Authors: Chris Ryan
She hobbled towards John and Hassad, using the desk for support. She was looking from one man to another, her face confused.
‘You mean the missile was a British one?’
Hassad nodded curtly. ‘British or Israeli. A bunker-busting missile is a sophisticated piece of kit.’
Porter paused. He already knew that was true. If it was a bunker-busting bomb that attacked the mine, then it was almost certainly a GBU-28, a piece of kit manufactured by Lockheed in America, but sold to both the British and Israeli air forces. It was made up of 80 per cent TNT, and 20 per cent aluminium powder which powered up the conventional explosive. On tests, the GBU-28 had blasted its way through twenty feet of concrete, and cut through as many as fifteen different layers of bunker. It had probably been delivered by two fighter jets: one to mark the target, and a second to deliver two bombs. It was the only weapon
capable of causing the kind of damage seen in the mine. And not many people had them.
‘And the soldiers who attacked us just now, they were British as well?’
Hassad glanced at Porter. ‘You tell her.’
‘They worked for a firm called Connaught Security,’ said Porter. ‘It’s a private military corporation operating throughout the Middle East. It’s run by Perry Collinson.’
Katie slumped back. Suddenly, Porter noticed, the blood seemed to have drained from her face. ‘If they knew where we are, why didn’t they come in and rescue us?’
‘Because they want us dead,’ says Hassad, jabbing a finger at her. ‘So long as you die in an explosion, that suits them fine. They just don’t want to be seen to be giving in to any of our demands.’
Katie shook her head. ‘They’d get me out if they could.’
‘Collinson wants me dead,’ said Porter.
‘But he’s …’
‘Your boyfriend?’ said Porter. ‘I know. The trouble is, he’s also a coward and a fraud. He’s terrified that I’ll find out from Hassad here the truth about what happened on a mission seventeen years ago, and unfortunately for him I already have. He’d rather we both died than let us come back alive.’
‘He told me …’ The words trailed off on Katie’s lips. But the shock on her face was evident.
‘He loved you?’ said Porter. ‘Maybe the bastard did, but he was lying about that along with everything else. Take it up with the agony aunt when you get home.’ Porter grinned. ‘“My boyfriend fired a bunker-busting missile at me. Do you think that means he isn’t committed to a long-term relationship?”’
Porter looked back at Hassad. ‘I reckon you’re right,’ he said. ‘Collinson’s got control of the whole op, and he fired
that missile into the mine to try and kill us. It’s a result for them if we get killed that way and the execution doesn’t get shown on live TV. They can just say it was an accident. Then he realised we’d escaped, so he sent his boys from Connaught in to quietly finish us off.’
‘This issue is,’ said Hassad, ‘how do they always know where you are?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘They knew you were in the mine, and they knew you were in the safe house. How did they know that? How did they even know you’d escaped from the mine?’
Porter shrugged. He wondered that himself. The trouble was, he had no idea of the answer.
‘They must have a tracking device,’ said Hassad.
‘I’m not a bloody idiot,’ Porter snapped. ‘I checked myself, and you checked. There’s nothing. Maybe there’s something planted on you?’
Hassad shook his head. ‘It’s you they’re following.’
‘Then maybe a satellite?’
‘There’s no satellite that can look into a mine,’ said Hassad. ‘Before they sent you out here, did they do any dental work on you?’
Porter paused. ‘They fixed up my teeth,’ he admitted.
‘A crown? Implants?’
Porter nodded.
‘Then get in the chair.’
Porter sat down.
Hassad muttered something to the woman in Arabic. She leant forward, switching on a torch so she could have a better look at Porter’s mouth.
‘Open wide,’ said Hassad, tapping his shoulder.
Porter felt certain he could detect a hint of pleasure in the man’s voice.
‘Is she a dentist?’ he asked, glancing back at Hassad.
‘In a tiny village like this, you have to be a bit of everything,
’ Hassad replied. ‘Don’t worry, yours aren’t the first teeth she’s examined.’
He could feel a spatula pressing down his tongue, the cold steel pressing into his flesh, and then winced slightly as she started tapping on his teeth. Her breath was warm on his skin as she worked: a mixture of goat’s milk and stewed fruits filled the air around him. Next, she started prodding them with a scalpel, nicking his gums in the process.
She paused, looking up at Hassad, talking quickly in Arabic.
‘Two of the crowns feel odd to her,’ said Hassad quietly.
‘Meaning?’
‘There may be some kind of tracking device inside them.’
‘In a tooth?’
Hassad nodded. ‘I’ve heard of it before, but I’ve never seen it done.’ He shook his head, in sorrow as much as anger. ‘Usually you can’t put a tracker inside a tooth because the tooth blocks out the signal, but if you use a mostly hollow crown then it’s possible, although the signal is never great.’
‘What can we do?’
‘Pull it out and take a look, of course.’
Porter looked at the old woman suspiciously. ‘Can she do that?’
‘If there’s a tracker, the guys from Connaught are going to find us anytime soon, and they’ll almost certainly finish us off before we get to the border.’
He said something to the old woman, then looked back at Porter. ‘You’re not scared, are you?’
His deformed lips twisted up into a mocking smile.
‘I don’t suppose there’s any chance of an anaesthetic is there?’
Hassad rolled his eyes.
‘How about a shot of vodka then?’
‘Just do it,’ said Hassad to the old woman. ‘Open your mouth and shut up. Every minute we waste you may be
transmitting signals back that tell Collinson exactly where we are. For all we know, they are preparing their assault right now.’
‘Then get on with it.’
Porter gripped the sides of the chair. He closed his eyes, and opened his mouth. He could smell the stewed fruit washing over him as the old woman leant into his face. She said something to Hassad, and he replied, but Porter couldn’t make out a single word. She tapped one tooth then another with a scalpel: two of the teeth that had been replaced for him back at the Firm’s headquarters. Porter could feel a clamp being placed inside his mouth to hold it open, then a wrench being screwed on to one of his teeth. Hassad knelt down, pressing a strip of leather into Porter’s hand. ‘Here, pull on this,’ he said quietly.
Don’t yell, he told himself grimly.
The woman yanked at the wrench. Porter could feel a bolt of pain jabbing right through him as the nerves attaching the tooth to the jaw screamed out in agony. It was like having a needle threaded straight into your veins. There was a crunching sound, then the scratching of metal against bone. Porter gripped hold of the strip of leather, twisting it into his hand, trying to keep the pain under control.
Another yank. A fresh wave of pain swept through every nerve in Porter’s body. Christ, he muttered, making sure he kept his mouth open and the word to himself. He could feel the sweat dripping off his brow. The woman said something to Hassad. Porter opened his eyes. He could tell the wrench was still clamped to his tooth. Hassad was leaning into the wrench, a grimace on his face. Porter steeled himself, shut his eyes tight and gripped hard on the sides of the chair. He could feel the force of the wrench smashing into his gums. Then a snapping sound. A searing pain ran up through his mouth, colliding inside his head.
He opened his eyes. He could feel some blood hitting the
back of his throat, and washing across his tongue. The side of his mouth was numb from the impact. In front of him, Hassad was holding the tooth inside the wrench, showing it to the old woman. There was still some blood dripping from the stem. ‘It’s clean,’ said Hassad with a shrug. ‘Maybe it’s the other one.’
‘Christ!’
As he spoke, some blood and fragments of broken tooth spat clean from his mouth.
Hassad nodded towards the old woman. ‘I wouldn’t take the name of any of the prophets in vain in here,’ he said casually. ‘She’s very devout, and Muslims revere Jesus as well as Muhammad. Make her angry, and she might not be so gentle with you.’
Porter closed his eyes. The pain was stinging through his jaw, but he knew there was no choice. There has to be some explanation for how they found out where I was, and I can’t think of a better one. If we don’t pull the tooth, Collinson’s going to have his men onto us any moment, and then I’ll never get a chance to kill the bastard. ‘Then do it.’
He could feel the tapping of the scalpel, then the cold hard steel of the wrench clamping on to his tooth. This time it was on the right side of his mouth. The woman moved away, and as he briefly opened his eyes, Porter could see Hassad gripping hold of the wrench with his muscular fists. Even with the wound in his shoulder, he was a strong guy. Porter gripped on to the strip of leather. He twisted hard on it, pulling it between both hands. Closing his eyes again, he could feel a stuttering series of jabbing pains as Hassad started to put pressure on the tooth. There was nasty crunching sound inside, and he could feel more blood trickling into the back of his throat where the wrench was nicking against the side of his gums.
‘One more heave,’ Hassad muttered.
He slammed his fist down hard. Porter’s head snapped
sideways. The force of the blow was ripping into his neck muscles, making it impossible for him to hold himself steady. The pain was searing through him now, making his eyes water and his head spin. It was like having a jackhammer drill into the side of your jaw. ‘Hold his head,’ Hassad growled to the old woman.
Her medical training had equipped her with enough English to follow the command. Porter felt her hands clamping around the side of his head, gripping him tight, while her frail body pushed into him, providing a countervailing force to the wrench. Hassad immediately leant into a fresh blow. The tooth creaked. Porter summoned up one more ounce of resistance, trying to bring the pain under control. If this doesn’t work, maybe they should just toss me aside. Let Katie get to the border by herself. Collinson’s men can catch up with me and I’ll just have to deal with them as best I can.
Suddenly there was a sound like a floorboard cracking open. Porter’s eyes shot open. He could see Hassad rocking backwards, the wrench still in his hand, blood dripping from the small lump of white tooth at its tip.
The old woman was handing Porter a glass of water. He took it from her, but his hands were shaking so badly he was hardly able to hold the thing, and spilt much of it down the front of his shirt. A terrible pain was throbbing through his jaw. He swilled the water back, rinsing out his mouth, and spitting out the blood and tooth debris into the bin at the side of the chair. Next, she handed him six white pills. Porter took them in his shaking hand, and swallowed them methodically. Painkillers, or cyanide? he wondered to himself as the tablets sunk down the back of his throat. Let’s hope it’s the latter. That’s the only thing that’s going to make this pain go away.
‘They put that one in with concrete,’ said Hassad, holding the tooth in front of Porter. ‘I guess they didn’t want to take
any chances of it falling out if you got into a fight.’
‘You found something?’
Tears were still streaming down Porter’s face, and he was finding it difficult to speak.
Hassad nodded, pointing to the underside of the tooth. Porter’s vision was still fuzzy, and the pain ripping through his head was making it hard for him to concentrate. The painkillers were still a long way from kicking in. But he could see a sliver of dark matter on the underside of the tooth.
‘Silicon,’ said Hassad. ‘A micro tracking device, sending out a signal that can be picked up by a satellite.’
‘Bastards,’ Porter muttered. ‘They promised me I was going in clean.’
He could feel the anger burning inside him. He’d walked into the Firm voluntarily. He’d put himself into the line of fire for them, because he wanted to get Katie out. And this was how they repaid him. By putting a tracking device into his tooth, and then trying to kill both of them. And just so they could save face.
Hassad chuckled. ‘Never trust the British government,’ he said. ‘That’s a lesson we learnt out in this part of the world a long time ago.’
The truck had Jordanian number plates, and it looked empty. That means it is on the way home, Porter decided. Completely the opposite direction to us. He checked that the driver was still in the café next to the shop, then knelt down, pulling out a piece of chewing gum he’d found in the Fiat, and carefully sticking the tooth to the underside of the lorry. ‘That’ll take care of them,’ he said, glancing back at Hassad. ‘Collinson’s boys will spend half the day searching for this vehicle, and when they catch up with it, they’ll just have a Jordanian truckie and bunch of empty crates.’
They climbed back into the Fiat. Hassad had taken the wheel, explaining that he knew the roads better, and was less likely to attract attention from other drivers. As they’d left the old woman’s house, they had borrowed a burka for Katie. It covered up her face effectively, and it made sure no one would recognise her as they drove towards the border.