Deception Game (25 page)

Nonetheless, he still held out some hope that one of them might contain controls for the field lights, a generator or something similar.

‘Cole, cover our backs. Keira, on me,’ he ordered, as he advanced on the closest building, his boots crunching on the rocky ground.

Frost was right behind him, similarly armed. ‘On your six.’

Pointing to the second structure, Drake closed in on the nearest one. There was only one door, also made of corrugated metal. There was no lock that he could see.

Unhooking a flashlight from his belt, Drake halted for a moment, checked that his Browning was ready to fire, then reached out and pulled the door open.

Even without the flashlight, the purpose of this small structure became apparent the moment he opened the door and the stench of human excrement wafted out. Struggling not to gag, he flicked the flashlight on and allowed its beam to play briefly across the walls and floor. As he’d suspected, the toilet was nothing more than a hole in the ground, with a set of wooden planks placed around the outside to help the user balance while they went about their business.

He supposed even pilots had to relieve themselves from time to time, though he couldn’t imagine what kind of urgency would compel him to venture any further into that place.

Nothing useful in there. Gratefully allowing the door to swing closed, he killed the flashlight and backed off just as Frost trotted over to join him.

‘You okay?’ she asked, noting his pallid complexion. ‘You look like me after too many shots of tequila.’

‘Fine,’ he lied. ‘It’s clear in there. Anything in the other one?’

She shook her head. ‘Just old tools and junk. No lights, no power. This place doesn’t have shit for us, Ryan.’

As if sensing their difficulties, Chandra radioed in once more. ‘Monarch, this is Eagle. I’m inbound, closing in fast. I need those lights now.’

They were wasting time. Whether or not this airfield even had landing lights was irrelevant now. They had no time to investigate the matter further.

‘We’re working on it, Eagle,’ Drake replied, striding back towards the SUV.

‘Then whatever you are going to do, I suggest you do it soon. My instruments are telling me I’m almost on top of you.’

‘Copy that, Eagle. Stand by.’ Clicking off his radio, he called ahead to Mason. ‘Cole, get your pack. We need your signal flares.’

Mason, covering the area around the vehicle, caught on immediately. ‘On it!’

‘Keira, you too,’ Drake instructed the young specialist. ‘Get your arse down to the west end of the runway. Cole, you take the east. I’ll cover the centre.’

It wasn’t going to be much of a landing grid for Chandra, but it was the best they could manage with the resources at hand. Hopefully it would be enough.

‘Jesus, Ryan. Why do I have to do all the running?’ Frost protested as she withdrew the signal flares from her pack.

‘Because you’re fast,’ he admitted. Despite her short stature, she was as quick and nimble as an athlete. ‘And it’ll shut you up for a while.’

She shot him a hard look. ‘One of these days we’re going to have a falling-out.’

Before Drake could respond, McKnight threw open her door and jumped down from the SUV. ‘Give me the flares, Keira,’ she said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘I need you here to cover Sowan,’ Drake said.

‘Sowan’s locked in the trunk. He’s going nowhere.’ Her eyes flashed in silent challenge. ‘What’s the matter? Don’t trust me?’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

They both knew the real reason he didn’t want her to go, and it had nothing to do with trust. He didn’t want her out there alone, separated from the group where he couldn’t protect her. They knew this, just as they knew his sentiment was as dangerous as it was unfounded. There was no room for favouritism or protectiveness in situations like this.

‘Good. Then you won’t have a problem with this.’ Without waiting for a reply, she snatched the flares out of Frost’s hand. ‘Stay on comms. I’ll let you know when I’m in position.’

Giving him a wink, the woman turned and sprinted off into the darkness. Mason, flashing a wry grin of amusement at Drake, likewise took off in the other direction, with two flares tucked into his webbing, clutching his silenced automatic.

‘Fuck,’ Drake said through gritted teeth.

‘You guys
really
need to get a room,’ Frost remarked sagely.

‘Piss off,’ Drake replied, shoving two flares down the front of his webbing.

Frost said nothing, though her smirk was hard to miss.

‘Cover Sowan,’ he instructed her. ‘The last thing we need is some arsehole stealing the car with him in it.’

The young woman drew her weapon. ‘Be a hell of a story, though.’

Before Drake could reply, Mason called out over the radio, ‘Cameo’s in position.’

‘Copy that, Cameo. Envoy, how’s it looking?’

‘Almost there,’ came McKnight’s breathless reply. ‘I see an earth berm up ahead.’

Sending out a silent prayer for this to work, Drake hit his transmit button. ‘All right, light them up.’

Mason’s flares ignited first, twin points of red light suddenly appearing in the darkness about a hundred yards off to the east. Drake watched as the flares separated, one dropping to the ground as Mason laid it down, followed by the other a short distance away.

With one end of the runway marked out, Drake turned his attention to the other. McKnight had already ignited one flare and dropped it in the corner of the landing strip, and as Drake watched he saw the other burst into life.

With the four corners now illuminated, he sprinted out into the runway, moving westward until he’d reached what felt like midway between the two sets of flares. Reaching down for the first device, he pulled the safety pin designed to prevent it triggering by accident, then twisted sharply on the plastic trigger at the base.

There was a flash, and suddenly his world was engulfed in red light and acrid chemical smoke as the incandescent contents ignited. Dropping it on the edge of the dirt landing-strip, he hurried over to the other side and triggered his second flare in similar fashion.

Coughing and turning away from the intense light that was destroying his night vision, Drake keyed his radio again. ‘Eagle, this is Monarch. The field is lit. Look for the red lights. Do you copy?’

‘Roger. I see them, Monarch. Not much of a landing pattern, but it will do. Coming in on approach now. Stand by.’

Drake closed his eyes for a moment, allowing the relief of the moment to flood through him before turning his thoughts back to the task at hand.

‘Copy that, Eagle.’ Already he had turned and was sprinting back towards the SUV. ‘Cameo, Envoy, on me. Overwatch, get the cargo prepped for transport.’

‘With pleasure, Monarch,’ Frost replied.

About a mile to the west, Chandra eased the aircraft into a gentle left turn, aligning his nose with the meagre landing strip laid out for him. Checking his airspeed was sufficient to compensate for the increased drag, he reached out and flicked the landing-gear switch. There was a loud hum as the gear extended and locked in place.

He was grateful that the weather was favourable tonight, otherwise such a landing would have been unfeasible even for the likes of him. He was quite content to take risks, but even he recognized there was a line between bravery and suicide.

As he’d anticipated, his change in course and altitude hadn’t gone unnoticed by Libyan air-traffic control.

‘Flight Golf-Zulu-Six-Eight-Two, this is Tripoli Tower. Please return to heading zero eight zero, flight level fifteen. Acknowledge.’ There was agitation in the man’s voice that was plain even over the radio. He was probably tired and unhappy at pulling the night shift, and certainly didn’t need some cowboy private-aircraft pilot ruining his night.

Adopting his most apologetic tone, Chandra hit his transmit button. ‘This is Six-Eight-Two. Copy that, Tripoli Tower. One of my ailerons keeps locking up; think one of the control lines might be jamming. I’m landing to inspect it. Over.’

‘Six-Eight-Two, recommend you circle around and return to Tripoli.’

‘Don’t think I can make that turn, Tripoli. Not on one aileron. Over.’

‘Six-Eight-Two, are you declaring an emergency?’ The mild irritation was gone now, replaced by genuine concern for a pilot in trouble.

‘Not at this stage, Tripoli. I still have control. Over.’

‘Roger, Six-Eight-Two. Stay on comms.’

Chandra smiled as he eased the twin-engine aircraft in for final approach. It was almost too easy.

Frost was waiting when Drake returned to the SUV. She had already popped the trunk and hauled Sowan out, and was busy doing the same to his wife. Standing with his ankles now untied to make him easier to transport but with hands still bound behind his back, Sowan made no move to either advance or retreat, knowing full well that Frost would take him down before he’d made it five yards.

Nonetheless, he looked remarkably calm and composed given his dire circumstances. The man was no stranger to fear, it seemed. Standing in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms, with his hands bound behind his back, he glared openly at Drake as he approached.

The gag prevented him from saying much, but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he recognized his captor and was far from pleased by this turn of events.

Eyeball me all you want, you bastard, Drake thought to himself. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.

‘I’m on your six, Keira,’ Drake called out, in case she heard him approaching and mistook him for an enemy. Then, seeing that she was having difficulty with the second prisoner, he added, ‘You need help?’

‘No way. I’m having the time of my life,’ Frost replied with heavy sarcasm.

Sowan might have been inclined to bide his time and wait for a more opportune moment to resist, but his wife clearly didn’t share this attitude. She was kicking and thrashing in the trunk of the SUV, screaming into the gag and lashing out at Frost every time the Shepherd operative tried to pull her out.

‘Stop fighting me, you stupid bitch!’ Frost shouted, to little effect. Finally tiring of the stalemate, she drew her silenced pistol and pressed it hard against the woman’s forehead. Staring her in the eyes, she said in a cold, emotionless voice, ‘We need your husband. We don’t need
you
. Give me an excuse to pull this trigger, please.’

Whether she understood the threat or not, the weapon was enough to quieten her struggles. Ceasing resistance, she allowed herself to be helped out of the trunk and led over to stand beside her husband.

‘Very diplomatic,’ Drake said quietly as Frost backed off, covering the two captives with her weapon.

Frost shrugged. ‘Once you find common ground, it’s easy to make friends.’ She waved her weapon at their female prisoner. ‘Isn’t that right?’

She could say nothing in response, but the hostility in her eyes was obvious.

‘You sure you want to take her with us?’ Frost asked. ‘She could cause problems later. Maybe we should leave her here.’

He shook his head as he gathered up their equipment packs, laying them on the ground by his feet. All of it, particularly the intel gathered by Mason from Sowan’s office, would be going with them. ‘We might need her if he doesn’t talk.’

Frost said nothing to that.

Laying down the last pack, Drake hesitated, listening carefully to a faint noise carrying to him on the night breeze. A low drone like a swarm of bees, coming from the west, growing louder as it closed in.

Aircraft engines.

Moving towards Sowan, Drake reached out and removed his gag, staring the Libyan in the eye for a few seconds. ‘Still think we won’t make it out of Libya?’

‘Who are you?’ the man demanded. ‘What do you want with me?’

‘What do I want with you?’ He lowered his voice, moving a step closer with his fist clenched. He could feel his hands trembling with barely suppressed rage now that he and Sowan were mere inches apart. ‘I want to hear everything you have to say about Freya Louise Shaw. And you’re going to tell me, you piece of shit. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to tell me everything you know.’

The eyes staring back at him betrayed no trace of recognition, though his dark brows drew together in a frown. ‘What are you talking about?’

The bastard was trying to play him, Drake realized. They’d see just how ignorant he was once Drake had some time alone with him.

‘Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it, you and I.’ Glancing away, Drake touched his radio transmitter. ‘Cameo, Envoy. Last orders at the bar. Our taxi’s almost here.’

Mason, already on his way back, answered his instruction verbally rather than via the radio net. ‘Music to my ears, buddy,’ he called out, emerging from the darkness at the western end of the landing strip. He was breathing hard after running nearly the full length of the runway twice, but otherwise seemed in good shape.

The sound of engines was growing louder by the second. Glancing up, Drake could see the flashing recognition lights on the wingtips of Chandra’s plane as it approached, settling in lower as he prepared to land.

‘Where’s Sam?’ Frost asked, looking around.

Nearby, Chandra was concentrating intently on his difficult task as he reduced engine power, keeping the nose slightly elevated while he brought the aircraft in for landing. With only limited visual cues provided by the signal flares, he was relying mostly on instrumentation to gauge the rate of his descent.

Speed, 120 knots; altitude, sixty feet. Fifty feet. Flaps extended, reduce power. Angle the nose up a little more.

Altitude, forty feet. Perfect approach.

Such was his concentration on the task at hand, he didn’t see the tiny bloom of a muzzle flash off in the distance, and certainly didn’t hear the sound of the shot. Only a second or two later did he feel the effects.

There was a loud crunch as something impacted the aircraft, followed an instant later by an explosion of shattered glass as a portion of the canopy blasted inwards, showering him with tiny fragments. He had no time to contemplate this however as something slammed into his chest with such force that he was jerked back violently into his seat.