Hassan’s boat touched the shore first. He pulled the knife from his belt and slashed the tie binding Miranda to the seat pole, though her hands were still bound. He hauled her to her feet and held her tight against him, his bloodied, painful arm across her breasts. In his right hand was the AK-47, the tip of its barrel resting on Miranda’s shoulder, the muzzle against her right ear.
‘Drop your weapon,’ Hassan shouted.
‘Take the shot, Daddy. Kill him,’ Miranda called out.
Jed looked through the circular rear sight of the SLR and lined it up with the blade of the foresight.
The heavy rifle wavered in his vicelike grip. It was the rocking of the boat beneath his feet that was spoiling his aim. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. It was too risky. ‘Let her go and I promise you one thing, bin Zayid.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That I’ll kill you quickly.’
Hassan laughed. ‘You make your stupid macho jokes while your daughter’s life is in the balance?
You don’t scare me. I’m offering you one chance, and one chance only to save her,’ bin Zayid said as he pulled Miranda off their boat and back up the sandy riverbank. In the distance was the sound of a vehicle engine.
‘Talk,’ Jed said, lowering the rifle a little. To Chris, he said, ‘Turn to the right, bring us in about sixty feet from him.’
She complied and their boat touched the shore a few seconds later.
‘I want your boat; you want your daughter. Not much of a trade, I’m sure you’ll agree, but I can make this all go away. Too bad you lost the general, but then, so did I. This way you get your little girl back and I get a chance at freedom.’
‘Let her go. You can have the goddamned boat, bin Zayid,’ Jed said.
‘Throw your weapons into the river,’ bin Zayid called, jamming the barrel into Miranda’s soft, pale neck hard enough to make her cry out.
‘Why? So you can kill us all in cold blood?’ Jed replied. ‘You have my word we won’t fire on you once you’re in the boat.’
‘Your word? A minute ago you were promising to kill me quickly. No deal, soldier. Throw the rifles in the river.’
Chris looked at Jed. He shrugged. ‘He won’t get far without medical attention to that arm,’ he whispered.
‘Quiet! You’ve got three seconds to toss the weapons, Banks, and that’s it for Miranda. Quite frankly, I don’t care if it ends in a gunfight – at least I’ll die knowing I’ve taken her with me. It’s up to you.’
‘Do it, Jed,’ Chris said.
It went against everything he stood for, his own personal moral code and the ethos of the organisation in which he served, but Jed drew back his arm and flung his rifle into the Zambezi River.
Chris did the same, watching where her weapon landed.
‘OK, let her go,’ Jed said to bin Zayid.
‘What do you think my brother would have done in this situation, Jed Banks?’
‘Let Miranda go.’ Jed’s voice was cool with menace as he took a pace towards his daughter.
‘Keep still! Both of you,’ Hassan barked. The mirth had vanished. ‘Tell me first, or have a guess.
What do you think my twin brother would do now? You should know, Banks, you met him.’
‘Your brother was a soldier. I didn’t agree with his cause or his methods, but I faced him down like a man, and he died like a man. I’d say that he would have abided by a deal he’d given his word on.’
Bin Zayid smiled. ‘Iqbal, that was my brother’s name, was a believer. He had the strength to do what needed to be done – not like me. I was soft, Jed Banks.’ His voice started to crack and he sucked in a sob before it manifested itself in tears. ‘I fell for your daughter, fell in love with her, because I was weak. I believed her lies and all along she was plotting against me and my family.’
‘Let her go. It’s over. You can leave.’
‘My brother, Banks, would have done this.’ Bin Zayid kicked Miranda behind one of her knees, forcing her to kneel. ‘And this!’ He put his boot in her back and drove her face-first to the dirt. He held the assault rifle, one-handed, and rested the barrel on Miranda’s back, on the rear of her heart.
‘Say goodbye to your little girl, Banks.’
‘Dad!’ Miranda cried.
Bin Zayid’s finger curled around the AK-47’s trigger. Chris and Jed started running towards him.
‘No!’ Jed yelled, knowing he could not make the distance before the Arab fired.
They all heard the gunshot, but none of them saw where it came from. Jed closed his eyes, slowing in midflight, unable to look at Miranda. Chris dropped to her knees.
Hassan bin Zayid felt the hammer blow of the bullet in his right shoulder and careened backwards, onto the ground, writhing in agony, screaming. The AK-47 fell from his hand, hit the ground barrel first and toppled over, out of his immediate reach.
Luke Scarborough yelled, ‘Freeze!’
‘Watch him! Give me the gun, Luke,’ Jed called. ‘Where the hell did you come from?’
Hassan rolled towards the fallen AK-47 and Luke, ignoring Jed’s surprise, fired two wildly aimed shots that both missed their mark. Hassan tried to wrap his hand around the barrel of the rifle, but his left arm had been shattered by the earlier wound from Banks. Miranda was in front of him, starting to crawl away The sharp tang of gasoline fumes filled the air.
‘Keep him covered and get over here,’ Jed said to Luke, who was still fifty metres away and advancing cautiously, the pistol held out in front of him. ‘Good shot, by the way, kid.’
‘I’d call us even now,’ Luke said, smiling, the adrenaline leaving him wide-eyed and jubilant.
‘He’s not dead yet,’ Jed cautioned.
‘Look out, he’s reaching for something!’ Chris yelled.
‘Miranda!’ Jed screamed. ‘Roll!’
Bin Zayid’s right hand emerged from his trouser pocket and, in one fluid move, he flipped open the silver cap of a Zippo and rolled the flint along the front of his load-bearing vest. The wick ignited and he tossed the flaming cigarette lighter at Miranda.
Her gasoline-soaked cocktail dress ignited with a whoosh and bin Zayid scrambled to his knees.
Miranda screamed and started to stand. Jed sprinted the remaining metres and hit his daughter hard, midsection, in a crushing football tackle that sent her sprawling and the two of them rolling in the sand. Jed wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug and they tumbled. He ignored the pain of the flames on his bare torso and arms, dimly aware of the smell of his own hair being scorched. Over and over they rolled as he pushed her towards the river. There was a hiss of steam as he finally felt the warm river water on his back. He submerged her and held her underwater until he was sure the flames were extinguished.
Luke emptied the pistol’s magazine at the fleeing figure of Hassan bin Zayid before Chris could stop him. None of the shots found their mark. ‘You’ll never hit him with that thing while he’s moving,’ she told him.
‘God, I’m sorry,’ he said, looking back at Jed and Miranda.
‘Don’t sweat it,’ Chris answered. ‘You probably saved our lives.’
The burns on your daughter’s left arm and neck are bad, but she will live, Mr Banks,’ the Italian doctor assured Jed.
‘That’s the most important thing. Thanks, Doc.’
‘We’ve got a plasma IV going, and I’ve given her something for the pain. I am sure that with some surgery in America there will be little sign of scarring. Your African friend was in surgery when I left the hospital. My colleague said his signs were good. He is strong, and he is in good hands.’
Jed nodded. ‘Thanks, Doc. Can I see Miranda now, before she goes?’
‘Of course. The helicopter is on its way, but I presumed you would be travelling with her, to the hospital in Lusaka.’
‘No, I’ve got something else to do.’
‘Your burns are not as serious as your daughter’s but they need dressing.’
‘Later,’ Jed said.
Around them was a scene of escalating chaos. The Zimbabwean warden of Mana Pools National Park wanted to know what Willy Wylde and two of his employees were doing on the wrong side of the river in the middle of the night. A Zambian policeman argued with a park ranger, and a siren wailed from another approaching police launch. From upriver came the clatter of a helicopter.
Luke was talking to Chris. ‘I heard the gunshots from the river, and the boats. I grabbed the pistol I took off this guy who tried to mug me in Zanzibar, and ran down to the bank. That’s when I saw you guys and bin Zayid pull in.’
Jed ignored them all for the moment and walked over to the stretcher on which Miranda lay ‘Can you hear me, baby?’
‘I’m sorry, Daddy, so sorry,’ Miranda said groggily through the fog of medication. ‘Don’t leave me …’
‘I’ll be with you soon, baby. Everything’s going to be all right now. They’re taking you to the hospital. Chris will be with you.’ He swallowed hard, barely able to hold back tears as he thought about how close he’d been to losing her.
‘Tell her … tell her, sorry …’ Miranda closed her eyes, but Jed saw the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest as he took her hand in his. He bent over her and kissed her gently on the cheek.
Jed felt a blast of rotor wash-blown sand on his back and shielded his eyes as he turned. Another Huey helicopter, the same model as the one which had been shot out of the sky, touched down. Jed looked up and saw the grey-haired figure of General Donald Calvert jogging out, bent at the waist.
Behind him was Harold Jones.
‘Are you Banks?’ the general called over the roar of the engine. His neck was wrapped in a bloodstained field dressing.
‘Yes, sir, General,’ Jed said.
‘I ain’t a general any more, Master Sergeant. You can call me Donald. However, my friends, and I hope I can count you and your lady friend in that company, call me Crusher.’ The older man extended a hand and Jed shook it.
‘I thought you’d be in hospital by now, General… Crusher.’
Calvert smiled and touched his neck. ‘I was on my way – that is, until reports started coming in about your little pursuit here. I figured we might need to keep this helo on stand-by, in case there were any more wounded.’
‘You were right about that.’
‘How’s your daughter? Ms Wallis filled me in on the whole thing via satellite phone.’
‘She’s going to be fine, according to the doctor.’
‘Hell of a diplomatic mess, but at least those terrorist bastards didn’t get what they came for.’
Jed thought that the deaths of the secret service and CIA agents, the Zambian helicopter crewman and the pilot of the general’s aircraft was still a pretty high butcher’s bill, but he held his tongue.
‘What news of the man who got away?’
‘He was carrying two gunshot wounds. Looked pretty unsteady, but he managed to get away on foot with his AK,’ Jed explained.
Chris arrived next to Calvert. ‘General, I’ve spoken to the US embassy in Lusaka. They’ll have some people meet you at the hospital and will stay with you until we can arrange a flight home. I really think you should get out of here as soon as possible, sir.’
‘Not without you, Master Sergeant Banks and his daughter, Ms Wallis,’ Calvert said.
‘Chris, look after Miranda for me, go with her,’ Jed said.
‘What do you mean?’ she asked. ‘No way, Jed, you’re not going off on another crusade. Leave bin Zayid to the local police. It’s out of our hands now.’
‘She’s right, Jed. Don’t make me give you an order,’ Calvert said.
Jed grinned back, though there was no humour in his eyes. ‘You can’t give me an order,
Crusher
.
Jones,’ he called to the CIA agent, ‘give me your MP-5.’
‘Can’t do that,’ Jones replied, shaking his head.
‘Jones has to look after the general, Jed. For God’s sake come with us!’ Chris barked. ‘You are
not
going to waltz off into the bush on a one-man suicide mission. Who do you think you are? This is real life, not the movies.’
‘I know, Chris. This is very real. There’s a wanted terrorist out there with a blood feud against me and my daughter. He won’t rest until one or both of us are dead. He was hit bad. Look at those policemen. They’re arguing jurisdictions while Hassan bin Zayid gets away.’
‘Chopper pilot’s signalling us, General,’ Jones said. ‘We really should get you and Ms Banks-
Lewis to hospital now, sir.’
The Italian medical team had carried Miranda on her stretcher to the helicopter and the Zambian crew chief was strapping her in. The doctor climbed aboard. The pilot waved frantically towards the knot of people gathered around Jed.
‘There speaks the voice of reason,’ Chris said over the increasingly noisy whine of the helicopter’s engine.
Luke had been hovering on the edge of the group, listening to and absorbing everything that was being said, a skill he’d perfected as a journalist. He still had the pistol he’d taken from the dead mugger in Zanzibar. He, too, was worried about bin Zayid’s escape. The man had tried to kill him once – who could say he wouldn’t be targeted again? He coughed and broke into the circle of people.
‘Here you go, Jed.’ He handed the American the pistol.
Jed looked at Scarborough. The boy had, to a large extent, been responsible for this whole mess.
No, that was wrong – the reporter had simply done his job. Miranda had spied on Hassan, fallen for him, and Jed had killed the terrorist’s brother. All the media had done was made sure everyone knew the truth – for better or worse. ‘You probably saved Miranda’s life, bursting in before like John Wayne, kid. Thanks,’ he said as he accepted the pistol. ‘You’ll have a hell of a story to write tomorrow.’
‘Hey, can I borrow someone’s satellite phone?’ Luke asked.
‘Don’t push it,’ Chris said. ‘General Calvert, Jones will escort you back to Lusaka.’
‘So, you’re going to let Banks go off on this wild-goose chase by himself?’ Calvert asked.
‘No, sir, I’m going with him,’ Chris said. Jed shot her an angry glance. ‘Oh, come
on
, Jed. I’m ex-
Army, CIA-trained and probably a better marksman than you are. Drag yourself out of the goddamned Dark Ages, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Sir, let’s go,’ Jones said.
‘All right, all right,’ Calvert said. ‘Jed, come with me. Don’t worry, I’m not going to force you onto the chopper at gunpoint, but I’ve got something you might need.’