Pompeii's Ghosts (A James Acton Thriller, #9) (35 page)

Outside Hamashkoraib, Sudan

Gunfire in the distance had Dawson pausing outside of the van. He
slowly turned, his trained ear trying to determine the direction. He stopped
then raised his phone, zooming in, slowly scanning the landscape toward the airport.
The abandoned station was out of sight, so if the firefight was at the airport,
he wouldn’t be able to see it. He saw some puffs of dust in the distance, but
could make out little, the display simply too small.

Suddenly
he saw two figures crest a rise then disappear again. He steadied the phone on
the hood of the van and took a rapid series of shots as the two figures popped
into view again. He zoomed in on the shots and saw two men in desert gear,
civilian camo pattern, not military, hoofing it hard.

And if
he didn’t know any better, the man on the right was Red, the shaved dome
obvious.

But he
couldn’t be sure, and he couldn’t wait. Going to pick them up then returning
here would take too long, and he needed to see where the hostages were going to
be moved.

But if
it were his men, he couldn’t leave them hanging.

He found
a good set of tire tracks, drew an arrow in the sand then wrote ‘BD’ beside it.
Then, jumping in the van, he spun the wheels, generating a large cloud of dust
that he knew any of his men would spot and zero in on. And if they didn’t find
his message, then they weren’t his men.

If they
were his men, he doubted they were here on a sanctioned mission. As he raced
toward the town on the meager trail, his mind searched for an explanation and
he could only come up with one.

Laura
Palmer.

She’d
have the money to put together a rescue mission, and she’d stop at nothing
until she knew what had happened to Acton.

And if
he knew Colonel Clancy, at least some of his men would have been granted some
time off.

Please
let my little fantasy be reality!

He
slowed to a halt, easing on the brakes so as not to create a cloud of dust,
hiding the vehicle behind some rocks much closer to town this time, but still a
good enough distance that he should be able to outrun any pursuit launched
against him.

He
climbed out of the van and looked down upon the town. From this vantage point
he could see clearly enough without the phone’s zoom lens to see several vehicles
leaving the house the hostages had been held in until a few moments ago. He
held up the phone, recording their progress until they arrived at a huge
complex to the north of the town. He took several snaps of the new location,
frowning as he saw the fortifications and the dozens of men manning the walls.

Things
just became a whole lot harder.

al-Sadiq Compound, Hamashkoraib, Sudan

Acton stumbled forward, one of the guards having shoved him hard
from behind. Niner caught him before he could hit the floor and redirected him
to an upward position before letting go. Acton spun, glaring at the man who
simply raised his weapon at him and mouthed what he assumed were Arabic
expletives at him.

One of
the guards, provided by their new captor, grabbed Lee Fang by the arm and
dragged her toward the door, another reaching for Reese who jumped back,
avoiding the man’s grasp. Acton stepped forward, placing his body between Reese
and the others as the Brit, still weakened from his wounds, his arm around one
of the Italians, lurched forward.

“Leave
the women alone, you bloody bastards!”

Two
shots rang out and the Brit hit the ground, silent, still. Reese cried out,
trying to shove past Acton as all weapons were trained on the men who began to
back off. Acton grabbed Reese by the wrist and Niner came up behind her, grabbing
the back of her skirt, which Acton thought odd.

Then the
Delta operator slipped the knife Acton had hidden earlier in their makeshift
latrine into the elastic band of the skirt, letting the blade slide down, the
hilt catching on the waistline. He then pulled her donated jacket out to cover
the knife, letting go of her arm. To her credit she had managed to keep the
startled expression on her face to a minimum, and she nodded her okay to Acton
as he let go of her arm, there no longer any option.

As the
two women were led out the door, the guards backed out with them, closing then
locking the door. Niner stuck his head up to the small barred window. “I want
to talk to the man who was in charge before we got here!” he yelled. “We had a
deal!”

A gun
poked through the bars, the barrel jabbing Niner on the forehead. He stepped
back, wincing slightly, then glared through the bars for a moment before
turning away.

As the
guards retreated down the hall, Reese whimpering the entire way, Lee Fang
silent, the entire room turned somber as the Brit’s body still occupied the
center of their cell, and two of their own had been taken, most likely to be
raped.

“If we
don’t find a way out soon, it will be too late for them,” said Niner, the room
nodding its agreement.

“But
how?” asked Acton, the only one voicing the obvious.

“Next
time that door opens, we take out the guards and advance rather than hold.” He
looked around the room. “Agreed?”

A chorus
of “Agreed” endorsed the plan.

A plan
that would most likely get them all killed.

Overlooking Hamashkoraib, Sudan

“There!” shouted Red, pointing to some markings on the dirt as he
and Spock came to a halt. “I’m pretty sure this is where that dust was tossed
up,” he said, kneeling down and examining the tread marks. He pointed to
several deep grooves where tires had spun, then the dispersal pattern from the
drive wheels. “This is definitely it.”

Spock
surveyed the area then suddenly strode to the left of where the vehicle would
have been. “Look!” he exclaimed, dropping to a knee and waving Red over. “He’s
alive!”

“Who?”
Red rounded his friend and his jaw dropped. Next to a tread mark was an arrow
with the letters BD scratched into the dirt. And there was no doubting what it
meant.

Big
Dog is alive!

Red
stood, pointing at the message. “Take photos then get rid of it. Make sure you
get the tread, he obviously wants us to follow it.”

Spock
nodded, pulling out his phone and taking a series of shots as Red activated his
comm. “Bravo Seven, Bravo Two. Good news, we’ve confirmed BD is alive, over.”

“Bravo
Two, Bravo Seven. I never believed he was dead.” There was a pause for a moment
as Spock wiped away the message with his boot, then a burst of static. “We
should be on your asses in less than sixty seconds by my estimate. Prepare to
jump in, this vehicle doesn’t make stops, over!”

“Roger
that, we’ll be ready, out.”

Red
motioned with his head for Spock to get on the other side of the trail they had
discovered and within moments they could hear an engine battling up the rise
then the hood of a Toyota technical rounded the corner with Jimmy at the wheel,
Atlas riding shot gun. Jimmy skidded to a halt as Red and Spock swung into the
back, then hammered on the gas, regaining their lost momentum in seconds.

“Status?”

Atlas
turned to Red, sliding the window open between the cabin and the truck bed.
“They’re about five minutes behind us, we figure. We need to ditch this vehicle
and lose them. I’m thinking in town.” Atlas looked between Red and Spock. “And
where the hell is BD?”

“He’s
somewhere ahead of us. We’ve got his tire tracks on camera, but just follow
this trail for now. If we see an opportunity to ditch and evade, we’ll take it.
Until then let’s keep after BD.”

“Roger
that!” yelled Jimmy from the front.

“Stop!”
yelled Spock, pointing toward a group of rocks. Jimmy’s training told him to
listen without asking questions and he hammered on the brakes, bringing them to
a sliding halt, ABS a future feature for this vehicle.

“What is
it?” asked Atlas.

“Back us
up behind those rocks, quick!” yelled Red, having already spotted what Spock
had, and knowing exactly what he was thinking. As Jimmy gunned them in reverse
and off the path, he too saw what the others had and cranked the wheel, positioning
them beside the find.

They all
jumped out and eyed the nine bodies lying freshly shot on the ground.

“How
long you figure?” asked Atlas.

“Today
for sure,” replied Spock as he felt the skin on one of the corpses.

“What
are you thinking?” asked Jimmy.

Red
pointed at the downslope in front of them. “That looks pretty smooth. Do you
think you can jury rig her to drive down that on her own?”

Jimmy
nodded with a grin. “Absolutely.”

“Get to
it.”

Jimmy
dove into the cab as Red pointed to some jerry cans in the back of the truck.
“Check if those have gas in them. If they do, fill the back with a good layer.
We want this seen for miles.”

Atlas
swung into the back as Red grabbed the legs of one of the corpses. “One in the
passenger seat, one in the driver seat,” he said as Spock grabbed the man under
the shoulders. “Let’s have them thinking they caught you guys, at least for a
few minutes. That should give us time to hoof it out of here a good distance.”

“I like
the way you think,” grunted Spock as he lifted the dead weight.

“Yeah,
exactly like you.”

“Got
gas,” said Atlas, the chug-chug already filling their ears and nostrils as the
flammable liquid was spread across the bed of the truck. Red and Spock shoved
the body in the passenger side, Jimmy reaching over and pulling off the man’s
belt, jury-rigging the steering wheel.

They
grabbed another body as Atlas jumped down, his job done. The engine roared to
life, and Jimmy climbed out, making room for the second body.

“You
ready?” asked Red.

Jimmy
nodded.

Red
pointed to Atlas. “Light it.”

Atlas
tossed a match and with a whoosh the entire back end of the truck erupted in
flames, black smoke rising. Jimmy leaned in and yanked a pry bar out that was
holding in the clutch, then jumped back. The truck lurched forward but didn’t
stall, instead picking up speed as the engine roared in protest, demanding to
be shifted to a higher gear, its protests ignored by the corpse at the wheel.
They watched the Toyota speed down the hill, a thick trail of smoke in its
wake, then quickly dragged the remaining bodies out of sight.

“Now
let’s get the hell out of here,” said Red, pointing at the road. “That’s BD’s
tread mark right there.”

The four
of them sprinted down the trail, the slight downgrade as it sloped into town
helping dramatically, and as they came around a bend, they were able to look
over their left shoulders and see their handiwork continue to rush down the
hill and out into the flatland beyond, and in the distance, a convoy of
Sudanese vehicles broke off the trail, taking the bait.

“Yee
haw,” muttered Atlas under his breath. “How much farther to this town?”

Red held
up his phone, looking at the map. “About five klicks. But I’m thinking BD is
holed up somewhere a lot closer than that.”

“And
you’d be right!” shouted a voice from behind them.

Red
skidded to a halt, spinning around to confirm what his ears had already told
him. A huge grin broke out on his face as he saw his best friend leaning
against a large rock, a smile on his face as he held a Beretta on them.

“Bang,
bang, bang, bang,” said Dawson, as he pretended to shoot each of them. “You
need to learn how to run much quieter.”

His men
surrounded him, hugs, back thumps, fist bumps and every other form of greeting
known to men of combat being exchanged. Red couldn’t remember the last time he
had been so happy to see anyone. As things settled down, Dawson had them follow
him around the rock.