Those in Peril (Unlocked) (21 page)

He straightened up and went to where Bernie and Nella were standing outside the door, puffing on their cigarettes. Hector spoke quietly to them. ‘Tonight I want you to drop Tariq as close as you can to the village of Ameera. I am inserting him to make a reconnaissance of the area. After you have dropped him you will carry straight on to the Jig Jig landing strip with Paddy and his gang who will be on board. You will disembark them there with the trucks, and then come back here to Sidi el Razig.’ He glanced through the door at Hazel, who had followed him out of the situation room. He knew it was neither wise nor kind to let her sit alone in Sidi el Razig, with nothing to keep her fully occupied.

‘Mrs Bannock and I will come along with you for the ride to Ameera and Jig Jig.’ Hazel nodded her agreement, and Hector turned back to Bernie.

‘Work out your flying time for each stage of the flight. We must arrive at Jig Jig when it’s light enough to make a landing. We don’t want to attract any attention by circling around the area too long. Do you think you can find the strip straight off?’

‘Stupid question,’ Nella replied. ‘We’ve been there before, if you remember.’ She placed a pair of reading glasses with bright-orange plastic frames on her nose and she and Bernie went to work with a hand-held calculator. Nella looked up after only a few minutes. ‘Okay, takeoff from here will be at 2000 hours sharp. Anybody not on board gets left behind.’

H
ector and Hazel stood together at the back of the flight deck of the Hercules, and over the heads of the pilots they watched the African nightfall. Hazel leaned lightly against him. The last rays of the sun lit the crests of the mountains ahead, turning them the colours of bronze and freshly minted gold. At the same time the land directly beneath them had already been blotted out by the darkness, and only the tiny pinpricks of light marked the positions of the widely scattered hamlets and villages of Puntland.

‘It’s so beautiful,’ Hazel whispered, ‘but I cannot see the beauty for the hideousness. Cayla is down there somewhere.’ The night closed its grip on them and the stars spread in splendour above them. Nella turned in her seat and lifted her headphones from her ears.

‘I’m beginning the descent now. Twenty minutes to the drop zone, Hector. Get your man kitted up and ready to go.’ Hector went back into the main cabin. Most of Paddy’s men had climbed into the trucks and found themselves comfortable places to sleep. But Tariq was waiting for Hector near the tail gate. He was dressed like a Somalian peasant with his possessions in a goatskin satchel tied around his waist, and rawhide sandals on his feet. While Hector helped him to buckle on his parachute, he went quickly over the pre-arranged contact and recognition signals.

‘Ten minutes to drop zone!’ Nella’s voice came over the tannoy. Hazel came back to shake Tariq’s hand.

‘This is not the first time you have risked your life for me, Tariq. I will find a way to repay you.’

‘I ask no payment, Mrs Bannock.’

‘Then I pray for Allah’s blessing and protection over you,’ she said, and at that Nella’s voice came over the tannoy again.

‘Five minutes to drop zone. I am opening the tail gate now. Make sure your safety harnesses are hooked on.’ The ramp lowered ponderously and the cool night air whipped around their heads and tugged at their clothing.

‘I can see the lights of Ameera dead ahead,’ Nella sang out. ‘One minute to jump.’ Then she began to count down the seconds: ‘Five, four, three, two and Go! Go! Go!’

Tariq ran forward and sprang head first over the edge of the ramp. The slipstream snapped him away instantly into the darkness. Nella closed the tail ramp and gradually increased the power on her engines. They climbed away on course for Jig Jig.

They circled the airstrip in the dawn. There were the ruins of a building, roofless and with the remaining walls crumbling. Even after eighty years the abandoned runway was still marked by small cairns of whitewashed rocks. The only sign of life was on the hillside above the strip, where a small boy in a red blanket warmed himself at a smoky little fire while his herd of goats grazed around him. The smoke from the fire gave Nella the wind direction. As the Hercules thundered low over them the boy and the goats scattered in panic. Nella touched down the big machine as lightly as a butterfly landing on a rose. Then it bumped and jarred over the rutted ground and pulled up long before it had run out of track. Nella dropped the tail gate, and Paddy led the little convoy of three trucks down off the tail ramp, and with a last wave of his gloved hand roared off back towards the Somali border. Nella used the engines to gun the Hercules around in a 180-degree turn and they were airborne again within five minutes of touch down.

‘Five and a half hours’ flying time home,’ Hector said as he slipped his arm around Hazel’s shoulders. ‘I have no idea how we are going to pass the time.’

‘We have this cargo hold completely to ourselves,’ Hazel pointed out. ‘May I make a suggestion?’

‘I read your mind and find it to be an excellent suggestion. Mrs Bannock, you are a genius.’

T
ariq found an aardvark hole and stuffed his parachute and his para helmet down it. He wound his turban around his head, and slung the goatskin satchel over his shoulder. During his descent he had carefully marked the direction of the village. There were only two or three dim lights showing and he was amazed by the acuity of Nella Vosloo’s eyesight that had enabled her to pick them out from 10,000 feet. He set off for Ameera and within half a mile he smelt the woodsmoke of the cooking fires and the strong odour of goats and men. As he approached the village a dog barked, and another joined in, but the village slept on. It had been ten years since his last visit, but there was a gibbous moon to give him sufficient light to orient himself as he moved quietly among the thatched huts. His aunt’s was the third after the well. He tapped on the door, and after a while a woman’s voice spoke softly from behind it.

‘Who is it? What do you want so late at night? I am a decent woman. Go away!’

‘I am Tariq Hakam, I am looking for my mother’s sister, Taheera.’

‘Wait!’ called the unseen woman. He heard her moving around in the hut and then there was the strike and flare of a match. The soft yellow light of a kerosene lamp showed through the chinks in the mud wall. At last the door scraped open, and the woman stood looking out at him.

‘Is it truly you, Tariq Hakam?’ she asked and held the lamp so that the light fell on his face. ‘Yes,’ she whispered shyly, ‘it is indeed you.’ Artlessly she let her veil fall open.

‘Who are you?’ He stared at her face. She was young and very pretty. Her features were vaguely familiar.

‘I am sad that you do not know me, Tariq. I am your cousin Daliyah.’

‘Daliyah! But you have grown so big!’ She giggled coyly and pulled the veil over her mouth and nose again. Only ten years before she had been an urchin who had trailed around behind him in a most irritating manner in her grubby short skirts with unkempt hair and flies crawling on the dried snot under her nostrils.

‘So have you grown big,’ she said. ‘I thought I would never see you again. I have often wondered where you had gone and what you were doing.’ She stood aside and held the door open. He stooped under the lintel and brushed past her. The light contact made his breath come a little shorter.

‘Is my aunt here, Daliyah?’

‘My mother is dead, Tariq, may Allah preserve her soul. I have returned to Ameera to mourn for her.’

‘May she find happiness in paradise,’ he said quietly. ‘I did not know of her death.’

‘She was very sick for a long time.’

‘What of you, Daliyah? Is there someone to protect you? Your father, your brothers?’

‘My father has been dead these five years past. My brothers have gone away. They have gone to Mogadishu to become fighters in the army of Allah. I am alone here.’ She paused then went on, ‘There are men here, coarse rough men. I am afraid. That is why I hesitated to open the door for you.’

‘What will become of you?’

‘Before she died my mother arranged for me to work as a servant at the fortress at the Oasis of the Miracle. I have come back here only to bury my mother and to mourn her. Now the days of mourning are spent I will return to my work at the fortress.’ She had led him through to the small lean-to kitchen at the rear of the hut. She set the lantern down and turned to him. ‘Are you hungry, cousin? I have some dates and unleavened bread. I have curdled goat’s milk also.’ She was eager to please him.

‘Thank you, Daliyah. I have some food with me. We can share it.’ He opened his leather satchel and brought out a pack of military rations. Her eyes lit up when she saw it. He guessed that she had eaten little for some while. They sat cross-legged on the dry mud floor facing each other with the small enamelled bowls between them, and he watched her eat with pleasure. She knew he was watching her and she kept her eyes modestly down-cast, but now and then smiled a little to herself. When they had finished she rinsed out the bowls and came back to sit across from him again.

‘You say that you work at the fortress?’ he asked, and she nodded confirmation.

‘I have business there, in the fortress,’ he said, and she looked at him with quick interest.

‘Is that what brings you here?’ He inclined his head and she went on, ‘What is it you seek, cousin?’

‘A girl. A young white girl with pale hair.’ Daliyah gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were dark with shock and fear. ‘You know her!’ he said with certainty. She did not reply but hung her head and looked at the ground between them.

‘I have come to take her back to her family.’

She shook her head sadly. ‘Beware, Tariq Hakam. It is dangerous to talk loosely like this. I fear for you.’

They were silent for a long time, and he saw her shiver.

‘Will you help me, Daliyah?’

‘I know this girl; she is young, as I am. Yet they have given her to the men to sport with.’ Her voice was almost inaudible. ‘She is sick. She is sick with the injuries they have inflicted on her. She is sick with loneliness and fear.’

‘Take me to her, Daliyah. Or at least show me the way.’

She did not answer for a while, then she said, ‘If I do as you ask, they will know that it was me that led you to her. They will do to me what they have done to her. If I lead you to her, I cannot remain in this place. Will you take me away with you when you go, Tariq? Will you shield me from their wrath?’

‘Yes, Daliyah. I will take you away with me, and gladly.’

‘Then I will do it, Tariq Hakam, my cousin.’ She smiled shyly and her dark eyes shone in the lantern light.