, grasping the stone wall for support. The head of the procession rounded the corner below.

‘Come on, hurry,’ he said.

They glanced back out through the archway. They could hear their pursuers’ footsteps growing closer. They turned right, keeping close to the centre of the alleyway which, unlit by streetlamps and far from the shallow light emitted from window-framed candles, was now dark.

They turned right again and reached the end of the narrow cobble-stoned streets. A high stone wall with a towering arch led through to the main street, onto which people poured from their houses to join the procession as it passed.

Dan could see Antonia was exhausted.

‘Come on, a bit further and we’ll be able to walk for a little while,’ he urged. He pulled her through the archway. ‘Put on your best tourist smile.’

He headed for the middle of the procession, grinning at those around him as he pulled Antonia through after him into the throng. Within seconds they had been swallowed up by the crowd and were towed along with the current.

Dan pushed through the people apologetically, not wanting to cause a fuss that could be seen by their pursuers, and they broke through to the far side of the procession. As they passed a café, the tables decorated with candles, Dan grabbed a couple of the longer tapers and handed one to Antonia.

‘Follow the direction of the crowd and hold this above your head,’ he explained. ‘It’ll keep your face in shadow.’

Antonia nodded and followed his example.

Dan held on tight to her hand. If they were separated here, he’d never find her among the throng of people who now lined the street. He risked a glance over the heads of the people next to them and spotted their pursuers entering the street through the arch. The smaller of the three scratched his head in frustration, while the taller one stood with his hands on his hips, scanning the crowd. The third appeared to be holding a mobile phone to his ear.

Dan averted his eyes and watched where the crowd was leading them. The line of people appeared to be walking towards the harbour. He thought quickly. Time to put some
real
distance between them and their pursuers.

As the crowd snaked around an undulating bend, he bent down to Antonia and murmured into her ear. ‘When we get to the harbour, we’ll make a break for it the first chance we get.’

‘Okay. Over the water?’

He nodded. ‘Exactly my thoughts. Keep your eyes open for a candidate.’

She nodded, her lips pursed.

The crowd slowed approaching the harbour as the street narrowed along the quayside.

Dan and Antonia worked their way to the edge of the water. Dan began to scan the brightly coloured fishing boats moored along the wall. Some fishermen and their families sat in the boats, watching the procession, waving to friends as they spotted them in the crowd. A man raised a wine glass at a small group near the edge of the crowd, shouted, and then laughed as they called back to him.

Dan nudged Antonia in the ribs. ‘This looks hopeful.’

She looked to where he pointed. A few enterprising fishermen had placed small blackboards in their boats, advertising themselves as water taxis for the evening.

Dan led her down some steep stone steps carved into the quay wall and approached the nearest boat.

‘We’re late for a dinner date over there,’ he pointed. ‘How fast is your boat?’

The fisherman grinned. ‘Fast enough,’ he said, already loosening ropes from the cast iron mooring rings in the quay wall. ‘Jump in.’

Dan took Antonia’s candle from her and threw both onto the ground, stamping out the flames. Holding her arm to steady her, he lowered her into the boat before climbing down to join her.

He pushed her to the far end. ‘Crouch down there,’ he murmured. He looked at his watch theatrically as he sat down beside her, his back turned to the street above.

The fisherman chuckled. ‘Don’t panic – we’ll be there in a few minutes.’

Dan grinned at him. ‘Sounds good. Give it all you’ve got – I’m starving.’

The man laughed, gunned the engine and deftly steered the boat away from the quayside. Antonia looked over Dan’s shoulder as the boat edged its way into the harbour waters. Her eyes opened wide.

‘Dan, look!’

He glanced back over his shoulder. The three thugs were pushing their way through the crowd, trying to get to the water taxis.

The fisherman looked over the tiller to where they were staring. ‘Trouble?’

Dan looked at him and nodded. ‘Big trouble.’

The man grinned. ‘We’d better take the scenic route then. Hold on,’ he said, and opened the throttle.

Dan felt the wind ruffle his hair as the boat picked up speed and bounced across the small waves in the harbour.

‘Do you know where you want to really go?’ shouted the fisherman over the roar of the engine.

‘Sicily would be good,’ mused Dan, ‘but better make it Sliema.’

Dan felt the boat swing to the left and push forwards. Antonia turned to him and frowned. He grinned and glanced over his shoulder. There were too many people on the quayside – too many witnesses – for their pursuers to take out their guns and start shooting at him as they made their escape. He could make out the silhouettes of all three as they stood at the edge of the procession.

After paying the owner of the boat, Dan led Antonia through a maze of streets until he found a public telephone.

He picked up the phone, punched in a series of numbers, cited a six-digit code and waited to be transferred. He turned round in the small phone booth to face the street. Antonia paced back and forth on the footpath, her arms crossed, a frown creasing her brow. She looked up, saw him watching her, and quizzically raised an eyebrow.

Dan raised his hand. ‘This won’t take long, I promise. Just keep a look-out for any trouble.’

She nodded and kept pacing.

He held the phone tighter as a voice came on the line. ‘Hello?’

The voice was female, upper class. ‘This is the England Club. How can I help?’

Dan smiled. ‘Anyone for tennis?’

‘Thank you. Transferring you now.’

He heard a series of clicks on the line, and then the voice returned. ‘Okay, Dan, you’re now secure and through to the ops team. Go ahead.’

‘David, we’ve got some serious problems.’ Dan quickly told David what he’d discovered. ‘We’ve been compromised here though. They’ll be on the look-out for us. How quickly can you get us off the island?’

‘Hold fire, Dan – we’re going to need some hard evidence before I can go to the Prime Minister with this. Did you manage to get anything from Hassan’s villa?’

‘Negative – his study was clean. He’s too careful to leave anything lying around. It was only luck I spotted the map with the tunnel marked on it. We picked up cartridges which look like fifty calibre. Possibly the same ones used to sink that luxury yacht.’

‘It’s not enough, Dan. You’ll need to go back.’

Dan blinked. ‘What?’

‘Go back and get me something I can use. Hard evidence – I need proof it
is
the Iranians – or if not them, where the threat’s coming from.
I
believe you saw the submarine, but others won’t. They’ll expect evidence to back up a claim like that.’

Dan leaned against the wall adjacent to the phone booth and closed his eyes. David was right. ‘I’ll need somewhere else to stay while we work this out. The apartment might have been compromised. We can’t go back there.’

‘We’ve located a house you can use – it’s on the edge of what used to be a Royal Marines base at Ghajn Tuffieha. Call this number,’ he rattled off a local number, ‘and he’ll organise a pick-up point for the key and a vehicle for you. He knows you’re on your way and has made sure there are enough provisions to last a couple of days. Mitch has been frantic the past three hours trying to locate you – I’ll tell him to meet you there.’

‘Okay, thanks – I’ll be in touch when we’ve got what you need.’

‘Don’t hang about, Dan. If you’re right about the submarine, we’ve got to move fast on this. I’ll brief the Vice-Admiral and have his team listen out for any signal activity in the Mediterranean.’

Dan hung up the phone and turned, grasping Antonia by the arm.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Time to go.’

***

With the car parked behind a low wall, Dan stood on the edge of the road and looked across at the entrance to the disused Royal Marines barracks and firing range. A hotel had been built a mile away, but the old road running through the facility remained. A metal five-bar gate blocked the entrance, with a padlocked chain looped around the top of it the only deterrent. A sign for the local Scout association flapped in the breeze on a piece of string.

Dan turned to Antonia. ‘Ready to step back in time?’

She smiled. ‘This should be interesting.’

Dan helped Antonia climb over the gate and onto the cracked concrete road on the other side.

Weeds broke the surface of the old road, pushing up the concrete in places leaving it cracked and broken, turning to a white powdery dust over the years. Some of the old buildings remained. Dan stepped through long grass over to one of them and poked his head through a windowless opening. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he spotted an old screen hanging from the ceiling and a few chairs scattered about on the floor. He realised it must have been the camp’s cinema.

Returning to the track, he glanced about and saw Antonia a few metres in front of him, her hands on her hips while she surveyed the landscape. She turned back to him.

‘Where exactly are you taking me?’

He grinned and pointed along the road which curved upwards and over to the right, towards a small hill at the end of the old camp towards the firing ranges. A two-storey square block of a house stood on the tip of the hill, its faded whitewashed walls gleaming in the bright moonlight.

‘There.’

He caught up with Antonia and they walked in silence side-by-side as the road began to rise on the incline, their boots scuffing up dust trails behind them. The clicking of cicadas in the long grass and weeds filled the air.

As they drew closer to the house the road surface broke up completely, leaving a threadbare track up the remainder of the hill. The sound of the sea against the cliffs below reached them as they drew closer to the house.

As the track curved to the right, the house came into view. Faded white walls obscured by ivy and shrubs left to grow wild had fallen apart in places from neglect, while among a tangle of prickly pear bushes, a tumbledown chicken coop leaned precariously to one side, its sides open, the chickens long gone.

Dan stepped to one side of the track, crouched down and carefully pulled a prickly pear bush to one side, revealing a capped drainage pipe. 

He placed his hands either side of the wire mesh and pulled hard. The mesh gave a little, but the rust around its edges held fast. Dan gave it another hard tug and the mesh broke free. He set it aside, reached inside and felt along the top of the drain until his fingers found a metal surface.

He glanced over his shoulder. Antonia had her back to him, her arms folded as she gazed out across the cliffs towards the hotel complex in the distance. He turned back to the drainage pipe, wrapped his fingers around the metallic surface and pulled the gun away from its bindings, deftly tucking it under his shirt.

He reached in further, until his finger brushed against a smaller metal object. Grinning, he pulled it out and replaced the wire mesh cover.

‘What have you got there?’ asked Antonia, turning towards him.

He held open his palm and showed her.

‘Front door key,’ he said. ‘You didn’t expect me to break in, did you?’

***

Dan played absentmindedly with the cylindrical casings on the table, slowly rolling them backwards and forwards, backwards and forwards. He jumped as Antonia leaned over and placed her palm firmly on the casings and stopped their movement.

‘Enough,’ she said. ‘You’re driving me crazy.’

Dan grunted. ‘We have to find out if that submarine is still there, or if it isn’t – who the crew is.’ He stood up, pushing the wooden chair to one side, and strode over to the open windows. He closed his eyes and listened to the cicadas. A rumble of thunder carried across the wind. ‘There has to be a way to find out,’ he murmured.

Lightning arched across the sky, nebulous grey clouds tumbling over each other as a second clap of thunder echoed around the small bay.

Dan moved to the back porch of the house, and leaned against one of the hardwood pillars supporting the tin roof as he stared out to sea.

The rain began to hammer on the roof, large drops splashing onto the tin, sporadic at first. Suddenly the heavens opened and a torrent fell across the bay, the noise an ear-splitting cacophony on the tin roof.

He could smell the ozone in the air and jumped as a double-forked lightning bolt streaked across the water in front of him, sending purple and white light flashing out in all directions.

‘Here,’ said Mitch, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Beer.’

Dan turned and took the cold bottle from the other man. ‘Cheers.’

He stepped back across the deck, nearer the house. As much as he enjoyed storms, he was getting wet from the water splashing out of the gutters onto the ground below.

Mitch pulled out a chair from under the small wooden table in the dining area and dragged it towards the open door. He sat down, contemplating his drink and watching the lightning show, lost in thought.

Antonia turned from the stove as Dan approached her, a wooden spoon in one hand and her glass of wine in the other. She watched him then waved the spoon at him as she spoke.

‘I know what you’re thinking. You need to be very careful,’ she said. ‘The cliffs will be guarded by Hassan’s guards, and there are no dive sites nearby – the seas are treacherous.’

She turned, thrust the wooden spoon in the bubbling sauce and stirred it aggressively.

Dan frowned. There had to be a way. ‘What about abseiling?’

Antonia stopped stirring, turned and laughed. ‘Not there. Only a madman would climb those cliffs.’ She turned back to the stove.

Dan picked up his glass and looked at Mitch as he watched the enveloping storm, then smiled to himself.