No Escape by Mark David Abbott

Author:Mark David Abbott [Abbott, Mark David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mark David Abbott
Published: 2019-07-21T04:00:00+00:00

41

The men and three camels walked away from the parked Pajero, Mansur leading the way, John following, Steve taking up the rear. The sun was climbing fast now, the heat rapidly increasing. John removed his light jacket, rolled up the sleeves on his shirt and undid another button, grateful he had worn linen, and even more grateful for the shemagh he had bought in a souvenir shop. He glanced back at Steve, who was trudging along behind him. He seemed like a decent guy—he had, after all, come back to warn him when he could be safe in a bar in Dubai sipping on a cold beer—but John still wasn’t sure. The residual anger that Steve had been following him still hadn’t worn off. John reached up and gave Aladdin a pat on the neck and was rewarded with a grumble, followed by another foul belch.

Mansur led them around the dunes, keeping low, not climbing them, to avoid being spotted. The route zigzagged back-and-forth, and John soon lost complete track of the direction they were traveling. Once again, he looked over his shoulder, reassuring himself if they got lost, he could follow the trail of footprints back to the Pajero. After thirty minutes, Mansur signaled to stop and waited for them to catch up. John’s legs were trembling with the exertion of walking through the deep sand. He liked to think he was fit, his legs strong from daily runs, but he had struggled to keep pace with Mansur, whose calves were like steel after a lifetime in the desert. Steve had fallen even further back, and it gave John time to catch his breath and shake the lactic acid out of his legs. Steve arrived, his face red, his breath labored, and Mansur gave him a moment before asking, “Okay?”

Steve nodded and grinned but said nothing.

Mansur glanced up at the sun again, then gestured toward a large dune towering above them.

“I’m going up to take a look. You two wait here.” Reaching into the saddlebag, he pulled out Steve’s bottle of water. “Take a sip. Not too much.” He passed it over, then handing the camel’s lead rope to John, hitched up his dishdasha and started climbing.

John lowered himself into the shade made by the camels and sat in the sand. Steve walked over and joined him, wiping the sweat from his face with the end of his shemagh.

“It won’t be much fun later if it’s this hot now.”

John said nothing, instead watching Mansur climb.

“Tell me, John, why is Surya Patil after you? Did you shag his wife? His daughter?”

John ignored him and watched Mansur, high in the sand above, reach the top and lie prone in the sand.

“He’s bloody angry with you, mate,” Steve persisted. “He paid me a lot of money to follow you around.” He nodded in the general direction of the camp. “And these two thugs won’t be cheap. Did you steal from him?”

John narrowed his eyes and slowly turned to look at Steve.

“It’s none of your business.

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